How far into darkness will he go to reclaim the light?
Interview with a Gargoyle
© 2011 Jennifer Colgan
Melodie McConnell’s night shift couldn’t get any more bizarre. First, a commotion behind the bakery lands her in the arms of a slimy demon. Then she’s swept into hiding by a demon hunter…and discovers she’s been swallowed whole by a world she never knew existed.
In the decade since he inherited a centuries-old family curse, darkness has ruled Blake DeWitt’s life. By day he’s encased in the form of a hideous stone gargoyle. By night, desperation drives him to search for the Witch’s Cabochon, a gem with the power to permanently lift the curse.
He’s seconds away from claiming it when the dying demon transfers it to a human woman whose beautiful body is no match for its wild, darkly sexual power. And whose innocent attempts at seduction he finds hard to resist.
As the demons swarm closer, they find safety in each other’s arms. Until Blake discovers the only key to his freedom…and must face a soul-rending choice.
Warning: Take two parts demons, one part demon hunter, one part witch, and a heaping helping of sexy gargoyle. Spontaneous combustion may occur. At least you won’t need to wait for the oven timer to enjoy!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Interview with a Gargoyle:
“Run! Get out of here while you can.” Palmer’s strangled command stopped Melodie halfway around the front display counter. She skidded to a halt and glanced back over her shoulder. DeWitt had Palmer by the stretchy collar of his T-shirt and was lifting his linebacker body about a foot off the floor.
Ignoring Palmer’s gasping and his ineffectual kicks, DeWitt turned his predatory gaze on Mel. “I only want the jewel. Don’t make me hurt him to prove how desperate I am.”
And there went her escape plan. In a strange way, Palmer had saved her life, and weird as he was, she couldn’t let him suffer on her account. “Jewel? You’re looking for a jewel?” Why hadn’t he just said so in the first place?
“The Cabochon is a cursed jewel. It will bring you nothing but tragedy. Hand it over to me, and you’ll escape its curse.”
“Ah, okay. I think I know what you’re talking about. The Gogmar gave me something in the alley, right before he…died.”
Tortured eyes searched hers, and she had the distinct impression he could see into her soul. The oddly naked feeling made her shiver.
“It gave you the Cabochon?”
“It gave me a sapphire. Now, put Palmer down gently, and I’ll give it to you if you promise to leave us alone, okay?”
She made a “down boy” gesture with both hands.
“If you give me the Cabochon, I promise, you’ll never see me again.”
That seemed reasonable to Mel, but apparently not to Palmer, who still dangled in midair.
“Don’t do it, Melodie. He’s pure evil. He’ll kill us both if we give him what he wants.”
“Oh, please.” DeWitt dropped Palmer then, totally ignoring the “gently” part of Mel’s request. “Get over yourself, demon hunter. There’s nothing pure about me.”
Clutching his chest, from which DeWitt had likely ripped a handful of hair, Palmer slithered away along the floor. With a lot more bravado than she felt, Mel inched back into the kitchen and put herself between DeWitt and Marty, who still sat grinning like a fool on the very edge of the center workstation.
“Okay. Nice and easy,” she said, holding up her hands like this was an old-fashioned stickup. Since it appeared the only weapon DeWitt possessed was Palmer’s sword, she probably could have made a break for it, but she really was more than willing to part with whatever it was Creature Boy had given her.
“It’s in my pocket.” She reached slowly for the gem that the Gogmar had pressed into her hand. DeWitt’s tawny gaze followed her movements, skeptical but anxious.
Judging by his expression, Mel held all the power. He wanted the cursed jewel just as badly as she wanted to get rid of it. When her cold fingers scraped the crumb-dusted bottom seam of her apron pocket, her heart shriveled a little. With a reassuring smile for DeWitt, she felt to the left, then to the right. Nothing.
She held open her pocket and glanced inside. There was nothing there but a few shards of antler and a little ball of bright green lint. “Um…”
DeWitt’s accusatory glare made her spine tingle. “You lied to me, lass.” The timbre of his voice brought to mind the windswept hillsides of Scotland and the icy depths of a cold hell. He was not amused.
“I did have it. I swear. It must have fallen out of my pocket in the alley. It’s probably still out there under the…ooze.”
DeWitt wasn’t buying it. His ire wilted her. Under his alluring golden gaze, she felt guilty.
“I swear, I don’t have it.”
“Yes, you do.” The accusation hung in the sweet-scented air of the kitchen for a second; then DeWitt lunged for her.
Melodie ducked out from under his two-handed grasp, leaving Marty to take the fall for her, and fall was exactly what he did.
Two handfuls of chocolate-fondant-coated coconut sponge cake went flying.
Mel dove, and just as she hit the floor, Palmer jumped up. He grabbed the naked stainless-steel handle of the double boiler and flung caramelized sugar and boiling water at DeWitt.
