“He probably never felt it necessary. He thinks you’re human. As such, you’re no threat to him.”
“I’ve never brought anyone to these meetings either,” she said. “Maybe, instead of claiming to be have something on his request list, I could tell him I need help. Pretend I don’t know who killed Gwen and want protection in case whoever killed her comes after me. I can claim Cal as a bodyguard, since I’m supposed to be afraid for my life.” At least that part of her story would be true.
“You think he’d believe that?”
She mulled the question. Giles had never openly consorted with “evil” people, at least that she knew about. Gwen had told her to use him as a resource if she needed something handled—i.e., she was on the run from a job gone bad. “Yes.”
“Then just get him into the open. We can take it from there. It’s best if we do it during the day, when he can’t call on the vampires to protect him. It’d be better to avoid that though.”
She was immeasurably weaker in her human form. While she was willing to take this chance, she’d really rather have the option to change if it came down to a fight and she was threatened. If she took gargoyle form during the day, she’d be stone, just like every other gargoyle.
“I don’t like this, Lucas,” Cal snarled. “There’s no guarantee Giles will just blithely show up. He might send a flunky. If it’s dark, he could send a vampire. It just too risky to let her loose among vampires and Twisted Ones.”
She gasped softly and glared at him. Let me loose? “What am I? A stray puppy you’re crate training? I don’t do this, you don’t have a plan, remember?” If she weren’t driving, she’d do more than just shoot him a fleeting dirty look.
Cal showed no sign of being intimidated by her. If anything, his expression grew more severe. “You shouldn’t dangle yourself out there. It’s too risky. You’re a Sacred Mother.”
He’d thought her dead for twenty-four years and blamed himself. She reminded herself of that and kept her mouth shut.
“It’s been risky my entire life, Cal!” She huffed out a breath, tried to rein in her temper before either of them said something that might cause lasting emotional hurt. “I’ve been hiding forever. If we don’t do this, how long do you think it’s going to be until they figure out I’m alive and come gunning for me? You thought I looked like Anyuka. Once they know one of her daughters is still alive, do you really think they won’t start looking for anyone who might resemble her? I’m screwed if that happens, so I damned well want to delay that as long as possible.”
“Ease up, Rose,” Lucas said.
She growled in warning. Yes, she’d come to them for protection, but they needed to accept that protecting didn’t mean smothering. If nothing else, this argument would serve as groundwork for any future debates on what freedoms she had among the Sentinels.
“It’s a risk, sending you into the field, and you know that. I wouldn’t risk you if I had time to think of a better plan.”
She wouldn’t admit aloud the validity of his concern. Give someone an inch and they’d lock her away miles from any danger for the rest of her life. She’d been on her own for ten years now and she wasn’t handing control of her life over to anyone.
“Get back to Atlanta ASAP and we’ll pound out the details. I’ll call in our pilot and tell him to get the plane ready.”
“You have your own plane?” Jesus, first it was a helicopter, and now there was a plane? Why the hell had they driven, then? They could have gotten to Orlando in less than half the time.
“Yeah,” Cal said as Lucas unexpectedly laughed. “It was in New York earlier, transporting some supplies to the Sentinels there.”
“Security sure pays well,” she muttered.
Lucas chuckled, though she still heard the concern in his voice when he spoke again. “Ms. Johnson, the Protectorate’s been around for millennia and has the resources to show for it. Those resources are yours for the asking now that you’re here. Ask Cal if you don’t feel comfortable coming to me if you need something.”
She needed Gwen. And her sister if she was still alive.
A new squeeze on her knee reminded her of Cal’s steadiness, despite his aggravation over her volunteering to play bait, and that eased some of the tension knotting her stomach.
Gwen had answers and knew Reny was alive. If she could harbor that kind of secret for so long, what else had she been hiding all these years?
Please, Gwen, don’t be what they think you are. Be one of the good guys.
