The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (21 page)

I’m halfway through my geometry homework when my phone vibrates—Dylan’s actually calling me back. How mad will he be?

“I’m really busy, but you said it’s important. What’s up?”

It barely sounds like him, more like Dylan with a mouthful of cotton. I imagine the three mutts beating the crap out of my friend. Adrenaline rushes through my body. A pounding fills my ears.

“Did Jack and his loser friends hurt you? I’m going to make them pay, Dylan. I’ll talk to Jude. Heck, I’ll torch all three of them. They won’t get away with this!”

Dylan mumbles something.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

“They didn’t do it.”

It wasn’t Marcus. He wouldn’t do something so brutal.

“Then who did?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do. We can’t let whoever did this—”

“You called me about something else. Either we talk about that, or I’m hanging up.”

“Why’re you being so secretive?”

“Hmmm. There’s a lot of that going around.”

I guess I sort of deserve that. Or maybe not. “To make a long story short, I found out you and I are encountering some sort of demon puberty. It’s causing us to, well…you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

I ignore his pissy tone and tell him everything.

“I don’t want someone casting a spell on me. Hell, I don’t want that done to you, either. There has to be another way to make this go away.”

Well, that’s a good sign. He cares about what happens to me. He doesn’t totally hate me.

“Dylan, I don’t think you get it.” I struggle to find a delicate way to put it. “The only other way is to…uh,
do it
. And that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat and then winces. “Well then…if this is the only way.”

As a sort-of demon, Dylan has speedy healing powers. How long before he’s out of pain? There is one benefit to Dylan being out of sorts. He could’ve used this opportunity to be Dylan the Jerk. Or he could’ve responded with a crude joke. He’s experienced, so this probably isn’t as big a deal to him as it is to me.

My bedroom suddenly grows too warm as a vision of Dylan and Rachel comes to mind. My entire body tenses and hot electricity shoots down my arms and settles in my palms.

Jealousy?
I wipe my damp palms along my jeans.
Oh man, that came out of nowhere
. I down half my bottle of Vitamin Water and change the subject. “We have to train together at Jude’s. He’s furious you didn’t make it on Sunday. Then Marcus smashed in his door, and he was doubly—”

“Fine.”

“Wait. Don’t you want to hear the rest of what happened?”

“Let’s talk about the spell.”

I lean back in my chair, stung by his curt attitude.
Cut him some slack, Lucy. The guy’s been beaten
. True.
And I’m determined to find out who did this to him.

“Persephone wants you to come over on Saturday night, once I’m home from taking care of Ethan and Brandi.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yes. Something about the waning of the moon.”

Dylan clears his throat. “Do you trust this, Lucy?” His voice is low and serious, even through the cotton-effect. “What if something goes wrong?”

“I trust Persephone. You should, too.” I close my eyes, my entire body clenched. “Besides, this is the only way to save our friendship.”

Dylan exhales heavily. “Okay, then I guess I have to trust her, too.” A heavy silence falls between us. I feel bad laying it on so heavy about our friendship, but he needs to take this seriously. He has to show up for the spellcasting. “Does that mean I can come over and spend time with my brother and sister during the day on Saturday?”

My heart squeezes painfully at his hopeful tone. “Not a good idea. Next week should be okay, though.” I promised Marcus I would stay away from Dylan until we fix this. “Besides, based on what I’ve heard about your face, you might scare Ethan and Brandi.”

Dylan exhales. “That’s the last thing I want to do. Then I’ll see you Saturday night, especially now that I don’t see you at school anymore.”

The line goes dead.

The spell has to work. Persephone was nervous. I caught her pinched expression when she thought I wasn’t looking. Are we messing with things we shouldn’t by mixing witchcraft and demons again? Goddess statuettes broke the last time. What’s going to happen this time?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sheldon turns off the lawnmower and wipes the sweat from his brow with a yellow bandana. “Thanks,” he says as I hand him a glass of lemonade.

“If you teach me how to use the mower, I can help,” I offer.

Sheldon walks over to the back porch and sits down. He pats the spot next to him and I plunk myself down.

“Not necessary. You’ve taken on enough of the household chores.” The ice cubes clink in his glass as he gulps down half the glass. “How was school today?”

“I aced my Spanish quiz, and I’m working ahead in geometry. And I’m thinking of taking Latin in the fall.”

Sheldon raises his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “That’s my girl.” He takes another sip from his glass. “Your Gram took Latin, too. She was the brainy one in the family.”

She was also a witch who needed to be able to read those old spells.

I inhale deeply. Fresh cut grass. “Hmmmm. Nice.” The smell makes me think of summer break and Gram. So do the lilacs, which are in full bloom. What was it Gram always said? They smell fresh and clean and sweet and innocent. There’s no better description.

As the sun washes the backyard in a late afternoon glow, glimpses of all my summers here with Gram flash through my thoughts. My dream came true, just a couple of years too late. This is where I belong, and since I can’t have Gram, Sheldon and Bernard are the best substitutes.

Sheldon reaches over and pats my leg. “I can’t believe it’s nearly been a year since you moved in with us. It’s been good, hasn’t it?”

I squint up at him and smile. “It has been.” I lean into him and tuck my arm through his. “I’m happy here. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

Sheldon swallows hard and clears his throat. “Thanks, kiddo. We’re happy you’re here too.” His eyes water a bit as he looks out across the yard. “You’d tell us if you weren’t happy wouldn’t you?”

I follow his gaze and notice a spotted tail bobbing through the tiger lilies lining the edge of the yard. The stalker cat is back, probably coming after our house sparrows and finches. I’ll chase him off if he starts to cause trouble.