The pots clattered to the floor, colliding with what was left of Marty. Melodie yelped. DeWitt roared and clutched the hot goo now plastering his T-shirt to his chest. Before she could decide who needed her help more, Palmer grabbed her hand and dragged her out the front door of the shop.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you did that.” Mel struggled to keep her arm attached to her shoulder as Palmer pulled her along the darkened street toward a bright blue Jeep Wrangler parked on the corner.
“He would have killed you. I appreciate you buying time, but it’s a bad idea to lie to Blake DeWitt.”
“Well, if he was evil before, he’s going to be a little more evil now with third-degree sugar burns all over his front. And I wasn’t lying. The Gogmar did give me a jewel, a big one, right before you skewered him.”
Palmer yanked open the passenger door of the Jeep and literally shoved Mel inside. She had a split second to recall all her mother’s warnings about never getting into a car with a stranger before she settled in and pulled the seat belt across her chest. Palmer threw his empty scabbard in the backseat and slid behind the wheel with a backward glance at Gleason’s front door.
A second later, the engine roared, and the vehicle lurched into the empty street. “So you’ve still got the Cabochon?” he asked.
Mel grabbed the dashboard as the Jeep careened around a corner and took the straightaway of Garden Street at a cool sixty miles per hour. “No. Like I said, I must have dropped it in the alley. DeWitt will probably find it, and then we won’t have to worry about him, right? Who the hell is he anyway, and why are you so scared of him?”
Her dubious savior gave her a sour glance. “I’m not scared of him, though anyone who knows of him probably should be. He’s cursed. Seriously cursed. And rumor has it he can transfer his curse to someone else through the Cabochon. Oh shit, he’s following us.”
The rumble of DeWitt’s Harley tickled the hairs on the back of Mel’s neck, and she turned in the seat to look out the Jeep’s back window. A single headlight glared back at her. “How fast can this thing go?”
Palmer grinned wickedly and stomped on the gas pedal. “Just watch—and hang on!”
Each breath Blake took stretched the burned skin of his chest, sending sparks of energy along every nerve ending in his body. He wanted to crawl away and nurse these temporary wounds, but the misery of his injuries paled next to the prospect of spending the rest of his life in thrall to the Witch Hunter’s curse.
Instead of giving in to it, he ignored the pain, just as he’d trained himself over the past decade to ignore all the other hardships of this unwanted existence.
This young woman had the Cabochon, his only ticke
t back to the land of the fully alive, and all he had to do was take it from her. The chance to finally end the curse was worth a little discomfort. Or a lot.
As he leaned into the next turn in hot pursuit of Van Houten’s Wrangler, he pictured her face. Waves of chestnut hair framed unblemished porcelain skin. Eyes the color of rich chocolate had assessed him as a threat. More than his burns did, it pained him to recall the terror in her expression when he’d reached for her. Thanks to Van Houten, she probably believed he was nothing more than a soulless monster, and she’d run from him, making his task all the more difficult when it didn’t need to be.
The Wrangler increased speed, and Blake cursed. He’d burned up most of a tank of gas following the Gogmar, and now he was riding on fumes. He couldn’t afford to be stranded in the open at dawn, so, reluctantly, he veered off when his prey took a sharp turn around the corner of the Sure-Shop.
He might have to suspend his search, but it wasn’t over by a long shot. The woman obviously worked at the bakery. That meant he could locate her again when he had more time to convince her to cooperate.
With his nerves on fire and his tortured skin aching, he gave up the chase.
Temporarily.
Evermine
Hailey Edwards
He can be a slave to his past…or allow her love to free him.
Daughters of Askara, Book 2
There’s such a thing as too much change. Emma’s sister is mated. Revolution is brewing in her home realm. The last straw: her would-be mate is back from the dead and back under her skin—yet when it comes to the last five years, he’s not talking.
Desperate for a chance to start her own life, she answers the queen’s call to ensure equality for all of Askara’s newly freed slaves. It’s the perfect opportunity to escape a heartbreak in the making named Harper.
Harper loses a piece of his fractured soul when Emma walks away. His lies were meant to protect her from torturous years that drove him to the point of madness. Instead, when he comes to her a year later to help avert a crisis in a freed-slave community, the wedge those lies drove between them is firmly in place.
As their new lives collide with old wounds, they race to stop a threat that could not only destroy the queen, but send Harper back to the hell he escaped. Emma must decide if the man she still loves deserves equal rights to her heart.
Warning: This title contains torn pants, ripped gowns, and sand in uncomfortable places. It also includes one overcompensating villain, one gnarly priest, and two battered hearts willing to give this thing called love one last chance.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Evermine
Copyright © 2012 by Hailey Edwards
ISBN: 978-1-60928-722-1
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About the Author
Look for these titles from Hailey Edwards
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About the Author
Look for these titles from Hailey Edwards
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright Page
Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 Page 22
