Page 60 of Who Owns You?

The tears rolling down their cheeks are an acrid green, the chemicals and magic that give them their life not yet settled enough not to seep out.

“I know, none of us ask for life, but we must take it.” I gently set my hand on their forearm and draw them from the shadowed nook of the great oak tree. “And we must use it for good.”

Their skin is dark, gray and black speckled. They’re a handsome youngling with long black hair still damp from being caught in the rain before finding shelter in this tree…and taking down one of its largest branches in the process.

“I do not know—” Their breathing is hard, the sharp planes of their face etched with fear. “I do not know how to do anything like that. Goodness is a concept unfamiliar to me.”

“Good can be taught. I find that the goodness you gather is more worthwhile than anything instilled in you,” I croon and draw the youngling farther out.

They are large but still a foot shorter than me. Their eyes flick around quickly, trying to perceive a danger that is nowhere around. The short horns on their head end in sharp points, and they tip their head toward the slightest creak and groan of nature as if they mean to gore whatever comes at us.

“What is your name? Do you prefer something different—”than what your maker gave you?The question dies on my tongue as the youngling looks at me with wide eyes.

“No, no name to call my own,” they murmur.

“That won’t do,” I say softly, with a shake of my head.

The youngling winces and curls in on themselves.

“But that isn’t your fault. We can find your name together. Would you like to come and meet my friends?”

“Friends? Witches?” they ask in a distressed hiss.

“No, gargoyles, just like us.” I slowly tug them toward me, and they come, still trembling.

“Gargoyles, meet more gargoyles,” they murmur with a quick jerk of their head. I assume it’s affirmative. “I can do that.”

“Still haven’t picked a name?” Marcus asks, leaning over the chessboard that Julius and I are using to get closer to the gray youngling who has been studying our moves with careful eyes.

The youngling’s eyes shoot up and across to the gargoyle who is most unlike themselves in our nest.

“Not yet,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

He may not have chosen a name, but he has told us that he is a male like the rest of us and seeks a partner of the fairer sex, the same as we do.

“What about Onyx?” Marcus asks with a wide grin. “You’re not quite the right colors, but it’s cool, and your eyes are pretty close.”

The youngling shakes his head. “No, not quite right,” he says with a sigh. “But I can feel it. I’m close to figuring it out.”

“Take your time. Gods know, I wish I could have gone by a different name,” Julius says, though he doesn’t entirely mean it.

Julius did change his name when he joined us and dropped the one that belonged to his family.

“I have narrowed it down.” He gives a slight tip of his head. His hair is shorter now, almost to his shoulders and wavy.

He is a pretty one now that his features have settled and he is nourished.

“Care to share?” I ask, making a move that I know was unwise.

The corner of the youngling’s mouth kicks up as he winces. “Did you mean to do that?” he asks in a barely concealed whisper.

Julius laughs, putting me into checkmate. “Darius likes to let me win from time to time. It keeps up the morale.”

Marcus chuckles before joining Julius in a laugh that makes me flush with embarrassment. My eyes flick to the youngling as a smile captures his lips, and then he, too, is laughing at me.

“Atlas, it’s go time!” Marcus whoops as he leaps over the thick wooden railing of the grand front stairs.

He lands with a thump in the entryway, and I give him a withering look.

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