Labyrinth: Acropolis Series Book II (9 page)

But it is too late. The power is hurtling now
at Bruno, and I know by the time the dirt devil pulls the power
into his vortex what the hybrids have done. They have discovered
how to use the stronger hybrids among them to channel all of their
power into one massive weapon of destruction.

Bruno's whirlwind absorbs the energy, and I
can see his lips stretch into a smile as he revels in the
intensity. But where there is power, there must also be release,
and we watch as Bruno grimaces before directing his storm toward an
old, thick tree leaning over a rocky incline. The impact is loud,
brutal, and bright, and I am thankful for the muted hearing and
shaded eyes provided by Gray.

The tree explodes, only to be controlled
suddenly by Fiona who uses her aptitude with vegetation to control
the way the splintered wood flies outward. She draws it in and
shoves it toward the ground. Gravel rains down, and I instinctively
shove it away from the training field, guiding the debris to the
same spot Fiona has deposited hers.

And then all is quiet. Hearing and eyesight
are restored. Dirt and broken down leaves are brushed off of
clothes.

"I want to lead," Bruno says when Marcas is
facing him again. His voice is confident.

"And you think you can?" Marcas asks.

Bruno gestures wildly."Look at us. Emma
absorbs emotions without even trying. She can control power if she
chooses. It is her strength, but my power LOVES power. It absorbs
power the same way Emma absorbs emotions. It starts from the
bottom. The twins, Fiona, Lyre, Gray, Deidra . . . they raise their
powers, Emma calls on them, and then I absorb it, using it to
destroy anything our individual powers cannot touch."

Marcas raises a brow. "And you think this
makes you a leader?"

Surprisingly, it is Emma who answers.

"No," she says. "His power makes him a
good warrior, but the group trusts him. He makes good choices, and
he has remarkable control.
This
is what makes him a good leader."

Marcas turns away from the group, his face
toward the gargoyles, Dayton, and Luther. It is then he smiles. He
knows as well as we do that he has his army. Emma has changed her
destiny, her mother's own prophecy. She won't be the group's
leader, she will be their anchor. She will be the foundation that
keeps them standing.

Marcas faces them again, his eyes sweeping
over the group carefully. They are all so young, especially Deidra
at only fourteen years of age, but they have spent their lives in
an aimless chokehold of abuse, of abandonment, and denial. Only
Emma has grown up in a happy home, presumably dying and fatherless,
but happy. She is the glue that will hold them together, and she is
strong enough to do it.

"And Emma's control over emotions?" Marcas
asks.

Bruno's face falls. "We haven't been able to
help her completely there, but it is better."

Emma's head is still held high, her eyes on
Marcas.

"I'll learn. I just need to figure out how to
channel it properly. People shouldn't have to work at constantly
blocking their emotions from me," she says. "Having the drex near
helps."

Emma's eyes meet mine briefly, and then
shifts away.

Marcas claps his hands once. "I won't lie and
tell you I don't need you. What you're being asked to do will mean
the difference between life or death for thousands of hybrids.
There are dozens of stories told that define who we are supposed to
be as Demons. To mortals, we are either a myth or an abomination.
It's a mold I'm determined to break."

"A Demon with principles. Boy, I bet his
mother is proud," Will cracks, and I elbow him in the ribs.

This is a momentous moment for a race on the
verge of a holocaust. Gargoyles are used to being revered, lifted
up, praised. The hybrids have to fight for it, and even then, it
isn't much of a fight. It is simply a walk through a death-filled
labyrinth to retrieve a spear with the power to give the hybrid
race a small semblance of peace. There will be no grand battle, no
one to cry if any of them die. They will be silent heroes to a
group of outcast people.

"I will guide you to the labyrinth," Marcas
says evenly. "Once there, you will be on your own."

