“That’s not from the dancer side of your life,” I said, pained on her behalf.
“Dancers get injured, too,” she said. “Do you know the shelf life of a dancer? It’s almost as bad as that of a figure skater!”
“You need to take it easy,” I said. “Go home and rest some more. I won’t have you falling apart on my account.”
“Lexi—”
I stood, pulling her up out of her chair. Her legs wobbled underneath her and gave out, but I caught her as she fell forward. It was an awkward grab, her forehead slamming into my chin, but when she looked up at me, the fight was gone from her eyes.
“Fine,” she said. “But who’s going to protect you if that guy comes back around here?”
I smiled. “Not this girl,” I said, tapping her on her forehead. I scooped up her dance bag.
“At least let me sit here and do some puzzle solving in your great-great-grandfather’s books,” she insisted. “I feel so useless.”
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to cut back on the gymnastics both physical and mental,” I said, walking her out of the guild hall. “And given the type of arcane stuff you might stumble across in Alexander’s books, that’s even more reason for you to steer clear for now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I led Rory all the way up and out to the front door, even hailing a cab and sliding her into it. She smiled up at me as I handed her the dance bag, but there was worry in her eyes.
“At least call Marshall,” she said. “That would make me feel better about leaving you here all alone.”
“Will do,” I said, and, without another word, I shut the cab door, sending her on her way as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
I could have hugged her for her concern, worrying about me when she was the one who could barely keep her feet under her, but as I headed back into the building, I had no intention of calling Marshall.
Seeing Rory like that was more than I could stand. My body shook with the thought of my best friend since childhood coming to harm in my home over secrets that had been put upon my family generations ago. If she thought I was going to call Marshall in to watch over me and put him in harm’s way, too . . .
Such fragile creatures.
Stanis’s words came to me. In his gargoyle hands, the lives of human enemies would be in danger. What scared me more was that in my hands, the lives of my human friends were, too.
If I was going to keep them safe and out of harm’s way, I needed to step up my research, and that meant doing it on my own. For that, I needed full access to everything at my great-great-grandfather’s disposal.
I needed to be back in his library.
Eight
Stanis
Swooping down out of the night sky, I took in the Belarus Building, a welcome sight after all these months away from it. I had not known I could miss a place like this so much. With the new and dominant voice filling my head, I could only hope that Alexandra was not here even though I longed to see her after so long an absence.
I came down low over the trees of Gramercy Park, then arced up to land on the terrace that led into my maker’s library and studio.
Show no mercy in your search for the stolen secrets until you have found them, Kejetan had instructed.
Tasked as I was, I approached the French doors leading in, tearing them off the hinges. I was relieved to see there was no response from within, which meant the Belarus family was safe from incurring any of the damage I was programmed to do. Curious though I was at the silence of the building as I entered, I was also relieved at the lack of human activity. It would make what I was about to do a bit easier.
Though my true voice called out for me to stop, I tore through shelf after shelf of the books there, knocking volumes of them onto the floor, my claws gouging out large chunks as I went. Pages flew free, drifting freely in the air like leaves on the wind as I hurried through my task.
Despite the outer cloud of destruction and chaos all round me, I felt nothing but sorrow on the inside. All of these were memories of the centuries I had known the family, watched over them.
Moving into the art studio lined with its puzzle boxes and statuary, my thoughts turned more toward my own creation, the years I had spent learning under Alexander Belarus—fundamental lessons in how I functioned, how I could learn, how I could grow.
And now? I had betrayed all that.
The small voice in my head begged for me to stop, but it was not the one in charge now. Destruction while searching was what my masters wanted, and that was what my body gave them.
After a long and violent sweep of the open floor of the building, I had ruined much but found nothing of use to those who now controlled me. I stood in the wreckage of it all, wondering just what I was meant to do next. Lessons in pure destruction had not been something that Alexander had ever thought to teach me even though I had done my fair share of dark deeds against those who had sought to harm the family Belarus.
I had followed my new master’s rules, but I had nothing to show for it. My mind was slowly processing what my next step might be when the sound of footsteps came from somewhere at the back of the building, near the stairs leading down.
“Holy shit,” a female voice cried out behind me, followed by a gasp of hitched breath. I froze where I stood, part habit in a world of humans but also out of shock. The sounds of cautious footsteps followed, the shift of rubble and debris following. “What the hell?”
The footsteps came to a halt when the woman no doubt spied my shape among the shadows, followed by a stifled cry.
“Stanis?”
It had been far too long since I heard my name uttered by anyone other than the my father’s people, but just the sound of Alexandra’s voice saying it calmed me, even among all the chaos I had just caused.
I turned, and there she stood, with her long black hair down over her shoulders, her eyes wide and glistening in the near darkness.
“Hello, my Alexandra,” I said, my true voice coming forward. I did not move, but I did not need to.
She ran to me, throwing her arms around my body and squeezing tight. I returned the embrace, handling her human form with care, and foreign though it felt, I found great comfort in the gesture, even though the bond between us had been broken the night she had released me to my father.
We stood there in the darkness together for a long moment, neither of us willing to break the spell. When had I last touched her? Perhaps the night months ago when I had flown us to this very building to stave off my father’s attack.
“You’re here,” she said, stepping back to look at me but keeping her hands on my arms. “You’re actually here.”
“That I am,” I said.
“I’ve so many questions,” she said. “Where have you been? Who did this? Did you see anyone?”
“Where I have been is a long tale,” I said. “As to who did this . . . yes, I saw who it was. It was I.”
The kindness in her eyes shifted, and I did not need a connection between us to see the confusion in her.
“You did this?” she asked, her voice becoming louder. “Why? Why would you do this?”
I tried to answer, but found it a struggle as my true voice fought with the dominant one that held control over me. As small as my own voice sounded in my mind, I needed it to rise, to fight, but it would not come.
When I did not answer, Alexandra shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. She started to shrug her backpack off her shoulders, but I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.