They flew in and out of the small patches of cloud cover, circling and staring upward at the silvery moon and the fading stars. The first rays of orange-red sunlight had begun to bleed into the night sky low on the horizon. She spun away from the sight, spiraling and wheeling with unparalleled agility and acrobatics. Wherever Kate wished to go, the gargoyle eagerly took her.
This was all that could be. But for now, this was just a test drive.
Below, she caught a glimpse of a helicopter pad, and she found herself spinning and dipping downward, twirling like an autumn leaf until the gargoyle extended its feet and landed gracefully on the helo pad.
A siren wailed nearby, and understanding her curiosity, the creature peeked over the ledge. An ambulance pulled up to the building. As two men rushed from the vehicle, a few others ran to meet them. The paramedics opened the back of the truck and removed an unconscious woman strapped to a stretcher. Bags of fluid hung from a pole affixed to the stretcher, and an oxygen mask covered her mouth. The stretcher and men disappeared under the overhang, yet their voices drifted up to her.
Kate moved away from the ledge. Although she didn’t sense any aggression from the gargoyle, she didn’t want to witness another attack. Kate willed the creature to move to the other side of the building, away from most of the lights and, hopefully, away from anyone else. The gargoyle reluctantly obeyed. She was losing control of the creature.
Another voice, a woman’s, filtered up to her. “Tell him it’s Laura. Yeah. Just Laura. Sure. I’ll hold.”
After a minute, Laura said, “Yeah, I got them. Eight of them. Socials, birth dates, licenses. A few won’t be needing them any longer.”
There was a pause as the other person talked. “Better than stealing identities from the living, asshole,” Laura replied.
Another pause. Then, “Don’t be a dick. I should charge you extra.”
Identity theft? It didn’t matter who the information belonged to, it was wrong. Fresh anger boiled inside Kate—and the gargoyle.
The creature crept closer to the ledge and peered at the blond woman leaning against the building, one black high heel propped up behind her, cell phone in one hand and cigarette in the other. She took a drag from her smoke. The ashes burned bright, illuminating the woman squinting into the darkness.
The gargoyle growled deeply. Kate couldn’t blame it for disliking the woman, but she knew the creature well enough by now. It would soon act on its hatred.
No, not hatred. The gargoyles acted on a distorted sense of morality and justice.
Maybe they were just as confused about their world as she was about hers.
That might be true, but she didn’t go around ripping people’s heads off and scarfing them down like bonbons.
Call it off, Kate thought. Call the gargoyle off!
But that meant becoming the sentinel. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. Was she ready to do that? She continued to watch the scene below, knowing all too well how it would end. No, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t control them. Not while she also harbored contempt for what she was witnessing.
The woman’s bracelets jingled. She laughed and said into the phone, “Look, my break’s over in a few minutes. Gotta go.”
The gargoyle crouched, readying itself. One of its feet sent small debris from the rooftop onto the woman below.
“What the—hell!” The woman dropped her cell phone. The gargoyle swooped down on her as the phone hit the pavement and shattered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kate
“NO!” Kate sat bolt upright in her bed in the castle. She’d managed to awaken before sharing in the creature’s feast. Maybe she was getting better at this. But she was still haunted by what she’d seen—and felt.
Pale gray light trickled into the room. Outside, birds twittered, their song doing nothing to lighten her mood. She fumbled for her cell phone on the nightstand. Six thirty in the morning, which meant it was ten thirty at night back home. Kate flopped back onto the pillows and checked her e-mail.
Screw the roaming charges. If she didn’t make sure there was nothing important, people would start calling, start looking for her. Thankfully there wasn’t anything requiring her immediate attention, and there were only two voice mails from Michael. She didn’t bother listening to either.
She should get back home, though. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was what she should do. Forget the gargoyle and whomever it had killed. She wasn’t the sentinel. Ian would be a better fit. She should get an early start today. There was no sense in hanging around. Maybe stop by Ian’s room and see if he wanted to join her.
No. The last thing she wanted to do was knock on his door and have Sara answer.
Get him out of your head!
“Jerk.”
Grumbling under her breath, she pushed the covers aside and got up, eager to stop thinking about Ian, the gargoyles, everything. Well, everything except getting back home and picking a script. She needed to move on with her life.
First, she’d shower, then go downstairs for something to eat and a cup of coffee. Ian had asked her to meet him for breakfast. Maybe he’d still show up. They’d talk about the gargoyles, decide that the kiss between them was a mistake, and he’d wish her well with her career. All would return to normal.
Normal. The word made her laugh. The girl who thrived on a challenge wanted normalcy.
No, she suddenly realized, she didn’t want normal, but it was better than dealing with all this.
Kate made her way to the bathroom, where she found everything she needed, right down to a robe and toothbrush.
Once showered, she popped open the wardrobe closet to see what outfit would magically appear. The wardrobe contained a pair of black jeans and a silky lilac sweater. Next to the blouse hung a butter-soft black leather jacket, and at the bottom sat a pair of black hiking boots. In one of the smaller drawers she found pale lavender underwear, a matching bra, and black socks.
Kate dressed and took a final look in the mirror.
