by Beverly Rae
“Partner, I’m getting kind of tired of the cowboy bit. How about something different for a while?” I opened my pocket to see his reaction.
The cowboy dropped his lasso and threw down his hat. “Something different? After the hours of the research I did about the Wild West? I’ve put a lot of time and energy into making my persona as authentic as possible. And now you want me to change?”
Who knew Partner was an actor-wanna-be? I shrugged and made a face. “Would you mind? Think about it. You’ll have fun researching your next role, er, character.”
“Hmm, well, maybe. Do you have any preferences?”
“Anything mortal—or as mortal as you can get. Now hush. Keep quiet and let mommy talk business.”
I continued past the grassy area, across the street, and up the steps of one of the oldest churches in the city. I examined the architecture of the building and its lack of any gargoyle ornamentation, and yet I knew at least one gargoyle lived at the church.
It wasn’t long before I noticed the first sign of a gargoyle’s presence. The stink almost overwhelmed me. Clamping a handkerchief over my nose and mouth, I tried to take in as little air as humanly possible. Partner, however, forgot my earlier admonition for quiet and piped up in a distinctive Southern Belle voice.
“Oh, my Lord Almighty. Do tell. What is that horrid smell?”
I peeked at Partner and almost dropped my protective mouth covering. Instead of the hunk cowboy, a diminutive woman, with petticoats peeking out from below her long red gown, stood atop a grassy knoll. She waved a delicate lace hankie at me and promptly positioned it daintily over her nose.
“Shut up, Scarlett O’Technoid!” I tried to hiss my order, but it came out louder than I’d expected.
A pouty expression changed Scarlett’s features from disgust to indignation. In perfect imitation of the famous Southern character, she stomped a foot on the ground and protested, “Well, I never! Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
“Beats the hell outta me because I’m not talking to a lady.” I glanced around me, searching for my smelly, still-hidden informant. “I’m talking to a machine.”
“I’ll have you know I was born and raised in Georgia where I attended the finest finishing school. I am a lady, you yellow-belly Yankee, and you will speak to me with the proper respect due a lady of my position.”
Could a machine have a mental illness? Sort of like blowing a psychological fuse? Perhaps Partner was a Sybil of the synthetic kind? “Fine, Miss Scarlett, but for right now I need you to keep quiet. Gargoyles don’t like crowds and with you in my pocket, three is definitely a crowd.”
A waft of rank odor hit me, nearly cutting off my last gasp for clean air. I heard the growl of Gargeyan behind me and I whirled around in time to see the grotesque creature dart behind one of the church’s white columns. “Gargeyan?” I didn’t want to, but I moved closer, hoping to see him skirting among the bushes next to the column. “Come on out.”
The familiar nasal voice greeted me, sending out another puff of putrid air. “Have you what?”
Gargeyan—aka Gag-me-yan—stuck his nose out of the bush long enough to sniff me. I correctly interpreted his question, knowing Gargoyles mix up the words in their sentences. Gargoyles loved cheese. Not just any old cheese, but moldy, expired-for-weeks cheese. Give them a fresh slice of cheddar cheese and they’d tear your throat out in anger.
“Come and get it, old man.” I pulled the thickly wrapped rotten cheese out of the bag I carried and opened the foil. Immediately, the stink of cheese gone way off filled the air around me and tears stung my eyes at the stench wafting into them.
“Want me. Now want me.” Gargeyan thrust out a bone-thin, scaly gray arm for the cheese. “Gimme. You cheese now.”
I fought the urge to upchuck all over the decaying lump in my hand and slowly, temptingly folded the foil over the cheese. “Not so fast, handsome. Do you have information for me or not?”
Gargeyan grabbed for the bundle, but I was quicker. Jerking the treasure out of his reach, I tisked-tisked and shook a finger at him. “Uh-uh-uh. No play, no pay.”
Snarling, the ancient gargoyle peered through the leaves of the bush. Irritation radiated from his dense, pudgy body and reflected in his squinty black eyes. Although it wasn’t safe to get a gargoyle upset, I had to make sure he’d tell me everything he knew before getting his reward. Gargoyles were notorious for wanting payment for doing nothing.
