Then the words fade like steam on a mirror after a shower.
Seamus?
My cell phone buzzes on the desk behind me. I sit frozen. A moment later, it buzzes again. I push off my chair and take a closer look at the mirror. No smudges. No sign of any words.
I grab my cell off the desk. Persephone.
Henry and I think it’s a good idea for you to stay at Jude’s while your uncles are away.
The temperature in the room feels normal again.
I look back at the mirror.
Did I imagine it?
I text Persephone.
Not a terrible idea.
Chapter Forty-Nine
I grab the photo of Momma and me from my dresser and bury it in my suitcase between my jeans and tops. Marcus’s feather is tucked inside the inner pocket. I lug it to the living room, grunting under the weight of Gram’s witchcraft books.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Persephone, I’m ready—”
Marcus stands in the foyer.
“Don’t go,” he says, backing me into the apartment. His lips meet mine. “I’ll do…whatever it takes…to convince you…not to go,” he murmurs between kisses.
My fingers slip around his neck. I pull my lips from his and bury my face in his throat. I inhale the powerful scent of his cologne. How am I going to live without our nightly visits to the roof? His kisses?
“It’s ten days.” I do my best to sound brave. “We’ll figure out a way to see each other. You can pick me up, and we’ll go to the movies.”
He pulls away. “You’re kidding yourself. Once Jude has you, he’s going to want you all to himself.”
“You’re wrong about that,” I protest. “He’s going to get sick of me pretty quick. He may love me, being my father and all, but deep down I don’t think he likes me much.”
“All he has to do is threaten to harm those you care about, and you fall in line.”
“Not true.” Jude may be a lot of things, but he hasn’t shown himself to be a liar.
What about the day he gave you the car? The little voice inside my head says.
That was the day Jude added my uncles to the list of people he could use to blackmail me into behaving.
“He promised never to hurt you.”
Marcus gives a tight shake of his head. “I’m not talking about me. This could go one of two ways. Either he’s going to shower you with gifts or…”
I take a step back and plant my hands on my hips. “You think Jude can buy me?”
“The homecoming dress. The fully loaded Lexus. Don’t you see? Those things were just the beginning.”
I chuckle bitterly. “Here we go. Poor little girl from the trailer park.”
Someone knocks at the door.
“Persephone,” Marcus says as he opens the door. He turns to me and presses his lips to my forehead—not quite the kind of kiss I wanted before leaving for Jude’s.
Then he leaves.
“Text me,” I call after him.
He nods without turning around then trudges up the stairs.
Does this mean I’ll get the cold shoulder the entire time I’m at Jude’s?
“None of us are happy about this,” Persephone says as she grabs my suitcase. “But it’s the safest place for you.”
I nod absently. It’s my chance to watch over Jude, to help protect him since all I achieved with Lucifer was angering him.
I’d never ridden with Persephone before, and I can say with absolute certainty I never want to again. My hands grip the dashboard and the handle over the door of her white minivan for most of the drive as she speeds and lane jumps her way to Lake Forest. She sings along to a song on the radio, her head bobbing and her fingers tapping the steering wheel. I would laugh at her tone-deaf rendition of the tune, but my heart is lodged in my throat as she nearly clips another car.
We arrive at Jude’s house in record time. My knees quake as I step out of the car. I pull my suitcase from the back of the vehicle, pausing to check out the Ziploc bags filled with what appear to be roots, herbs, and…a chicken foot? I slam the hatch closed, unwilling to take a closer look.
If I’m still alive by the time Sheldon and Bernard get home, I will sign up for behind-the-wheel classes. It’s time to get my license. I’m tired of depending on other people for rides, especially ones that drive like Evel Knievel.
“Let me get that.”
I jump as Jude tugs the suitcase from my hands.
“Jude.” Persephone nods. She glances at his monstrosity of a house, her lips pursed. “You’ve improved security?”
“It’s safe,” he says without explanation.
