Alchemystic (27 page)

I felt my defenses rising up, unexpectedly and quicker than I had imagined they even might have. “He did it in the name of protecting the family. He did it protecting
me
!”

“And what about tossing Marshall around last night and cutting his leg?” she asked. “You said it yourself. You couldn’t imagine what it would take to socialize something simple like Bricksley there. Stanis is far more complex. You sure that gargoyle is clear on what right and wrong is around here? He’s potentially a killing machine and I don’t want any of us to become…accidental casualties or anything.”

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble nearly kicking that guy to death down at the docks,” I snapped back. “Maybe I should be worried about you as well.”

“This isn’t about morality here,” Rory said. “You and I know how each other think and work. We’re human. We’ve been friends for years. As for what I did down on the docks, how dare you even question that. If someone comes after us in that violent a fashion, I have no qualms about defending us and I would expect the same from you. I did it out of loyalty, friendship, Lexi. I do it so you don’t have to.”

This was turning into a lecture. “What’s your point?” I asked, sharpness in my voice.

“Why does Stanis do it? How does he know right and wrong when a stupid walking brick needs things expressly pointed out to him? There’s more to Stanis than this spirit of the stone you talk about calling forward. There’s something more to him, and I don’t want to find out the hard way what it is if he suddenly decides to crush our heads because in his mind he perceives us as a threat, by whatever standard is built into him.”

“It’s not like I can just go and take a course on Spellmasonry, you know,” I said. “I’m winging it here. I’ve got to research every little choice I make. Some of this is part innate family blood talent at work, but the rest is study and ritual. Much of it doesn’t even make sense, but who am I going to ask about this? My parents? They’ve got religion explaining their guardian angel theory for them. I can’t even begin to go there with them over this.”

Rory came over to me, fast. I wasn’t sure what to expect, flinching, but was surprised when she hugged me.

“I’m not attacking you,” she said, calmness and love in her words. “I swear. I’m just worried about everything that’s going on. It’s part of having your back. And you know Marshall. He’s used to his gaming group torturing him. He’s always looking for the cloud of doom hanging overhead. I just want to make sure your head is clear while you’re doing all this magic stuff, and I’m not sure it is.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked, calming a little myself.

Rory let go and stepped back from me.

“I wonder where your head is at, concerning Stanis. You dodged me the other night, when I asked how building a companion for Stanis was going. We need allies, right? But, I don’t know…You seemed like maybe your heart isn’t into keeping that promise anymore. Other than building little play toy creatures.”

I turned away from her, focusing myself once more on the book in front of me, spreading it out on the table. “Well, I
have
been busy with the family business, figuring out what happened to my brother, and just keeping alive.”

“So that’s all it was?” she asked, and I could hear the skepticism in her voice. “You were just too busy to get to it?”

“Yes,” I said, eyes down in my book, avoiding the real issue again. “This stuff is incredibly detailed. Bricksley here is my new high-water mark of achievement and it’s all I can do to keep
him
on point. Carving that half-finished block of stone up on the roof into something living is going to be quite the feat, but I’m on it, I swear.”

“I see,” Rory said, hopping up onto the table next to where I was reading, sliding her butt back. “Thing is, I saw the way you couldn’t meet my eyes just a second ago, Lexi. There’s more going on here.”

I kept my eyes on the books in front of me, not liking where this was going. “I’m busy here.”

“You know what I think?” Rory asked.

I shook my head. “Enlighten me,” I said, against my better judgment.

“I think you don’t want to really get started on that particular project,” she said. “Even though I have zero idea how much work must go into something like that, I think you’re stalling.”

My stomach clenched and I gave a nervous, dismissive laugh. “Why would I do that?”

“Honestly?” she said. “I don’t think you want to share. I mean, you’ve got a big, strong protector in Stanis, don’t you? Must be nice to feel so safe and secure, huh?”

“We’re in the twenty-first century now,” I said. “Women don’t need protectors. Besides, I’m so a Hermione, not a Bella.” I felt a twinge in my heart. Sometimes I hated that Rory knew me so well. She was right, of course, though it was hard to admit it to myself. I
had
been stalling, for selfish reasons, but let’s face it—saving him for myself was ridiculous, wasn’t it? If I had any consideration for him, wasn’t Stanis entitled to some happiness? Wouldn’t creating a companion bring him that? I secretly vowed to refocus my efforts, but gave Rory a flush-faced smile. “Are you saying I have a thing for the man of stone, Aurora Torres?”

She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “You only use my proper name when I’m really getting to you,
Alexandra
,” she said, crossing her arms. “Well, do you?”

I closed the book in front of me, shaking my head, laughing into my hands. “Well, realistically, Stanis is
not
human. I can’t have a thing for him…can I?”

“Why not?” she asked, insistent. “You’ve dated guys with less personality than him. At least you know this one is a faithful and loyal protector.”

“Don’t you think me needing a protector is a bit chauvinistic these days? We’re post–women’s liberation movement and all…”

“When a creepy mystical order is out to kill you, I don’t care who you are…You don’t just want protecting; you
need
it. You want proof? Look at the collection of broken or crushed body parts running through your recent past!”

“I—” I stopped. I couldn’t argue that. “Okay, fine. You have a point. There is a comfort in that, I’ll admit. But as far as you calling me out on it, I don’t think you’re being all noble here. I think that
you’re jealous
.”

Rory laughed. “Me? Jealous how?”

“You’ve
always
had my back growing up. Now someone else is kicking ass on my behalf, and it’s
not
you. You’re feeling replaced.”

“This isn’t about someone cutting in on my ass-kicking quota,” she insisted. “I’m happy not to have to babysit you every waking moment, darlin’. The difference here is that I kick ass because I care for you,
not
because I’ve been programmed to.”