Everything was a perfect fit. And no laundry!
She grabbed the jacket, slinging it over her shoulder as she left her room. A group of people nodded in greeting as she passed them on her way down the stairs, and despite her cranky mood, Kate feigned a smile and nodded back.
When she reached the dining hall, the combined scent of fresh bread, bacon, and coffee greeted her. She scanned the room. Declan and Von Hiller were nowhere to be found. In fact, she didn’t see anyone she knew. There were faces she recognized from dinner last night, but that was about it.
Never one to be afraid to eat alone, Kate strolled along the buffet tables on the right side of the room. The waitstaff, all six of them, were dressed alike in white shirts, black pants, sensible shoes, and aprons. They were all tall and slender, with hair so dark it had a blue shine to it in the morning light. The women had pulled their hair back into severe braids and wore barely a hint of rose lipstick. None of the staff smiled or frowned, but went about their business of clearing tables and ensuring the buffet was well stocked. Not up for the local fare of porridge or black pudding, Kate settled on an egg and half a slice of toast. The toast had been sliced diagonally and placed in a rack to stay crisp. Kate spread on thick orange marmalade and added a few grapefruit sections and a cup of coffee to her meal.
The staff talked quietly among themselves, some in such a strong Scottish brogue she couldn’t understand what they said. One of them nodded politely to Kate as he placed a stack of warmed plates at the first table. Kate responded with a polite smile.
Her tray more full than she’d intended, Kate made her way to the table she’d sat at the night before. As she ate, she watched people enter the hall seeking either breakfast or just their morning caffeine. The egg was tasty, the grapefruit tart, and the toast was divine. Did they make marmalade like this anywhere else? She finished the toast, took a few more sips of coffee, and decided to head back to her room. Ian wasn’t
showing up. She’d find Declan, wish him well, and return home.
Sara walked into the dining hall with a tall, dark-haired man, the two of them looking cozy. If Sara was with this guy, did it mean that Ian hadn’t been with her last night?
Doesn’t change a thing, she told herself. She had come a little too close for comfort. She couldn’t have a relationship with Ian under these circumstances.
Kate hurried up the stairs to her room. She needed to leave before she changed her mind, before she saw Ian again. Her eyes darted toward the tall window at the end of the hall where she’d seen the gargoyle the night she’d first bumped into Ian.
Keep walking, she told herself.
One last look.
Kate allowed herself to be drawn toward the window. The gargoyle was there. She stared at it, expecting it to move.
It did not.
The gargoyle was facing away from the window, as though turning its back on her. Kate rested a hand against the glass. She couldn’t understand the feeling inside her that wanted the gargoyle to turn, to look at her.
It was better that it didn’t. Clean break and all that.
“Come to revisit the scene of the crime?”
Kate turned to see Ian leaning against the doorframe. This time fully clothed. Part of her was disappointed. “Scene of the crime?”
“Yeah. Where we first met. About last night—I’m sorry if I pushed things too fast.”
You didn’t, she thought. I was just too slow.
“It’s not my business,” she said. “But I have to ask . . .”
Don’t ask, she thought. Sara was with someone else. Not Ian. He wasn’t interested in her.
He looked at her, and she was lost. “Anything,” he said.
Kate couldn’t help herself. “You and Sara. I saw you last night—”
“That? No! Honest. Actually, she felt bad about upsetting you and was telling me about a few places around here to take you to today. But Sara? Really? No.”
Leave. Tell him you’re leaving, she thought. Tell him to stop making your heart feel like . . .
Before she knew it, she was up against him, kissing him. Ian took her into his arms and returned the kiss, his hand gently against her back. This was so unlike her, and yet everything about seducing him felt right.
Just this once, she told herself. A fling in a castle with a handsome writer and soon-to-be sentinel. He still belonged here more than she did. But right now, she belonged in his arms.
When they broke from the kiss, Ian said, “Does this mean you’ll let me show you the castle? Give you a tour?”
Kate laughed. “Yeah. And I know just the place to start.”
“You do?”
She took his hand and led him back into his room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Michael
Michael finished the dinner dishes and headed to the living room. He sat on the sofa, turned on the TV, and began flipping through the channels. He needed something to occupy his mind. Kate wasn’t returning any of his calls. None of this was working out as he’d planned. He debated driving over to her house, but he didn’t want to push it. He hadn’t meant to go off like he had at Dominick’s. He didn’t know what had gotten into him.
His phone rang, and he answered immediately without checking the number, hoping it was Kate.
“Michael!” Hatcher said on the other end. Michael rubbed his forehead. He didn’t want to deal with Hatcher tonight. In fact, he didn’t want to deal with Hatcher at all anymore. He should never have hired him in the first place.
“Where’s your ex? She hasn’t been home for a while. Like since yesterday. She’s been gone all night.”
Michael shut off the TV. Kate wasn’t scheduled for anything that he knew of. “And she still hasn’t come home? Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ve been here for hours. I know her routine, remember? I’d know if she were in the house. I swore she was home yesterday, but today, there’s no activity. She must have slipped out somehow. You know anything about that?”
