When a Gargoyle Falls

by E A Price

  “Married,” she whispered, “and yes, but we divorced, a while ago now.”

  Castor peered at one of the photos. “You looked happy.”

  Tilly shucked out of her coat. “On my wedding day, I was. Not so much after.”

  He grunted and shifted his huge body, making her couch creak worryingly. “He was a bad mate?”

  “Kind of.”

  Joe had been so kind when they met, lavishing her with love and attention – she thought he was just like her sister’s husband. But things changed after they got married. He didn’t really want her in particular; he just wanted someone to sponge off. Tilly had worked and worked while Joe’s gambling worsened. He lost his job and started racking up debts. He hadn’t cheated or beat her, but he sure had sucked her dry – of both money and happiness. It got to the point where they lost their house and were subjected to weekly visits from shady characters trying to extract money from Joe. When they threatened her, enough was enough. She got some divorce papers drawn up, and while he was out visiting a casino, she packed her stuff – the few things he had not pawned - and left. He duly signed the papers – she had nothing left to give him, and he wanted to find another dope to marry and ruin. He had been married twice since her, but he turned up every now and again asking for money.

  “Yeah, he was pretty bad,” she admitted under Castor’s glare.

  It was a part of her life she didn’t want to remember. She had rushed into marriage, hoping to emulate her sister’s happiness and it blew up in her face spectacularly. She only wished she'd dared to end the marriage sooner than she had – two days into their honeymoon would have been the best time.

  She’d forgotten she had the album. She was amazed Joe hadn’t tried to sell it. Or maybe he had and couldn’t get anything for it.

  Castor curled his lip as he closed the album. “Your judge of character has clearly always been abysmal.”

  Tilly blinked at him.

  He flicked his tail. “First your husband and now this Paul creature.”

  Tilly sighed. But before she could consider the merit of retorting, her phone rang. She froze as Castor reached out and grabbed it before she could get to it.

  He growled into the phone as he fixed Tilly with a hard gaze. Oh lord, what if it was her sister?!

  His eyes dimmed marginally and his huge chest deflated. He relaxed which meant he knew them. Which was a relief to both of them – she wasn’t sure what she would tell anyone about who he was.

  She slipped out of her shoes and hung her coat while he continued to grunt into the phone. With a protracted grunt, he waved the receiver at Tilly. “She wishes to speak to you for some reason,” he grumbled.

  Tilly hurried to take the receiver – she dare not. “Umm, hello?”

  “Hello,” said the voice hesitantly. “I am Annis.”

  “Umm, hi, I’m Tilly.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, Tilly… or to talk to you on this telephone device.”

  “You too,” she said slightly doubtfully.

  “I have asked Castor to change his poultice but he will not. He insists he is fine. Will you do it for him? To ensure his wound heals correctly. Male gargoyles are very stubborn. I am afraid it is down to you.”

  “I ah, I suppose so.”

  “Thank you, Tilly,” said Annis.

  “Sure.”

  “Goodbye, Tilly.”

  The woman hung up, and Tilly looked at Castor who was giving her a bored look.

  “That was…”

  “A female gargoyle.”

  Tilly thought of the female gargoyle who tried to attack her and tried not to shudder.

  “She sounded so… sweet.”

  Castor folded his arms. “Annis is different to other gargoyles.”

  “Oh.”

  Castor almost smiled. “She is Chris’ mate.”

  Tilly’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. “Really?”

  “Indeed.”

  “She wants me to change your, bandage thingy.” Tilly gestured at his chest and nervously bit her lip.

  “I see.” His eyes hooded and he opened his arms, baring his chest. “I am not stopping you.”

  Twelve

  Kylie looked up in relief as Luc, and the others strode into the house. His stern countenance softened as she ran into his arms.

  “Luc did you…”

  “We could not find any sign of Ophelia.”

  “Crazy female could be anywhere,” groused Grey.