“Me what tell?” His voice shook with either need or hatred, or a combination of both.
“Word around the street says a high demon wants a certain powerful weapon. True?”
Gargeyan grunted which in gargoyle language, is a big yes. Aside from dragons who love to offer up riddles instead of giving direct answers, gargoyles are the best at keeping secrets and information. Unfortunately for me, my friend Gargeyan─inserting tongue-in-cheek─had to be one of the toughest of all gargoyles to get to spill the beans.
“Good. Word also has it that this weapon is a special bracelet and that a ghoul by the name of Michael and some other Otherworlders may already possess this weapon. Do they?”
“Have, shit, no, no have, yes.”
Even after years of dealing with these difficult creatures, I had no idea how to interpret his answer. I tried again. “Does the ghoul Michael have the Bracelet?”
“Have, shit, no, no have, yes.”
I tried one last time, using all my patience to keep my voice mellow. “Gargeyan, listen carefully. Say yes or no to the question. Does the ghoul Michael have the Bracelet?” If he answered in gibberish again, I’d have to figure out another way to get the answer.
“Have, shit, no, no have, yes.”
All the frustration from the past days—finding out Michael was a ghoul and learning my husband, or at least his name, was non-existent before the new millennium—burst out of me before I could cram the words back down my throat. “Dammit, you stupid ugly troll, just say yes or no!” I clenched my hand over the cheese, mushing the mound of yellow-gray mold.
Gargeyan’s eyes bulged open and we stared at each other─me waiting for his reaction and him simply frozen in stunned misery. I didn’t have to wait long. Opening his fang-filled mouth, he screeched in horror and lunged at me. I jumped at the last second, hitting him with the balled up fist of cheese. However, I knew I couldn’t hurt him. Gargoyles have an amazing capacity to take a punch and feel no pain. A steamroller could flatten one and they’d pop right back up like a cartoon character.
Gargeyan rolled toward the column on the other side of the steps. The clouds parted above us, sending a shaft of light to land directly on Gargeyan. Although sunlight can’t kill a gargoyle─they aren’t like vampires, you know─the gargoyle still detested feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays on his skin. Gargeyan screeched again, his ear-piercing wail setting off all the dogs in the neighborhood. He dashed into the bushes lining the building.
“Listen, Gargeyan, I don’t have all day. Just say—yes—or—no.”
Mimicking my own stilted sentence, he snarled and answered again. “Have. Shit. No. No. Have. Yes.”
I gave up. How the hell would I get this moron of the granite set to answer this one simple question?
“Oh, for the love of mercy. Don’t you understand him?”
Great, all I needed was to have the Confederate Cell Phone chime in. “Not now, Scarlett.”
“I see. Then you don’t want me to tell you what he’s saying?”
I peeked into my pocket to find one very smug Princess of the Plantation waiting for my answer. “You’re telling me you understand him?”
“Well, of course, I do, honey-child. Any idiot with half an ear could.” She flipped her hair at me and pointed her snooty nose into the air.
Why was everyone from gargoyles to glorified and, not to mention, insane PDAs giving me a hard time today? “Well?”
“Well…what?”
I groaned. “You know damn well what. What’s he saying?”
&n
bsp; “I don’t think I should tell you.” Her dainty nose shot higher into the air and stayed there. “I don’t like helping people who are rude to me. I, for one, was raised with the civility and manners becoming a young woman.”
I squelched the urge to pop Partner’s batteries out and let him—her?—die a slow, powerless death. “Partner, bring me the cowboy.” Anything and anyone was better than dealing with this genteel diva.
“No. I like being a girl.” Strains of West Side’s Story’s I Feel Pretty echoed from Partner’s speakers.
Gargeyan whimpered, causing me to look up in time to see his imploring eyes. “Tell I.”
At least I understood one comment. “I know you told me the answer, Gargeyan, but I don’t understand what you told me. Someone’s not helping me.”
“All you have to do is be polite.” Partner-turned-Southern diva sang along with the show tune.