Marcas turns away then, and I catch a
glimpse of his face as Dayton takes his hand in hers. This isn't
easy on him. He's a leader sending the children of powerful Demons
in to retrieve a spear he wants to go after himself. But he can't.
Enepsigos' alliance depends on the children of Tephras, Onoskelis,
Pleidas, Ephippas, and Iudal. Even Enepsigos' only daughter, Emma.
Enepsigos' orders are clear. Marcas has proven himself the ruler of
his kingdom. He sacrificed himself to prove his worth once. But
every kingdom needs heroes. Every kingdom needs someone to look up
to, an army willing to sacrifice themselves for the same cause.
Every kingdom needs its legends, its motivation to continue. In one
fell sweep, Marcas will be solidifying an alliance, Enepsigos will
be strengthening her own kingdom, and Marcas will be acquiring his
heroes. It is the stuff of legend.
If
we survive.

Chapter 11

Emma

"You realize you don't have to go," I say
quietly.

Deidra, Ace, and I are the only ones left on
the field. It's late afternoon now, a couple of hours away from
twilight. I'm tired and sore, the training, lectures, and
revelations revealed to us still swirling in my head, and I'm
sitting on the ground, my hands behind me. Deidra looks up at me,
her young face serious, her big brown eyes, wide.

"I can't
not
go," she says firmly, and I lean against Ace,
letting my hair fall forward to hide my expression.

"You're not part of Enepsigo's orders, Dee,"
I point out, using the nickname I'd adopted over the past couple of
weeks. Marcas had mentioned each of our parents, but he hadn't
mentioned Deidra's. I'm not sure what that means, but I hope it
means she doesn't have to go.

Deidra throws herself backward, her eyes on
the sky as she puts her head in my lap. The day is nice. It's a
mild day for March, a slight chill in the breeze, with blue skies
and the kind of white, fluffy clouds I used to stare at with my
mother as a child, picking out ridiculous shapes from marshmallow
fat billows. I can see the clouds' reflection in Deidra's pupils as
she turns her gaze to me.

"You know, my mom left me on the
doorstep of complete strangers, " she says suddenly. "I was only a
baby. Just a
baby,
and the
people she left me with were horrified. They sent me to child
protective services, and I was passed around the system. No one
wanted me. I was a fussy baby, a temperamental toddler, and I spent
most of my childhood playing pranks and causing trouble. I liked
tricks. I even thought once I might be a magician."

I laugh at that. "Nothing wrong with wanting
to be the next David Copperfield or Criss Angel," I say. Deidra
grins.

"I didn't think so either, but then the
Guardians came to take me to the Acropolis two years ago, and I was
told I was the daughter of an imp. Imps, they said, were notorious
for abandoning their half-human babies. They said it with
such
disgust
, Emma, and I knew
then being an imp wasn't something to be proud of. Even other
Demons dislike them. And, again, no one wanted me. No one liked me
simply because I was an imp."

I look up at the clouds because I don't want
her to see the pity in my eyes. I lift a hand and place it casually
in her hair. Something about Deidra tugs on my heartstrings. Maybe
it's because I know she was bullied, not only from humans, but from
her own kind. And maybe it's because deep down, Deidra has a kind
heart, a really kind heart.

"You could still be a magician," I joke.

Deidra rolls her eyes, her fingers tugging at
stubborn blades of grass.

"I'm going, Emma," she says quietly. "I want
imps to be remembered for something more than practical jokes and
abandonment."

Her words, her determination, are too big for
her small, young body, and I feel tears threatening the back of my
eyes.

"None of the Demons have tried to stop me.
Not even the hybrid king. It kinda gives me hope. Maybe I'm more
important than I thought," Deidra adds.

This time a tear escapes, and I brush
the red-tinged liquid away before Deidra has a chance to see it.
Ace lifts his head, rolling his body into me sadly, and I rub his
scaly skin to quiet him.
Hush,
Boy
, I think, my thoughts transferred silently to the
beast. He grows still. I can't help but wonder if the Demons
haven't stopped Deidra, not because her parentage is more important
than we thought, but because they've forgotten her.

"You're important, Deidra," I say softly.

She grins. "Course I am. Dynamite comes in
small packages."

She says the quote laughingly, and I wonder
how many times she's heard it in her life. It's a quote meant to
appease a child who has always wanted to be something more than she
is.

