by Tami Lund
“And you knew?”
She clearly wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Yes,” Argyle said. “Thank you for protecting her, but we can take it from here.”
“No, I want to stay. She needs—”
“You’ve done enough damage.” Argyle’s voice was cool, seemingly calm, but Rahu could feel the anger simmering just underneath the façade.
Which pissed him off, because damn it, this wasn’t his fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Argyle’s. He was the one who refused to tell her about her own damn heritage, for her entire life. If she’d known, if she’d grown up practicing her magic, she’d be better able to protect herself and she wouldn’t have to keep summoning him to do it for her.
Not that he minded, although it was a hell of a sensation to essentially break through the fabric of time like that, but what if it didn’t work next time? She had no idea what she was doing or even that she was summoning him. What if, next time, she was too confused or frightened to make it happen?
He needed to stay with her, to protect her. Those warlocks were still out there, and Becca was their target.
“What are you doing to destroy those damn warlocks?” he demanded.
Argyle nodded at the wall of gargoyles. “My brethren are even now seeking out their location. We will stop them.” He was stoic and calm, but the force behind his words was real. Argyle’s small army would accomplish their task or they’d die trying—it was as simple as that.
“Okay, so you’re a gargoyle,” Becca asked, interrupting them.
Argyle nodded. “Yes.”
“So gargoyles are real. And dragons. And, apparently, witches. What else?”
Argyle’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“What else exists?” Becca demanded.
Rahu crossed his arms and waited for Argyle to explain. This should be interesting.
Argyle looked as uncomfortable as he possibly could, which, in truth, wasn’t much. But Rahu had enough experience with gargoyles to know he had no earthly idea how to start this conversation.
“What’s a Daughter of Light?” Becca asked.
Argyle’s body visibly jerked while the other gargoyles all moved restlessly and began murmuring among themselves. Whatever a Daughter of Light was, they knew. The question was, would they tell Becca?
“That warlock called Becca a Daughter of Light when he attacked us at the bar,” Rahu said.
The gargoyles’ whispers increased in volume.
“Warlocks?” Becca said. “Those exist too? And the band—that’s what they are?” She smacked her forehead. “Of course. Hide in plain sight. Isn’t that in some sort of criminal handbook?”
Rahu stared at her. Maybe learning all this stuff at once was too much and her brain was starting to fry.
“You are a witch,” Argyle said to Becca. “A very powerful witch.”
“So a Daughter of Light is a witch?” Rahu asked.
Why the hell did the gargoyles become so agitated every time someone said ‘Daughter of Light’?
“Delilah said I’m more than just a witch,” Becca said.
“You’ve met Delilah?” Argyle asked.
Becca nodded.
“I would advise you to stay away from her. That woman rarely makes wise choices.”
“She’s the only one who actually told me the truth.” Becca’s voice was frigid. Rahu and Argyle both winced.
“So anyway, I’m part witch, which—ha-ha, see what I did there?”
Rahu and Argyle stared at her until she cleared her throat and said, “So is the fact that I’m a witch the reason I was able to summon you?”
“You summoned him?” Argyle said, his body practically quivering with, Rahu guessed, indignation.
Becca shrugged. Damn, she was handling this pretty amazingly. He’d been worried, at first, because she seemed determined not to believe any of it. And now she was practically nonchalant, as if she’d been aware of her magic for her entire life.
Our mate’s a trooper, his dragon said.
“Wait, what?” Rahu blurted.
Argyle and Becca both looked at him expectantly.
“Er, sorry. My dragon.” He glanced at Becca. “He, um, talks to me. Sometimes.”
Becca canted her head. “Really? Like, there are voices in your head?”
“Well, one voice, but yeah.”
“What’s he saying? It’s a he, right?”
Rahu nodded. “Yeah, he’s a, um, he. And he’s just talking smack.”
His dragon snorted. Rahu did his best to ignore him.
“Like about how he stopped those glowing red balls that warlock was throwing at us? What were those, anyway? And what’s a warlock? Is that the male version of a witch?”
So she’d gone from disbelieving to accepting to soaking up knowledge like a sponge, it would seem.
Rahu waved at Argyle. “I don’t know much about them, so he’s going to have to explain.”
Argyle didn’t appear to want to explain, but he was also basically between a rock and a hard place, so didn’t have much choice. “Warlocks tend to be male, yes. And yes, they are similar to witches, however, also vastly different.”
“What does that mean?” Becca asked. “Can witches be male and female?”
“Witches can be both male and female. Both warlocks and witches harness magic in similar ways. The difference is warlocks do not have a conscience.”
“So they’re like demons? Wait, do demons exist?”
Rahu pretended to cough to hide his chuckle, while Argyle tossed him a glare.
“Yes, demons exist, although they do not live in this world. Gargoyles actually came into existence to eradicate them from this world, many, many moons ago. And when we completed that task, we became protectors over anyone who was worthy and deserving.”
“Do you protect humans too?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“Do you get paid? Like, are you bodyguards or something?”
