Chapter 12
Tess
I stared up at the towering figure before me, my mind reeling as I tried to reconcile the man I saw with the boy I once knew. Those dark brown eyes... I'd recognize them anywhere, even after all these years. This was Mason Sharpe, my childhood best friend who had moved away so suddenly when we were both nine years old.
But how could this be the same goofy, lanky kid I remembered? My Mason had been all elbows and knees, with a gap-toothed grin that could light up a room. This man...
My eyes traveled up his muscular frame, taking in every inch. His shoulders were broad enough to block out the library's ornate chandeliers, their soft light casting intriguing shadows across his features. His arms were corded with muscle beneath dark brown skin that looked impossibly smooth, almost stone-like. A scar ran from his forehead through his eyebrow to his cheekbone, lending a rugged edge to his handsome features.
Handsome? When had Mason become so... attractive?
"Tess?" His deep, gruff voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Is that really you?"
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. The scent of old books and polished wood mingled with something distinctly Mason - a hint of earth and stone that I'd never noticed before. "Mason? I... how are you here?"
The moment the words left my mouth, realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. Mason was here, in the Dragonne Library. A place reserved for supernatural beings and those connected to their world. Which meant...
"You're a Supe," I breathed, the words barely audible. "I had no idea. All this time, you were... what are you exactly?"
"A gargoyle-shifter," he said, his voice low and cautious, as if afraid of my reaction.
A thousand questions raced through my mind, memories of our childhood replaying with this new knowledge. His incredible strength when we'd climb trees and the way scrapes and bruises seemed to vanish overnight... Suddenly, I felt acutely aware of my own humanity, fragile and ordinary in comparison to the powerful being before me.
"I have to get to class," Mason said, interrupting my thoughts. "But I'll come find you after, okay? We have a lot to catch up on."
I nodded mutely, watching as he turned to leave. Just before he rounded the corner, he paused, looking back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"It's good to see you, Tess," he said softly. "I've missed you."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and a heart that couldn't seem to settle. I leaned against the bookshelf, my legs suddenly weak. The rough texture of the ancient tomes pressed against my back, grounding me in reality.
Mason was here. Mason was a Supe. Mason was... gorgeous.
What the hell was I supposed to do with that?
I don't know how long I stood there, leaning against the bookshelf. The library bustled around me, the soft rustle of turning pages and hushed whispers a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind.
A vivid memory surfaced—we were eight years old, climbing the big oak tree in my backyard. I had slipped, scraping my knee badly on the rough bark. Mason, without hesitation, had climbed down to help me. In his rush to reach me, he'd cut his arm on a broken branch, a nasty gash that should have needed stitches.
I remember being more worried about his injury than my own, but Mason had just smiled that gap-toothed grin of his and said, "Don't worry, Tess. I'm tough, remember?"
The next day, when we met to play, his arm had been completely healed, not even a scar left behind. I'd been amazed, calling him my "superhero friend." If only I'd known how close to the truth that was.
Why hadn't he told me? We'd been inseparable as kids, sharing every secret. Or so I'd thought. A pang of hurt mixed with the confusion swirling in my chest.
I pushed off from the bookshelf, forcing myself to move. I had work to do, a new job to prove myself in. I couldn't afford to spend the day lost in childhood memories.
But my mind kept drifting.
What did it mean to be a gargoyle-shifter? I'd read about them, after the Unveiling, when I'd given myself a crash course on all things supernatural. Stone-like skin, wings, enhanced strength.
But reading about it and knowing your childhood best friend was one were two very different things. I felt a twinge of insecurity. How could I, a mere human, fit into this world of mythical beings?
And that scar... what had happened to him in the years we'd been apart? The Mason I knew had been so gentle, always the first to help a hurt animal or stand up to bullies. Now he looked like he'd been through a war.
I was so lost in thought I nearly jumped out of my skin when a deep voice behind me said, "Tess?"
I whirled around, my heart pounding, to find Mason standing there. The afternoon sun streaming through the high windows cast a golden glow around him, making him look almost otherworldly.
"Mason. You're here," I breathed, drinking in the sight of him. It still didn't feel real. "You're back."
He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I said I would be."
