Gargoyle: A Reawakening (Briarcliff Series, #2)

by Lorraine Beaumont

  GARGOYLE

  A Reawakening

  LORRAINE BEAUMONT

  Text Copyright © 2014 by Lorraine Beaumont

  All rights reserved. Except permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976., no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Owlet Press

  First Edition 2014

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Gargoyle Copyright ©2010 by Lorraine Beaumont

  Briarcliff Series ©2012 by Lorraine Beaumont

  Briar Cliff Series Copyright©2012 by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Elyograg” “Gargoyle” “Degare’”©2010 by Lorraine Beaumont

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Beaumont, Lorraine, 2012

  Briarcliff: A Reawakening/Gargoyle: a novel/ by Lorraine Beaumont –1st Ed.

  Gargoyle, Degare’. Elyograg

  Copy Edit/Proofreader: Second Look Editing, L Jones

  Beaumont, Lorraine,

  GARGOYLE: A Reawakening:: a novel/by Lorraine Beaumont 1st ed.

  Cover design-By 3L Designs llc.

  Summary: Briarcliff: A Reawakening: Gargoyle is the second book in the Briarcliff series. Briarcliff Township may look like any other picturesque town snuggled into the lush forests of the New England coastline but it harbors a dark secret. Seventeen-year-old Evie Harrington has high expectations for the annual “epic” party held at Briarcliff Manor: a Gothic Mansion rumored to be haunted. Cool bands are playing and all the beautiful people will be attending and of course, her biggest crush ever will be there and he is finally giving her the time of day. However, when the night finally arrives whatever expectations she has suddenly takes a dramatic turn and instead she finds herself in an unlikely world with an admirer that can’t possibly be real.

  Printed in the United States of America

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  GARGOYLE

  A Briarcliff Series Novel

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PART TWO

  ILLUSIONS

  ENCHANT

  WAITING

  CONFUSION

  REMNANTS

  PAYBACK

  MEMORIES

  PREOCCUPIED

  DISCOVERY

  DAZED

  TWILIGHT

  ANXIOUS

  REPULSED

  REMEBRANCE

  CURIOSITY

  INDULGENCE

  HAUNTED

  MAGIC

  IDLEWILD

  ATTRACTION

  ADVERSARY

  INFORMATION

  BITTERSWEET

  INTUITION

  FRIGHT

  TWISTED

  INDECISION

  COMPLICATION

  UNCERTAIN

  BITTEN

  DESERTION

  PART THREE

  LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN

  ODDITIES AND ABSURDITIES

  DIVERSIONARY TACTICS

  WICKED IS AS WICKED DOES

  BAD TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH

  WITCHY WOMAN

  SOME THINGS WILL NOT STAY BURIED

  WHAT COMES A KNOCKING

  TAKE A SNEEK PEEK NOWFEATURED ARTISTS/BOOK SOUNDTRACK

  Also by Lorraine Beaumont

  FOR LELO

  Sometimes the light can play tricks with your eyes. At least that is what Evie thought as stared at the boy standing in front of her now. She had almost taken him out, thinking he was another monster. Turns out, he was just a boy. Well…not just a boy…

  PART TWO

  The full moon cast a hint of light through the mullioned window of Briarcliff Manor. The statue absorbed the illumination, shaking off its cold stone facade, shifting back into the body it once belonged.

  Welcome back to Briarcliff

  ILLUSIONS

  SATURDAY * 12:03 AM

  Sometimes the light plays tricks with your eyes. At least that is what Evie thought as she stared at the stranger in front of her now. She had almost taken him out, thinking he was another monster. Turns it was just a boy. Well…not just a boy…

  “Your face looks pretty beat up.” His brow creased. “May I?” he asked, his eyes intense, his deep voice unusually captivating.

  “Ah…” Words eluded her, so she nodded.

  The tips of his fingers barely touched her chin, they were really warm. “Not too bad,” he was saying, closely inspecting her face. She could barely breathe. She felt hot and prickly at the same time. Lifting her eyes to his, she sucked in her breath. She felt like someone just punched her in the gut. Images zipped through her mind like the landscape does when you are traveling at high speeds, like on a roller coaster.

  Suddenly he dropped his hand and stepped away, letting out a shaky gust of air.