…
Cal dropped his shirt into a heap on the bathroom’s tile floor. He pulled open the glass enclosure and gratefully stepped into the steamy shower. Hot water beat against his shoulders and he breathed a sigh of relief. This was a temporary respite, but it would have to do. He’d pretended to nap for most of the trip so he wouldn’t have to deal with Rose or her questions. She had apparently accepted he’d known about Reny’s possible survival, but he wasn’t entirely certain that there wouldn’t be an outburst eventually.
“Hey, Cal?”
He jolted and banged his knee against the wall, dropping the soap in the process, at the sound of Tom’s voice filtering through the streaming water. His brows lifted curiously, but he picked up the soap anyway. Better Tom than Rose with her accusing glare.
“What?”
“I want to help you out. And I think I can. Both with Giles and with Rose’s situation.”
Again with the familiarity in how he said “Giles.” There was a story he’d have to get eventually. “Why? And how can you help? You’re not exactly useful in a fight.”
“I’ve never told you about my life as a Twisted One or my gift. The gift Mr. Ray needs to free Gwen from her soul-stone is the one I was born with.”
About to swipe the bar down his side, Cal stopped and stared at Tom. Given the man was dead, whatever gifts he’d been born with had never really mattered, and Tom had never volunteered the information until now. “You’re serious?”
Tom turned his back on Cal, apparently fascinated by the tile pattern of the wall. “Absolutely. You saved me two years ago both by keeping me from the Demon Gatherers and by holding me here. You didn’t have to, given our opposing sides in the fight, and I’ve never forgotten that. I think I can help.”
As far as Cal knew, they had no one among the Sentinels who could break souls out of soul-stones. It was a gift primarily limited to those aligned with the Twisted Ones.
He studied the ghost thoughtfully. Breaking a soul-stone couldn’t be done by a ghost, but Mr. Ray might just have a way to bring Tom back. There were rituals he’d read about and, thanks to Rose’s compassionate plea to not kill Jonas’s body, they did have a vessel in which to put Tom’s soul.
“May I tell Mr. Ray? All of it, I mean.” He’d have to offer up Tom’s birth allegiance or Mr. Ray would be highly skeptical of the ghost’s claim.
“Do what you have to.”
“How does this help us with Giles?” There was more to Tom’s offer. He knew there had to be.
The ghost stiffened, as much as a spirit could, and then his shoulders slumped. “If you don’t have to tell anyone, please don’t. It might…they might be less likely to accept my help.”
Curiosity now peaked, Cal returned to washing himself. He wasn’t going to let the ghost know just how interested he might be. Tom appeared serious, but that could change in an instant, mercurial creature that he was. “Go ahead.”
“Giles Jester is my stepbrother. I’ve kept it to myself until now, not really that proud of it, for obvious reasons. But if I’m going to help with Gwen, I might as well go all-in with you guys.”
Aww, shit. Family. That explained how, even with Tom’s seemingly good nature, he’d been sucked into the world of the Twisted Ones and performed deeds that had darkened his soul. “Step?”
“My mom, his dad. Not pretty. I’m not proud of it, but I might be able to give you guys better knowledge if, well, if anything happens while you’re in California.�
�
Ah. “Is there anything else I need to know? Anyone else you’re hiding in your family tree?”
There was a momentary pause before Tom slowly shook his head. “No. No other relatives other than Mom.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed at the man’s careful wording. There was definitely something else. If Tom could indeed help them out, he didn’t think Mr. Ray would give a rat’s ass who he was related to. Still, he made a mental note to keep a close eye on the ghost to figure out what else he might still be holding back.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Ray.” He wrinkled his nose and peeled a sliver of hellhound flesh from his sole. It had worked its way down into his boot in Orlando and stank to high heaven. “Now, could you get out?”
“You think he’ll let me help?”
“If you can do what you say. And Tom?” He added the ghost’s name, just to bring the flighty creature’s attention back as it appeared the ghost was about to decamp. Tom paused in his figurative tracks. “It could just mean a body of your own again.”
