“But my dad is chief of police. He’s not some bumbling civilian – his whole life is dedicated to protecting this city. How could he not know that there are these people with all these powers waiting in the shadows?” Her voice was rising in volume and her fingers wound together, almost violent in how they twisted around themselves.
He stood, taking her hands in his. He eased them apart, massaging the soft digits. “What exactly upsets you so?”
She turned her head away, not meeting his gaze. “I’ve been thrust into some new dimension where up is down and everything I’ve given complete faith to is worthless. I’ve blindly trusted my dad and the system, and it’s all a lie. Right now, whether I’m being targeted or not seems almost immaterial.”
He stroked up her forearm, willing her with his touch to relax. In small increments she did so, her form growing more pliant under his fingers. “Just because your father does not know about the existence of a group who have long guarded their privacy is not a reason to start doubting him. Your father is a good man and a good protector. Your city could not be in better hands.”
“I don’t...” She backed away, but her movements had gentled, the violence gone. “I don’t mean Dad. Not completely. But the wards are a lie. Zombies got past, you,” she said, motioning at him with her hand as she paced past him, “Got past. My predictable life is turning into a minefield.”
“And I am here to help you, little human. I do not wish you to carry this burden alone.”
Her eyes locked onto his and he could not turn away from the hurt in them. “I believe that, but I also believe that is not the only reason. If you weren’t also helping yourself somehow, I’m not sure you would be here right now.”
She was withdrawing from him, even more than that first night, and being allowed to continue in her life was hanging on these next few moments. “And you are right, little human. Though I will admit to admiring your bravery, if I did not believe more forces were at play I would not be here.”
“Bravery?” Shock colored her words, disbelief written over her face. “What have I done that’s so brave? I froze. If you hadn’t come, I would have stood there as those zombies tore me apart, doing nothing but screaming as I died. And after standing there like a log watching them attack you, I turned and ran.”
“You did not know you could trust me not to hurt you.”
She slashed her arm as though it were a sword, cutting through the air at her side. “Don’t try to make excuses for me.”
Terak stopped her pacing and brought her to stand with him. He cupped her face, that beautiful face which did not flinch as his clawed fingers came into contact. “I make no excuses. You are not a warrior. You are a scholar, one who cares for and nurtures younglings. That you did not act as a hardened soldier who has lived with death is not a reason to call yourself a coward. You feel shame because you ran, but I see that as only strength. You were strong enough to not let the horrific sights around you paralyze you until the battle was over. You broke away. Many can never do that.”
She looked at him in wonderment. Fat, lazy tears started to roll down her cheek, burying themselves in the collar of her sweater.
His wings half closed around them as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away her tears. “You confuse me, little human.”
“How so?” she asked, her voice not much above a whisper. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, letting the weight of her head rest in his hands.
“Most being that I have known feel they are more important than reality dictates. You though, you seem to not realize how special you truly are.”
Her smile was small, quiet, but it suited this intimacy. “You seem to know a lot about me for having known me a weekend.”
The warning from her words tested the mood, but did not shatter it. He must not misspeak. She could not know how long he had been part of her life. “My father once said that once you learn how to see people, it takes only a moment to truly know them. Everything after that moment is details and happy memories.”
One of her hands covered his. “Your father sounds like a wise man.”
“No son alive who loves his father would ever say otherwise.”
Her eyes opened then. The tiny lines around them had eased and the sheen of tears was now absent. They were back to the bright sky color that had his heart beating a little faster as they stared into his. “And what would you say?”
He bowed his head, images of his father and mother from a time long ago dancing in his memory. A time before the collision, when they had all been free of the burdens of this new reality, his father gathering his mother up and spinning her around, only to bring her in and kiss her, the sight embarrassing him, yet warmed something in his chest as he beheld it. “My father was the wisest of gargoyles.”