Before Argyle could answer, she said, “No, wait. A mercenary. That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
Argyle cleared his throat. “Not exactly. I would say your bodyguard reference is more accurate. We do have ethics.”
“Unlike warlocks, who, I assume, have none at all?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so warlocks killed my mother. And now they’re—”
“How do you know that?” Argyle interrupted.
She frowned and furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. My parents died when I was eighteen, and according to my therapist, I’ve been suppressing the memories. But today, when I saw Rahu turn into a dragon, I freaked out and for some reason, all the memories hit me at once. It really sucked, to be honest. I’m probably going to need a good cry later. But right now, I’m more concerned with the fact that the exact same people—warlocks—who killed my mother are now trying to kill me. Why is that?”
“Yeah, Argyle, why is that?” Rahu asked, feigning innocence while he waited for the gargoyle to weasel his way out of this one.
Movement from on top of the nearest crypt caught Rahu’s eye, and he lifted his gaze to watch as a stone gargoyle shifted into human form and jumped nimbly to the ground, landing next to Becca. He had shaggy, light brown hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a Mediterranean complexion.
The newest gargoyle to the group nodded once to Argyle and then focused his attention onto Becca. “You have found a Daughter of Light, Argyle. Impressive, even for you, my friend.”
Argyle didn’t say anything.
“Who are you?” Becca asked the newcomer.
He gave her a small bow and said, “I am Oliver. You could say I am the director over this contingency of gargoyles.” He waved one arm, presumably to encompass the group of men and women all standing at attention around them.
“You could say?” Rahu repeated. “What does that mean?”
Oliver’s lips lifted into a tiny smile. “That is a discussion for another time. For now, let us discuss the fact that a Daughte
r of Light stands among us.”
“How about we discuss what, exactly, a Daughter of Light is?” Becca suggested.
Oliver chuckled. Rahu glanced at Argyle. He didn’t look happy that his boss had shown up. In fact, he almost appeared ill.
“It would be my honor to explain,” Oliver said with another bow.
“Witches and warlocks, as you have recently learned, are similar species, controlling the same sort of magic, generally speaking. The key aspect that separates them is a total lack of conscience. This is what marks one as a warlock.
“In the beginning, witches and warlocks warred constantly. Eventually, the witches began to lose the battle, their numbers dwindling, to a point where their leader feared their species would become extinct. And if that occurred, warlocks would have free rein of their destructive ways.
“The witches knew that if they lost, so, too, would all of humanity eventually, as, without a sense of conscience, warlocks would feel no need to maintain the balance between the various species. Destroying even one type would offset that precarious balance and be akin to what the humans refer to as nuclear war. We could destroy our world in a matter of a few generations.”
He paused, possibly to let that little nugget sink in.
“End of world, got it,” Becca said.
“The leader of the witches and her mate approached the gods—”
“Gods? Plural?” Becca asked.
Oliver nodded.
“And they just, like, walked up to them?”
“Well, it is a great deal more complicated than that. The gods must be willing to see you, of course, or else your pleas fall upon deaf ears. In this particular case, they were open to listening to the witches’ request.”
“Huh,” Becca said.
“The witch and her mate offered up their only daughter as a sacrifice to end the war. The gods accepted the daughter and mated her to one of their own. The god and the witch had many offspring, all with extraordinary magic beyond anything the witches or warlocks had ever experienced before.
“These children were trained in combat, their powers harnessed, and they were sent to this world, forming a nearly indestructible army the warlocks could not think to beat. Eventually, the remaining warlocks retreated to the woods and mountains of Europe and Asia, leaving the witches to live out their days in peace.
“And so it went for many generations. These demigod-witch offspring, who were dubbed Daughters of Light because all were female, mated with other witches or sometimes humans or other species, and as the decades and centuries passed without conflict, they stopped teaching their children how to battle the warlocks. In many cases, they did not even tell their children they were descended from gods. And even extraordinary power can be defeated if the user is not aware she possesses it.”
Rahu stared at Becca. She was descended from gods? The woman his dragon believed was their mate was a demigod?
Holy hell. Er, holy gods.
“Eventually, as time wore on, the blood of the gods became diluted, and these offspring did not produce as many Daughters of Light. For the last few generations, very few have been born.
“Approximately four decades ago, the warlocks became aware of the situation. They began to quietly destroy the Daughters of Light and their offspring. By the time the witch population came to me seeking help, there were precious few Daughters of Light left to protect. Many had gone into hiding, making the task of protecting them even more challenging.
“It is possible, I suppose, there are others like Becca here, living under a concealment spell and neither gargoyles nor warlocks are aware of their existence. But, as far as I am aware, she is the last remaining one.”
“Wait,” Rahu said to Argyle. “He just said ‘even extraordinary power can be defeated if the user is not aware she possesses it.’ So why did you let Becca believe she was human?”
Oliver arched one smooth brow. “This dragon states that you were aware of this Daughter of Light long before tonight. Is this true, Argyle?”
Argyle hesitated for a fraction of a second and then, with his gaze averted, nodded once. Yeah, Rahu was curious as to why Argyle hadn’t told his boss about Becca when she was born, but he had a more pressing question.