  Kylie had been trying to put extra enchantments on the house, though with her tempestuous brand of magic, who knew if they were working. She tried a simple levitation spell the other day and managed to send all the furniture to the ceiling. It was pretty funny for a while – having a Mary Poppins tea party moment. Though not so much fun when everything came crashing down.

  “What about Castor? Perhaps it would be safer if he were here.”

  Luc grunted as he gently rubbed his claws up and down her back. “That would mean bringing Tilly here.”

  “There is already enough trouble with the other females,” sneered Grey.

  Worried that Ophelia may target them, Brom demanded Joely and Daphne stay at the mansion, and Tristan insisted Gwen and her mother move into the mansion as well. It was only temporary, but the women weren’t exactly keen to be cooped up.

  “Tilly is not clan; she should not be here,” spat Ryia.

  “Martha said she doesn’t think Tilly will tell anyone,” reasoned Kylie.

  Ryia made a disgusted sound that told them what she thought of Martha’s opinion. Kylie wished she would do it front of Drago – though perhaps that was cruel thinking.

  “She cannot be certain,” rumbled Luc.

  “But Tilly could have run around telling everyone last night, but she didn’t. We can trust her.”

  Luc’s lips curled into a small smile. “Maybe, but for now we will leave Castor where he is.”

  *

  Tilly’s hands trembled slightly. He was virtually holding his breath while she fumbled over him.

  “Guess I’m not much of a nurse, huh?” she asked as she surveyed her handiwork.

  “It will do,” he rumbled, eager to get her away from him. Her sweet scent was damn near smoothing him while she soft fingers brushed his skin.

  Tilly nodded and went away to wash her hands. He fiddled with the too tight, lopsided bandage, loosening it a little, before moving to look out the window.

  “No don’t!” she cried as she came back into the room. “My neighbor spies on me – he may see you.”

  “Your neighbor…”

  “He used to watch me getting changed,” she said – as if that wasn’t the most infuriating comment in the entire world! The idea that this neighbor had seen her naked made Castor wish to tear something apart – the neighbor ideally.

  Castor puffed out his chest furiously. “If you were a gargoyle you would have poked out his eyes by now.”

  Tilly shrugged. “He’s just a bored old man who’s been really lonely since his wife died.”

  He scowled at her, infuriated by her passiveness. “You really feel sympathy for a creature who would violate you so?”

  “It’s annoying, but he didn’t hurt me.”

  “You really surround yourself with unworthy males,” he muttered. Though, truthfully, he didn’t feel that he wanted her to surround herself with worthy ones either.

  Her forehead furrowed as if she were going to argue, but she didn’t. “How, umm, long do you think you’ll be staying here?”

  “You do not want me here,” he stated in a mild voice.

  It should not be a surprise, but it annoyed him. Did she perhaps wish to entertain the loathsome Paul? The more he thought of the male, the more he hated him on principle.

  “Ah…”

  “Annis told me on the phone that they had not yet found Ophelia. You may still be in danger. I will stay… indefinitely.”

  “Okay.”

  She actually seemed a little relieved,
and he pretended he wasn’t pleased by that… though he definitely was.

  “I do not want you going out in the dark alone. You should not come home from your work in the dark.”

  “I wasn’t really alone. Chris picked me up from work and drove me home.”

  He grunted. That was acceptable. Another male may not have been, but Chris was devoted to Annis. Then he almost blushed at the thought. What would it matter to him if an unattached male were to take her anywhere?

  “Just remember, Ophelia may be anywhere – she is surprisingly wily.” He thought about it for a moment. “In fact, you should tell me at all times where you are.”

  “Oh, ah, okay.” She chewed on her bottom lip, making it seem even plumper. “I think I’m going to take a shower. So I guess I’ll be in the bathroom.”

  “That is fine.” He approved of her being there. Approved of her peeling out of her clothes, standing naked under the hot spray… His wings trembled and Tilly stared at him for a couple of beats.

  “Okay, then,” she breathed.

