When I said as much to Celeste, she leapt to her feet and loomed over me. “You can’t tell anyone, especially not five more people.”
Despite her menacing stance, she didn’t scare me this time. I knew her posturing was born of fear, not a desire to hurt me. Nevertheless, I stood up, walking to Rourke’s side to put some space between myself and the incensed gryphon.
“You said you don’t know how much more time Rourke has. We need to work quickly, and I trust Captain Monaghan and his squad with my life. He was the one who led the efforts to save Rourke and the park.” He’d done more than that: It’d been Grant and his team of FPD warriors who had saved the city, and they’d trusted me to work alongside them to help injured gargoyles. If anyone could get us through the storms on Reaper’s Ridge, it was Grant’s team.
Grant also happened to be the only leader of an FPD squad that I was on a first-name basis with and the only one who would believe me if I said my perilous mission was necessary. More important, he and his squad were the only people I would trust with this secretive mission.
“They are not guardians. They cannot help,” Celeste insisted.
“I wouldn’t suggest we go to Grant’s squad unless I thought they were necessary and trustworthy,” I said. “Think about it. How would I get Rourke to the baetyl by myself? I can’t carry him, and even if I could, what about the others? How would I protect them from the wild storms? As much as I’d love to do this on my own, I need help. This isn’t a one-woman mission.”
Lacking the muscles to carry a gargoyle didn’t bother me, but admitting to being too weak as an elemental to protect them rankled. The gargoyles of Terra Haven depended on me. If I couldn’t be everything the gargoyles needed, then it was up to me to make sure I found others who could shore up my shortcomings.
It took an hour of circular arguments before I convinced Celeste, and when she finally agreed, she insisted we leave immediately. I concurred; we didn’t have any time to waste.
We exited the park together, with Oliver and I staying well clear of Celeste’s snapping tail. In the early days after the destruction of Focal Park, Oliver and I had drawn a lot of attention. Few gargoyles left their rooftop perches and fewer still walked the streets with a human companion. With Kylie’s front-page “Gargoyle Healer Saves Terra Haven” article fresh in everyone’s mind, complete with a picture of Oliver and me, we couldn’t have been more recognizable if we’d carried signs. But after a few weeks, the small crowds we’d drawn in our wake had faded. We’d become neighborhood fixtures and recipients of friendly waves and greetings, which I much preferred.
With Celeste stalking at my side, we were back to spectacle status. I ignored the stares and pointing fingers and concentrated on what I’d say to convince Captain Monaghan to help us.
Every few blocks, a fresh wellspring of gargoyle-enhanced magic burst open inside me. The unexpected gush of available magic repeatedly caught me off guard, tripping me mentally and physically even though I should have been used to it by now. Ever since the incident in Focal Park, gargoyles had started providing magic boosts for me whenever I was in range, whether or not I was using the elements at the time. Since gargoyles were particular about who they enhanced and typically didn’t attempt to boost an elemental who wasn’t actively using magic, it was flattering. Oliver claimed it was a sign of respect for a guardian, but up until today, I’d dismissed his explanation as a by-product of his hero worship. I couldn’t help but notice that with Celeste accompanying us, the frequency of the boosts had increased threefold, as if her presence added weight to my reputation.
I acknowledged the offerings with waves and nods to the serious gargoyles who watched us pass from their high perches, for the first time in a long time feeling worthy of their favor. I had a real plan to help the comatose gargoyles, not just desperate hopes and ineffective remedies. Thinking about Reaper’s Ridge, I amended the thought: I had a plan and desperate hopes.
Oliver was the only one of us who’d ever been to the squad’s home base, so he led the way. None of us spoke as we left behind the bustle of downtown and climbed the gentle hills on the east side of Terra Haven. Enormous mansions jutted along the tops of the rolling crests, but we turned onto a flagstone pathway halfway up a slope and stopped in front of a bright yellow two-story stucco house with a nine-foot-tall wooden door. Celeste flew up to the roof, landing soundlessly on the terra-cotta tiles and disappearing. I steeled myself and knocked.
No one answered. I waited a minute, counting the seconds as they passed, then tried again, pounding the iron knocker against the wood with all my strength. Eleven seconds later, the door burst open and Marcus Velasquez loomed over me. I fell back a step, then caught myself. Cold blue eyes burned into me, and a muscle bunched in his anvil of a jaw. Recognition dawned a second later, and the rugged fire elemental’s intimidating pose relaxed fractionally, but his forbidding expression didn’t alter. Without saying anything, he crossed his tan arms over his chest—a move that emphasized his thick biceps and wide shoulders—and leaned against one side of the door frame, obviously waiting for me to speak.
A flurry of bubbles rioted in my stomach.
“I . . . Is Grant here?” I squeaked.
Sometime during the catastrophe at Focal Park, I’d developed a crush on Marcus. The last time I’d seen him, I’d even convinced myself that he was interested in me, too. But I’d been too busy hunting for a cure for the dormant gargoyles to devise a casual way to bump into him and reassess my feelings for him under more normal circumstances—like when he wasn’t saving my life—and he’d never sought me out. After a few months, I decided I’d made everything up, my crush included.
Up until five seconds ago, I’d believed myself, too.