Secret of the Gargoyles (Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles Book 3) (23 page)

When I shifted, the tunnel darkened and spun. I righted it with a blink. “How long?”

“Too long.”

“Okay. Tiger next.” Just as I could sense the location of both gargoyles, I didn’t need magic to tell she was the weaker of the two.

“Mika . . .”

“She’s fading too fast.”

“So are you.”

I tilted my face up to look at Marcus, my head resting on his shoulder, my body cradled by his. I fought the desire to close my eyes and relax against him. “I’ll recover.”

“Take a break,” he urged.

I tried to stand, but my body didn’t even sit up. I couldn’t feel my feet. Dropping my lashes to hide my panic, I focused on wriggling my toes. When they responded, I let out a slow breath.
Tired. I’m just tired.
If I stopped now, I wouldn’t be able to start again, not for hours. By then, both gargoyles would be dead and I would never be able to live with myself.

The tiger stood frozen at the bend in the tunnel behind us, farther from the baetyl entrance than the fox. She was only five feet from us, but it might as well have been five miles if I had to walk it alone.

“Please don’t try to stop me.”

Marcus scowled, but he surprised me when he stood with me in his arms and walked to the tiger.

“Thank you.”

I fell into the tiger and didn’t stop falling until I stood in front of her inner self. Her body’s shape ghosted at the edges, as if the golden light of her spirit were evaporating.

Or dying.

I saw the truth of my realization in her eyes and felt her acceptance of her death pulse between us.

No. I’m here to save you. The baetyl is
right here
. All we have to do is walk a few dozen feet.

I pushed my spirit closer, but she flared bright. The impression of a roaring tiger, sharp teeth, and rending claws flashed almost too fast to follow. I retreated, and the gargoyle’s fuzzy shape returned.

You can’t give up,
I commanded, not sure how much she could hear. I willed her to live, to fight. She smiled, her cat mouth curling up around her thick muzzle, and sent me a feeling of serenity.

Don’t you dare.
I shoved my spirit toward her again, enveloping her, holding the effervescent pieces of her together by sheer will. She didn’t struggle this time; she purred. The soundless vibrations resonated with love and gratitude . . . and forgiveness.

I clung to her, desperate to save her. We were so close. If she would hang on just a bit longer, I could save her.

I poured more of my will into hers, capturing her, holding her. I could do this. I could walk her into the baetyl.

My awareness expanded to her limbs—

Sharp pains tore through me. It wasn’t the gargoyle fighting; she’d relaxed in my grasp. It was the strain of anchoring the gargoyle to her body eating through me, pulling my spirit apart. It shredded my strength, shredded me. If I held on much longer, she would pull me apart.

If I let go, she’d die.

I hung suspended in that moment of love and guilt, forgiveness and torture. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t abandon her.

I couldn’t abandon the fox, either. If I clung tight enough, fought hard enough, I could overpower the tiger’s fading will and walk her into the baetyl, but doing so would leave nothing of me to help the fox.

It’d leave nothing of
me
. If I saved her, it would be the last thing I’d do, and I’d promised myself I would be more than a martyr. I’d be a true guardian.

Letting go hurt far worse than holding on. I released the tiger, and in the agony of my decision, her gratitude caressed like a soothing balm across my spirit. She turned her golden tiger’s head to me, and her eyes held nothing but love.

Then her form shifted and stretched, growing less and less substantial. I waited beside her, sending her my love, until a wash of profound relief exploded from her spirit, bowling me over. When I reoriented, she’d ceased to exist.

My eyes opened on a blurry world. Tears ran down my temples into my hair, and the sounds escaping my throat and echoing in the tunnel frightened me.

“Mika?”

“She didn’t make it,” I sobbed. I couldn’t find my paw—hand—to wipe away the tears.

The baetyl’s song filtered through my tears, new mournful notes quieting my sniffles. I cocked my head, listening. I was really hearing it, the melody unfurling inside me.