Jude doesn’t invite Persephone inside, so I walk around the minivan and give her a hug.
“Call me if you need anything or if this arrangement isn’t working out.” Persephone doesn’t bother to lower her voice.
“Okay.” It would work out better if Marcus weren’t mad at me.
I follow Jude inside. It’s the first time I’ve been here by myself in a long time.
Jude slams the front door behind us, and we stand in the echoey foyer.
My father smiles. Happiness suits him. I wish he would wear it more often.
“Your room is ready, and I’ve stocked the fridge and cabinets with all of your favorites,” he says. “Cable has been installed, and I ordered a video streaming service, so you—we—can watch movies. There’s a good bookstore downtown. I’ve got a full itinerary scheduled for the next ten days. A copy is on your dresser.”
An itinerary? Seriously? I force a cough into my hand to hide my smile. Poor Jude. Demons really aren’t good at this parenting thing. I’ll have to teach him. Momma wasn’t any good at being a mom, but maybe there’s hope for Jude.
A loud rap at the front door jolts me. Jude’s expression darkens before he turns away to open it.
Marcus?
“I heard you and Lucy were having an extended slumber party. Mind if I crash?”
Dylan.
Jude opens the door wide, and Dylan walks in with a large gray duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
Jude claps him on the back. “You’re always welcome, Dylan.”
I raise my eyebrows at Dylan questioningly. He winks at me.
Is it possible the old Dylan is making a comeback? I was expecting to struggle through my time here. Turns out it might actually be fun.
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Jude says, leading us up the winding staircase.
Jude hasn’t changed anything with the place. Heavy drapes still cover the windows. There are too many shadows. As we climb the stairs, I imagine the sunlight reflecting off the teardrop crystals of the huge chandelier dangling in the foyer. Would it throw rainbows on the walls?
One thing is for sure. I will sleep better now that Dylan is nearby.
“Lucy, you’re already familiar with your room,” Jude says as he pushes open my door.
He crosses the hall and opens the door to another bedroom. “Dylan, you can stay in here.”
Jude pauses a moment, looking from Dylan to me, his eyebrows pulled low. He takes a long look at Dylan.
Dylan yelps and rubs his arm. “What was that?”
“A warning.” Jude turns and walks away.
I stifle a laugh. Is Jude having a hard time coping with fatherly emotions?
After debating whether to unpack—I don’t—I bound across the hall to Dylan’s room and hop on his bed. I’ve never had sleepovers until I met Katie. And now I’m having one with my other best friend. I keep my fingers crossed that crabby Dylan doesn’t resurface. He turns away from the window, and the heavy curtains fall back into place.
I lay on my stomach, ankles crossed. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
Dylan slides a sideways glance my way. “You’re not going to believe me.”
I roll my eyes. “Try me.”
“Lover boy called and asked me to stay here and keep an eye on you. I guess he trusts me now, which is mor
e than I can say for Jude.” Dylan plunks down on the bed beside me. “Did you see his look? And he zapped me. Doesn’t he get that the whole attraction thing is over?”
“Marcus sent you?” I sputter. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
“With the caveat that if I lay a finger on you, he’ll kill me. He mentioned that part twice.” Dylan smirks. “Funny thing is he didn’t say a word about what would happen if you lay a finger on me.”
I extend an index finger and poke his rock hard abs.
Dylan grins. “That’s such a Brandi move.” He flips me over and starts to tickle me. “Noogie Monster attack!” He tries to wrap his arm around my neck and give me noogies. I shriek and slip from his grasp.
“Ow! What the…?” Dylan yells.
We both whip around to see Jude glowering in the doorway.
“We’re just playing around,” I tell him.
Jude looks unamused. “You.” He points a finger at Dylan, then at the overstuffed chair across the room. “Sit there.”
Dylan crosses the room and slumps into the chair.
Jude’s gaze bounces between the two of us. Then he turns on his heel and leaves.