  He watched her go and scratched his forehead. He had once told his intended mate the same thing – that she had to tell him where she was at all times. She retorted he was an unworthy male who ate dragon’s dung for pleasure. He never really expected her to submit to his wishes. He said it to irritate her, and it worked.

  All this sweet capitulation from Tilly was unnerving him. But what was wrong with a little sweetness? He had always admired Annis, and she was certainly more sweet than feisty.

  He just wasn’t used to it. He was used to aggressive females. Female gargoyles were often described as spirited, though this must be a euphemism for scary and violent. In the same way that male gargoyles were described as being strong-willed, and that was a euphemism for stubborn and belligerent.

  He had expected to mate a particularly quarrelsome female who could freeze a volcano with just a look. A part of him had always been concerned it would not be enough for him – to be mated to such a cold female, but his clan and duty had always come first. But maybe now he could find a female who did not hate him, one who even depended on him.

  His eyes sought the closed bathroom door, and he snorted. He was just being fanciful.

  Thirteen

  Ophelia snarled as she landed. Son of a goblin. Her leg still hurt from her fight with Castor.

  Her clan would be off hunting by now. She had found some land, surrounded by a wooded area for them to call their own. It was sufficient to shield them from the humans, and ideal for gargoyles. There was water nearby, and small prey for them to hunt. They needed little more. Their surroundings were not quite as lavish as Luc’s. She curled her lip. No, they were the way they should be.

  Gargoyles in a mansion, using beds and chairs – it was against nature she thought distastefully. She merely had one small building to hold the human witch and a couple of items of modern technology – such as a computer. She certainly would not allow any of her gargoyles to sleep inside the building.

  Her clan members were strong fighters but unruly – she was having difficulty controlling them. Much like some of Luc’s, yet his clan members obeyed him and even accepted that human whore as their chief’s mate.

  She growled on thinking of Kylie but softened at the thought of Luc. He was a wonderful male – no other gargoyle could compare to him. She’d thought so since she was just a youngling. If they accepted Kylie, it was all down to his dominance.

  She clenched her fists thinking of Kylie. They would be mated now if it weren’t for her – getting in their way.

  She knew Blackthorne had plans for Kylie. Blackthorne had given Ophelia money – a necessary evil. She had to get it from him since her deal with that damn hunter fell through. But in return, Blackthorne made her promise not to hurt Kylie. The money was nothing to him. He wanted Ophelia on his side. He wanted to make a move on the gargoyle clan, and soon, and he wanted her to help him take them down. Which she would, because some of those gargoyles belonged in her clan. But Blackthorne was antsy all of a sudden, and she wasn’t sure why. He was keeping something from her. But then, she was keeping things from him - he had no idea of the clan she had managed to awaken. Her eyes flickered to the small hut containing the witch – if only Blackthorne knew…

  She stilled as she sensed movement, and then exhaled. It was just Lief. The gargoyle was proving himself to be spineless and useless. She was considering disposing of him completely. He knew of Luc’s clan and was likely to tell the others at any moment. She could not have them knowing of the other clan. Not yet anyway. Some of them may wish to join them – to become one large clan, given their small numbers. They would join together, just not yet – and not all of the gargoyles would be alive to see the new clan.

  “Chief,” muttered Lief, not looking her in the eye.

  She growled.

  “Is Ingrede, ah…”

  “Due any day now.”

  “Then…”

  “Then we should move quickly.”

  She hissed as pain sliced through her leg. While taking her new clan members, she may also use the opportunity to rid herself of Castor, lest he choose to attack her in favor of shielding a human again.

  She snarled. Gargoyles hurting gargoyles for the sake of human lives – what was the world coming to?

  *

  Tilly wrapped a towel around her head. Her tenseness was slowly ebbing. Admittedly, she had a lot to cause her tension. Like, the gargoyle living on her couch, the gargoyle who was maybe coming back to kill her, her broken oven – well, okay, maybe she had three things causing her tension, but the first two were pretty big, and she couldn’t handle much!