I gritted my teeth and forced the words through thinned lips. “Miss Scarlett, would you please tell me what the nice little gargoyle is saying?” Another whine from Gargeyan pushed me over the edge, making me add a plea. “Pretty please?” I swore right then and there I’d return Partner to Reslind—in a million pieces.
“Ah! There you go. See? Isn’t a polite question much better than rude command?”
I wanted to ask her if a rude command was better than coercion, but decided I’d better leave well enough alone. “Uh-huh. Now, could you please tell me what Gargeyan said?” Before I stomp all over your face with my big fat foot? I smiled at my thought knowing Partner would consider the gesture a friendly one.
“Of course. I’d be happy to. But it’s really quite obvious.”
Easy, Jenn, easy. Hang on until she tells you. Then you can kill her. “Well, I guess I need a little help.” Again, I smiled and pictured Partner spread over the top of the recycle bin.
“You have such a nice smile, Jennifer. You really should smile more often. The gargoyle said this. ‘Have? Shit, no. No have. Yes?’ Meaning in grammatically correct sentence form, ‘Do they have it? Shit, no. They don’t have it. Do you understand?” Miss Scarlett batted her eyelashes at me. “In other words, Michael and his evil friends do not have the Bracelet.”
Relieved to finally get an answer, I promptly forgot the hassle I’d gone through to get it. “Good. Good to know.” Now I remembered. Gargoyles had no inflection in their speech. Therefore, his question hadn’t sounded like a question to me.
I turned to Gargeyan, held up the yucky lump of cheese, and tossed it to him. “Here you go. Enjoy.” Gargeyan’s face lit up in what I assumed was a grin. Crying something akin to a cheer, he reached out his skinny arm and caught the cheese. All I wanted was to get away from the combination of gargoyle and bad cheese smell. But Gargeyan wasn’t finished.
“Demon husband. Demon marry why?”
Stunned, I froze with one foot on the lower step and the other planted firmly on the porch. “What did you say?”
“Demon husband. Demon marry why?”
I stared at Gargeyan and heard Scarlett whisper to me, “Do you understand what he’s saying, Jennifer? Or do you want me to interpret?”
If someone had dropped my brain in quicksand, I couldn’t have gotten my thought process to move any slower. I shook my head, feeling like my body had joined my brain in getting sucked into the bog. Yet though he’d spoken in the mixed-up gargoyle language with a hunk of cheese shoved in his mouth, I knew what Gargeyan had said. The problem was, I couldn’t get my brain—much less my heart—to believe his words. Gargeyan had said, “Your husband is a demon. Why did you marry a demon?”
The Care and Feeding Of a Big Galoot
“Jennifer, don’t you think we should talk about what he said? I mean, about Blake?”
“My husband is not a demon. Don’t you know you can’t trust a damned gargoyle?”
“But you believed what he said about Michael and the Bracelet, right? Okay, then, why not believe him about Blake?”
Because I don’t want to. He had a point, but this was one question I wasn’t ready to answer. “Turn off or keep quiet, one or the other. I’m not talking about this, Partner, so you’d better shut up and let me be.”
“But if your husband is a—”
“Are you deaf? Shut the hell up!”
I went into autopilot mode on my way home, making turns, merging onto the highway, and pointing the car toward home. Could I trust what Gargeyan had said about Blake? Gargoyles were notorious liars unless you gained their trust. Did Gargeyan trust me enough not to lie to me? I’d believed him about Michael not having the Bracelet. Which begged the question…shouldn’t I believe him about Blake being a demon? Hadn’t I had my own suspicions?
I pulled my car into the drive and switched off the engine, unable to do anything more. The truth of what I’d subconsciously known hit me in the gut, taking away my stubborn denial. The events, the clues, the outright signs came rushing back to me. How had I missed them?
Yet, I knew the truth. Hell, I’d known the truth for several days. But who wants to admit such a truth when they’ve fought so long to keep it at bay? Even a half-witted gargoyle knew what a trained Protector didn’t want to admit.
How could I have married a demon and not known it?
“Jenny, honey? Are you all right?”
I jumped at the tapping on the window and twisted toward the sound. Mrs. Hardgrave, hair in curlers and wearing her pink housecoat with the purple flowers running down one side, studied me with a worried, furrowed brow.