No harm in adding a bit of bribery right? He was pretty damned sure Mr. Ray would try to bring about the second coming if it meant they had a chance to find another Sacred Mother. Bringing Tom back didn’t quite qualify, but it would be a close thing, talking the angel into such a conjuring.
“Duuuude.”
“Yeah, now get out. I still reek and that won’t help when I go kiss some Lucas-ass to make things happen.”
The ghost practically skipped out of the bathroom and Cal smiled briefly. If he could repay the ghost for saving his life, he’d do it. If it got them more info on Reny, which would in turn make Rose happy, even better.
He just had to make sure Giles didn’t kill Rose before they captured him. No small task.
Chapter Ten
Tip from Sentinel Gabe Lennox: The benefits make being a Sentinel worth it. Who else would pay for law school and help open a law practice without any expectation of turning a profit?
Rose studied the clothes she’d thrown down on the bed in front of her. What did one wear to meet a half-demon who would likely want to kill her very soon?
Perhaps the better question would be what outfit was best to hide the maximum number of weapons in case everything went south? She was going to meet Giles with only Cal as her backup. The Sentinels would be in the vicinity, but not as close as Cal, and he was just one man immediately available to keep her alive.
Gorgeous, brutal in a battle, but still just one man.
She didn’t intend to donate blood. Not to the Red Cross, and not to vampires either. Needles and fangs scared the hell out of her. Demons, ghosts, heck, even hellhounds, not so much.
“Black is cliché,” she mumbled, tossing aside a simple black vest. Still, she needed to be practical. The Sentinels could flesh out her initial plan all they wanted, but she needed to be prepared in case of contingency. It was hard as hell to fight naked, and if she wore her regular street clothes, they’d burst when she shifted.
“Tank top and jeans it is.” They’d have to stop and pick up a jacket somewhere so she could tuck one of her knives away under it. Just in case. She nodded, satisfied with her decision, and scooped up her makeup bag. It held sixteen pairs of colored contacts in them. She preferred color coordinating with her outfits, since she had to wear the stupid things to keep her true eye color hidden.
Can I really trust these people?
Gwen’s little voice in her head screamed a hearty, “Hell no,” to that, but she focused on ignoring it. The witch clearly hadn’t known everything.
She dropped the makeup bag, slumped on the bed and then buried her face in her hands. She was fussing over her appearance to avoid the main issue. She trusted Cal now, despite the Jonas issue. What she hated to admit, even to herself, was that she was so attracted to him when she shouldn’t be. He felt so good when they touched, made her want even more than a simple caress on the arm or squeeze of the knee.
The bedframe rattled when she kicked it with her heel. This was ridiculous. She’d barely met him and now not only was she trusting him with her life, but she was seriously beginning to want more than just protection from him. She’d never wanted that from anyone before.
She groaned and muttered, “Forget about it. It’s a stupid idea. Just get Gwen back, and then think about maybe asking Cal out later.”
Easy to say, not so easy to do when her insides got all gooey every time she thought about Cal lying under her as the power of the T’chan rolled over and through her.
She stood and paced to the wall so she could thud her head against it in hopes of knocking some sense into herself. Which was why she didn’t initially react when someone tapped on her door, the noise perfectly syncing with her bangs.
Only when Cal called, “Rose? You okay in there?” did she realize it wasn’t just her head meeting up with Lucas’s drywall.
She ruefully rubbed the fresh sore spot and then responded. “I’m fine.”
“May I come in?”
She looked around her temporary room, realized it looked like her suitcase had thrown up, and shrugged. Not much she could do, she acknowledged, and picked up a sinfully soft green cashmere sweater. “Yup.”
The door swung open. Cal’s hair was wet and a fresh application of Old Spice scented the air around her. Her mouth watered at the sight of him. Just t-shirt and faded jeans, with his feet bare.
Stupid hormones. Who gets turned on by bare feet?
“Hey there,” he said quietly.
