Page 116 of Hearts of Stone

“Why did he build this place?”

“To have a playground to indulge his worst impulses,” Madeline replied.

“But why? He could have exsanguinated small children in the drawing room if that’s what he wanted. He was richer than God, so he could’ve gotten away with it, back then. Why did he build this place and tie his soul to Wulfstan’s?”

I didn’t want to stand there watching, because now it was as if I felt every blow. The scratches, the bruises that formed on Wulf’s flesh, I felt every single one of them. Tears filled my eyes, blurring the scene thankfully, but I still knew what was happening. This was just like seeing the wounds that Luther had inflicted on Daniel all over again.

“Why would a warlock try to bind his soul to a gargoyle’s?” I forced out.

“Because Luther was different to the others. The First Families carried with them the prejudices formed in Europe. Gargoyles and other creatures they could bind to themselves as familiars were lower life forms. They had to be inferior otherwise why would they allow themselves to be put into such servitude? They were used as magical batteries for the most part, but Luther…”

She stared over the railing, her brows creasing.

“He was influenced by new ideas about technology, about universal suffrage and the rights of all, not to further that egalitarian philosophy, but to re-evaluate previously held views. He wanted to explore the limits of the human body, whether the highs and lows of emotion could be harnessed as power and…”

She swallowed hard.

“And whether we could transcend its limits. Only the greatest of adepts could extend their life spans, so Luther, for all his privilege, was limited to sixty, perhaps seventy years.” Madeline’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Wulfstan. “But gargoyles live for thousands of years.”

“He wanted to become as much of a gargoyle as he dared,” I said, starting to move now. I ran down the stairs and Madeline came with me. “They’re the sons of witches, just like warlocks are, but without the ability to do magic like a witch can. Imagine if you could be both: gargoyle and warlock. You’d have the world on its knees and—”

“ENOUGH.” Luther’s voice rang out throughout the foyer of the asylum, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’ve entertained your little rebellion for far too long.” He sucked in one breath, then another. With each one, he seemed to swell bigger, taller. I could almost see wings at his back. “While Iwould prefer to keep our little family together, I only need one gargoyle to survive, and none of you three can match him.”

My breath seized in my throat as I saw three great whips of fire lash out. Despite my gargoyles dodging out the way, they found themselves with a whip wrapped around each of their necks. My hands clamped down around my throat. I felt the burning bite as if there was one around my own neck; my eyes watering from the pain.

“There is no closer bond than that between a gargoyle and his master,” Luther told me, moving slowly closer, dragging my monsters behind him, like recalcitrant dogs on a lead. “They live to serve your every need and you…” He cocked his head sideways. “You become infected with theirs.” He flicked his wrist and I squeezed out a gasp, feeling the flaming whips bite deeper. “You’ll feel it the moment I tear their heads from their shoulders. It’ll be the last thing you feel as your own death comes. I don’t want to have to do that, Jade.”

“No!”

Wulf’s shout echoed throughout the whole foyer as he jerked himself to his feet and barrelled Luther, breaking the hold the warlock had on my mates, right before he drove him into the wall.

The impact would have been enough to break every bone in a human man, but Luther was not human. Instead, the wall buckled, cracks forming in the mortar, zig zagging their way all the way up until the joints broke free and the bricks tumbled to the ground. Electric blue wards sprang to life, crackling for a moment, before they sputtered and died. And that’s when something happened that gave me a sliver of hope. Wulf staggered back from the impact of the blow, but something more happened to Luther.

That pretty, pretty face went so pale that it was almost grey, and lines I hadn’t seen before formed around his eyes andmouth. He gasped, tried to conjure a ball of fire in his hands, but his power sputtered and then went out, just like the wards.

“It’s not just Wulfstan,” I muttered to myself and Madeline came to stand just beside me. “The anchor. It’s not just Wulfstan,” I told her.

“The blood in the mortar…” she said, her eyes widening as she looked around, as if seeing Z Ward for the first time. “He built this place as a twisted sort of chapel, a ceremonial space.That’swhy he tortured all of those people. He was conducting savage rites in a building consecrated with his own blood. Whatever power could be taken from their pain went straight to him.”

“So what happens if we destroy it?” I asked, my voice low and urgent. “Madeline. What happens if we destroy it?”

She smiled sharply, with a dangerous light in her eyes.

“Let’s find out.”

Chapter 65

Carrick

“Destroy the walls!”

My mistress’ command rocketed through me, my claws moving to do her bidding, even as my brain asked the question: why? But I got a clue when Wulfstan responded.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” His voice had the same sound of hopelessness and pain as an animal left to die in a trap. He’d tested every edge of it for a sign of weakness. But sometimes our mindset has us trapped in cages that have vulnerabilities we don’t yet have the capacity to detect. I nodded to Seneca and we both moved. Wulf had already started the work on one wall, so we both charged at the bricks.

To the sound of Luther’s scream.

Gods, that felt good, for him to be the one doing the screaming for once. A fiery sense of purpose flared all the hotter between us as our shoulders slammed into the weakened wall. Bricks fell like confetti on the grass. As the hole widened, we saw the wards come to life and then…fail, the tracery of bluish light giving way to the peace of night. I glanced over at Seneca and the fledgling grinned at me, mirroring my own expression.

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