An awkward silence fell between us, twenty years of distance suddenly feeling like an insurmountable chasm. The air between us crackled with unasked questions and unspoken truths.
"So," I said, desperately grasping for something to say. "Gargoyle-shifter, huh?"
Mason's smile widened slightly, revealing a hint of the boy I once knew. "Yeah. Surprise?"
I couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking. "That's one way to put it. I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start."
"Well," Mason said, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture so familiar it made my heart ache, "I actually do need help with some research. Maybe we could talk while you show me around?"
I nodded eagerly, grateful for the excuse to spend more time with him. "Of course. What are you researching?"
Mason's expression turned serious. "It's for my Supernatural Studies class. We're studying the Ancient War and its impact on supernatural-human relations."
My eyebrows shot up. "The Ancient War? I've only heard whispers about that since I started here."
He nodded. "It was a secret war between dragons and a group called The Harbingers. We need to construct a detailed timeline and identify lessons for the present day."
I felt a thrill of excitement, tinged with a hint of trepidation. This was exactly the kind of deep, hidden history I'd hoped to uncover when I took this job. But could I, as a human, truly understand the complexities of supernatural conflicts?
"That sounds fascinating. And challenging," I said, pushing aside my doubts. "Where do you want to start?"
As we navigated through the towering shelves, I couldn't help but steal glances at Mason. His movements were purposeful, almost predatory, a far cry from the carefree boy I once knew. Yet, there was a gentleness in how he handled the books, a reminder of the friend I remembered.
"So," I ventured, unable to contain my curiosity any longer, "what have you been up to all these years?"
Mason's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "A lot has happened," he said, his voice low. "Some good, some... not so good."
I waited, hoping he'd elaborate, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed on the shelves. The scar on his face seemed more pronounced in the library's dim light, and I found myself wondering about its origin. But something in his demeanor warned me not to pry.
"What about you?" he asked, his voice softer now. "How'd you end up here?"
Grateful for the shift in focus, I launched into the story of how I'd stumbled upon the Dragonne Library. As I spoke, I noticed Mason relaxing slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension.
"...and then Moriyana offered me the job," I finished, still a bit awe-struck by the memory. "I couldn't believe it."
Mason nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "You always did love books and magic," he said. "Even if you didn't know it was real back then."
His casual reference to our shared past made my heart flutter. It also reminded me of all the questions I had about his supernatural nature.
"Speaking of things I didn't know were real," I said carefully, "I can't help but wonder... when did you first realize you were different? That you could... shift?"
Mason's expression grew distant, and for a moment, I worried I'd overstepped. But then he spoke, his voice quiet. "I was born this way. My first full shift was when I was five. I remember being terrified."
"Oh, Mason," I breathed, imagining a scared little boy suddenly turning to stone. The image tugged at my heart.
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "It's just part of who I am. Always has been."
We lapsed into silence as we continued our search. Despite the years and secrets between us, there was a comfort in Mason's presence that I hadn't felt in a long time.
"Found something," Mason said, reaching up to pull a hefty tome from a high shelf.
As he stretched, his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle and... was that another scar? I quickly averted my eyes, heat rising to my cheeks.
I tried to focus on our surroundings instead. "This looks promising," I said, perhaps a bit too quickly, turning my attention to the book Mason held. "'The Veiled Conflicts: A Comprehensive Study of Supernatural Wars.'"
Mason nodded, flipping through the pages. "This should help with the timeline."
As we pored over the book together, I found myself hyper-aware of his proximity. His scent, a mix of stone and something wild, filled my senses. It was distracting in the best possible way.
My mind whirled with conflicting emotions. This was Mason, my childhood best friend, the boy I'd shared countless adventures with. But he was also a gargoyle-shifter, a being out of myth and legend. Part of me thrilled at the discovery, eager to learn more about this hidden world I'd stumbled into. Another part felt small and overwhelmingly human, unsure of my place in this new reality.
"So," I ventured, partly to distract myself from these confusing feelings, "becoming a Dragon Rider. That's quite a career choice. Is that why you're here?"
Mason's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something intense in their depths. "It's important," he said simply. "For my future. And for my sister's."
"Sister?" I echoed, surprised. "I didn't know you had a sister."