She frowned and curled her fingers tighter into her sweater. “Hey.”
“Sorry about before. About what I said in the car.” He closed the door and leaned back against it. “This is a very bad time for me. I took my duty to Anniko very seriously and have never completely accepted I wasn’t to blame for her death. And then you show up and it’s like facing my past in the flesh all over again. You’re just so much like her.”
“Am I?” It seemed as close to a peace offering that she would give him. She did sort of still owe him for saving her life while she did her job.
He nodded, still not looking at her. “A lot. You look like her. Except for your hair. She was blonde and quite beautiful.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Well, he’d said she was gorgeous earlier while she was in her gargoyle form, and he’d checked her butt several times. But it was still kinda neat to hear the words.
Cal’s gaze lifted and met hers. “I do. I shouldn’t think you’re pretty. Or at least not notice and say that I think so.”
“Why’s that?” There was a fascinating ridge of color now tracking along his cheekbones and she really wanted to get to the bottom of it. Could he be blushing because he was attracted to her? Normally, she scared men off with her bluntness, or else she avoided them altogether. “I know Sentinels are allowed to, erm, share stuff with gargoyles.”
She veered off from actually saying “having sex” at the last second, though she wasn’t sure whose sensibilities she was trying to protect.
“Because, that’s why.” Cal ran both hands through his short hair. “I’m your protector. Lucas named me your protector. I can’t keep you safe if I’m noticing, well, you.”
Something very feminine unfurled in the pit of her belly. She sashayed a little closer to stand toe to toe with him. The fluttering she felt then was nothing like when she’d taken on Lucas the day before. No, she hungered to reach out and touch him, to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to blame leftover energy from the T’chan for the need running through her, but she was going to be honest. She wanted him.
“And is noticing me such a bad thing? You can’t work and play at the same time?” She trailed a thoughtful finger down his cheek. A very cute trail of red followed her touch. “If I trust you enough, why can’t you trust yourself?”
He blew out a frustrated breath and tugged on his hair. “There’s no hiding that I find you attractive. But I have to stay focused. I let you down before with Anniko and that can’t ever happen ag
ain. I’ve known you since you were, well, a lot younger.”
That was an abrupt splash of cold water to her libido, though the shock wore off quickly enough. He looked her age, but he had been an adult when she was born. She shrugged. “I fail to see the problem. Last I checked, our life expectancy, assuming death by natural causes and not demons or Otherworld, is around three hundred years. What’s a few decades?”
The fact that he put Gerard and Taylor Kitsch to shame didn’t hurt his cause.
She smiled sweetly at him. “I think you’re sexy, Cal.” She sniffed at the scent coming from him. It was better than giving in to what she wanted, which was to rip his fresh white t-shirt off and rub up against him, absorb some of his Old Spice smell onto her to carry with her. “As long as I don’t object to you liking or noticing me, why the hell should you care about it?”
Then, because she refused to wait for him to shoot her down again, she clapped her hands on his cheeks and plastered herself against him, kissing him as if her life depended on it.
Cal froze but only momentarily. Then his arm curled around her waist and he kissed her back.
He felt good. Really damned good, and so blasted warm. Her inner gargoyle purred contentedly in a way she’d never felt before.
Rose the gargoyle definitely approved of Cal the man. Rose the woman was right there with her.
Cal’s husky growl sent heat through her. She slid her arms around his neck, enjoying the press of lips against lips. No battle, no pressure, just…him. His unique taste and strength.
God, he felt so damned good as his hand slid experimentally over her backside. She giggled, yanking her mouth away from his as his fingers hit the one ticklish spot on her entire body, the underside of her butt.
They stood there a moment, both breathing hard and staring into each other’s eyes.
And then, the knock came on the door, shattering the moment of intimacy.
“Rose?”
Lucas’s voice filtered through. She swallowed, wet her lips, and cleared her throat. Heat crept over her face. What the hell was she doing?
Locked in Stone Page 12
