The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (10 page)

Sheldon pulls his attention from the computer and tries to take an interest in my wardrobe melt down. The rain forest and screecher monkeys on the monitor suggests he is winning the vacation argument with Bernard. Fortunately, he doesn’t bring it up.

“That one looks beautiful, too,” he says.

Bernard tosses aside the laundry he’s folding when he sees my face. “Lucy, why in the world are you so upset?”

I press my fingers to my temples. “I’m having dinner with Marcus’s parents tonight. I need to look respectable, pretty and…smart.” I swallow past the painful lump in my throat. “What if they don’t like me?”

Bernard crosses the room and takes hold of my hands. Over his shoulder, I catch Sheldon’s look of alarm.

“Luce, Marcus adores you. I’m sure his parents will, too.” Sheldon rises from his chair and walks over to rub my back, glancing at Bernard nervously. He doesn’t get it, but I love him for trying.

“What’s the deal with them anyway?” Sheldon asks, more to Bernard than to me. “I’ve never seen them before. I don’t recall Vera ever mentioning them, either.”

Bernard nods, looking equally curious. “And now they show up out of the blue.”

They both focus on me.

There’s no way I’m going to explain that Marcus and his dad are gargoyles. “I don’t really know. I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

“If you want my opinion, I think the purple top and the black pants look lovely on you,” Bernard offers. He turns me around and gives me a gentle shove. “Now hurry up. Marcus will be here any minute.”

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. I rush Marcus out the door before my uncles can interrogate him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?” I ask once we’re in the car.

He slumps in his seat. “An eleven. How about you?”

I run my sweaty palms along my slacks. “About the same. And you can’t even make me feel better by telling me your father will like me. I’m half-demon in case you’ve forgotten.”

Marcus frowns. “Call him Garret, please. Skip Turner was my dad. This man is a stranger.” He squeezes my hand. “You’re not the enemy, Lucy.”

Why do I think Marcus might be wrong about this?

“Besides, if he’s rude to you, we’ll leave. I promise.”

I jerk my hand from his, my eyes wide. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Marcus laughs as we pull away from the curb. “You really need to chill out.”

With traffic, it takes forty minutes to get to the condo his parents are staying at. We pull up to a high rise building on Green Street, one block past Halsted, and enter the parking garage. I’m impressed that Marcus found the building without using a GPS.

“Are their friends going to be here? The ones who own the condo?” I ask once we’re in the elevator. Somehow I think that would be better than just the four of us. That way Garret won’t freak out when he realizes his son is dating a demon. Correction, half-demon.

“Their friends are travelling. They’re gone a lot, so Camille and Garret have an open-ended invitation to stay here.”

Great.
Deep breaths, four counts in and four counts out. Repeat.

The elevator doors open on the seventh floor, and we step into a quiet hallway decorated with beige walls and floral carpet. Marcus takes my hand and pulls me to him. His eyes look darker than normal, and his brows have been in a permanent frown since he parked the car.

“Tell me you love me,” he says, his voice strained.

I place my hands on his shoulders. “I love you. I like you, too.”

“That’s something,” he says, his face breaking into a gorgeous smile.

I pull him to me. My fingers circle his neck as our lips meet. I press myself against him as our kiss deepens. I run my nails along the tender skin of his neck, then down the length of his back. Marcus shivers.

He opens his eyes and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here. I needed that.”

My purse explodes with my favorite St. Vincent song. “It’s Bernard. Go ahead. I’ll meet you there,” I tell Marcus as I dig my phone from my purse.

“I’m not going in without you.” Marcus says then proceeds down the hall.

I press my phone to my ear. “Hi, Bernard. Is everything okay?”

“We just wanted to check in with you. You were so upset earlier. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents is a big deal. Not just for you, but for Marcus. Just take a deep breath, Luce. Everything will be fine.”

An argument erupts somewhere around the corner. One of the voices is Marcus’s.
What’s going on?

