“You don’t know what it’s like,” Dimitrie went on. “I have many humans here, Luc. Scores of them, but not all are Daicrypta. The Duster chained to a bed in a third-floor guest room? She’s my human. The unconscious homeless man the disciples brought in off the street last night to try a serum on? He’s my human, too. Possessed humans, unwanted asylum patients, prostitutes—every kind that slips through the cracks without another person knowing or caring. Those are the people Dupuis and his disciples bring here. Those are the people they perform their experiments on.
“Protecting them would mean fighting Dupuis and the disciples. You know I couldn’t do that. Everything I am forbids me to touch them. So I have humans who are injured—sometimes even killed. And I have humans who do the killing. You tell me: what am I supposed to do?”
Luc stared at Dimitrie’s washed-out face. The poor bastard. The endless scores of angel’s burns along his back made sense now. Once, Luc had tried to plan what he might do if Grayson went after Lord Brickton, or vice versa. The two despised one another. Which human would Luc protect? Which would he fight?
“All those times Irindi punished you,” Luc said. “Didn’t you ask her what you should do?”
Dimitrie snorted and stood up. “I could ask all I wanted. Do you think she ever answered? Do you really think the Order cares?”
No gargoyle would be so asinine as to think the angels cared.
“They won’t help me, but you can,” Dimitrie said.
“What makes you think I’d help you with anything?” Luc asked, but then thought back to how hopeful Dimitrie had looked when Luc had threatened to kill him.
“If I let you go, you’ll do it. You’ll end me,” Dimitrie said.
“The Dispossessed has its rules. I can’t just kill you.”
Even though Luc wanted to. Half out of fury and half out of pity.
“You can if I endanger your humans,” Dimitrie replied, his gray lips pulling into a taunting sneer. He leaned over, coming closer to Luc. “If I killed one, Lennier would allow you your revenge. Which one will it be?” He tapped his chin. “Oh, wait. I think I know.”
Luc braced himself for the pain and swept his bound legs in an arc across the floor. He caught Dimitrie’s ankles and sent the shadow gargoyle flat against the dirt.
“If you kill her, I’ll make sure you rot here for eternity,” Luc said, his throat hoarse, his entire body gripped by the mercurite sting.
Dimitrie pushed himself up, laughing. He grabbed hold of the chains binding Luc’s legs. Luc saw the darker shade of gray around his hands and realized Dimitrie was wearing gloves.
“I don’t think you will,” Dimitrie said. He started to unravel the coiled chains.
Luc’s body stayed stiff, a spiral of stone and flesh. If the trace amount of mercurite on Gabby’s wounded shoulder had left his hand frozen for nearly an hour, how long would it take for his body to recover from this amount of exposure?
“I’ll tell her something from you,” Dimitrie said. He tossed the chains aside and reached for the curved rod pinning Luc’s wings together. “If you have a message. Anything you want her to know before I kill her.”
He drew the rod out with one fast tug. Speed didn’t help. It hurt worse than when they’d thrust it in.
“You won’t do it,” Luc said. He tried to move his arms. They wouldn’t budge.
“You won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Dimitrie guessed. “With you here, and Ingrid about to arrive at my doorstep, who is going to stop me?”
Marco. Dimitrie didn’t know about Marco. Luc kept his lips sealed. He tried to test his wings, but the muscles along his back and shoulder blades had calcified.
“That’s what I thought,” Dimitrie said. He got up and walked to the door. “It’s a pity, Luc. I can tell she is your favorite. But I can’t exist like this.”
Dimitrie closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ingrid dug her nails into the jet scales along Luc’s arms. It was like trying to puncture a hillside of shale. He held her tight against his concrete abdomen as they flew over the rooftops of Paris.
He’d come for her.
She still didn’t understand what had happened, but there had been demon dust. Vander had seen it, said it was everywhere. And then Luc had just landed, grabbed her, and flown away again, all before she could take a full breath.
“Luc!”
Wind tunneled down her throat and canceled out her scream. He had taken her from whatever danger lay on the ground, but what about Gabby? Why hadn’t he taken her sister as well?
Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to flail. A bubble of nausea rode up her throat, and though they were flying straight, she still felt as if they were corkscrewing through the air. She had nearly fainted the first time she’d flown with Luc, but this dizzy spinning sensation was something different. It felt oddly familiar.
She fought the spell as shifting currents of wind tossed her legs side to side. Luc hadn’t pinned them up as he had the first time. The air filled his wings and took him higher into the dense cloud cover. The lights below finally disappeared, and then Luc was hurtling through cold black clouds. Ingrid’s cloak and dress were sodden, her skin had numbed to ice, and her head throbbed and spun—and then went still.
Just like that, the nausea was gone.
Ingrid knew what it had been.