I return my attention to Sheldon. “Is this about Jude? Because you and Bernard have nothing to worry about. This is my home. I don’t want to move in with him.”

“Sometimes we worry whether we’re doing this right, this pseudo-parent thing. Are we too strict? Not strict enough?” Sheldon turns to me, his lips pulled down at the corners. “Then I remind myself that you have a solid head on your shoulders, that you grew up faster than most kids your age. I have to trust you, something Bernard is much better at doing.”

I pull away from him. “You don’t trust me?”

“Lucy,” he sighs. “If you only knew what we—your Gram, Bernard, and I—went through with your mom when she was younger. Her obsession with your father…all the trouble he caused. And now he’s back. I’m scared as hell, to be honest with you.”

“I think it’s different for me than it was for Momma.” Jude’s ability to hypnotize me has faded. Or maybe he doesn’t try anymore, since his other methods for manipulating me have worked so well.

Sheldon seems to accept that for now. “Your Sundays with Dylan are good for you; although you and Marcus tend to wind up in arguments over them.”

I bite my lip. If my uncles knew where Dylan and I went every Sunday, what Jude put us through, they’d really freak. I wonder what I’ll be in for this Sunday after taking off with Marcus last weekend. Will he tase me again? What will he do to Dylan for missing his session?

“We’re working through that. It’s going to be okay.”

Sheldon blows out a breath that rattles his lips. “They both want the same thing. You. One of them will win and the other will lose.”

I tune Sheldon out as I think back to Jude. What will Jude do to us for missing our session?

“Someone did a number on him. Beat his face to a pulp. Bruises, stitches. It’s horrible.”

Did Jude schedule a make up session for Dylan? What if Dylan lied to me and Jude pitted Jack and his mutts against Dylan in a re-match? Payback for missing training on Sunday. That would be very Jude—get back at me by hurting someone close to me.

Sheldon tugs on my arm. “Lucy? Are you listening to me? We need to make plans for your birthday. What would you like to do?”

I plant a kiss on Sheldon’s cheek, then hop up from the porch. “Living here with you and Bernard is all I need for every birthday. Oh, and pizza.”

“Where are you going?”

“Dylan isn’t feeling well. I need to check on him.”

* * * *

Aiden answers the door. “Marcus isn’t home.” He proceeds to shut the door in my face.

I shove hard, catching Aiden by surprise, then enter the apartment.

“Try that again, and I’ll blast the door into a million pieces.”

Aiden smiles. “I’d love to see you explain that to your uncles, little demon girl.”

He’s right and I hate him for it.

“What do you want?”

“What happened to Dylan?”

Aiden studies me for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to stand here and pretend you don’t know that someone beat the crap out of him? It’s bad, Aiden. Did Jude schedule a rematch with the mutts? Was he penalizing Dylan for me bailing last weekend?”

Aiden’s chest rises and falls. His nostrils flare.

“Tell me what you know, Aiden.”

His expression darkens. “I can’t believe he would stoop that low.”

I throw my hands out to my side, frustrated with his vague answer.

“Who?”

“Jude.” Aiden proceeds to crack his knuckles.

The apartment door opens, and I whirl around.

Marcus drops his backpack on the overstuffed chair and eyes Aiden and me. “What’s going on?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Dylan?” Aiden snaps at Marcus.

Marcus snaps his head up in surprise. “Since when do you care what happens to Dylan?”

“Since I’ve been training him.” Aiden’s lips flatten. He pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. “And since Jude told me to show him a lesson last weekend, and I refused.”

A cold shiver passes over my skin. “Why did Jude want you to teach Dylan a lesson?”

“Jude’s not one to explain himself,” Aiden says. “But it probably has to do with you. What did you do?”

I press my hands against my chest, willing my heartbeat to slow down as I meet Marcus’s gaze. “This is our fault. We never should’ve left last weekend.”

Chapter Thirty

Dylan Douglas

“Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

Marcus grimaces at the sight of me. Who can blame him? I’ve stopped looking in the mirror. I follow him to the bathroom.

“Sit,” Marcus orders, pointing to the toilet seat. “The blood will make you lightheaded. I don’t want you to fall.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I want to see Ethan and Brandi tomorrow. I’m one of the few normal people in their lives. Lucy was right. They would be horrified to see me this way. My demon genes aren’t healing me fast enough.

“Aiden told me what happened.”

I chuckle, but it sounds more like a fart through my swollen lips.

“Nice try. Aiden took off before this happened.”

Marcus turns on the tap and lathers his hands and his wrist. I appreciate his efforts at hygiene on my behalf.

“We know Jude did this to you. The question is why?”

Dylan averts his eyes and shrugs. “Who knows?”

Marcus dries his hands. “You’re lying. If you want me to heal you, you’re going to have to fess up. Otherwise, forget it.”

Is that one of his supernatural abilities? To detect lies? I bite my lip in frustration. Dumb move. The pain is immediate. “I’ve always had a high pain tolerance. Used to, anyway.”

“You took a beating from Jude. A big difference from the shapeshifters and even Aiden.” Marcus studies me. Is he gauging to see if his words sink in? “He held back. Otherwise, you’d be dead. Now, tell me why he did this to you.”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re a protector. A world of difference from a demon. Even a demon-wanna-be like me.”

“Are you saying you had to prove something to Jude?”

“Aiden was going easy on me during training. He thought I was weak. Jude confirmed it, told me I was an embarrassment.”

“And?”

Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden? I try to swallow, but I choke instead.

Marcus fills a glass from the tap and hands it to me. I take small sips, and even those are painful, compliments of Jude’s chokehold.