The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,87

but I’m going to change that.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Mitzi murmured. “At least, not right now.”

Seth nodded. “We need more time. To think about Dad. I know you’ve been sitting with this for months, but for us it’s all new.”

“Is this okay?” Mitzi asked anxiously.

“Yeah,” Harper said. “That’s okay.”

She sat on the front stoop for a long while after they had both walked away. She had a patrol shift that evening. She needed to make sure her stuff was undisturbed at the town hall. But all she could think about was how right Seth and Mitzi were to be upset with her.

Harper’s residual limb ached as she thought of how she’d shoved them both aside. She hadn’t let them be part of her story; she hadn’t told them the truth about their dad. She would give them the space they had asked for, but when they were ready, she hoped they would be able to heal their relationship.

Harper craved freedom, but she saw now that freedom did not mean solitude, nor did it mean avoiding responsibility and connection. It meant embracing the bonds that mattered. And it meant admitting to mistakes and regret, even when they asked her to look at the difficult, tangled pieces of herself.

She turned her gaze to the front lawn, where the statue garden stared back at her.

So far, her powers had only extended to turning things to stone. But she hadn’t tested the other part. The ability that the most powerful Carlisles were known for above all else: the capability to control the stone creatures they created.

Harper saw in that moment that she’d been frightened of what might happen should she succeed, that once again her abilities might spiral out of control. But if she could make this power work, she could give them a better shot against the corruption. It was worth a try. So she shook the fear back, took a deep breath, and rose to her feet, scanning the statue garden.

There was a fox at the far edge of the lawn that seemed like a good candidate: almost perfectly preserved, eyes wide and alert. She knelt down, her heart racing, and stretched out her hand. The stone was cool beneath her fingertips, and Harper felt her power hum through her, begging to be used, begging to show her what it could do.

For a moment she hesitated, that familiar fear threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t want this to be like when she’d run after May, or when she’d hurt the tree.

Other memories surfaced a moment later, though. Harper’s hand shooting out to catch the root before it could hurt Justin. Rushing to the spire to help Violet. And at last, she understood. Her powers were only uncontrollable when she called on them from a place of rage. But she didn’t want this to work because she was angry. She wanted this power to protect the people she loved.

Her palm tingled. Energy crackled through her palm and into the statue’s forehead.

“Wake up,” Harper whispered, and she knew before she was even finished speaking that it had worked. She watched, eyes wide, as its tail twitched, then its ears. She hesitantly removed her thumb from its forehead as the animal rose into a graceful stretch. Its sculpted, unblinking eyes were locked on her.

“I did it,” she muttered, moving her hand away hesitantly from the guardian. And she had done it. She just wasn’t sure what came next. This wasn’t like the Saunderses’ companions?—she couldn’t feel a tether like the one Violet had described.

And yet the stone fox was still gazing at her expectantly, the tip of its tail twitching.

“Hmm,” she said quietly. “Will you… guard the lake?”

The fox didn’t move.

Harper pressed her fingers to its forehead and repeated the command. This time, the change was immediate. It bolted away, its stride quick and purposeful as it bounded through the maze of other statues until it was at the edge of the lake. Then it curled up in front of a tree, its eyes staring outward, and froze again.

“Whoa,” Harper said. Then she turned, staring at the sea of half-disintegrated statues around her, a myriad of possibilities, an army all her own. And smiled.

Four Paths was deserted. No one loitered outside the grocer’s or the bar; the general store was empty, a CLOSED sign flipped over in the window, and a deadbolt was lodged firmly across the front doors of the library. The shuttered windows gazed at them in the center