“Weren’t you basically setting her up to die?”
Chapter Twelve
Becca had a lot of anger to spread around, and two people who deserved her wrath. Argyle had apparently known about her true identity for much longer, but Rahu had slept with her without telling her first. That was a breach of trust if she’d ever experienced one.
Yeah, that blame felt right. Felt appropriate.
She was holding onto it for dear life, because otherwise, she might rush into his arms and beg him to never let her go. To take her someplace far, far away, where warlocks and gargoyles and even other dragons couldn’t get to them. Oh, and don’t forget witches. And whatever the hell else existed in this world.
Humans were a tiny piece of this giant landscape, and they had no idea that they lived among, went to school with, worked with dragons and gargoyles looking like humans but…not.
Aunt Pacey, as she’d suspected, knew too. In fact, she was a witch. She, along with Argyle’s help, had protected Becca from those warlocks up to this point. They’d even saved her the day the warlocks killed her parents.
But they hadn’t saved her mom. Or her dad.
“You cannot imagine how hard that choice was,” Pacey said with tears streaming down her face once Argyle and crew had delivered Becca safely to her arms.
“My sister or her daughter. That’s the choice I had to make. And your mother told me to take you. Begged me. What else was I supposed to do?”
Save them too. That’s what Becca wanted to say, but that was because she’d lost her parents, of course. It was no doubt a natural reaction to such loss.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked instead.
Argyle had been standing near the glass door that led to the courtyard. “That was my decision,” he said. “In retrospect, it was a poor one.”
Yeah, he could say that again. Since she’d witnessed Rahu turn into a dragon, her hands tingled almost constantly, like the blood flow had been cut off and had yet to be fully restored. It was uncomfortable, to be honest.
Not to mention the fact that warlocks were trying to kill her and she had no earthly idea how to fight them off.
“Have you always known you were a witch?” she asked her aunt.
Pacey nodded. “My parents were both witches. It’s always been part of my life.”
“So you’re a Daughter of Light too?”
Pacey gave Argyle a swift look, and Becca didn’t miss the slight shake of his head.
“No,” Pacey said. “Your mother and my mother were both Daughters of Light, but I…I wasn’t born with the right genes, I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
Pacey cupped Becca’s cheek and gave her a watery smile. “It means you are extremely precious. And also that your magic is a great deal more powerful than mine.”
Becca looked down at her non-glowing hands. “It does?”
Pacey abruptly stood. “I could really use a glass of wine right now. How about you?”
“Sure.”
“Argyle?”
He shook his head. Becca supposed, technically, he was on bodyguard duty, so he probably shouldn’t be drinking. “Wait,” she said abruptly, and Pacey froze.
Becca shook her head. “You-you were the handyman.”
Argyle didn’t seem to be the sort to emote much, but he definitely looked a little sheepish.
“You had a glass of wine with us,” she said.
He nodded once. “I was…pretending. Trying to ensure you did not realize what was actually occurring all around you.”
He deserved points for honesty.
Except he still hadn’t given a satisfactory answer as to why he let her believe she was human for her entire life thus far.
Pacey hurried to
the kitchen and returned with two glasses of rosé. After handing one to Becca, she sat next to her on the couch and tucked one leg underneath the other thigh. “First rule of magic: don’t use it when drunk.” She took a swallow. “But given what you’ve been through today, I think one glass to take the edge off won’t hurt. So, tell me what you’ve discovered you are able to do so far.”
Becca took her time sipping her wine while she mulled this over. “My hand lights up a lot. Seems to be connected to my emotions.”
Pacey nodded. “That makes sense. Especially given your magic has been latent for twenty-five years.”
A fact that annoyed Becca, but since Pacey was about to teach her about magic, she decided not to bring it up and potentially start an argument.
“Now that I think about it, it must have been my magic that made that guy fly across the room at the bar when I first met those warlocks. At the time I convinced myself it didn’t happen that way, but I remember the bright light when he touched me.” She remembered the pain, too, when his red light had seemed to battle with her lighter one. It wasn’t an experience she was in a hurry to repeat.
Pacey and Argyle shared another look. Probably thanking their lucky stars she had survived that interlude. To be honest, Rahu had been a large part of the reason she’d survived.
“Did Rahu know?” she asked. “When I met him at the bar?”
Argyle nodded. “All magical beings have an ability to recognize other beings. We give off an aura that indicates we possess magic. Yours had been concealed since your birth; however, at some point that evening, the concealment spell was breached, and both he and the warlocks became aware of your existence.”
“It was when we touched,” she murmured, looking at her hand.
“So it appears,” Argyle said.
“Delilah said physical contact with someone with whom you are emotionally vested can break a concealment spell. But we’d just met. How was it possible we were already emotionally vested?”
Argyle sighed. “Rahu is a dragon, and dragons have fated mates. It is highly unusual considering you aren’t a dragon, but—”
“No. Really? Rahu and me?”
“It would explain how he was able to break the spell before you even knew one another.”
