My words had little of the desired effect I had hoped they would, and Desmond turned back to Stanis, continuing to marvel at him.
“Stay away from the Belarus family and their delicious secrets?” he asked. “Oh, I think not. Not after seeing this glorious creature.”
“You will,” I said. “You’ll hand over what you have about my family, about my great-great-grandfather, or I will have ‘this glorious creature’ kick your ass.”
Nearby, Caleb coughed into his hand.
“You might want to do what the lady asks, sir,” he said.
Desmond spoke, his tone a bit darker now. His hand went quick into his coat, coming out with his gun. He waved it at me. “But I’ve dedicated my life and work in the search of him.”
“Find a new hobby,” I said, more angered than scared as I stared down the barrel of the weapon. “My family is off-limits.”
Locke shook his head. “My organization is more than just me,” he said, a hint of desperation in his words now. “The Libra Concordia is long-lived.”
Stanis stepped in front of the gun, looking down at Desmond Locke no more than a few inches away from him.
“And so am I,” he said, his voice lowering into a growl. “The dedication of your entire life to this pursuit is but a small moment in time to me. What is the waste of one lifetime such as yours? I have watched over four generations of this family. I have stood looking over this Manhattan as people withered to their years and were buried, over and over. I will outlast your Libra Concordia, and the Belarus family will always be under my watch.”
The gun shook in Desmond’s hand, then tumbled from his fingers, clattering among the broken glass on the floor. He rose and grasped the many talismans hanging around his neck.
“You cannot hope to harm me,” he said.
Stanis smiled, revealing his fangs. “I can try.”
“Maybe you should bring him closer to God,” I said.
Stanis grabbed the man by both arms, his claws tearing through the cloth of the suit. Desmond did not seem pained, but kept staring into Stanis’s eyes, shaking. Stanis’s wings opened to their full extent, and with one great leap, the two of them were airborne. They rose like a shot up through the church, passing out through what remained of the stained-glass windows. I covered my eyes as a few fresh pieces came loose and fell to the floor.
Caleb walked over to me, his eyes fixed on the broken stained glass. “Is he going to . . . ?” He smashed his fists against each other several times.
I laughed.
“No,” I said. “Just wanted to put a healthy dose of fear in the man, so he’ll back off. I’ve pretty much had it with people trying to manipulate me.”
Caleb nodded and fell silent.
As one of the people who had actually manipulated me, the best he could muster was a sheepish half smile, but words themselves seemed to fail him.
The rest of the workers of the Libra Concordia still seemed in a panic, the gargoyle at my feet causing those who were fleeing to give Caleb and me a wide berth.
“Anyway,” I said, finally breaking the silence, “I just wanted to thank you.”
Caleb’s eyebrows raised. “For . . . ?”
“That gift box you sent,” I said, looking down at Devon’s body at my feet. “It proved . . . useful. A real lifesaver, in fact, quite literally.”
“Good,” he said, managing a small smile. “Great, in fact.”
I managed a small smile of my own. “I keep expecting to find an invoice in the mail.”
“Lexi,” he said, souring, but I didn’t want to let him off the hook just yet.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t consider it.”
“That gift was just the first along the way of making many an apology,” he said. “What Stanis said that night about playing both sides of the fence . . . he was right. I never knew who or when to trust. I’ve been doing this so long on my own that I couldn’t think straight. I was so busy trying to get you to trust me, I didn’t think to trust you. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not all bad,” I said. “That potion bomb you set off . . . You changed the world. There have been sightings, videos on YouTube . . . People are talking. They don’t understand what they’re talking about, but it’s a start. They’re awakening to the idea that there’s more to this world than what they can actually see.”
“I know some witches and other clients out there who might not be as ready to come out of the broom closet yet,” he said. “A gaggle of gargoyles may prove a bigger hassle to them than not.”
It felt good to have even the slightest hint of our easy rapport once more. And, more important, I sensed his total sincerity at the heart of his apology this time.
“I could use a hand in bringing the situation under control,” I said, by way of a peace offering. “I’ll hire you if I have to.”
“Not necessary,” he said, running back to his workspace and gathering his things into a messenger bag before slipping it over his shoulder and coming back to me. “If it’s the client I think it is, I’ll be happy to do this one on the house. I only hope we can get to him before he can post any one-star reviews of my freelance services online.”
“Let the Libra Concordia find shelf space for that,” I said as I stepped around Devon’s gargoyle, leaving it behind me. I stopped and looked at Caleb. “Is that really a thing? One-star review on some kind of arcane Yelp Web site?”
“Give the changes going on out there in the world, with the media reporting all these gargoyle sightings these days?” he asked, taking my hand in his and walking for the door leading out of the Libra Concordia. “It probably will be soon enough.”
Twenty-seven
Stanis
After truly convincing Desmond Locke I was no angel, my instinct was to fly back to the Belarus Building, but that was not my destination. At Alexandra’s request, I sought out another.
I had not been by their building by Saint Mark’s Church since before my disappearance late last year, and there was little chance I would recognize it. Last I had seen the location, it was a ruined pile of bricks that had been the death of Alexandra’s brother. The first time, that was. I did not know what I would find in the ruined building’s place, only that Alexandra said I would recognize it when I saw it.
She, of course, was right.
As I flew uptown from the church of the Libra Concordia, I thought perhaps I had overshot my mark in the East Village. Before me lay the park at Gramercy, confusion setting in until I realized it was not exactly the same.
To begin with, the “park” sat atop the roof of the building. I spied Alexandra reading by gaslight on one of the benches along its cobblestone paths, and I came down in front of her, descending slowly as I tried to absorb my strange and wonderful surroundings.
Alexandra shut her great-great-grandfather’s book of arcana when she heard me land and stood.
“Is it done?” she asked.
I nodded.
She laid the book on the bench and came to me. “How did he react?”
I could not repress a smile. “Desmond Locke might wish to seek out the mysteries of the heavens, but given his reaction, he does not wish to visit them,” I said.
Alexandra laughed, the sound pleasing to me. “He’s afraid of flying?”
“I believe so,” I said. “Although I would also like to think that the fear on his face was due in some part to the show I put on.”