Incarnate (A Spellmason Chronicle) by Anton Strout Read Free Book Online Page B

all the way down my leg.
    Wrapped around me as it was, I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it earlier. Once Stanis had it fully pulled off of me, I was doubly surprised to see that the tendril was moving all on its own.
    “What the hell is that thing?” I asked with a shudder, losing my appetite.
    Stanis gathered a length of it in his fist. He closed his clawed hand over it, but Caleb was over to him in a flash, his hands closing around the gargoyle’s wrist.
    “No, wait!” he said.
    Stanis turned to look at Caleb’s hands, his face an unmoving demonic mask. He said nothing, but the look was enough for Caleb to pull his hands away.
    “Please,”
Caleb added. “With a cherry on top and everything.”
    Stanis looked back and forth between the two of us, but kept his hand open.
    “I do not understand,” he said. “Would the addition of fruit be a beneficial motivating factor in your request?”
    I couldn’t even laugh at his misunderstanding of modern language this time. I was too squicked out by the still-writhing vine.
    Caleb leaned in close, examining it, his nose inches away.
    Fearing it might latch onto him or try to snake up his nose into his brain meat, I grabbed his arm to pull him away from it, but he stayed put.
    “Well?” I asked.
    “This isn’t your garden-variety creeping Jenny,” Caleb said. “Believe it or not, there are a variety of natural magical plants out there,” he added, “but this isn’t one of them. The growth on these leaves is all wrong for this area . . .”
    I moved a little closer—but not
too
close—to examine on my own, but nothing looked out of proportion to me. “You sure about that?”
    “You can’t see it,” he said, “because you have an untrained eye. But to me it’s like being able to tell the difference between a guy who works out and a guy who takes steroids.”
    “Gotcha,” I said. I knew the subtleties of Spellmasonry and how every word and gesture were super important to pulling off what I had learned so far. It made sense that Caleb and his lifelong study of such things would make it obvious to him if there were something unusual about this plant. Other than it clearly being magical.
    He stood up and nodded to Stanis, who gathered up the rest of the plant and crushed it in his claw until all life was out of it.
    “If that thing tried to snare you, it looks like you drew the attention of some witch, warlock, or druid tonight,” Caleb said.
    “Crap,” I said. “There goes my streak.”
    Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Of . . . ?”
    “I’ve gone almost a whole week without someone arcane trying to kill me for bringing attention to your community,” I said. “Or for infusing this city with an abundance of
grotesques
.”
    “There’s so many reasons to want to kill you,” Caleb said with a dark smile. “You need to be more careful, Lexi.”
    “I
was
being careful,” I insisted. “Rory and I didn’t see
anyone
at the Cloisters . . . other than the
grotesque
monk we turned over to Stanis.”
    “You didn’t have to see anyone,” Caleb said. “If the witches and warlocks are catching wind of the gargoyle sightings the same way you are, then they can set traps out there trying to catch you. Remember working smarter, not harder? Working yourself to the bone in this sleep-deprived state of yours is clouding your judgment.”
    “Caleb is right,” Stanis said, which I knew was never easy for him to admit, even now. “You should rest. I shall see what I can find out from my people.”
    “
We’re
your people, too,” I reminded him.
    He stood in silence, unmoving for a moment, looking more like the statue that daylight transformed him into.
    “Yes,” he said, “but it is not the same. The differences between our kinds are great. These newfound men and women of stone are in need of my help. I will look into answers about those who would see to trap you and your . . . friends. Rest well, Alexandra Belarus.”
    I let go of the dark tone