“Look, I’m doing my best here.” I shrugged off Oliver’s placating gesture and stomped up the incline toward the gryphon. “I’m trying everything I can think of, so unless you have any suggestions—”
The gryphon surged forward, leaping into the air on stone eagle wings and hurtling straight for me. I dropped to all fours to avoid being clipped by her massive eagle talons, my heart lifting into my throat. The backdraft of her wings whipped my hair into my eyes as she shot past us. She banked, spinning through the air as if she’d anchored one wingtip in the ether, and swooped back toward us. Her enormous body temporarily blocked the sun before she landed on silent stone feet close enough to snap my head off. Oliver reared up protectively in front of me, but even with his wings flared, his slender body looked fragile next to the gryphon. She ignored him, folding her enormous amethyst-striated onyx wings against her body and glaring at me.
“Stop shouting.” The gryphon’s voice was that of a lion’s, soft and rumbling, despite forming in a rock throat and emerging through an eagle’s beak.
“Uh, of course.” I straightened on shaky legs and squared my shoulders.
Dismissing me and Oliver, she stalked around us to stare into the marmot’s blank eyes. I released a quiet breath and patted Oliver. He dropped to all fours, keeping his wings partially cupped to give himself extra bulk. I shuffled in a wide arc around the gryphon until I could see her face again, and Oliver twined beside me, moving slower than normal. I think it was his version of being tough, and I appreciated the effort.
“I’ve been watching you,” she said.
“I know—”
She turned the full weight of her stare on me, and my mouth clicked shut.
“I have talked with the gargoyles you’ve healed,” she continued, “and I have talked with the gargoyles this cub has been spreading tales to.”
Oliver bristled, the orange-red ruff around his face flaring. I crossed my arms over my chest. Was this where she accused me of being an unfit healer? If so, she was wrong. I’d been an exemplary healer—at least until I’d encountered the comatose gargoyles. She was welcome to point me in the direction of a more practiced healer or even a book that might provide an answer to the dormancy sickness, but otherwise I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her recriminations.
“You risked much to save the hatchlings when they were so foolishly caught. You risked more to save Rourke.”
My indignation faltered. She knew the sick gargoyle’s name.
“I’m still trying to save him—to save Rourke,” I said. “But you know that. You’ve watched me every day.”
The gryphon acted as if I hadn’t spoken, observing without speaking as the cleanup crew broke off another pillar of granite, spun it through the air, and crumbled it into the deep pit on the other side of the park.
I tried to read her expression. She didn’t look ready to chase me out of town for being a miserable healer. She looked more torn than angry.
Had I misjudged her? Was it possible she wasn’t here to berate me? Something had made her approach me today, and I bit my lip to hold in a babble of questions and demands that might scare her off.
“You have proven yourself twice, Healer, and perhaps you’ve even earned the honorific this pup has been claiming. It’s been centuries since we’ve known a true guardian.”
I twitched as if she’d poked me. Oliver had started calling me guardian after I’d saved the marmot and a half dozen other gargoyles Elsa’s invention had ensnared while it’d been tearing up the park. I hadn’t put much stock in it. He was young and worshipful, and working with Guardian Mika sounded more impressive than Healer Mika. I hadn’t realized the title meant anything, but the gryphon implied it did.
“If I’m going to trust you . . .” She pivoted on a hind foot and paced away from me and back, tail lashing. “If I’m going to save you . . .” She paused to peer into Rourke’s faded eyes. With a choked roar, she spun away and thrust her beak so close to Oliver’s snout that their breaths mingled. My brave companion didn’t flinch.
The gryphon’s voice rumbled with anguish when she asked, “Is she really a guardian? Is she worthy?”
“My life is hers,” Oliver said.
“You are too young to know what you say.”
Oliver quivered, wings flaring in anger. “I’ve held her spirit inside me. My age doesn’t matter. I felt her in my heart. I know Mika is a guardian.”
I shuddered at the reminder. I’d once transplanted pieces of my spirit into Oliver and his four siblings in a colossally stupid maneuver that would have shredded my brain if it hadn’t worked. At the time, it’d been the only option I could use to save the gargoyles from being ripped apart by Elsa’s invention, and I hadn’t fully considered the ramifications. Nor had I realized Oliver had been able to glean anything from that piece of me, let alone that it was what convinced him I was a guardian.
I was beginning to suspect the title of guardian was more than an honorific, too.
The gryphon broke off her staring match with Oliver and straightened to turn her piercing regard upon me. I did my best not to fidget, but my bubbling hope made it difficult. If I guessed correctly, she knew what could save the marmot—what could save all the dormant gargoyles—and she seemed to be talking herself into telling me. I hunted for the right words to convince her I deserved her trust, but the longer I looked into her glowing amethyst eyes, the more certain I became that nothing I could say would be enough. Either she believed me worthy or she didn’t.
I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“Guardian.” The gryphon paused as if testing the word. “My name is Celeste, and I place the lives of all gargoyles into your hands with what I am about to tell you.”
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