  In any case, living with Castor was actually less stressful than living with Joe. She had always been on edge during her marriage. Would the lights go out because he spent money for the electric bill on online poker? Which loan sharks would turn up at their door demanding money? Her nerves had constantly been fraying with Joe, but she actually felt quite… serene knowing that Castor was nearby. She knew that he would protect her. She didn’t feel like he could hurt her. He made her nervous, but for an entirely different reason.

  She donned some sweats and peeked out the bathroom, blinking at the sight before her. He was watching her TV with Milady perching on his chest. A rerun of the golden girls. He chuckled at something Dorothy said, spotted Tilly and then quickly growled, sitting up and knocking a yowling Milady to the floor.

  “I was not really watching it,” he muttered as he turned the TV off.

  Tilly nodded as she hovered at the edge of the living room. It was her house, but she almost felt like she was the intruder. It bothered her.

  “Stop hovering,” he snapped.

  It bothered him too.

  “I ah…” she stammered before she forced herself to at least try and act normal. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Yes,” came the rumbling reply.

  “My oven isn’t working very well, but I’m sure I could get something going in my microwave.”

  She wandered into her kitchen, amazed to see that all her red velvet cupcakes had disappeared. She turned and jumped as she found Castor standing in the doorway, or more like filling the doorway. His wings were rather large. No, everything about him was large. Her eyes dipped down to the only clothing he was wearing – it was like a skirt or something. Her treacherous mind wondered if he was big all over. Then she snapped herself back to attention.

  “Did you eat the cupcakes?”

  Silly question really – it had to be him. Either that or Milady had mastered the art of opening Tupperware.

  Castor actually looked a little sheepish as he admitted, “Yes, they were, surprisingly delicious.”

  “Surprisingly?”

  “I do not tend to like sweet things,” he paused and gave her an uncertain look. “But, I was hungry. I would have eaten anything.”

  “Oh.” She looked inside the tub – there were exactly two crumbs left. It looked like he had tried to lic
k the Tupperware. “Well, I’m glad somebody liked them.”

  He frowned and she explained, “My blog got some negative responses. People didn’t like me using beetroot as food coloring. Or that I put apricot in them and some said that red velvet was kind of old hat. Don’t get me wrong, lots of people posted a lot of nice comments, but the negative ones always leave a bad taste.”

  There was a strange sound and she realized it was coming from Castor.

  “How dare they?” he hissed.

  She realized he was furious – furious on her behalf. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, “really, it’s down to personal taste.”

  “Ungrateful dung slingers!” he snarled.

  Tilly blinked in surprise at his vehemence and hesitantly patted his arm. “Honestly, it’s fine, but umm, thank you for saying that.”

  Castor looked at her hand, and she quickly whipped it away from him and turned her back to him. She started rooting around her freezer. The coolness of the freezer tempered her blush. But it wasn’t a blush of embarrassment – no, it was a delighted blush. She liked it that he was seething on her behalf. Joe had never really cared if anything upset her. If someone was ever cruel to her, he believed she probably had it coming.

  “I have lots of frozen meals, and plenty of frozen cakes and pastries.”

  She often overcooked and overbaked, so she usually gave some stuff to Gwen and Helen and various other neighbors and townspeople, and froze the rest. It meant she always had a nice selection for the days when she was too tired to cook anything. It was why she had splurged and bought the diner’s old chest freezer when they were upgrading to a new one. It meant she also had plenty of goodies ready for town events. Martha usually asked her to bake something, and if she didn’t have time to make enough, she had something to fall back on.

  “What kind of things do you like?”

  She stilled as she felt him approach, felt his body barely an inch from hers as he peered over her shoulder.

  “Meat,” he murmured, and she shivered.

  “Well, I, um…”

  The phone started ringing, and she spun around, gasping as she was met with acres of a dark purple chest. He looked like he was made out of marble. He looked more beautiful and perfect than the statues of gods.