Thesecondgargoyleheldher much gentler than the first.
Lux could hardly breathe, her heart raced so fast. She stared at the stone beast’s body scattered on the cliff’s edge and barely knew what to make of what had happened. She’d been dropped by one—only to be rescued by another?
This gargoyle flew less succinctly than the one before. It lurched and sped, then stuttered and slowed, but eventually the lampposts returned, the courtyard visible once again. More chaotic than she’d left it.
For one, with the gate destroyed, there were more bodies than before—including two who ran along the garden path, following her flight.
She couldn’t make out their faces until she was nearly upon them. Immediate relief pinged in her chest at seeing Shaw. Along with immediate irritation at seeing Lars.
She cried out when her feet connected with the gravel courtyard, her momentum propelling her forward and into the former’s arms.
“Devil below,” Shaw breathed into her hair and swept her up against him.
“What…” she croaked. “How…”
“That ancient mason is dead. The brambles took him shortly after the gargoyle took you. I made it to the gate but forgot it was locked. Saw you drop.”
“Bet you didn’t know I have a rare brilliance too, did you?”
Lux turned her head toward Lars, watching him fold his hands into his pockets with a self-satisfied smirk.
“You did that?”
“Course I did.” A moment later, his smile fell away. “They did something awful to my father here, didn’t they?”
Shaw placed her back on her feet, and they both turned to whom Lars stared. Manphry, sitting on the steps, his head resting against Magda’s chest and his eyes blinking but seemingly fixed.
“They took his soul,” she said. “Once those who stole it are all gone, he’ll go to the Beyond.”
I hope.
Suddenly, a girl was at her elbow, grabbing hold of it and dragging her around. “Lux!” exclaimed Cecily. “Lord Kent is still alive. He wants to talk to you.”
“Of course he would,” Lux said, sickly sweet, and she allowed Cecily to take her to him.
The remaining trio of collectors stood back to back to back. And they were surrounded. By pitchforks, torches, and redwren feathers.
Kent.
Artemis.
Silas.
Lux feared none of them. Not anymore. She strode up to Kent, ignoring Silas’s growl but deigning to curl her lip at Artemis.
Artemis, who had told hershewas mad when really they were—and all by their own doing.
“I hear you had something to say, you moldering troll. What is it?”
The crows circled overhead, appearing satisfied for the moment. They did not bother her or anyone else, opting only to watch.
Kent’s colorless lips pursed. “You’ve made a mistake, Necromancer, doing what you’ve done. Collectors have minded Mothlock for centuries. We’ve shaped the country. You must revive them; everything will collapse if you don’t.”
“I cannot,” said Lux, and she pouted. “I’ve a dark brilliance. Prone to breakage, I’m told.”
Kent’s eyes narrowed while Artemis’s widened. Lux glared at them both.
“This is your last chance, Ms. Thorn.” Artemis’s stare turned sour. “All the strength of Malgorm will come down on you if you don’t do as you’re told.”