Not now. Please, not now. Not today.
Mrs. Hardgrave circled her hand, motioning me to roll down the car window. For a moment, I couldn’t remember which button to push. Yippee for me─not─my memory came back before she’d given up.
“I can’t talk right now, Mrs. Hardgrave.” Oh, how I wanted to tell her to fuck off. Oh, how I wanted to tell the whole world to fuck off. Calling on my Protector training, I fought against the tears I wanted to free and smiled at the nosy woman.
“I know, honey. Except you’ve been sitting in the car for a long time and I thought maybe something was wrong. Is it about the large man in your house? I’m not one to pry, of course, but I couldn’t help seeing this enormous man go inside. And, frankly, from the expression on Blake’s face I don’t think he knew the man or wanted him around. Really, honey, shouldn’t you two be more careful about who you let into your home? You know me, I don’t want to pry…but are you okay? You look ill.”
“I’m fine.” In a moment of weakness, I let my emotions take over. “You’d know if I wasn’t fine, too, wouldn’t you? After all, you know everybody’s business all the time, don’t you? Why don’t you set up a chair in my living room, huh? It would make your constant prying easier. Or maybe we should give you an itinerary of our plans every morning? Think of the time you’d save not having to stand behind your curtains, peeking at your neighbors.”
I knew my mouth vomit was a result of my shock over Blake’s true identity but, like real upchucking, it’s hard to stop once you start. Even the hurt wiping out the worry on the older woman’s face couldn’t stop me.
“Hey, don’t forget our bedtime activities, too. I bet you’d get a kick out of watching us get it on, wouldn’t you? You could get off on all your little fantasies about him, couldn’t you? Don’t deny it, Mrs. H. I’ve seen you watching him, staring at him.”
She mumbled, but I didn’t care to try and understand her. I wanted payback for my stupidity, for Blake’s not telling me, for my loving a demon. I wanted it now and I didn’t care who I used to get it.
I got out of the car, sending Mrs. Hardgrave into a backward shuffle. Shock at my outburst stiffened her limbs faster than years of rheumatoid arthritis ever had.
“Go home, Mrs. Hardgrave, and mind your own damned business.” The terrified woman didn’t budge and I knew I had to give her the incentive she needed. “Go! Get the hell out of my yard!”
Mrs. Hardgrave shrieked, threw up her hands, and scurried across th
e street. When she reached her front door, she turned, looked at me once more with those stricken eyes, and dashed inside her home.
No doubt about it. I was a shithead. I’d been really mean to an elderly lady and now the remorse swamped me. Mrs. Hardgrave was a snoop but she was a harmless one and I’d just tongue-lashed her to within an inch of her life. I felt like shit. No, not like shit. Like a shithead.
“Dammit. I don’t need this.” Groaning, I started toward her house, ready to trample my dignity to save hers.
“Jenn? Hey, Jenn!”
What now? Who now? I shifted direction toward the voice. Myra stood at other side of my drive, hopping up and down with excitement. “Jenn, you did it. You sold the house.”
My confused mind couldn’t understand her words any more than it had understood Gargeyan’s. “What? What are you talking about?”
She rushed up to me to give me a big hug. “Swindle called me trying to get hold of you. He said one of the couples you met at the open house made a terrific offer and the sellers accepted.”
The open house seemed like a thousand years in the past. Still, a sale was a sale and I was on the Board at work. At least something good had happened today. “Terrific news. Thanks for telling me. Is that why you’re here? To tell me I made a sale?”
“You don’t act like it’s terrific news.” Obviously, Myra thought I’d lost my mind. “And since when do I need an excuse to drop by?” She shuffled her feet and raked a ring-laden hand through her hair. “If you want me to call first from now on…”
I pulled her to me. “No, no. I’m sorry. I’m in a mood, is all. I railed on Mrs. Hardgrave for no real reason, too. Other than the fact her snooping is about to drive me crazy, of course. I’m sticking my tail between my legs and going to apologize.”
Myra searched me for another explanation, but decided to accept the one I’d given her. “Why don’t you give it a little time? I think you need to get yourself together first.”
I laughed and heard the tremor in my voice. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
