Interview With a Gargoyle (24 page)

He woke her reluctantly with a kiss on each heavy eyelid. She smiled even before she stirred.

“We’ve slept too long again, and I hear a car outside,” he said, letting his gaze roam her curves as she pushed himself to a sitting position beside him. She actually blushed at his perusal and pulled a pillow across her body to cover herself.

He grinned. “Nothing I haven’t seen. Or tasted.”

“Oh—” She covered her eyes with one hand. “I’m not used to this, waking up with a man…you know.”

“Naked?”

“Mmmm.”

“If I had my way, you’d get used to it very fast.” Outside, the thud of a car door interrupted the quiet evening. Blake rose. “I wonder if that’s Calypso.”

Melodie flung herself over the side of the bed and scrambled to retrieve her clothes. She was only half dressed when the doorbell rang. “I’ll go so you can get dressed,” she said, shrugging into her shirt.

Blake stifled a tart remark and opted instead to stare at Melodie’s jean-clad rear end as she hurried out of the room.

He’d spent the last hour feeling closer to normal than he had in ten years. He’d finally seen the sunlight, even if it was through a window. Maybe that was enough to hope for. Animate gargoyle by day, supremely satisfied human by night. He could learn to live with that.

Before opening Blake’s front door, Mel chanced a peek at the small mirror hanging at the bottom of the stairs. Her reflection stopped her cold. Who was the beautiful woman staring back at her? When had her normally drab, dark brown hair morphed into an unruly chestnut mane? When had her thin lips become so full and red, and when had her eyes started to look smoky rather than shadowed?

The muscles in her belly clenched when she thought of Blake. If this was what he saw when he looked at her, no wonder he’d wanted her.

Would he feel the same way when she went back to being just plain old Melodie?

The doorbell rang again, scattering her self-absorbed musings. She tore her gaze away from the wicked beauty in the mirror and opened the door, expecting to find Calypso.

Instead Palmer stood on the narrow porch. He looked as anxious as she felt. A slim, black-haired woman hovered on the step behind him—definitely not Calypso, though she bore some resemblance to the witch.

Mel sighed and ushered them both inside. “Where have you been? I’m so sorry about the warehouse. Was your uncle angry? He didn’t fire you, did he?”

The barrage of questions seemed to startle Palmer. He squinted at Mel, and his companion raised two perfectly sculpted brows but said nothing.

“Fired…uh, well. I don’t know, actually. I haven’t been to work today. It’s probably a safe bet that I’m not only out of a job but out of the will as well.” He punctuated his statement with a humorless laugh. “You look pretty…pretty good. Better than I expected.”

Mel blushed. She resisted the urge to press her suddenly cold hands to her flaming cheeks. The temperature difference would have probably made her face crack anyway. She led the two into the living room and motioned for them to sit on the sagging couch. Palmer pressed on.

“I spent the entire day researching, and I found someone who knows a bit about the Cabochon. This is my friend from the DHN. Her name is…”

“Helena.” Blake’s voice sounded like rusty nails. He stood in the living room doorway, his shirt open to reveal places Mel had lately been pressed against. His skin was ashen and his expression hard as granite. “Demon Hunters’ Network, huh? Are you serious? They must have done away with the background checks if they let your kind in.”

Mel’s breath seemed to vanish from her lungs, leaving her gaping like a dying fish. This was
that
Helena? The half-demon woman Blake had seduced…

The woman rose, and her deep indigo eyes flashed. Mel recognized the look she gave Blake. It was the look of a woman who hadn’t quite forgotten having her heart broken. “Palmer, maybe this was a bad idea.” Her voice, smoky and sexy, reminded Mel of Calypso’s.

Palmer’s confused gaze bounced between Helena and Blake. “What did I miss? You two know each other?”

Blake laughed. “Didn’t she tell you? I’m surprised she’d show up at all if she knew you wanted to help
me
.”

“Not you.” Helena took a step forward, and something primal surged inside Mel. She didn’t want this woman near Blake. She fought the urge to put herself between them. “Palmer asked me to help Melodie. I found him researching the Cabochon, and I told him about a spell that could be used to transfer the gem from one host to another.”

“But you didn’t tell him you know about that spell because it’s been handed down through generations of your family. Your
demon
family.” Blake held Helena’s gaze. The look in his eyes was the same one he’d had that first night when he thought only Palmer stood between him and the Cabochon.