  The images stopped, jarringly so. Reaching out for the stair, she stumbled back. Once she felt the worn carpet pile under her hand, she sat down. Every time she tried to recall what she just saw, her brain shut down. She couldn’t grasp anything tangible.

  “Yeah, well… I think you’ll be okay.” He shoved his hand through his inky black hair. “You should really ice your jaw though. You know, when you get home.”

  “I can’t go home.”

  “Why not?” A distressed look came over his face.

  “I got left here.” She didn’t bother to explain by who or why.

  “That explains it,” he muttered and then turned, looking irritated.

  “Explains what?” She rubbed her hands back and forth on top of her leggings, trying to warm up her freezing fingers.

  “Nothing,” he answered brusquely and walked away.

  Evie flinched from his tone. What is his problem? Exhaling heavily, she propped her chin on her hand. A cricket hopped by the bottom of the stairs. She stared at it, trying not to look at him, but it was kind-of hard not to stare. He had broad shoulders and he was tall too, easily over six feet. The black Zeppelin t-shirt he was wearing clung to his muscled torso and the loose faded jeans shredded at the knees hung low on his hips. He was wearing black Chuck Taylors, originals. Obviously, she could care less about his shoes but then again, she was partial to Chucks.

  “So, what are you an expert or something?” When he turned from the door, her heart did a little flip.

  “An expert at what?” He looked confused.

  “You know bumps and bruises, that kind of stuff.” She hoped her voice didn’t really sound as squeaky and lame to him, as it did to her.

  He stared at her for a moment and then he laughed a little. It was a small sound, just a breath of a laugh but it still made chills jump over her skin. “No, not an expert, but I have seen my fair share of bumps and bruises throughout time.” He pushed the door open and slid his hand down the side, examining it. “So how did you get yours?” He pushed it forward. The door groaned eerily in protest. Once again, the ugly gargoyle knocker came into focus. It drew her eyes to it, just like before when she first saw it. Then it disappeared from sight when he looked behind the door.

  “Mine?”

  “Yeah,” he said, reopening the door, bringing the gargoyle’s face back in her line of vision. “Your bruises and bumps.” He let go of the door and turned walked toward her. His movements were sleek… graceful, remi
nding her of a panther.

  “Something got me,” she mumbled, picking at a loose thread in the carpet.

  “Oh, so that’s why you attacked me?”

  “Yep.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead embarrassed. “That’s why I attacked you.” She kind-of hoped wouldn’t bring it up. It wasn’t one of her better moments but she had thought he was coming back to finish off the job he started earlier, like to do her in.

  He laughed out loud then, the sound reverberating throughout the vast foyer of Briarcliff.

  She scowled at him for a moment but then began to laugh too. Then their eyes met and something happened. Their laughter dried up, replaced by something else, something …different.

  He broke eye contact with her first and raked his hand through his hair. “This is harder than I thought,” he muttered, under his breath.

  What was harder? She shifted awkwardly on the stair not sure if she had heard him right.

  He started to pace back and forth. His long strides quickly eating up the space of the foyer before he turned and headed in the opposite direction. He reminded her of a caged animal. Like how tigers prowl back and forth at the zoo, or lions. Then he stopped right in front of her, curiously watching her for a minute. It seemed like a lot longer. Then he inclined his head toward the stair. “Do you mind?”

  “No, no, not at all,” she said and scooted over on to make room for him. It was funny he seemed even bigger sitting beside her than he had standing above her. Again, his body’s proximity to her own made her heart start thumping wildly. Nervously she picked at the fuzzy piece of string on the carpet. It was too quiet. Even the small army of crickets hopping back and forth on the floor had stopped making their annoying noises. She turned to look at him, and forgot how to breathe; he was staring right at her, watching her.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Evie.”

  “I like your name, Evie.” He smiled.

  “Thank you.” She smiled back at him. The way he said her name made her feel warm all over. She knew it was stupid but she couldn’t help it. Besides no one had ever told her they liked her name before, well…except her parents and they didn’t count. “So what’s your…”

  “Why are you here?” he interrupted her.

  “I’m here for the party…” Her brow creased. “Wait… aren’t you here for the party too?”

  He sat up and rubbed the palms of his hands on the tops of his jeans. “Sure.”

  “So how’d you get here? I mean I didn’t hear a car,” she asked, lifting her hand and smoothing the frayed edge on her skirt.