“Bernard, I have to go.” I shove my phone in my purse as I run down the hall toward unit

seven-o-nine.

“Get inside, Marcus. Now. There’s a demon in the building,” a tall, broad shouldered man says as he shoves Marcus behind him toward the apartment door.

“We’re not in danger. It’s only Lucy.” Marcus struggles against the man who towers over him.

Camille tugs on the man’s arm. “Garret, please take your hands off of him.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, edging closer. I’m with Camille. Garret needs to stop pushing Marcus around.

Garret’s gaze lands on me and narrows. His hair is caramel-colored, with gray flecks throughout. He has dark brown eyes, like Marcus, and a large, misshapen nose, which I’m guessing has been broken once or twice. He wears black slacks and a white dress shirt untucked from his waistband. It’s a stylish look; something I would expect to see on Jude.

“Marcus, do you mind telling me why you brought a demon to my home?” Garret asks.

As if beckoned, my palms start to burn and my fingertips twitch.
Oh God, no. Not now!
I shove my hands in my pants pockets, forcing myself
not
to envision pitching a fireball at Garret’s look of disgust.

Garret takes a hostile step closer.

Camille’s wide eyes meet mine. “Lucy?”

Marcus moves to my side and shoves me behind him. “Leave her alone.”

Garret’s eyes fix on Marcus. “Tell me I’m wrong—which would be a first. Tell me she’s not a demon.”

Camille glances uneasily down the hall. “Please, let’s take this inside.”

We follow her and Garret into the condo. The short entryway leads into a living room. The exposed brick wall on one side and the deep red wall on the other are what I imagine a downtown Chicago condo should look like. The couch and two overstuffed chairs are brown leather, and a deep red wooden chest, which serves as a coffee table, has a delicate needlework draped over the top. The oak floors shine. A huge flat screen TV is mounted on the wall. I wish Camille would turn it on. It would be a welcome distraction from the tension in the room.

We move to the kitchen, where takeout containers with a red dragon symbol line the granite countertops. The room is stuffed with shiny stainless steel appliances.

“Why did you bring her here?” Garret demands.

“She’s
half
-demon,” Marcus corrects him. “Nothing like—”

His father sneers. “She’s a demon, the enemy of our kind.”

Camille grabs the countertop to balance herself. Her gaze jumps from Marcus to Garret, then me. Her attention doesn’t linger on me for long. I’ve fallen out of what little favor she’d granted me when we first met.

“Marcus, do you understand why your father’s been on the run for so many years?” Camille pleads. “It’s because of the demons who seek to destroy him and all of his—
your
—kind.”

But I love him. How can she think I’d hurt Marcus?

“I’ve met the enemy, and she’s definitely not one of them,” Marcus hisses through clenched teeth.

“Demons and protectors are not—and will never be—compatible,” his father growls. “We’ve been enemies since the beginning of time.”

I take a step from behind Marcus. “I’m half-witch,” I tell them. Marcus tries to tuck me behind him again, but I push him aside and step forward. “I didn’t even know who my father was until last year.”

Garret scoffs. “That’s impossible. Demons never lose track of their progeny. And I can sense your bloodline. It’s strong. Your father wouldn’t allow you out of his sight.”

Marcus grimaces. “Lucy, you don’t owe him an explanation.”

I reach for Marcus’s hand and squeeze it. “It’s okay.” I turn back to Garret. “My grandmother cast a shrouding spell over my mother and me to hide us from him.”

Garret considers this. “Your grandmother must have been powerful.”

I raise my chin. “She was.”

“She’s dead.”

I want to smack the knowing look off of his face. “My father wasn’t the demon who killed her,” I snap.

Marcus tugs on my hand. “Are you done with the inquisition? If not, we’ll be leaving.”

Garret stares him down. “Lose the tone, Marcus. I’m looking out for our kind, as I always have. It’s no wonder you’re spoiled, given the carefree existence you’ve led.”