Dylan and I make eye contact and burst out laughing. It’s just like old times.
When our laughter dies down, Dylan scoots his chair a little closer, but not too close. “So what are we going to do about Garret?”
The lighthearted mood is gone. “My last plan kind of fell through, so I’m coming up with a new one.”
“Clue me in.”
“We need to protect Jude, and we want to keep Garret away from St. Aquinas, so I was thinking we should lure him and his team into the woods. We can use me as bait.”
Dylan jumps out of the chair. “Of all the harebrained ideas, this one takes the cake. Use Jude as bait, but not you.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Jude and Marcus won’t go for this.”
I raise my chin and glare back at him. “I have powers now. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right.” Dylan crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you think Jude is going to do to me if he finds out I let you get yourself killed?”
* * * *
“Problem is you’ve never played sports,” Dylan points out. “That’s where I come in. I understand strategy and tactical maneuvering. Let’s come up with a better plan.”
We wander around Forever 21, peeking at the various racks. Jude wasn’t keen on me leaving his house so soon after I arrived, but I told him about a shirt I absolutely had to have. I gushed on and on until his eyes bulged out of his head and his face turned red. Living with Jude may not be so hard after all.
“Here.” Jude shoved a wad of cash at me.
“But I don’t…”
He pointed toward his office door. “Go.”
“I’ll take her to the mall before she drives us both crazy,” Dylan volunteered, a look of mock annoyance on his face.
“You have three hours,” Jude said, tapping his watch. I caught the telltale pulse throbbing in his forehead. After the attack by the protectors, Jude has become hyper vigilant. If not for Dylan, there’s no way he’d let me out of the house.
Three hours is enough time to meet with Selima and buy a shirt to cover my alibi.
“What do you think about this?” I hold up a white crochet cami from the sales rack.
Dylan shakes his head. “You can afford to buy from the full price racks, Lucy. How much did Jude give you? Five hundred?”
I swallow my panic. “I told him I was buying one shirt. And this is a nice shirt.”
Dylan hooks his arm through mine and steers me across the aisle.
“Now we’re talking,” he says in a girly falsetto voice as he holds a dotted tulip-sleeve blouse up for me to see. “And then there’s this.” He presents a cap-sleeved white satin top, followed by a boxy baby-blue chambray tank top, then a black keyhole tank, and then an ombré cap-sleeved T-shirt. “We have a some time before we have to meet Selima. Let’s make the most of it.”
I giggle. “I guess a couple more shirts would be okay. Besides, you have good taste.”
“You can buy half the store…”
Over Dylan’s shoulder, I spot my father standing near the entrance of the store. He’s not even trying to hide.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?” Dylan cranes his neck to see what I’m looking at.
I thrust my shirts into Dylan’s arms and march over to Jude. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you’re at the mall.”
“But I told you—”
Jude studies me a moment. He glances behind me presumably at Dylan. “Be home on time.” He turns and leaves the store.
I return to Dylan and take my shirts back. “He’s spying on me now? Unbelievable!”
“I don’t think you can pull much over Jude.” Dylan scratches his chin. “What were you saying earlier about using yourself as bait to lure Garret into the woods?”
“Shut up.”
Twenty minutes later we’re in the food court, a shopping bag at my feet. My excitement over the new shirts is long gone.
“Don’t you two look like a happy couple,” Selima says as she drops into the chair between Dylan and me.
“What are you talking about?” Dylan and I ask in unison. The look of shock on his face mirrors my own.
Selima winks. “Two girls at six o’clock—my six o’clock—clutching overpriced mocha coffees. One of them is glaring this way. Members of the Dylan fan club?”
Across the crowded room Ella and Caroline are talking with a couple of guys. Ella’s eyes are fixed on me.
“Oh, no,” I groan. “I really don’t need this.”