“Look,” I said. “I’ll admit that I
like
having Stanis watching over me. It’s nice to feel that security, no matter how artificial that may be. But…he’s a magical construct.”

“I’m not saying any of this to hurt you,” Rory said, putting an arm around me, her head on my shoulder. “I want you happy. I just want to keep you focused on what needs to be done here. Put aside whatever feelings you have and keep working on this because we
need
allies. We need to find the rest of Stanis’s gems to help him remember his past so we stand a chance of figuring out why so many people want you dead.”

“How about we discuss this tomorrow?” I asked, pleading, my brain overloaded with the tasks ahead but also a little
relieved for being called out on the surprising fact that I cared so much. “My mind is about to melt.”

“Fine,” Rory said, heading back toward the terrace, stopping to put her arm around the stone-still gargoyle out there. “But if you think Stanis is just your cuddly protector, you’re fooling yourself. There’s something human to him and I hope for your sake it’s a good thing…but it might also be bad.” She spun around, curtsied, and jumped up on the ledge of the terrace. “Good luck!”

Rory left via the fire escape, sliding out of sight. I turned in time to catch Bricksley once again carrying a book but stuck up against the wall like a broken Roomba.

I went to retrieve my book and righted my little brick of a creature, picking him up and looking into his drawn-on face. “What do
you
think, little buddy? You think Stanis has any human in him? You think I can Spellmason it out of him?”

As if in response, Bricksley shuddered as the magic left him, and fell to the ground, his component parts scattering as any control I had over him went away completely.

“Then again,” I continued, looking down at the still-smiling brick and feeling somehow terribly sad for it, “maybe I have no business playing with powers I don’t fully understand yet. I certainly have no business standing here talking to inanimate brick men about gargoyles—that’s for sure.”

I scooped up the pieces and brought them back to one of the worktables on the other side of the studio, the book tucked under my arm. I laid out the pieces and began going over how I had joined them together in the first place. If I couldn’t keep something as simple as Bricksley in one piece, what chance did I ever hope to have working on the block of stone up on the roof? Did I even want to?

I should build his companion, I told myself. Not only would it help protect my family better; it would bring Stanis happiness.

But couldn’t
I
make him happy myself? I needed to investigate more of Stanis’s human tendencies if I was ever going to get to the bottom of this.

Either way, I was in for a long night.

Alexandra

N
ow that I was alone and my latest creation was toast, I read what I could about Spellmasons—the ability to transmute stone into a living thing, establishing connections through alchemical processes, and trying to figure out just where I had gone wrong with my mini-Frankenstein monster. My frustration with almost getting my friends killed kept rising to the surface so by the time Stanis awoke, I was ready for a bit of kick-ass vengeance mixed with some fact finding about being dead-ended out in Brooklyn at that shipping freighter.

“I must apologize,” Stanis said, once we were airborne, me cradled in his arms.

“For what?” I asked, trying not to shiver as the wind of a higher elevation rolled over me in our flight.

“For leaving in such haste the other evening,” he said. “I am afraid I am not quite myself these nights. Or rather, perhaps I am more like myself than ever as I regain pieces of me. I am just not accustomed to the new sensations. I did not mean to strike out in anger.”

“This is new to both of us,” I said. “No harm.”

“But there was harm,” he said. “The more I am restored,
the more I must contend with emotions. I am unprepared for such a thing.”

“I know the feeling,” I said with a smile. “Emotions are hard to sort out, whether you’re made of stone or flesh.”

“Yes,” he said. “The strongest seem to be the ones deepening in me toward you.”

I wasn’t ready for this, but I couldn’t help feeling an excitement hearing it, no matter where his human tendencies came from. “I feel it as well,” I said, finally being honest with myself, then fell silent as we flew on.

“How is the male?” Stanis asked a short while later.

As we dropped down through the clouds, the East River came into sight along with the long row of ships docked along the Brooklyn waterfront. I thought of the way Marshall had limped away with Rory the other night. “Marshall will be fine,” I said, pointing off toward the boat I was looking for. “He was just shaken more than anything.”

“I regret my actions,” he said. “Please let him know that.”

“You can let him know that yourself, next time you see him. That’s how we humans roll. We apologize.”

“As you wish,” he said.

I realized I probably had some apologizing of my own to do with certain people, but as we came down onto the deck of the ship, landing in shadows, I tried to focus on the mission at hand instead. Stanis released me and I started off across the empty deck, looking for an entrance. “Stay close,” I said. “And step lightly.”

We worked our way down into the ship, the corridors large enough for Stanis and me to fit through easily side by side. At the sign of our first tattoo-handed thug, I pulled Stanis into the shadows just as he was raising his claws to strike. I chose to go with subtlety over conflict. The fewer alarms we raised, the better.

“Please tell me you are keeping track of where we’ve been,” I said after a few more minutes of wandering into large, open cargo holds and more corridors than I could count. “Because I’m a bit lost.”

He nodded. “I may still not have recovered all my past memories, but my retention of the here and now is intact.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, then narrowed in on the sound of a commotion down one of the corridors off the large cargo hold we were currently in and started off in its direction. I moved down it, sticking to the shadows as best I could as I approached the next room, stopping dead as it came into sight.

Ornate European throne rooms didn’t normally appear on large shipping freighters, but here one was nonetheless. Every chair around a massive oak table at the center of the room was elaborately carved, but the wood of them was worn and chipped, and I could see why. The creatures sitting in them were made of large, jagged clumps of rock and stone. Marshall owned a T-shirt for the Fantastic Four that had something that looked like them on it, a man made of orange rock, but these creatures were far less human-looking. The rest of the room was filled with old-world furniture and piles of books laid out everywhere on a long line of tables.