I focus on the clouds. "If that's not a
hippopotamus up there, then I'm not a Demon," I say suddenly and
Deidra squints up at the sky.

"Ha!" she says. "That's a whale. You don't
see its tail?"

I purse my lips."Nope, it's
definitely
a
hippopotamus."

Deidra crosses her arms stubbornly.
"Let it be known the daughter of Enepsigos is
blind
."

The laughter that erupts is too loud and too
hysterical, and Deidra's laughter joins it. The situation is no
where near amusing enough to cause us to clutch at our sides while
fighting for breath, but there is something about joy that heals,
even if it means we have to create it ourselves.

Ace roars, and I choke on my giggles while
grabbing his neck to keep him from alarming anyone within the
vicinity. I swallow hard to calm myself, sitting up so I can keep
Ace's head near the ground. The beast's mind is empty, his loyalty
undeniable, but his breath smells like death. Deidra pinches her
nose closed and laughs harder. I finally give up and do the same,
laughing as I fall to the ground next to her, next to the imp who
had once jumped on my bed in the Acropolis, her eyes twinkling as
she yelled, "Boo!"

To me, she is important.

Chapter 12

Conor

"I like her," a voice says from behind me,
and I pull a black t-shirt over my head before I turn to face
Dayton. It has been hours since Marcas met with the hybrids on the
training field, and darkness is falling outside, a full moon just
visible beyond the window of my room in the S.O.S. manor.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," I
say wryly, my gaze on the redhead leaning against the door's
scuffed, cherry wood frame.

The house is old, and my room in the manor is
a small one, a cubicle that had once been a part of the servant's
wing. The walls are white with a simple iron bed, and a plain blue
comforter thrown across it. Alessandro had tried, without success,
to get me to take something grander, but I'd refused. The Demons
surrounding me are nothing compared to my inner Demons. There is
too much blood on my hands, and I have too many nightmares. The
servant's wing seems safe.

"Pretending doesn't make me disappear,"
Dayton teases, reaching into her blue jean pocket before pulling
out a red dumdum lollipop and a piece of spearmint gum. The gum,
she throws at me. I unwrap it dutifully and pop it into my
mouth.

"I'm in Washington D.C. at the beginning of
April, and there are trees full of so many blossoms it seems like
they're covered in snow," Dayton says absently as she sucks on the
dumdum.

I raise my brows. "Let me guess, you got a
cherry one."

Dayton sighs and rolls her eyes at me. "God,
Con! You have no imagination! You know the game isn't played that
way!"

I laugh. "I'm not Monroe."

Dayton shakes her head sullenly. "Alas, this
is true. You have nothing on her."

The dumdum flavor game belongs only to Monroe
and Dayton, my two childhood friends. It's a game where they
pretend to be in whatever part of the world the flavor originates
from.

"I'm going to pretend that was a compliment,"
I say sourly.

Dayton laughs."Nope, no compliment
until you quit avoiding the topic I introduced when I came to this
door.
I
said I liked her,
and
you
shot me down, so I'll
be more blunt. What's up with you and the hybrid, Emma?"

I give Dayton my back. "I don't want to go
there, Day."

She huffs indignantly before moving into the
room and plopping onto my bed.

"Why? Because she's a hybrid or because
you're a gargoyle?"

I take a seat next to her.

"Don't look for a forbidden romance where
there isn't any. I'm not some character from one of your
fantastically ridiculous romance novels or stories. Besides, you
already did the forbidden romance thing. I'm too much of a
gentleman to repeat your mistakes."

I wink, and she frowns at me, her arms
crossed. We are down to the "intimidation by staring" routine now.
The last time she tried that, I'd stolen her diary in the seventh
grade and held it for ransom. She had to kiss a shy, pimply-faced
friend of mine with a crush on her before I would return it.

Dayton breaks before I do. "Fine," she says,
"If it's not a forbidden romance, then what kind is it?"

I look toward the only small window in the
room. The curtains are pushed aside, and the moon beyond is large
and bright. It reminds me of another full moon, and a late night
journey through the ocean holding a hybrid Demon I felt sure would
drown.