Set In Stone

Chapter 1

Blessed be the Earth. I have never been a religious man, but in a private plane going from Oregon to Paris and experiencing turbulence through three fourths of the flight, I think I got what people were trying to say.

Catrine and her gigantic, hulking boyfriend were off the plane ahead of me; probably the two people in the world more happy to see land than I was. If I had the nerve to leave Rochelle's side while she struggled with getting Garrot's wheelchair out of the place it had been locked into all flight, I would've. It was getting harder and harder for him to leave it, which was why it had been grounded to the floor of the jet instead of having him switch in and out of it. We skipped graduation to hang around with him before we left to join the rest of his family in Scaris. Catrine and Manny had a legitimate reason; he had Bloodgood's help studying abroad for college and Catrine had actually gotten into one of the prestigious art schools here. That, and she was so close to Rochelle that it was insane that they weren't related. This whole thing with Garrot had been insane enough for her to want to come back to Scaris with his family after he had come after her. His family knew he wasn't up for this trip and they offered to stay in Salem with him, but after the word hit of everything that had gone on in the past couple years, they took his word at being up to travel. Any sane parent would've. If my family had the money, mine probably would've come with me. My stepmom, Prim, sent me ahead with their blessing. I think she thinks I'm where I'd like to be, but honestly? We're both dreaming.

Rochelle cussed under her breath. Her usually straight, totally combed down hair was a mess from the crappy sleep she'd gotten on the flight. It was probably more like a crappy few months of sleeping, but at least she pretended to be okay outside of just waking up. Garrot was trying to soothe her, but the poor guy looked like hell anyway, so it really didn't help one way or another. I walked over and twisted the bolts the opposite direction, tugging them up and releasing the fasteners that usually nailed down seats. Garrot smiled a really pale, thin-lipped, god-I'm-in-awful-pain-but-thank-you-anyway smile. I grimaced in reply. He laughed. It was pretty obvious how much it hurt, but he did it anyway. Rochelle sunk back on her heels, looking desperately at me. I freed the other wheel and grabbed our bags out of the overhead while he wheeled himself toward the front. Rochelle bolted to her feet, meeting my knee after he passed. I passed her both of their bags and rose a brow, "Roxy-"

"That's not my name," she tried to cut me off. I pretended I hadn't heard her.

"He's not a baby. If he wants to do it, let him."

She pushed me away. She'd been doing a lot of that for the past couple months. The pilot, copilot and staff of two were unloading all of our stuff onto the tarmac. I half expected an armored car to come rolling up. Instead, a black Benz pulled in with an attached camping trailer. Catrine broke into one of her joyful little smiles and tugged her boyfriend's collar to get him off the pavement. Manny rose slowly, glancing at me before shuffling off toward the car. Her dad hopped out and made me wonder if they still ran that jet service that left half an hour after commercial airlines and still got there before them. Behind the Benz and obviously given the same special permission came a put-putting van. Please don't be our ride.

"Grandma?" Rochelle called out toward the car. It was probably the first time since Garrot got smashed that I'd seen her smile like that. She dropped her bags and bolted across the pavement, trusting the car to stop before it hit her. It did; the driver almost instantly parking and climbing out to meet her. I shouldered my bag and walked up beside Garrot. Whether he was up to being touched or not, I rested my hand on his shoulder, hoping that it was light enough not to break him any more. He glanced up, "She's happy."

"Nah, she's relieved."

Garrot looked up again, holding my gaze this time. "If I was a burden on her, why did she come?"

"You're her better half, you tell me," I said. I hoped it sounded like I was joking. She hadn't been with her grandma for a whole two minutes before the old gargoyle had her sitting in the back seat, bawling her eyes out into a fresh box of tissues. It was killing both of us. I waited until the boxes and stuff were set to go before I patted the top of his head, "Let's go, wheels. We might have to strap you to the top of the roof, but we'll get you there."

He laughed and immediately winced. I had to look away, but I knew what was happening. His arm would wrap around his chest, grabbing himself like it could keep him together. He might shed a few tears. No one said internally crumbling was an easy feat. But eventually, the pain would go away and he'd sit there, breathing heavy, with glassy eyes. I picked up Rochelle's boxes, marked with a pink tab ala the wheeled wonder, and carried them off to the van. They didn't notice me until I popped the back and started loading. Rochelle immediately leapt up to help, but I tossed her bag on her lap and knocked her back down. Her eyes went wide. I smirked, "Your hair's a mess and you look like you've been up all night. Roxy, chill. I got it."

Her eyes returned to normal slowly. She dumped her bag on the floor and got up. I moved away before she could hug me. The worst I could do was avoid it right now. Box after box, hers, his, mine. The van was big enough for the both of their stuff and I didn't have much to stuff in the back seat, but there was really only room for people without wheelchairs. Rochelle was staring at him; she wasn't about to leave him on the airport pavement. I put his bag in back too and patted her shoulder, "Go home, we'll meet you."

"How?" she whispered, somewhat desperately. His parents probably had to go rent a van, get the house somewhat wheelchair accessible and all that junk. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, "They have busses that run to Scaris, don't they?"

She was gonna cry again. She shut the back door and flung her arms around my chest before I could stop her. She didn't even give me time to hug her back before she ran over to Garrot and knelt before his wheelchair, pressing little kisses to his face and brushing back the freshly dyed bangs drooping over his forehead. "Granite is going to take you home to us, mon chere. Is that alright?"

