Incarnate (A Spellmason Chronicle) (17 page)

Stanis

“C
ould you fly—I don’t know—stealthier?”

There was little bite in Alexandra’s words, only worry and concern. Cradled in my arms, Alexandra yawned as her eyes searched to either side of us as I flew through the massive canyons of Manhattan’s lit-up buildings.

“Excuse me?” I asked, spreading my wings to slow my flight.

“I know it’s late,” she said, pointing to our right where people moved behind the glass windows of the apartments, “but the Upper East Side is still mostly residential. We just need to be extra cautious and keep ourselves out of view.” Then she added, “Pretty please?”

“As you wish,” I said and slowed my pace even further as I maneuvered us away from any apartment with its lights on at this time of night.

We circled the area, Alexandra’s eyes sliding shut as I flew, only to flutter open with a look of panic again.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Just tired,” she said. “Three nights of this while researching what I can find written about Dorman, and I’m beat.”

When her eyes slid shut again, I smoothed my flight as best I could, allowing her a momentary reprieve from our worries. I remained aerial, searching the streets below until a crackle of voices rose up from the speaker of Alexandra’s phone in her pocket.

She woke with a start, leaned her ear to her chest, then pointed up ahead.

“Dispatch is reporting activity on the next block,” she said. “Take us down in the alley between those two buildings, please.”

I aimed for the narrow space between the upcoming buildings, drawing in my wings as we approached. Once in, there simply was not room enough to expand my wings and I dropped down into the dark and deserted alley faster than I would have liked. My knees buckled with the impact of my landing.

Alexandra—shaken—took her arms from around my neck as she swung down out of my hold on her and set her feet on the ground. While it took Alexandra a moment to adjust to the darkness of the alley, she kept pressed close to me, which I found I did not mind. She lingered a moment longer before finally stepping away, feeling around as her eyes continued to adjust.

“How’s Emily?” she asked from the other side of the alley.

I paused, surprised to find her asking.

“She is well,” I said with caution. “I have set into motion the tools that may lead to Emily discovering who she was in life.”

“Is that important to her?” Alexandra asked, turning back to me.

“She is unique among my people in that she does not remember
any
part of her past,” I said. “Some of those at Sanctuary have shown no concern for who they were, simply embracing what they are now. But as to Emily . . . yes, I think it is quite important to her to understand the person she once was.”

Alexandra fell silent, and turned back to examining the contents of the alley, which left me uncomfortable. I decided against reciprocating and asking her about Caleb, and instead took the opportunity to better take in our surroundings.

“I do not see one of my kind here,” I said.

Alexandra continued farther away from me as she searched.

“Here’s a compelling piece of evidence,” she said, picking up a crushed trash can that stuck up out of broken slats of wood that I imagined had once housed the can itself. “Judging by the damage, I would say at least
one
of your fellow
grotesques
was here. No doubt they didn’t stay long, especially when someone caught sight of them long enough to call in the complaint.”

I leapt into the sky, flourishing my wings fully open along the length of the alley, hanging in the air above Alexandra, looking down.

“If the voices on the police scanner were correct a moment ago, it has not been all that long,” I said. “And I suspect the trail of the hunt has not yet gone cold.”

“Agreed,” she said. “You take to the sky. I’ll check out the rest of the alley.”

“As you wish,” I said, and shot straight up into the night sky without another word.

From above the buildings on either side of the alley, I watched Alexandra down the narrow gap toward Eighty-third Street, stepping carefully to avoid the scattered trail of debris from whatever had happened here. I flew along, following the signs of a
grotesque
’s path of destruction. Evidence of its exit from the alley continued out onto the cross street, marked by an off-duty cab half-crushed farther down the block. A pile of broken bricks sat at the corner of the building on the north side of the street and I aimed for it, following the signs of chaos into the gated area between two other residential buildings.

The crunch of stone grinding violently against stone rose up from somewhere in the new alley and I swooped down out of the sky at the far end, stopping myself short when I discovered Alexandra there already.

She jumped back with a tiny yelp.

“My apologies,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” she said, pushing by me, holding a finger up to her lips to silence me. Somewhere nearby the sounds of struggle filled the air. “We need to keep moving.”

“There’s no one else in this alley—”

Alexandra was already running back past me toward the end of the alley I had swooped in from. Confused, I spun around to follow her progress, catching sight of her disappearing down a right turn off the main alley I had not noticed.

I followed after her and tore down the even darker interior alley. A struggle echoed out from somewhere far in front of us, but as we approached the dead end of the alley, the sound was already fading.

“Whatever went down
just
happened,” Alexandra said. She pointed to the wall to our left, which was in the act of crumbling away from whatever had impacted it.

As I ran to the spot, a few of the bricks rolled to a stop at my clawed feet.

“None of the walls have broken down,” she said. “Which means no one escaped this dead end
that
way.”

“Then that means . . .”

“Up, up, and away, Stanis,” Alexandra said.

I searched directly above us, making sure I had clearance to rise. At the top of the buildings the sky was a flurry of activity, none of it discernible . . . except for the fact that something was falling.

And falling
fast
.

I dashed toward Alexandra. She had not quite registered what I had, a look of fear overtaking her at my rapid approach. She braced herself as my clawed hands grabbed her shoulder, careful not to dig in. Using only the smallest fraction of my power, I shoved her away from where she stood against one of the walls. Even with that small amount of my strength, she shot across the alley as if I had thrown her. Her feet danced on, then tripped over a large trash bag, sending her into a tumble until she came to a rest against the far wall.