“I’m so sorry, Mika.”

Power swelled behind that song, urging me back to my task. I had one more gargoyle to save, and the fox’s life guttered on the cusp of being extinguished.

“I need to help the fox,” I mumbled through numb lips.

“No. You need to rest. You can’t—”

I glanced up into his eyes, and I knew the weight of the baetyl looked out at him through mine.

“Mika . . . don’t—”

“I’m coming back,” I whispered, and I didn’t know if I was talking to Marcus or the baetyl.

“Mika!”

I dropped out of my body into the fox’s, and it felt like going home.

16

I uncurled my tail, surged to my feet with an assisting flap of my long wings, and stretched. My awareness of my body puzzled me. Of course my legs were all proportional and used for walking. Of course I had wings. Of course my body was beautiful tigereye and citrine.

Every square inch of me hurt, my body cramped from decades of paralysis and my skin gouged and chapped. The itch in my tail was new. I twisted to examine the patch of clear quartz sealing a fresh wound and caught sight of the humans. The man knelt over a sleeping woman, his face close to her ear, his lips moving. His voice buzzed against my mind, and I shook my head to dispel a wave of dizziness. I focused on my tail again, puzzling over the anomalous patch. It looked like the work of a healer, but I didn’t remember a healer. I didn’t remember being hurt. I didn’t remember . . .

My baetyl’s song whispered in my ears, chasing every other thought from my head. I stretched the stiffness from my paws again, then trotted down the tunnel. Home. I was going home after far too long.

I burst into the baetyl and leapt into flight. Magic breathed through me, and I hungrily folded it into myself. My wings beat, tenderly at first, then with greater ease. I soared through the baetyl, letting the air carry my pain away. I was whole.

My wings banked, the muscles acting as if they had a mind of their own, and I stumbled to a landing on a high grotto filled with rose quartz. Shaking my head, I turned around and prepared to leap, but my back legs refused to budge.

I growled, the sound ragged in my unused throat. I wouldn’t be frozen again. I was safe. I was home. Nothing could stop me.

I pushed from the ledge and my heart lodged in my throat when my wings didn’t open. Clawing at the air, I caught the edge of a thick amethyst crystal, nails scraping the slick surface before my wings finally flared open and I shoved into the air. I’d barely gained altitude when my body dove out of control, pulling up just before I crashed into the jagged floor.

Whining, I tried to look at my wings, now folded on my back, but I couldn’t move my head. Panic thundered in my heart. I fought the hidden bonds as the baetyl darkened until I couldn’t see.

The fox split her spirit from mine. The shock of separation sliced through me like a blade. Distressed, I rushed the fox.

Don’t do this. I need you,
I thought. She could remain in the baetyl, in our home. With her, I was safe. She was alive. She wouldn’t die. I’d never have to leave.

The fox nipped me, and her spirit’s sharp teeth pinched. I didn’t care, too filled with the terror of being abandoned. I swelled, wrapping around the fox again, trying to join with her, but she wasn’t compliant this time. She fought back, and her nips became agonizing bites and unheard growls. Flinching, I gave ground and she chased me until I had nowhere left to go.

I popped free of the fox’s body and floundered in an abyss. All sense of direction and purpose drifted away from me. I hung there, suspended in nothing, lost and confused.

“Go home, Guardian,” someone growled.

Home?
I spun the word in my thoughts, then released it into the void. It divided and multiplied, taking a thousand different shapes until . . .

Home. This was home. It was in the shape of every layer of quartz and in the interaction of every element. And the elements . . . They floated with me, crisper than I’d ever seen them, five pieces of the same magic. Enraptured, I drifted among them, glorifying in their perfection. The pattern of the baetyl filled me with rapture; the patterns of life moving in it elicited pride and awe. I belonged here, a part of this world and the elements. I couldn’t see myself, but I could feel
me
. I was beautiful and perfect, in harmony with everything around me.

