In a few short sentences, I summed up everything I knew about baetyls for Marcus, finishing with, “It’s been decades too long for all of them. If the dormant gargoyles don’t get to their baetyl—their repaired baetyl—they’ll die.”
“Why have I never heard about baetyls before?” Marcus asked.
“You shouldn’t know about them now,” Celeste growled, her lashing tail slowly pulverizing a wicker chair. Marcus didn’t seem to notice.
“Celeste only told me because I am a guardian.” I stumbled over the title.
“I take it that’s different than a healer.”
“Vastly,” Celeste said.
“How?”
“That’s like asking what the difference is between fire and a fire elemental,” she said, and Oliver nodded sharply.
Obviously Marcus had never heard of a gargoyle guardian, if he had to ask. Judging by his grunt, I didn’t think he was impressed.
“What’s the catch?” he asked.
“The broken baetyl is on Reaper’s Ridge.”
“No.” Marcus stood, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
“So you won’t help me?” I hadn’t expected him to leap for joy, but I hadn’t expected him to refuse, either.
“No, I’m telling you you’re not going.”
“You . . . you’re telling me,” I sputtered. I planted my hands on my hips, curling my fingers into the fabric of my shirt to control my rising temper. “I’m not asking for permission.”
“That’s not permission; that’s advice. If you go, you’ll die.”
I leaned forward, matching him scowl for scowl. “Wrong. I only might die.” Okay, that had sounded better in my head. I plowed on. “But if I don’t go, all seven of the dormant gargoyles will die. I can’t stand by and let that happen, not when I can save them.”
“When you might save them. There’s no guarantee. Do you even know how to fix a baetyl?”
A year ago, I hadn’t known how to heal a gargoyle, and now I was a gargoyle healer. If Celeste thought I could fix a baetyl, then I’d figure it out. But I was smart enough not to say as much to Marcus. Fortunately, he didn’t wait for a response.
“FPD squads have attempted to tame Reaper’s Ridge multiple times and have paid for it with their lives. Those were hardened groups of linked full-spectrum elementals. What makes you think you could survive five minutes?”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, but I’d been doing a stellar job of burying my dread by focusing on the cure. Now all my fear clambered to the surface. I could tell he saw it in my eyes, and it pissed me off.
“Why do you think I’m here? I know I need help. You know what, though? This was stupid. Forget I said anything. While you’re at it, forget I ever told you about baetyls.”
“Mika—”
“No. I’ll do it without you.”
I spun toward the exit but Marcus stepped into my path before I made it two steps. I had the option of running into him or stopping. If I’d thought I stood a chance at moving him, I might have considered ramming him. Instead, I settled on the best glare I had and aimed it at his throat.
“You don’t understand.” I tried to sound calm, but I only managed to sound like I was holding back tears. “I don’t have a choice. That’s where the baetyl is; that’s where I have to go. I can’t let the gargoyles die, not without trying.”
His pulse bounced in his throat and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
“Move. Please. I have a lot to do.”
Oliver whined, jumping down to stand beside me. Celeste loomed in my periphery.
“You’re really going, even alone, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be there,” Oliver said.
I glanced at Marcus’s face. The man could tunnel through a brick wall with that scowl.
“This is the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard.”
“No one asked your opinion.”
Marcus snorted. “Fine. I’m in.”
“You’re coming?”
“Someone with brains needs to be on this venture.”
I swayed in place with the intensity of my relief. I wouldn’t be doing this alone. I’d have preferred the whole squad, but Marcus’s abilities were nothing to scoff at. Maybe, just maybe, we’d survive.
“When do we leave?” he asked.
“Today,” Celeste said.
“Then we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
We were really going to Reaper’s Ridge. I swallowed against the urge to vomit.
4
I strained to hold my bands of air under the seated sardonyx tiger. Even boosted as I was by Oliver and Celeste, I wouldn’t have been able to lift the large statue-like gargoyle much more than a foot off the ground by myself. She was one of the largest of the dormant gargoyles and outweighed me by at least five hundred pounds. It didn’t help that I was already tired from moving the other six, first from their locations throughout the city and into the quarry cart Marcus had rented, then into the freight car. My magic quivered like an overworked muscle, loose and too flimsy for one more repetition.
Marcus swooped a thick basket of air under my strands and the swan-winged feline floated from the back of the cart and through the wide loading door of the freight car. Together we settled the gargoyle onto the wooden floorboards, maneuvering her between a warthog-headed bear and Rourke. Once I determined she was stable, I released the elements and collapsed against the side of the metal car, swiping sweat from my forehead.