“A protector’s work is never done,” Selima sighs, “but you owe me. Big time.” She slides her chair closer to Dylan and reaches up to stroke his cheek. Then she unleashes the most dazzling smile just for him.
Dylan’s breath hitches.
She raises her face until their lips touch. It’s only a peck, but the moment is so intimate I feel like an intruder. Selima tucks her arm through his and returns her attention reluctantly back to me.
Dylan—cheeks flushed—can’t take his eyes off of her.
“There,” she says softly. “That should get Miss Witch off your back.”
“Thanks, Selima.” Suddenly, I feel like a third wheel. I wish Marcus was here. I texted him on the way to the mall, but he hasn’t responded. Is he with Camille? Is she convincing him to join the clan?
“Happy to help,” she responds then lowers her voice. “So I did some digging around.”
I lean in and Dylan follows suit, tucking Selima’s arm a little tighter in his.
“The attack on Jude wasn’t sanctioned by Garret.”
“But he was there that night. You saw his aura in Jude’s house. And Max saw him,” I say.
“He admits to being in Jude’s house and searching his computer for information.”
“Your dad cops to breaking and entering, hacking into Jude’s computer and stealing information, but not to trying to kill Jude?” I shake my head.
“I’m not buying it, either,” Dylan says. Selima frowns at him, but he shrugs.
Selima pulls her gaze from Dylan and continues. “Garret believes one of two things happened that night.”
Dylan shifts uncomfortably and looks off in the opposite direction. Talking about the night he almost died can’t be easy on him. I want to reach across the table and squeeze his hand, but I don’t dare since he’s still tucked against Selima. A moment later Dylan’s expression calms. Selima’s protector skills are working their magic.
“First, there’s been talk about some kind of power struggle within the clan,” Selima says.
“A coup to overthrow Garret?” Dylan asks, his voice low.
Selima nods. “Apparently, there’s been unrest within the clan over the past year. Maybe longer. Since I don’t live here—and Garret doesn’t feel his precious daughter should wo
rry about things like clan politics—I had no idea.”
“This other group…what’s their beef with Garret?” I ask. “Is he too aggressive for them?”
“Not aggressive enough,” Selima says.
“You said Garret suspected one of two things happened that night,” I say. “What’s the other thing?”
Selima struggles to look me in the eye. “That the other night wasn’t an attack on Jude at all. That Jude set up a meeting allegedly to negotiate a new peace agreement between the demons and the protectors, then proceeded to slaughter them.”
“That’s a load of crap!” Dylan’s fist connects with the table.
People at the surrounding tables look our way.
“Don’t make a scene,” Selima scolds softly.
A moment later, conversations at the neighboring tables resume.
“What I’m saying is that someone or several someones are trying to cause trouble. Big trouble,” Selima says. “Garret thinks Jude’s got some grand plan to eliminate the clan.”
“Not true,” I say.
“But it’s more than that.” Selima grimaces. “There’s talk of removing Garret from power, putting someone else in—someone more effective—who will act swiftly on the slaughter that took place at Jude’s house. I overheard Garret on the phone at the condo defending himself.”
“To who?” Dylan asks.
Selima shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
Does that mean Garret will double his efforts to kill Jude?
I shove hair away from my face. “Marcus is with Camille now, isn’t he?”
“They’re at dinner,” Selima confirms. “Marcus isn’t allowed at the condo, not with everyone knowing his allegiance to you and Jude.”
I press my hands against my stomach as a burning sensation spreads through me. It’s bad enough I screwed everything up with Lucifer. Who was I to think I could summon a demon so powerful? Now, Garret and his cabinet think Jude is slaughtering protectors, and Marcus is hanging out with his mother. Why torment himself by spending time with her when it’s clear he doesn’t belong with the gargoyles and Camille is trying to manipulate him?
“Lucy? What’s wrong? You’re flushed.” Dylan’s hand twitches on the table as if he’s about to reach over and take hold of mine.
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 27
