But he didn’t move, and nobody else did either. The other gargoyles had gathered, four of them holding their limp catches of the day, a host of flying creatures nearly stationary in the sky.
Ivy House’s words thundered through my skull. “You must lead, or you will be led.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have any freaking experience leading an army of magical creatures…
Or did I?
I’d been a PTA president for two years, I’d been a parent helper in classrooms, I’d had to take over for a drunk dad in Boy Scouts, and I’d marshaled my family through some hard times. If I could handle bored, passive-aggressive moms, pompous school staff, crazy children, and a bunch of mansplaining dads who thought they could do better but didn’t want to step up to the plate, I could handle a bunch of gruff, stubborn gargoyles.
I steeled my nerves and pumped out a shocking blast of magic, rocking them in the sky.
“Cedric, go get Edgar,” I growled, low and stern and promising pain if he did not listen. It was basically the grownup equivalent of counting to three. I hoped he could hear me through all the racket. Large wings were loud. To emphasize my point, I used my magic to hurtle him upward, the same principle as shoving him away, just in a specific direction.
He took off, flapping like I’d jabbed him with a hot poker.
“Big guy. Hey.” I patted the arm around me again then pointed toward Mr. Tom. “Hurry. He’s hurt. Now.”
I focused on spurring him on, like a swat to the butt. The electricity I’d felt earlier, the surge of magic that had not, unfortunately, resulted in wings, rolled through my body again and skittered across my skin. He jerked, his arms spasming, squeezing me tightly enough to force out my breath.
Right. Probably the wrong magical trick—
But then his wings beat at the sky, moving us forward, parting his waiting people. He tilted us until our chests were pointing at the ground, our bodies aligned so his wings were like a hang glider on my back. In a moment his wings curled inward and we pitched forward, gaining speed in a fast dive.
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” I said between clenched teeth, my nails digging into his rough gargoyle skin, my stomach trying to evacuate through my mouth.
Flying wasn’t just about flapping wings, clearly. Flying was maneuvering and diving and rolling through the sky with confidence. What had I been smoking, thinking I was prepared for something like this? It took everything I had not to scream.
The canopy jiggled in my vision, rushing at us like I was falling again. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to take it, pointing in Mr. Tom’s direction so we stayed on course. The snap of his wings surprised me, and I jerked against his constricting arms, a scream slipping free. I blinked my eyes opened as we hovered just above the treetops. Slowly, his control excellent, he lowered into the branches until his wings flapped just above them.
“Tu-rrn.” He loosened his arms a little and then altered his hold, coaxing me to twist within his embrace. His arms tightened again when my front was pressed against his thick chest, his gargoyle skin tough and a little scratchy.
He tucked my left arm in against him, then my right, before nudging my head under his chin, getting me to curl up into his big body. Once done, everything happened really fast. One arm kept squeezing me close and his wings snapped inward. We dropped like a stone.
“Oh sh—”
His free arm lashed out and grabbed a branch, jerking us to a stop.
Crack.
The branch broke under the weight.
Incredibly fast, he let go and grabbed another, slowing us again. The first branch continued to fall, headed straight toward us, but he bent forward, curving around me, and the branch struck his shoulder instead of my head.
He let go of the stronger branch and grabbed another, then another, one wing half curled around our sides, protecting me from the foliage, while he kept me tucked within his protective embrace.
Near the ground he let go of the last branch, his wings snapping back behind him again and his free hand hugging me tight. His feet slammed into the ground and he bent with the impact, loosening his hold and then swinging my body around so I hardly felt the jolt.
My butt bumped the ground, and all I could do was stare up into his face, his eyes bulging unnaturally, his jaw pushed forward, and his large teeth protruding over his leathery lips. In that moment, I could well understand why beauty had fallen for the beast. It wasn’t about appearances in times like these—it was about appreciating the creature that had not only saved your life, but also tried to keep you in perfect condition while he did it.