“What does it matter how I got the spell? I have it, and I can perform it and remove the gem from Palmer’s friend.”

“Can you break the curse?” Mel asked. At the moment, that was more important to her than anything.

“You’re a demon?” Palmer’s question went unanswered. The doorbell rang again, and Blake whirled out of the room to answer it.

Helena turned a sympathetic gaze on Mel. “I’m sorry. I don’t have enough power for that. The spell I have was developed as a failsafe in case the Cabochon ever fell into the hands of the lesser demon breeds.”

Mel stared at the woman. She didn’t look at all demony. In fact, she was lovely. Her dark hair and sparkling blue eyes contrasted with her light skin and delicate bone structure, giving her the look of a china doll. “You mean like Fremlings or something?”

Helena laughed. “Fremlings could never handle the power of the Cabochon. It’s been the legacy of the higher-level clans almost since its creation. Controlling the Cabochon requires intelligence, cunning, and a little bit of soul. My people, the Domaré, possess all of that.”

Palmer’s mouth hung open. “How
did
you get into the DHN, anyway? Does anyone else know?”

Helena tuned to him and placed a hand on his cheek in a motherly gesture. “Don’t worry, Palmer. You’re not the only one I’ve fooled. My job is to monitor DHN activities and any demon research that goes on, just to make sure no one finds out anything they’re not supposed to know.”

“All right. Here’s a question, then.” Mel gave Helena a discerning once-over. Had she slept with Blake? The thought almost made her forget her more pertinent inquiry, but she forced her muddled brain to focus. “If the ‘higher’ level demons are supposed to control the Cabochon, what was a Gogmar doing with it? The one that attacked me certainly didn’t seem like it had much intelligence, cunning
or
soul.”

Helena opened her mouth, but her reply trailed off. Blake had returned with Calypso in tow. The resemblance between the half-demon and the witch was so striking that Mel couldn’t hide her shock.

“Maybe you could field this question, cousin,” Helena said, her lips curving in a smirk.

“Calypso!” Mel crossed the room to stand in front of her friend. “You’re not, are you?”

Cal’s indigo eyes, a shade deeper than Helena’s, shifted back and forth, but she wouldn’t meet Mel’s gaze. “Yes, I’m Domaré,” she said. The admission came with a hint of shame.

“To answer your question, the Gogmar had been enthralled as a temporary servant of the Domaré to bring the gem to Calypso, because Gogmars can’t absorb the power of the Cabochon. Their hides are too thick…or something.” Helena’s explanation burned in Mel’s ears, and the gist of her words percolated slowly through the fog in her tired brain.

Calypso was a demon as well as a witch. Mel’s best friend in Amberville wasn’t even human. Not only that, she was destined to be a demon queen as well.

Destined to take Mel’s power.

She stepped away from Calypso, and the sound that escaped her, meant to be one of confusion and exasperation, came out sounding more like a warning growl. “The Cabochon is supposed to be
yours
?”

Finally Cal looked up, though her gaze met Melodie’s for only an instant, then shifted over her shoulder to zero in on her cousin. “I didn’t know the gem was in transit. No one told me…or I wouldn’t have taken that night off work.”

“The transfer wasn’t planned in advance. The death of the previous Domaré queen was unexpected. It shouldn’t have happened for another quarter century.” Helena’s response drew a muttered curse from Blake, and a pang of sympathy twisted in Melodie’s aching stomach. Could he have lasted another twenty-five years in this hellish half-life of his?

“I have a phone, you know.” Cal actually pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, Gogmars don’t. And the old queen, I hear she was more demon than human. She didn’t even live in this world anymore. The demons who attended her wouldn’t have known how to contact you other than to send their thrall to trail you by scent.”

“And the Gogmar screwed up royally, didn’t it?”

Helena laughed. “Don’t blame the messenger. It was sent to find you and given a rough location only. Then Palmer runs the poor thing through with a sword. What could it do but give the gem to the nearest living creature in order to carry out its mission?”

Palmer jumped up from the couch. “Now it’s
my
fault?”

“Sounds good to me.” Blake mimicked Calypso’s pose and leaned against the doorjamb. His attention was focused on Helena, and Mel didn’t like that one bit.

