Incarnate (A Spellmason Chronicle) by Anton Strout

Author:Anton Strout [Strout, Anton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Stanis

I knew the concrete canyons of Hell’s Kitchen as well as any of my Manhattan neighborhoods. Nonetheless when Emily called out, “Heads-up,” I looked up only to catch Detective Rowland’s building coming up fast in front of me. I spread my wings to the extent of their span to slow myself, but I had simply picked up too much speed in my distracted state. I arched my back as far as I could, twisting my body as I banked upward just enough that I felt the bricks of the building’s side scrape against my chest.

My momentum slowed the higher I rose until I set myself into a hover once I had cleared the building. Moments later Emily joined me, the effort of her wings bringing her into a hover of her own that had become much improved as of late.

“Forgive me,” I said. “I did not realize we were already here.”

“You’re distracted,” she said, with understanding kindness in her words. “It’s understandable.”

“Is it?”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “You have everyone at Sanctuary to think about, not just me. Your mind must not get a second of rest or much of a thought all your own.”

She was right, of course. There were all those things in my mind, as well as thoughts about finding the Butcher, keeping my people safe . . . and of course, Alexandra.

There was less and less time to help out my maker’s kin track down the warlock Warren O’Shea’s leads, but Alexandra was not something I felt comfortable discussing with Emily. My gargoyle companion had enough worries of her own to contend with without having to contend with my feelings for the last of the Spellmasons.

I reached out to Emily, taking her clawed hands in mine.

“Hopefully tonight shall give you the answers you seek,” I said.

“I hope so,” she said, her expression worried. Despite her serpentine features being hard to read, I had still been able to learn all the subtleties of her face over the past few months and it pained me to see her unhappy.

“You know who you are, why you are here,” she continued. “I do not.”

I gave a dark smile to her. “Patience,” I said. “Do not forget . . . I spent several centuries not knowing, not even considering what or who I had been. My having ever been a part of humanity did not seem possible.”

“You’re right,” she said with a smile of her own. “I know it. But knowing something and suppressing the emotions about it are two different things.”

“Come,” I said, holding my wings open in place.

The two of us descended down along the side of the building below, our wings spread wide to slow our fall until the windows of Detective Chloe Rowland’s apartment were in front of us. I latched onto the brick of the building with my claws, and moved along the row of glass panes until I spotted the detective.

Her long red hair was down, and the clothes she wore were far more casual this time.

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