The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (36 page)

The planchette inches over to the letters and lands on
H
. It shakes against the board then moves to
O
. The device pauses then moves to
W
. The lights flicker and I jerk my gaze to Aiden, then Selima, gulping down breaths to stay quiet. Neither of them pulls their attention from the board. The plastic piece lunges and I struggle to keep my fingers in place.

D
.

Suddenly, the piece races across the board. Is anyone else freaked out by this? I don’t dare inspect their faces.

A.R.E.Y.O.U.

“How dare you?” Max whispers. “Oh, man. Aiden, what have you gotten us into?”

“It’s still moving,” Selima hisses. “Don’t remove your fingers.”

H.A.L.F.L.I.N.G.

My pulse throbs at my temples.

“Halfling?” Warrick asks.

Tears burn my eyes. Half-witch, half-demon. Being the namesake of Lucifer doesn’t mean so much after all. In an instant, I’m back in Tennessee. Trailer Park Lucy with the drunk, addicted Momma. The one who wears clothes that none of the other girls would be caught dead in. I dared to think I meant something to the ruler of the underworld. This was my chance to save Jude—and everyone else—and I blew it.

The planchette falls still. Aiden pulls his fingers away. The rest of us follow suit.

Halfling.
Lucifer is angry.

I wrap my arms over my chest, suddenly cold.

“I’m sorry.” I sink against the back of my chair. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. Any of you. This is…”

“Lucy…” Selima’s throaty voice tries to comfort me.

What was I thinking, trying to pull off something this huge? I just ticked off the biggest demon in existence.

I jump up from my chair and race from the room.

I failed to save Jude. Just like I failed to save Momma.

Chapter Forty-Seven

I pull my knees tight against my chest and tilt my head back, staring at the sky. Who do I think I am? I was so sure I was doing the right thing. I was so sure Henry, Persephone, and Marcus were wrong, and I was right.

I jump at the squeaking grind of metal. Marcus’s face appears above the ledge, followed by the rest of him. He sits beside me and pulls my hand onto his lap. We stay like that for a few minutes.

With a quick peek at his smooth expression, I know he’s not mad at me anymore. The fact that his fingers are laced through mine is a good sign, too. “Is this where you say, I told you so?”

He gives a small shake of his head.

“You can, you know. You were right. Everyone was right,” I grumble. “What was I thinking? I was about to unleash the greatest evil of all on Chicago.”

“But you didn’t.”

Only because it didn’t work.

He squeezes my hand. “Can I offer an alternative?”

I nod.

“I’m going to meet with Camille.”

“After that night at the condo? Garret went after you, and she didn’t stop him. He could try to hurt you again.”

Marcus presses his fingers to my lips. “I’m meeting with her. Just her. No Garret.”

My frown deepens. “I don’t trust her.”

“You don’t trust her, but you were going to trust Lucifer?”

I open my mouth then close it again.

“I want to talk to her about the clan, and I’m going to suggest a truce between Garret and Jude.”

I smirk. “Like that’s going to work.”

“I have to try, Lucy,” Marcus cups my chin and forces my eyes to meet his, “for you. For me. I have to try.”

My heart sinks with the most awful realization. “She’ll offer you anything to get you to leave and join the clan.”

Marcus doesn’t look at me. “If I can be assured of your safety, I’ll consider anything.”

He’s already decided. Marcus is going to leave me. Anger and alarm swirl through my insides. Gram’s gone. Momma’s gone. Now, Camille’s going to take Marcus, too. Where will that leave me?

I pull my hand from Marcus’s.

“Lucy…”

Without a word, I leave him sitting there.

Trusting Lucifer suddenly doesn’t seem so silly after all.

Chapter Forty-Eight

So many herbs—agrimony, aconite, citron, foxglove, poke, sweet grass, and toadflax. Not a single one of them will help me. I add the book to the discard pile and grab another. I turn page after page. Another protection spell, a binding spell, a seeking spell, and a spell to remove a curse.

An enchantment spell? That’ll come in handy now that Marcus’s mother plans to take him away. I mark the page with a red Post-it note. Then I flip through more pages. My foot tap, tap, taps under my desk as I scan more text.

How dare you, Halfling.

I really thought Lucifer was the answer. So much for my gut. There has to be something I can do to save Jude and get rid of Garret and Camille before they take Marcus away to the clan.

Ice cubes clank against the glass as I down half of my lemonade then set it on a notebook, so the condensation doesn’t mar my desk. I bury myself back into Gram’s books.

Two-thirds of the way through the stack I pause. My breath bounces like a hiccup in my throat.
A vanquishing spell
. Could that be the answer? If I could send Jude someplace for a little while, at least until Garret and his team move on, then he’ll be safe. I would only have to worry about Marcus and myself.

Vanquish this demon from time and space.
Would the spell send him to another dimension?

What does that say in the margin?
Gram’s handwriting is scrunched and small. I squint and lean over the book, lowering the head of my desk lamp closer to the page.

Effective in killing demons.
Don’t use, unless this is the intention.

Hiccup.

I close the book with a heavy thump and add it to the discard pile. Killing Jude is not the goal. Banish? One of the books talked about banishing a demon.

With a sigh, I hug the books I’ve already combed through and slide them back toward me. Time to start over. The table of contents of the first book offers nothing useful. Same with the second and third. I run my finger down page after page in book four, my eyes skimming.

Bingo!
I find references to banishing.

My heartbeat flutters. Could this be the answer? Will I find a way to save Jude?

