Free The Wondrous and the Wicked by Page Morgan Page A

as he approached the abbey and rectory. For Marco, a member of the Wolf caste, to have been assigned to this territory, there had to be a wolf-headed statue somewhere on the grounds. Every Dispossessed transformed into a certain caste of gargoyle, and every gargoyle’s territory had to have at least one matching granite statue.
    The angels, all-knowing as they were, determined which gargoyle caste each newly damned soul would belong to. In their firstlives, Wolves, like Marco, were the fiercest and most persuasive; Dogs, like Luc and Gaston, loyal and dauntless; Snakes, cunning and flexible. The lesser castes, such as Monkeys and Goats, were of not much significance in their first
or
second lives.
    It was the Chimeras, the anomalous blend of two animals, that Luc was thinking about as he approached the tall iron gates surrounding the abbey. Vincent’s caste concerned him. Their numbers were equal to the Wolves, and among the Dispossessed, large numbers meant more power. If the Wolves and Chimeras had truly joined forces, Vincent should have already been elder. The fact that he’d again come begging for Luc’s support that morning made little sense. Luc needed to ask Marco for the truth.
    Luc peered through the bars of the iron gates. The abbey hadn’t looked so fine or sturdy for at least a century. The stained-glass windows gleamed, and the arched front doors were new and painted glossy red. Even the gargoyle statues appeared to have been dusted and cleaned for Lady Brickton’s new gallery.
    He walked on, to where the iron fence ended and a row of tall hedges began. The hedges enclosed the courtyard, rectory, and carriage house, protecting them from street view, but there was a gap in the hedges for the Waverlys’ landau. Luc walked through, officially entering another gargoyle’s territory.
    Marco was here. Luc felt his presence, just as Marco was feeling his. Luc took a deep breath. Ingrid’s sweet grass and dark earth, and even that biting tang of demon dust, remained nothing more than a memory. If she was here, so be it. Luc knew he couldn’t hide from her forever. He’d thought time away would lessen the ache, but it had only served to sharpen it.
    Luc stepped lively, eyes cast down, forcing himself not to think of her. Which only made him think of her more. He stormed into the carriage house and slammed the door behind him.
    “Take out your aggression elsewhere, brother,” came Marco’s unruffled tenor from the loft above.
    Luc climbed the bare board steps and found Marco reclining on the cot that had once been his. He held a book over his face, his nose stuck within the pages.
    “Are you the voice of the Wolves or aren’t you?” Luc asked. He didn’t have the patience for preamble today.
    Marco licked his index finger and flipped to the next page in his book. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place? I thought it needed a Wolf’s touch.”
    Luc let out his breath and took a quick look around. Nothing had been rearranged. The loft was exactly how he’d left it.
    “Answer me. Do the Wolves stand with Vincent or not?”
    Marco clapped the book shut and sprang up from the cot in one fluid bound. “The Wolves do as I tell them. Our alliance with the Chimeras ended the moment Yann attempted to kill Lady Gabriella. We do not stand with Vincent now.”
    Marco, dressed in the black merino trousers and white linen shirt of a butler’s livery, tossed the book to the floor. With a lift of his brow, he added, “We don’t necessarily stand with you, either.”
    Good
, Luc thought. At least someone was being reasonable.
    Marco strode to the loft door and rolled it open. It was late afternoon, and the sun looked like liquid fire slipping through the naked tree branches.
    “Vincent has made threats,” Luc began. He didn’t know how to proceed. Marco might have known the truth about Luc and Ingrid, but that didn’t mean he liked or accepted it.
    Marco stared out over the rectory, his back to Luc. “Of