Fire lit through me, the scorching pain spinning the world around me. A buzzing enveloped me, and I pushed it away, only to be singed again. I screamed and tried to fight off the flames, but they’d disappeared. Unbalanced and hurting, I sought out my previous bliss, but it eluded me. The clarity of the elements had blurred, disguising the gorgeous patterns hidden among them. Something had stolen my perfection, and without it, I didn’t belong here.

Irate, I chased the fire the next time it attacked. When I found the source, I pounced, wrapping around it to extinguish it. Flames licked through me. Snarled inside the agonizing blast were the other four elements in a pattern I didn’t recognize and that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a true pattern. It wasn’t beautiful. It was a trap.

I fought, entangling myself further. The buzzing had become a drone that encased me, constricting the binding elements.

“Damn it, Mika, I won’t let you die.”

Agony seared through me and my eyes burst open. A claustrophobic world greeted me, filled with dreary shades of brown and black. I closed my eyes. I wanted to go back to floating with the elements.

Fresh pain forced my eyes open again.

“You are Mika Stillwater. You are a gargoyle healer and guardian. You . . .”

The sounds washed over me. My eyes roved over the tiny, drab world, stopping when they encountered blue. It wasn’t gargoyle blue but it had its own beauty, flecked with navy . . .

The baetyl’s sweet promise sang at the edge of my perception, and I closed my eyes again and stretched for it. I started to drift free of the trap, but sparks rained pain through me, tightening me in place. When the world jostled, I looked around with fresh hope, but I hadn’t escaped. Above me, the rocky brown ceiling shifted and the baetyl grew farther away, its song fading. Tears leaked from my eyes.

“Your parents are water elementals. You have a younger sister. You once seared your eyebrows off in an Elemental’s Apprentice duel. You make miniature figurines with quartz that look like they could come alive.”

Golden warmth hit my face and I squinted against the bright light. A vast indigo sky arched overhead and spun toward a lighter blue horizon and the sun’s fiery orb cresting the green tree-covered hills. Wind picked at my loose hair, carrying the crisp scent of dew and pine and damp soil. The man was still speaking, his voice a pleasant rumble. I relaxed and let myself go.

The trap holding me loosened and I was floating. All remnants of pain faded, taking with it my exhaustion. I didn’t have to fight anymore. I could just let go.

White light swept over the hills, erasing them. It grew brighter until it consumed the sky, my body, and everything in between. I looked into the face of every possibility, every truth, and love infused me. Everything was okay. All I had to do was . . .

Let . . .

Go.

17

“Mika!”

The trilling voice speared through me. The bright light trembled.

“Mika, wake up.”

Oliver.

I fell, sinking into a body.
My body?
Air rushed into my lungs, drawing pain in its wake. Groaning, I opened my eyes.

A carnelian gargoyle stood over me, the sunlight on his flared wings making them look like fans of flame. He thrust his worried square face into mine. “Mika?”

Oliver.
I knew him, knew he was important to me, but everything felt fuzzy. The gargoyles—

I had to get the gargoyles into the baetyl!

Tentatively, I gathered elements to reach for Oliver. He couldn’t move himself, so I had to get him inside before he died. Except, he
was
moving. I let the elements unravel, confused.

“Come on, Mika. Come back to us, you stubborn woman.”

I shifted to look for the source of the rough, masculine voice, surprised to find the man’s face inches from mine. I was in his arms, and the feeling was as familiar as his voice.
Marcus.
His fierce scowl should have been intimidating, but it infused me with warmth.

“You are Mika Stillwater. You live in Terra Haven in a tiny apartment in Ms. Zuberrie’s house. Your best friend is Kylie Grayson. Oliver is your gargoyle companion.”

A zing of recognition sparked. He was telling me about myself. I tried to concentrate but the words couldn’t compete with my emotions. I liked being held by Marcus. I liked the concern so evident in his tone.