"Of course, Rochelle," he murmured to her. "You go home with your grandmother, get some rest. We'll be there before you know it."

I forced a smile as she looked up at me. She gave me the instructions so many times that I knew them by heart and she knew I did. She kissed him one more time and ran back to the car, probably trying to hide more crying. She had two moods lately: crying and relieved. The way she sacrificed every other aspect of the Roxy she'd been to take care of him almost made me think that when it happened, she'd go too. A lot of my Rochelle was gone already, but he was grinning after her like nothing changed, so maybe it was just getting muffled. I was too tired and too happy to be on the ground to really think about it much.

We had to wait until the van pulled out to wander off the air strip. Apparently we weren't in Paris like I thought; it was a small airport, not one of the TSA run ones. Of course, only the most incognito for a contact of Dracula's. Garrot was completely content to push himself until he wore out, so I let him. He led the way as best he could in a chair, going toward the very well lit area I assumed was downtown Paris, or somewhere resembling Paris. He stopped suddenly and turned his chair, "Look."

I had to squint, but through the trees I could see it too. The tall, twisting iron that was the humans' postcard monument. Mirrored, albeit smaller, out of twisted, gilded silver, perhaps six blocks away from us with a clear view, was our own. So that was the difference between Scaris and Paris. My mouth twitched as he started off, pushing into the street. I just followed. "Do we have suburbs like this everywhere?"

"Oui," he replied. "That was why I was surprised to find Salem as Salem, and not named after its human half."

I snorted. "We founded it."

His lips twitched. Garrot had a pretty face. When he showed up, it went from being Rochelle-exclusive to being a French thing, but as we got into the throngs of people, I got the feeling that the kindness was a thing not exclusive to beauty. Nobody knew him, but they got out of the way. When he paused at the bus stop, they let him on first, even if it took him forever and I had to get on with him for help. It was about then that I saw the sweat on his brow and the distress that was becoming pretty obvious in the way he moved. He kept it very limited.

"You need a doctor," I said, sitting next to him.

"I need a priest," he gasped, "but I will settle for a ride home."

A lump was forming in my throat. I balanced my elbows on my knees and forced it down. "So...are you going to plan your funeral or anything?"

"I have," he murmured. "I wrote out a will, urged some of my lesser involved friends to act as witnesses to it. A friend of Monsieur DeMew's made it official. All of my arrangements are to be enacted...held in my composition book."

I didn't know what to say. It was pretty obvious that one of my best friends, the guy I was sitting right next to, was getting ready to die. He was dying right next to me and there wasn't shit I could do about it. The silence between us was uncomfortable, but he broke it. He always broke it. And he made it worse.
"All the king's horses and all the king's men..."
All Dracula's people couldn't fix him. Because nobody could fix a gargoyle. There wasn't an amount of tacky glue in the world to stop the cracking once it began. He'd break. He'd die. She'd be mine. I stared at the floor, trying to find good in that, even though I knew there wasn't going to be any.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

Garrot sighed. He didn't have the strength left to laugh again. God, he was white. He was stone and he was still white. How was it possible for stone to get pale? "This is not your fault. You tried to help. Whatever will be, will be."

I could've choked and I could've slapped him, but whether it was guilt, friendship or the fact that it would've hurt Rochelle, I didn't do it. He kept making me want to, even after that. He should've known the slippery slope my self-control was on, but he kept talking.
"I'm glad Rochelle has you. When all of this is over with, if you want to pursue her, I would have no qualms. I wrote that down. She has my express permission and I want you to instill it in her. I want her to have happiness after I'm gone, I do not want to take her with me-"

"Stop," I whispered. Why it came out a whisper, I didn't know. I'd been trying for force that I didn't have. Guys weren't supposed to see other guys choking on air. Garrot wasn't natural, it just wasn't natural how he got quiet and stayed quiet. He didn't even bother pressing the subject, he was just holding his chest together.

"When you die, it's going to kill all of us," I muttered. I hoped he knew that it didn't matter what she did with me; she'd always been in love with him. When he went, her heart was going to break. Like the domino effect it was, it was going to hurt me too, and not just because he was my friend.

"Ring the bell at the next stop," Garrot murmured. I got up and followed his instruction. He looked like hell, and he was probably looking forward to going home as much as I was-

"Where the fuck are we?"

He took the wheelchair lift's lowering to its best and left me to pay, which I did in American money that the driver didn't seem to mind too much. I ran out after him and found him wheeling down the streets of a very busy little shopping section. "Garrot-!"

"When I go home, I am going to lay in my bed until I die. I want one last thing, Granite, you owe me this." There was passion in his eyes, enough that it looked like he was running off to meet a girl.

"I thought you said it wasn't my fault," I called after him, catching up in a few strides. He was pushing himself, exerting way beyond what he needed to. I put my foot in his wheel and stopped him. He looked up at me with fury in his gaze.

"I will push you wherever you wanna go as long as you tell me where we're going and what we're doing, and you take the fall when Rochelle gets pissed off." Even if she was going to blame me for not forcing him anyway.

He exhaled slowly before sinking back in pain and nodded. "Go. Just keep going, and then I'll tell you."