Palmer bristled at his cavalier response. “If I recall, DeWitt, I’m the one who saved your hide last night at the warehouse—”

“And I’m
eternally
grateful.” From there the conversation degenerated into a four-way argument with Calypso, Palmer, Blake and Helena all shouting at once.

Mel’s gut boiled, her skin heated, and finally the part of her that was still human erupted. “Enough! Everybody shut up.”

Everyone obeyed, and they all stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Which, considering how awful she felt at the moment, might have been a possibility.

“Now that I have your attention. Calypso…I’m not going to ask why you didn’t bother to tell me you were a demon, or rather
the
demon who’s supposed to inherit the Cabochon. I’m just going to ask you, if Helena’s family has a spell to get it out of me, and you two are actually cousins, why don’t you have the same spell?”

“It’s not that simple. If I remove the Cabochon and then absorb it, DeWitt remains cursed. I’ve been trying to find a way to break the curse without damaging the gem’s power, because the demon breeds, especially the Domaré, have come to rely on it.”

“Nice. Let me say this—if you don’t hurry up and get this thing out of me, you might not get the chance, because I’m starting to like the power, and I’m starting to think like a demon. Right now it’s taking all the control I’ve got not to run off again. The Fremlings are out there. I can feel them, and I don’t think they’ll let me get away the next time they have me.”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Helena’s question was directed at Mel, but it produced a disparaging sound from Calypso.

“Helena, she doesn’t need to hear this right now.”

“What?” Mel positioned herself between the two women. “I know I’m going to turn into a demon, and I know I’ll get so strong that I can’t be killed. I can feel that.”

Helena’s eyes widened. “Is
that
what you told her?”

“No. I didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was.”

“Scare me? You didn’t want to scare me? I spent last night in a rotting boxcar with demons holding me down while the creature in charge prepared to rip my guts out looking for the Cabochon. I’ve been attacked by living garbage, chased by things that give nightmares nightmares, and you didn’t want to scare me? Please, Cal. Spill it.”

Calypso sighed and sank to the couch. “You won’t become a demon, Mel. Not a full-blooded, nearly immortal demon.”

“And that’s the
bad
news?”

“No. The bad news is, if we don’t get the Cabochon out of you, you’ll just die.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Blake stepped into the fray in the wake of Calypso’s ominous words. He put his hand on Mel’s shoulder. In addition to the electric current surging from the Cabochon, her body trembled.

“What?” Her voice was small despite the power contained within her. The demon had gone dormant while the human suffered.

“You can’t sustain the power of the Cabochon. It’s hard enough even for demons. That’s one of the reasons I took up witchcraft, so I could get used to handling power and channeling it. I didn’t want to turn into what the old demon queen had become.” Calypso’s shoulder’s sagged. “You’ve got another day at most before the power surges kill you.”

Melodie only nodded, bobbing her head slowly while she chewed her bottom lip. Her gaze seemed focused on something a million miles away.

Anger bubbled in Blake’s gut. Why on earth would Calypso have withheld a spell that could save Melodie’s life? He wanted to shake the witch, to squeeze a logical answer out of her alabaster pale throat. “We can’t waste any more time then. Helena, are you prepared to do the spell now?”

She glared at him but nodded. He’d take time later to feel remorse for the way he’d used her. She’d told him, upon discovering his true motives for attempting to seduce her, that demons had emotions too, poignant, all-consuming ones, just like humans. He hadn’t believed her then, but her eyes still held the depth of the feelings he’d played fast and loose with in an attempt to get what he wanted. She’d cared deeply for him, more deeply than he’d been capable of caring for her or for anyone at the time.

“I have everything I need.”

“If we do it here, with you and me present, the Cabochon could go into one of us,” Calypso said.

Helena transferred her burning stare to her cousin. “Are you afraid it might be me? Don’t worry, Cal. I don’t want the power. I never did. It was always meant for you, and I wouldn’t stand in the way of the natural succession of things.”

“What I meant was, if we can’t contain the gem, if one of us absorbs it, Blake may never get free.”

Blake shifted his position to face Calypso. Beneath her Goth makeup, she probably looked a lot more like Helena than he’d first realized. No wonder he’d felt an odd sense of familiarity when he’d first looked into the witch’s eyes. He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders now, letting the weight of them settle on her. “Why does it matter to you? I’ve never been more than a witch hunter in your estimation. If none of this had happened with Melodie, you would have never given me any more consideration than the old Domaré queen had.”