Page 19 of The Gargoyle's Grace
There was a disjointed chorus of halfhearted apologies. My fingers rose to the grooves in my face. Calla had been recovered, and my vanity was inconsequential. But them simply saying “I’m sorry” would never be enough to fix me. What happened couldn’t be changed.
It wasn’t enough.
All the rage I’d bottled up for months, the fear, the regret… all of it bubbled up in a hot sludge. I swallowed the taste of bile, trembling where I stood. Magnus stiffened, effortlessly holding the men still as I released everything I’d held back. Worry, panic, anger… it all poured out of me in a rush.
I moved outside of myself, fingers raking across their cheeks as vicious claws while I screamed from somewhere deep in my chest. I was no fighter, but my fists flew in solid punches, and I kicked out my feet with all my might. Face, chest, stomach… it was all fair game. I wanted them to know how badly they’d hurt me and wanted to avenge anyone else they’d treated the same way. I wanted them to feel it all. The solid flesh of their bodies giving way under my rage simultaneously left me satisfied and horrified.
In the end, they all begged for mercy. I hated that it brought me joy.
When I was finished, they all carried my marks on top of their existing injuries—deep scratches on their faces, inflamed patches where bruises were quickly forming, missing teeth, fresh trickles of blood.
Chest heaving, my exhalations a raspy rattle, I stepped back. Magnus’s face held respect, empathy. None of the men moved beyond the effort it took to draw breath and wheeze through their pain. I looked down at my stained hands, shocked at what I’d done.
“My lady,” Vassago said with a bow, taking hold of one of the men. Magnus directed the other two with a shove toward the iron gate.
I stumbled into the building. I surged hot, then cold; black spots danced in front of my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d done that. Hurt someone like that. It felt so wrong now that it was over. In the moment, however…
I gagged, rushing through the dining room.
Once safely in the kitchen, I leaned over the sink as the temperature surges washed over me and I fought to keep the contents of my stomach down. When the nausea passed, I scrubbed at my hands with steaming water, the harsh dish soap, and a brush. I didn’t stop until I was certain there were no traces of blood or gore left from the men and my skin was red and chapped. My knees started to wobble, so I grabbed a towel and sat myself down on the floor until the urge to vomit passed again.
I knew what those men had done to me. It was mild compared to what others had suffered, I was certain. I was tossed about carelessly while drugged, hurled to a dirty floor, and allowed to be bruised. Cut. But I was not abused like I could have been. My face was damaged, but my body was still my own. I wasn’t sure what they’d perpetrated upon me was enough for the punishment Magnus was meting out to them.
Which meant they’d done far worse to many more people, and if that were true, then they deserved what they got. Magnus was not unfair or rash. He didn’t arbitrarily dole out severe punishments or beatings. But I couldn’t help but feel bad, because they were still just people trying to do a job. To get through life. I was torn, my desire to be empathetic at war with my need for justice.
Magnus found me on the floor, teary-eyed and floating between reality and the strange dreamlike place that the rational part of me knew was shock. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t…” He frowned, mouth pinched, as he brushed his fingertips delicately across my cheek. “I should have handled that differently. Let’s get you upstairs.” He picked me up as though I were weightless, cradling me in his arms as he mounted the stairs and let himself into my apartment.
Magnus fussed with my pillows, fluffing them while he murmured encouraging platitudes at me. He apologized for bringing them to me, explained that he thought I’d want to see for myself that they were no longer a concern. He brought me water, a plate of snacks, and a pot of tea. He promised to come back as quickly as he could and said he’d ask Vassago to check on me a bit later if he couldn’t himself.
I curled up into my blanket after he was gone, searching for the peace I’d promised myself I would feel once those men were finally located. But even as I drifted off to sleep peace was nowhere to be found.
Chapter10
Magnus
Grace was nothing if not resilient.
After we returned to the collegium, Vassago’s guest arrived and Grace rallied, her nap restoring her so well it was like nothing had occurred at all. Guilt had gnawed at me the whole flight over her reaction to the gift I’d so arrogantly presented her with. I should have known a soul geared toward caretaking like hers had no experience with such things. While the depth of her rage had impressed me, I wished I’d done everything differently. Especially now that she was back to pretending everything was fine, that things were like they were before.
It wasn’t, and they weren’t.
If I had any say about it, they’d never go back again.
As an apology, I made plans that would get us both away from the city, if only for an evening. I’d gone to gather supplies and was just leaving the blacksmith’s when Gaius and Caster crossed my path.
Impulse leading me, I approached them. “Caster, I’d like to have a word.”
His eyebrow inched up curiously. “Your kind often does. Come to my office?”
I followed him down the street and Gaius fell into step beside me, both of us a few paces behind the loan shark.
“Odd seeing you here, General,” Gaius prompted.
“I could say the same,General.”
If he wanted to play the rank game, I was more than happy to oblige.
Caster gestured for me to lead the way through his grimy office. I took note of the young faces that blinked in surprise when they saw me come through the door. Four of our newest recruits, a disappointing confirmation of what Grace had told me she’d seen.