His expression softened slightly. "Kali. She's fifteen. Smart kid. Too smart for her own good sometimes."
I did some quick mental math. Kali must have been born long after Mason moved away. "She's lucky to have you looking out for her," I said softly.
Mason's gaze grew distant. "I'm all she has," he murmured, almost to himself.
The weight behind those words hung in the air between us. Clearly, there was more to the story, but I sensed now wasn't the time to push. Instead, I gently steered the conversation in a different direction.
"It's funny," I said, smiling slightly, "You remember my little sister, Maddie? She used to follow us around everywhere."
A hint of his old grin appeared. "Hard to forget someone who was always three steps behind us, trying to keep up. How is she doing?"
I laughed softly, memories of my little sister's determined face as she chased after us flooding back. "She's... doing well. Very successful. Married to a doctor, living the high life in Sacramento."
Something in my tone must have given me away because Mason's brow furrowed slightly. "But?" he prompted gently.
I sighed, fiddling with the corner of a page. "But things are different now. We were close when we were younger, you know? Even after you left, we stuck together. But then..."
I trailed off, unsure how to explain the complex dynamics of my family without sounding bitter. Mason waited patiently, his presence oddly comforting.
"When we hit our teens, things changed," I finally continued. "Our mom, she... well, she started treating Maddie differently. Perfect Maddie, the golden child who could do no wrong. And I became..."
"The scapegoat," Mason finished quietly, understanding dawning in his eyes.
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. It's not Maddie's fault, not really. But it drove a wedge between us. Now we're more like polite acquaintances than sisters."
Mason's hand moved as if to reach for mine, but he stopped himself, letting it rest on the book instead. "I'm sorry, Tess. That must have been hard."
His simple words, filled with genuine empathy, nearly undid me. I blinked back the threat of tears, offering a wobbly smile. "It is what it is. At least I'm forging my own path now, right?"
Mason nodded, his eyes holding mine. "You always were the brave one," he said softly.
For a moment, we just looked at each other, years of shared history and new understanding passing between us. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions.
Clearing his throat, Mason turned back to the book. "So, uh, this Ancient War," he said, his voice a bit gruffer than before. "Looks like it had some pretty major consequences for human-supe relations."
As we worked side by side, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was seeing only the surface of the man Mason had become. There were depths to him now, hidden currents I couldn't quite fathom.
"What about you?" Mason asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us. "How are you finding your new job here?"
I smiled, running my hand along the smooth wood of a nearby shelf. "It's incredible," I admitted. "Every day I discover something new. Right now, I'm working on an Oral History Project with Kane, documenting first-hand accounts of supernatural events."
Mason's eyebrows rose. "Kane? As in Kane Ellesar?"
I nodded, a slight frown creasing my brow. "Yeah, though he hasn't been particularly... friendly. More like grudgingly tolerant of my presence."
Something flashed in Mason's eyes, a hint of anger that surprised me with its intensity. "That's not right," he said, his voice low and tight. "You're doing important work. He should treat you with respect."
"It's okay," I said, touched by his protectiveness but also a bit bemused. "I can handle a grumpy fae."
Mason didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. As we turned back to our research, I couldn't help but wonder at the complexities of the man beside me. My old friend, yet in so many ways a stranger. Human, yet not.
I wanted to know this new Mason, scars and all.
"There you are, Mason."
The sharp voice cut through our bubble of companionship. I looked up to find Kane standing at the end of the aisle, his piercing blue-violet eyes sweeping over the scene before him. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
"I've been looking for you," Kane continued, his gaze flicking between Mason and me. "We're supposed to be working on the assignment together, remember?"
Mason straightened, his expression neutral. "I needed some additional resources. Ms. Whittaker was kind enough to assist."
Kane's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see." His gaze turned to me. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Whittaker. I'm sure you have other duties to attend to."
I bristled at the dismissal in his tone. "Actually, assisting students with research is part of my job, Mr. Ellesar. I'm happy to help both of you if you'd like."
For a moment, tension crackled in the air. Kane's eyes bored into mine, and I forced myself to meet his gaze steadily. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
"That won't be necessary," he said. "Mason, shall we?"