“We have a new assignment for you, Mr. Reinhardt.”
These words are not comforting to me. At eighteen, I am a gargoyle who has been demoted because I broke the rules. Now I have a new mission, a new mark to protect. But I don’t expect Emma Chase. I don’t expect to question my own race. I don’t expect to care for my own mark. And I am not prepared for what I find at The Acropolis.
Warning: Due to language, this book is suggested for Young Adults 16+
The Acropolis excerpt 4
Emma Chase POV
"Can you take these off, p-please?"
My voice is small. Anxiety consumes me. I am light-headed and nauseous. Being restrained only makes me panic more.
"They're for your own safety, Ms. Chase. I can sit you up if you like."
I want to sob, but I nod instead. He moves to my side, using a lever to lift the head of the bed. From an inclined angle, he doesn't look as tall as he had before. Lanky definitely, medium height, sharp features . . . .
"R-r-roosevelt F-franklin . . .?"
My teeth are chattering, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from being incoherent. Roosevelt smiles wryly, his dark eyes gleaming in the bright fluorescent room.
"My parents had a thing for great American heroes. Most people just call me Roach."
Roaches are disgusting, sneaky insects whose name makes my skin crawl. My anxiety kicks up a notch.
"Y-you're not a doctor?"
Being strapped down doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. His crass answer fuels my fear, makes me want to lash out. Fight and flight.
"Where's my mother?" I ask again, slightly panicked.
Roosevelt begins to look annoyed. It isn't a good look for him. His eyes are beady, his face tight.
"Look , Emma . . ."
"You were never good at subtlety, Roach," a male voice interrupts. It has a distinctive Southern drawl I find immediately comforting. A genuine doctor this time?
"And you were never good at following orders," Roach hisses. "I work on the inside."
"Rules were made to be broken," the voice answers. There is an accompanying male snicker. A third man?
"He's incorrigible. Even his own mother refuses to work with him," the third voice says. It is definitely male and as Southern as the voice before it.
I am frozen with fear. There are footsteps on the linoleum floor behind me, and I flinch as a hand settles gently against my forehead. The hand is large and cool.
"Hello, Emma. I'm Conor Reinhardt, and I'm here to help you.
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