And Banish You From This Place Forever More.

Forever more? I scour through more pages. Isn’t there a temporary banishing spell? And where exactly would he go?

I check the remaining books. There’s no better news about vanquishing or banishing demons. Cross those options off the list.

What about Seamus? Without Jude, who will help protect you when he shows up?

I lower my head onto the open book.
Seamus
.
Garret. Camille. Jude. Marcus
. It’s too much. I want carefree.

What would you know about that?
The voice in my head scolds.
Carefree is something you’ve never had
.

A darkness creeps through me like dense fog, paralyzing me. I’m back in Lexington in my closet-sized bedroom, listening through the paper-thin walls as Momma fights with her latest boyfriend, drunk and high. She doesn’t care that we’re under the threat of having our electricity shut off or that I’m hungry—so hungry—all because she blew her disability check on drugs.

Lucy.

A ghostly whisper. My spider senses tingle.

I glance furtively around my bedroom. A shiver passes over my skin. Then another. I catch sight of my own exhale as my teeth start to chatter. The condensation on my glass of lemonade has dried in the arctic chill.

Suddenly, I hear a noise…eerily familiar…but out of place in my bedroom. It takes a moment before I recognize it. It’s the sound I hear every Sunday when I squeegee the shower doors while cleaning the bathrooms. The squeak of my desk chair is deafening as I spin around. That’s when I see the message on my dresser mirror.

You are not alone.

I can’t blink. I can’t breathe. I can’t even move.

Then the words fade like steam on a mirror after a shower.

Seamus?

My cell phone buzzes on the desk behind me. I sit frozen. A moment later, it buzzes again. I push off my chair and take a closer look at the mirror. No smudges. No sign of any words.

I grab my cell off the desk. Persephone.

Henry and I think it’s a good idea for you to stay at Jude’s while your uncles are away.

The temperature in the room feels normal again.

I look back at the mirror.

Did I imagine it?

I text Persephone.

Not a terrible idea.

Chapter Forty-Nine

I grab the photo of Momma and me from my dresser and bury it in my suitcase between my jeans and tops. Marcus’s feather is tucked inside the inner pocket. I lug it to the living room, grunting under the weight of Gram’s witchcraft books.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Persephone, I’m ready—”

Marcus stands in the foyer.

“Don’t go,” he says, backing me into the apartment. His lips meet mine. “I’ll do…whatever it takes…to convince you…not to go,” he murmurs between kisses.

My fingers slip around his neck. I pull my lips from his and bury my face in his throat. I inhale the powerful scent of his cologne. How am I going to live without our nightly visits to the roof? His kisses?

“It’s ten days.” I do my best to sound brave. “We’ll figure out a way to see each other. You can pick me up, and we’ll go to the movies.”

He pulls away. “You’re kidding yourself. Once Jude has you, he’s going to want you all to himself.”

“You’re wrong about that,” I protest. “He’s going to get sick of me pretty quick. He may love me, being my father and all, but deep down I don’t think he likes me much.”

“All he has to do is threaten to harm those you care about, and you fall in line.”

“Not true.” Jude may be a lot of things, but he hasn’t shown himself to be a liar.

What about the day he gave you the car?
The little voice inside my head says.

That was the day Jude added my uncles to the list of people he could use to blackmail me into behaving.

“He promised never to hurt you.”

Marcus gives a tight shake of his head. “I’m not talking about me. This could go one of two ways. Either he’s going to shower you with gifts or…”

I take a step back and plant my hands on my hips. “You think Jude can buy me?”

“The homecoming dress. The fully loaded Lexus. Don’t you see? Those things were just the beginning.”

I chuckle bitterly. “Here we go. Poor little girl from the trailer park.”

Someone knocks at the door.

“Persephone,” Marcus says as he opens the door. He turns to me and presses his lips to my forehead—not quite the kind of kiss I wanted before leaving for Jude’s.

Then he leaves.

“Text me,” I call after him.

He nods without turning around then trudges up the stairs.

Does this mean I’ll get the cold shoulder the entire time I’m at Jude’s?

“None of us are happy about this,” Persephone says as she grabs my suitcase. “But it’s the safest place for you.”

I nod absently. It’s my chance to watch over Jude, to help protect him since all I achieved with Lucifer was angering him.

I’d never ridden with Persephone before, and I can say with absolute certainty I never want to again. My hands grip the dashboard and the handle over the door of her white minivan for most of the drive as she speeds and lane jumps her way to Lake Forest. She sings along to a song on the radio, her head bobbing and her fingers tapping the steering wheel. I would laugh at her tone-deaf rendition of the tune, but my heart is lodged in my throat as she nearly clips another car.

We arrive at Jude’s house in record time. My knees quake as I step out of the car. I pull my suitcase from the back of the vehicle, pausing to check out the Ziploc bags filled with what appear to be roots, herbs, and…a chicken foot? I slam the hatch closed, unwilling to take a closer look.

If I’m still alive by the time Sheldon and Bernard get home, I will sign up for behind-the-wheel classes. It’s time to get my license. I’m tired of depending on other people for rides, especially ones that drive like Evel Knievel.

“Let me get that.”

I jump as Jude tugs the suitcase from my hands.

“Jude.” Persephone nods. She glances at his monstrosity of a house, her lips pursed. “You’ve improved security?”

“It’s safe,” he says without explanation.

Jude doesn’t invite Persephone inside, so I walk around the minivan and give her a hug.