Alexandra’s head poked up from behind the bag of trash, her eyes furious.

“Stanis, what the—”

Alexandra did not get a chance to finish her sentence. Chunks of stone rained down over me where she had stood a moment ago, a cloud of dust rising up all around.

These were not just chunks of stone, I realized. Hands, arms, and legs stuck up from the jagged pile settling around me.

Through the cloud of dust, I could make out Alexandra’s shadowy figure as she stood up and came toward me. “You okay?” she asked, coughing.

I spread my wings wide and flapped them several times to clear away the dust. Alexandra’s cough continued until the air around us was clear once more.

“I am unharmed,” I said, which took some of the tension out of Alexandra’s face and shoulders.

I looked up, unable to make out any sign of activity above.

Alexandra looked up, then back down to the ground as she stepped with caution among the pile of broken limbs, approaching me. When we were face-to-face she grabbed on to my shoulders.

“We need to get up there, now,” she said, then added, “Pretty please . . . ?”

“Hold on,” I said, and without any hesitation, I shot straight up into the air with all my strength.

Alexandra’s arms clenched tight around me and I felt the breath go out of her.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded, even though all the color had drained from her face.

“It’s just the falling sensation in my stomach,” she said. “Caused a quick wave of nausea.”

“Should I put you back down?”

Alexandra shook her head, locking eyes with me. “No,” she said. “There’s simply no time for chundering up the great Technicolor Yawn in the fast-paced world of gargoyle tracking.”

I did not fully understand what she meant, but I assumed it meant I had just been spared a great indignity. Her eyes were filled with determination, and instead of worrying any further, I concentrated on my flight.

Coming up over the edge of the neighboring rooftops, I searched for movement anywhere. Even with the moonlight being as bright as it was, my eyes caught nothing until I had set Alexandra down on top of the taller of the two buildings.

Only then did I notice the nearly still figure crouched at the edge of the rooftop.

The figure was in the same larger-than-life scale as mine, its features far less bat-winged and demonic than my own. This other creature was a carved angel, complete with full, feathery stone wings, long locks of curled hair, and the smooth skin of its features. It crouched at the edge of the rooftop in contemplation of an object I could not make out in its hands.

Stepping closer, I saw what it was—the head of another statue, its features far more demonic than mine with curved horns rising up from its forehead. The edge of the severed stone head was jagged, bits of stone flaking away from it like burning ash onto its broken body far down below in the alley.

“Hold it right there,” Alexandra said.

I flourished open my wings to increase my size in the hopes of looking more menacing. “Do
not
attempt to flee,” I said. “You will not find any escape.”

The angel contemplated the two of us for a long moment, menace in his eyes as he clutched the demonic head in his hands. I was prepared to protect Alexandra should he throw it, but her face showed no fear. She looked unmovable.

The angel held his ground, neither attacking nor surrendering.

“Easy, there,” she said, waving her hand for him to lower the severed head. “Let’s take this slow. Why don’t you start with who you are and we can get to who that was later?”

The menace went out of the angel as he stepped down off the ledge of the roof.

“Forgive me,” he said with a deep bow. “My manners are a bit rusty, what with just having been attacked. Who am I? In my human life I was once known as Nathaniel Crane.”

Alexandra smiled, but did not relax, her hand hovering over the pocket she kept her spell book in. “Well, Mr. Crane, I suggest you drop that gargoyle in your hands,” she said with more authority than I was used to hearing out of her. “And don’t even
think
about trying to fly away. You’ve got a lot to answer for here, outside of the fact you almost got me killed down below in that alley.”

I expected the angel to bolt, to fly off. I did not expect him to stare at us with wry amusement.

“Forgive me once more,” he said, “but who made you the adjudicator on such manners?”

The tone was dismissive and I could not help but growl. I stepped forward, but Alexandra pressed her hand against my chest, stopping me.

“Well,” she said, “for lack of a better term, I’m your creator. I made you.”

The angel seemed unimpressed. “And I should just take your word on that?”

Alexandra shrugged. “That’s up to you,” she said. “You asked.”

“Well, this
is
a rare opportunity,” he said. “It is not often one gets to ask their creator questions on the spot.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“Oh, let’s start with the big one,” he said with a wide grin. “Why am I here? I didn’t get those answers in my human life, so let’s try now.”

“I wish I could give you a better answer, but you—all of your kind except Stanis here—were a mistake. One I’ve come to regret more and more.”

“I think, perhaps, you should be the one answering questions here,” I said. “Starting with why you are holding the head of one of our kind in your hands.”

“This?” he said, holding up the demonic face, frozen in an eternal snarl. “Friend of yours?”

I shook my head. “I have no knowledge of this particular
grotesque
, no,” I said. “But I do protect all of my kind . . . or at least attempt to bring them into the fold of my people. What cause did you have for such brutality against one of our own?”

The angel laughed at that. “We may all be carved of stone, and by the looks of it, the same carver, but make no mistake,” he said. “We are
not
all of the same kind. This one, for instance.”

“Why?” Alexandra asked.

“What grievance had you with him?” I added.

“This one was quite a salesman,” the angel said. “He tried to bring me into his fold, too. He wished me to join the cause of one he served.”

“It was not my cause,” I said.

“Let me guess,” Alexandra said. “The Butcher of the Bowery.”

The angel looked amused and nodded. “Word of him seems to be getting around, yes.”