Marcus clenches and unclenches his jaw. His hand grips mine tightly. “Carefree? You don’t know anything about me or my upbringing. You dumped that job on a complete stranger a long time ago.”

“Marcus!” Camille pushes herself away from the counter. “Don’t you dare speak to Garret like that. You have no idea what our life’s been like. Your father—” Marcus narrows his eyes at her. “Garret is chief of our council; he’s responsible for keeping clan members safe. They’re under constant threat.”

“Something you know nothing about,” Garret says, “with the soft life you’ve lived.”

Marcus stiffens, his body shaking with anger. My mind races through memories in a matter of seconds. Marcus’s back splitting open as wings erupted from his skin. The red, angry scars where smooth skin should have been. Marcus’s pained expression as he told me about his ten-year-old self sitting alone in the middle of mass at St. Pat’s, knowing deep down that his dad was never coming back.

Soft life?

Heat blazes up and down my arms, raging its way to my palms.
No. No. No. Not now, please not now!
“Get down!” I scream.

Garret lunges across the room with lightening speed and throws himself over Camille. Fireballs hurl from my hands in opposite directions. One blasts against the huge TV, sending it crashing to the floor in pieces. Sparks and smoke fly in all directions. The other fireball blasts into the kitchen. Takeout containers explode, shooting Thai food in every direction.

“Garret, no!” Camille screams.

Garret bows deep before us, his eyes fixed on me. A low growl erupts from his throat. The wet tear of flesh fills the room. I stumble and slam into the refrigerator behind me as wings, black and veined, blast from Garret’s back.

“Oh my God.” I reach for Marcus’s hand.

Garret rises to his full height, dwarfing the room. The leathery appendages twitch and expand until they touch the opposite walls of the room. Dishes crash to the floor.

“No!” Marcus yells. He thrusts me behind him with one hand while his other extends toward Garret. My lungs seize at the sight of the massive creature advancing toward us. His eyes glitter like a wolf approaching bloodied prey.

“Once you’ve been with the clan a while, you’ll look back on this and understand why I had to do it.” Garret gnashes his teeth.

“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Marcus warns. He hunches and grunts as his shirt flies off his body in shreds, buttons pinging from the fabric and flying off. The scars along his back break open, emitting a wet, ripping sound, like a newborn fighting to be free. I’m flung backward by the power of his wings as they slam into me.

Marcus roars as he charges Garret. The two collide, and I flinch at the sound of their violent tackle. Fists fly and claws swipe through the air.
Wait…claws?
Marcus’s father has claws?
Garret leans toward Marcus, his lips drawn back as he’s about to sink sharp, pointy teeth into his son’s shoulder.

I run toward them, about to plunge my fingers into Garret’s eyes.

Camille throws herself between Garret and Marcus, the weight of her body sending me to the floor. “Garret! Stop!” She clutches Garret by the shoulders. She cranes her neck, a desperate look in her eyes. “Marcus, get her out of here.
Now
.”

Marcus’s wings retract and collapse against his back, very much like the swans I’ve seen at the zoo. His wings wiggle and slide into the slits in his skin, as if his wings are separate living things returning home.

My mouth falls open in amazement, but snaps shut as Marcus, shirtless, grabs my hand and yanks me toward the door.

“Tell me something,” Garret calls after us.

Marcus pauses. I want to turn around, curious to see if Garret put his wings away, but I mimic Marcus, who stares stonily at the door.

“Who’s her father?”

Marcus responds with silence.

“Marcus…” Camille’s voice sounds haggard. “It’s important. Who is he?”

Once you’ve been with the clan a while, you’ll look back on this and understand why I had to do this
. Garret was going to kill me.

I glance at the slash marks running across Marcus’s chest, recalling Garret about to sink his teeth into his son’s shoulder. Despicable for someone who calls himself a protector.