Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(80)

"Don't people in the area get a little wigged out?" I started up the cobblestone walkway, and Sawyer followed.

"I don't think people in the area are aware of her being here at all. If they were, they'd be forced to take action."

"Because they'd think she was a witch," I said.

Sawyer didn't answer. He didn't need to.

"What would they do?"

"Common practice is to tie a witch down, no food or water until they confess."

"And if they don't confess?"

"Hot coals to the bottom of the feet on the fourth day."

"And then?"

Sawyer slowly drew his finger across his throat.

"What if they do confess?"

Sawyer made the same gesture in the opposite direction.

"That hardly seems fair."

"Since when has life or death or justice, for that matter, ever been fair?"

What a bright and cheery outlook on life. Sadly, Sawyer was right.

"I guess the Navajo method is no better or worse than the Inquisition's test for witches," I said. "If you survive drowning, you're a witch and you burn. If you drown, whoops. Sorry. My bad."

Sawyer stopped and glanced at me with a deadpan expression. "I highly doubt any members of the Inquisition said my bad."

"And I doubt they said sorry." Or whoops, either.

For an instant I nearly forgot where we were, what we—make that I—was about to do, and smiled at him. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something shifted, shimmered, and changed shape.

I whipped my head in that direction to discover that the sweet, stone cottage had morphed into a gray stone prison, complete with an eight-foot concrete wall topped by barbed wire.

"She knows we're here," I said.

Turrets graced the corners of the walls, manned by—

I squinted at the great, hulking figures. Some had bodies like men, heads like animals. Others were part bull, part lion, part falcon perhaps, with large wings sweeping from their shoulders.

"Are those gargoyles?" Sawyer nodded. "I thought they were statues on buildings."

"Most gargoyles can turn to stone to avoid detection, then turn back into a chimera at will."

"What's a chimera?"

"Two animals as one."

"So all the gargoyles on all the buildings all over the world can come to life?"

Sawyer spread his hands. Who knew?

"Are they Nephilim?" He shook his head. "Breeds?"

"No. The gargoyles were animals that aided the fairies when they first fell to the earth. The fairies were lost. They had no idea how to survive here. They were suddenly humanoid. They needed to eat, sleep, protect themselves from the elements, and they didn't know how."

"The Grigori had their human lovers to help them," I reasoned.

"The Grigori were cast into Tartarus so fast they didn't have time to panic."

"I'll take your word for it," I said. "So certain animals helped the fairies, and in return .. . ?"

"They were given humanity."

"That's human?" I muttered. The heavenly rewards around here were kind of iffy.

"They have the intelligence of humans, with the assets of their beast, combined with the gifts of flight and shape-shifting. They're more than human," Sawyer said. "Once the fairies settled in, once they could manage on their own, the gargoyles were charged with protecting the weak and unwary from demon attack. The more humans they save, the more human they become."

I glanced up at the turrets. I guess that explained the human and animal combos.

"What are they doing here?" I asked.

Sawyer contemplated the towers as the gargoyles, standing as still as stone, contemplated us. The only thing that made them seem real were the colors of their flesh, their hair, their fur or wings, and the slight rise and fall of their chests. Their flat black eyes reminded me of the statues they could become and made me wonder if they were capable of showing any mercy at all.

"Summer must have enlisted them for protection," Sawyer said. "The gargoyles and the fairies are still very close."

We'd stopped halfway down the cobblestone walk, which was now just cement, as gray and hard as the walls of the prison. As we began to move forward, the air filled with the slow, methodic beat of giant wings.

My gaze flicked upward. The gargoyles had taken to the air.

I cursed. Sawyer kept walking.

"Hey." I scurried after. "They're going to protect this place from demon attack."

He lifted a hand, making his "stopping traffic, cross-ing guard" gesture, and the prison wall imploded.

"I'm not a demon," Sawyer said, and walked inside.





CHAPTER 30


Sawyer had put a pretty huge hole in the gray stone wall. Summer was going to be pissed.

I glanced at the gargoyles. They continued to hover in the sky above as if waiting for an order. Attack or retreat?

Maybe they couldn't attack if we weren't demons. Maybe they couldn't decide what we were. Hell, I still had doubts of my own.

I stepped through the jagged hole, my shoes crunching on busted concrete. Dust sparkled in the glare of sunlight through the un-door. I frowned at that sunshine. The angle was off.