Rhenoranian? Jenks’s wings blurred into motion. It sounded like a demon’s name. His hands holding Vi were warm from her heat, and he gently set her down, catching her shoulders as she swayed, oblivious to him. “What are you?” he asked, changing his demand as he knelt before her. “You’re hurting the girl. Maybe I can help, but you’re hurting Vi.”
Vi’s eyes tore from the moon as if seeing him for the first time. “You can hear me?” she whispered as her wings smoldered, limp against her back. Eyes focusing on Jenks, Vincet, and Bis, Vi seemed to shake herself. “Gracious Rhenoranian! You are wise and forgiving!”
Jenks rocked backward when Vi flung herself at him, her little arms encircling his knees. Bis hissed at the sudden movement, and even Vincet dropped back.
“Please, help me,” she babbled, her long hair tangled as she gazed up at Jenks. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’m trapped in that statue—a moon-touched nymph put me there, jealous of my attentions to her sisters. Rhenoranian sent you. I know he did. I’ve waited so long. Break the statue. Quick, before she comes back! She’s going to come back! Please!” Vi begged.
Vincet watched wide-eyed as Jenks disentangled himself, pushing her off him and making her stand up. His hands warmed where they touched her shoulders, and he jerked away. “You’re burning the child,” he said. “Stop, and maybe I can help.”
Anger flashed in the girl’s face, then vanished. “There’s no time. Break the statue!”
“You are killing my daughter!” Vincet shouted. “You already killed my son!”
Vi’s eyes went wide. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the second statue of the woman. His jailer, probably, and likely dead and gone. Nymphs had vanished during the Industrial Revolution, long before the Turn, brought down by pollution. “I’m sorry,” she panted, but the edges of Vi’s wings were starting to smolder. “I didn’t know I was hurting anyone. I…I can’t help it. It’s Rhenoranian’s blood. It keeps me alive, but it burns. I’ve been burning forever.”
Rhenoranian’s blood? Did he mean the ley line?
Behind them, Bis hissed. “Jenks?” he questioned. “I don’t like this. It’s eating the line. That’s wrong like three different ways.”
“Of course it’s wrong! That’s why it burns!” Vi shouted, then went silent, frustrated. “Break the statue and let me out, and I’ll never bother the child again.”
Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Jenks clattered his wings in acknowledgment to Bis. It sounded almost like a threat. Let it out or else. But the line energy running through Vi was making her tremble, and the higher the moon got, the worse it became. Soon, she would be screaming in pain, if Vincet was right, and his chance to talk to it would be gone.
“Tell me what you are,” he said, grasping her wrist and bring her attention to him, but when Vi looked at him, Jenks let go, not liking what lay in the depths of her eyes.
“I’m Sylvan, a dryad,” Vi said. “The nymph imprisoned me unfairly. Punishing me for my attentions to her sisters. She believes she’s a goddess. Completely touched, but the demons didn’t stop her. Why do you hesitate? Break my statue. Let me out!”
Jenks blinked, surprised. A dryad? In a city? Between him and the statue, Bis dropped to the grass, clearly amazed as well. “You’re supposed to live in trees,” Jenks said. “What are you doing in a statue?”
Twitching in pain, the child looked at Bis then back to Jenks, assessing almost. “I told you, the nymph put me there. She’s touched in the head. But I survived. I learned to live on the energy right from a ley line instead of that filtered from a living tree. Though every moment I exist as if burning in Hell itself, I can survive in dead stone. I beg you, break my statue. Free me!” Vi’s eyes went to her father with no recognition. “I promise I’ll leave you pixies in peace. Forgive me for the agony upon the child. I cannot help it.”
Still, Jenks hesitated as he looked at Vi, the hope in her flushed face too deep for her years. Something wasn’t right.
Jenks pinned his wings when the wind gusted. He looked up, the scent of honey and gold tickling a memory he’d never had. Vi’s eyes widened. “Too late!” she shrieked. Darting to Vincet, she kicked his shin. The pixy yelped, dropping his sword to grasp his leg. Even as Jenks flung himself into the air, Vi snatched the sword up, running, not flying, to the statue. Her nightclothes furled behind her like a ghost, and, screaming, she swung the blade at the stone. With a ping, the fairy steel broke. Using the broken hilt like a dagger, she beat at it, trying to chip the stone away.
“Jenks!” Bis shouted, and Jenks turned, bewildered but not alarmed. Until he saw what the gargoyle was pointing at.
A robed, barefoot woman stood in the middle of the sidewalk, heart-shaped face aghast as she stared at the hush of cars at the edge of the park. Lungs heaving as if in pain, she put a hand to her chest and looked at the distant buildings, their lights twinkling brighter than the stars. A sword was in her grip, and she appeared exactly like the second statue, even down to the braid her black ringlets were arranged in, shining in the light as if oiled. And her aura was shiny?
“It’s her!” Bis shouted, bringing the woman’s gaze to them.
“Who dares defile my sacred grove to free Sylvan?” she intoned, robe furling as she gestured to Bis. “Is it you?” Her arm dropped, and she peered at him in the dark. “What are you?” she asked. “A new demon dog? Come into the light.”
“Let me go!” shrieked Vi, struggling now in Vincet’s arms. “Let me go!”
Jenks darted to help Vincet, and still she fought them, her skin red and hot to the touch. At his nod, Bis awkwardly went to stand in the middle of the sidewalk between them.
“I’m a gargoyle, not a dog,” he said, fidgeting like the teenager he was. “Who are you?”
The woman spun a slow circle, dismissing him. “Someone tried to free Sylvan, woke me from my rest. Did you see who it was, honorable…ah…gargoyle?”
“It was me,” Jenks said, grunting when Vi’s foot escaped his grip and kicked him. “What’s it to you?” Turning to Vincet, he screwed his face up. “I gotta go talk to her. Can you hold her alone?”
Vincet nodded, and together they got the girl facedown on the manicured grass as she howled. Looking miserable, the young father sat on her, wincing as her screams grew violent.
Satisfied, Jenks rose up into the air to the woman’s level, frowning when he saw her amusement in her steely eyes. They were silver, like the moon, and just as warm. “A pixy?” she said, laughing. “Leave my sacred grove, little sprite. Return to it, and you will die. Your children will die. I will hunt you down and destroy the very earth you ever walked upon. Go.”
Fists on his hips, Jenks sifted a red dust that made it all the way to the sidewalk. “Sprite? Did you just call me a sprite, Little Miss Shiny Aura? What did you do? Eat a roll of tinfoil?”
Claws scraping, Bis edged closer, his white-tufted ears pinned to his head in submission. “Jenks,” he hissed, not taking his eyes off the woman. “We should go. She’s doing something weird with the line.”
But Jenks flitted almost to her nose. She smelled like violet sunshine, and the gold pin holding her robe shut sparkled. “Did you just threaten me, little prissy pants?” he shot out.
Her nostrils flared, and her hand gripped her sword tighter. “You mock me? I am Daryl, and you are warned!”
Jenks snickered, his own hand on the butt of his sword. “I think if you think I’m going to fly away and let you keep some helpless dryad forever imprisoned, burning in a ley line, you got your toga too tight, babe.”
Mouth open, she put a hand to her chest. “You…you defy me?” she said, wheezing slightly, clearly not doing well. “Do you know who I am!”
Glancing at Bis, who was silently looking up at him, pleading with him to be nice, he said, “You look asthmatic, is what you look like. Forget your inhaler at the temple?”