Had she already left for that vacation she’d mentioned? Just packed her bags and left? And Hatcher had watched Kate’s house all night? How often had he been doing that? “What do you mean there’s no activity? How can you tell that from the road?”
“It’s a matter of the right equipment,” Hatcher said. “She always opens the living room curtains when she gets up.”
Michael winced. “Geez, Hatcher. I said rattle her a little. Not be a pervert.”
“Hey, you’ve seen her. Even more of her than I have, if that helps you any. But you can’t blame me for looking. Besides, how else am I supposed to know if she’s got anyone else in there? You know, doing a little entertaining of her own?”
Michael released a breath. He’d screwed up all right. The signs of just how unstable Hatcher was had been right in front of him all along. When Hatcher offered to help him, he should have let it go. But patience wasn’t Michael’s strong suit. He’d come home from the last day of shooting, ordered roses for Kate, and then called Hatcher. He wasn’t proud of it. But thoughts of being without Kate made him . . . they made him do crazy things. What was he doing, paying someone to scare the crap out of her? How did he ever think this plan would work? Because the last time Kate had a crazy fan stalking her she’d stayed with him for a week until it blew over?
But he had to try. Nothing else was working. Hatcher was weird. Had an edge to him. It was the reason he’d hired him. The guy had an obvious crush on Kate. Of course, he wasn’t the only guy on the set who thought Kate was eye candy. But Hatcher had gone overboard, hanging around Kate like a puppy, bringing her coffee, water, anything she wanted. And now Hatcher was starting to give him the creeps. “Look, just cool it for a while, okay?”
“What? Hell, no! This is where we escalate things.”
“I said no.” Hatcher was unshakable; he’d never back down. There was only one way to make him leave Kate alone. “Kate and I are talking again. She just needs space.”
“Talking? Talking how?”
Hatcher sounded agitated. More than Michael anticipated. “As in we’re getting back together.”
Silence. It’d been a lie, but Michael needed to straighten this out with Kate. After their fight at Dominick’s, if Hatcher pushed too hard, then Kate would just up and leave—take that role her agent mentioned—a role that would have Kate traveling abroad.
“You don’t deserve her,” Hatcher said at last.
“You and I are done,” Michael said. “I’ll see you get your bonus.”
“She deserves better. And I’m not done. She thinks you’re obsessed, Michael. Maybe she needs to know just how much. Your plan? It might work. Just not for you.”
What was the creep saying? He didn’t like the sound of this at all. Hatcher’s mood had become increasingly erratic lately, and Michael wondered what drugs he was on. “Stay away from her, Hatcher.”
“I think I’ll sit here and wait for her to show up. In fact, maybe I’ll make myself right at home until then.”
Hatcher disconnected.
Michael sat on the sofa and rubbed his hands through his hair. This was all coming apart. Hatcher had lost it. He couldn’t be serious about telling Kate everything. Michael couldn’t let him do that.
Frantic, he considered calling the police. But what would he tell them? That he had hired some weirdo production assistant to scare his girlfriend? That someone had called him and told him he was going to break into Kate’s house? No. Nothing he could say would make sense. And Hatcher could just be setting him up. If Michael went over there all panicked, Hatcher might be the one to call the police. Or he’d just make another scene in front of Kate.
Michael threw the remote against the wall. What the hell was he going to do now? He’d never meant Kate any harm. He’d just been so desperate to get her back, and Hatcher had provided an opportunity. It was a terrible plan. He saw that now. He just hadn’t known what else to do to make Kate love him again.
/> He did know that he couldn’t let Kate hear this from Hatcher. And above all, he couldn’t let this leak to the press.
What if he stopped Hatcher? The plan could still work. He’d paid Hatcher in cash, and there was nothing between them he couldn’t probably explain away. Hatcher had been willing to work for next to nothing. Too willing, Michael realized.
Michael knew Kate’s house inside and out. He still had a key. She’d asked for the original back, but he’d had a copy made last year, just in case. It didn’t matter if this was a setup or not. If Kate was at risk, he couldn’t take that chance. He’d figure out what to tell her later. If she wasn’t home? Then he and Hatcher were going to go a few rounds.
He grabbed his key to Kate’s house from a kitchen drawer, then the keys to his Porsche from the bowl in the foyer, and headed out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hatcher
Hatcher peered through the lens of the super zoom camera again, searching for any signs of movement inside the house. Somehow Kate had managed to slip out without him seeing her.
Michael wouldn’t have approved of just how close a watch he’d been keeping on her. Or for how long. He’d been following Kate for nearly a month. But what Michael didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Hatcher cradled his camera. He stroked the top of it. He just hoped that one day she’d give him the shot that Michael already thought he had. A nude or partially nude pic would be worth a lot, but he’d never show it to anyone. He’d keep that for himself. He looked through the viewer and focused in on the windows.
The super zoom camera was a work of art. With a 50x optical and 4x digital zoom, he could see a lot of detail up close and personal. With the super zoom, he bet he could read the time off the watch of one of those guys washing windows at the Harbour Centre building.
Michael had wanted to scare Kate. But Michael didn’t know Kate Mercer as well as Hatcher did. Besides, if Michael had kept his dick where it belonged, he would still have her.
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