  “I didn’t come here… in a car.”

  “You walked?” There was no way her ass would walk up that drive in the dark, but obviously, he wasn’t adverse to it.

  “I guess you could say that.” He shrugged.

  Huh? “Did someone drop you off at the top of the road or something?”

  “Sure,” he said again, his lips twitched upward.

  His smile was unnerving. Her stomach did that funky flip thing again. She grabbed her little Wolfie choker and jerked it back and forth nervously.

  When he looked at her again all traces of laughter was gone from his face. “So, you want to tell me what happened to you, you know before I got here?”

  Evie pressed her lips firmly together, and made a locking gesture with her fingers, shaking her head no.

  “Come on, tell me,” he coaxed, his voice velvety, soft.

  “No way,” she refused, even though it was hard to deny that face. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  He smiled again and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I promise, I won’t think you’re crazy.”

  “Its hot right?” she asked, plucking at the front of her jacket. It felt like the sun was beating down against her suddenly.

  He shrugged. “Not to me.”

  Of course he wasn’t. He was probably the only reason she was sweating bullets right now.

  “So,” he said. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “Fine,” she partially groaned, her stern minute of refusal completely shot to hell. “I will tell you, but it’s out there. I mean really out there. So don’t judge. Got it?”

  “Got it,” he agreed. A dimple dented in on the left side of his cheek as he gave her a reassuring smile. She wanted to touch it and imagined running her fingers across his smooth, soft looking skin, wondering if it was just as smooth and soft to the touch.

  “Evie…”

  “Huh?” Evie jerked her eyes to his.

  “You can begin anytime now.”

  “Right…sorry,” she said, trying to refocus and cleared her throat. “I think a statue of a Gargoyle came to life and attacked me,” she said in a rush. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wanted to backtrack and laugh it off…pretend, like she was kidding but it was too late. Lifting her hand, she rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, it was gross.”

  His face went completely blank and then he choked on a cough or a laugh, she couldn’t tell which. “Gargoyles are gross?” he repeated, seeming to have a hard time swallowing what she told him.

  She could sympathize. She felt the same way. “Hey, you weren’t here, so don’t judge.”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. “I mean no. Not really.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t show up until after …right?”

  “Right,” he agreed.

  “Are you answering my question or asking me a question?”

  He merely shrugged his shoulders.

  Flustered she shook her head. “I don’t get it?”

  “I don’t get it.” He shook his head too.

  “Are you copying me?”

  “No.”

  “Why do I not believe you?”

  He shrugged indifferently and then he smiled.

  “You’re bad,” she said, smiling too.

  “So I’ve been told,” he said. “So how’d you get away?”

  Hell if I know. “Luck? I don’t really know.” She shrugged. “One minute it was dragging me down the stairs and the next it was gone and when you walked in well…” She smiled sheepishly up at him and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I thought it was coming back to finish me off but it was you instead, so…ah, you know sorry…again.”

  He waved off her apology. “I have to ask, why do you think it was the Gargoyle?”

  She blew out a long slow breath. “Well, earlier. I was in here with a …person.” When he gave her a questioning glance, she waved her hand. “He’s…I mean they are not important.” Her face reddened. “Anyway, there was a big statue of one right here, beside these stairs.” She pointed to the bare spot on the marble the checkered tiles much lighter and cleaner than the rest of the floor. And of course, she left out the part that she had been talking to it. “It was here before I was attacked,” she said with conviction, she wasn’t too sure he believed her. She couldn’t blame him. “And see…” she pointed back to the spot, “he’s gone now?”

  An amused look flitted over his face. “Why are you calling it a he and not an it?”

  “I don’t know. It looked like a he, I guess…got me.” She frowned down at the floor. Why was she calling it a he?

  “Are they coming back for you?”

  “Huh?” She pulled her gaze up from the floor.

  “Your friends,” he elaborated, and then looked uneasily around the room, like he heard something she didn’t.

  “I guess they will show up at some point.” She looked across the room. The door was swinging slightly in the breeze making the gargoyle face in the center come into and out of her line of vision, seemingly taunting her.

  Leaning back, he looked upward toward the higher levels inside the house. She followed his line of vision. Stairways were on both sides stacked upon one another then breaking in hallways leading to who knew where. He turned and she caught sight of a crazy looking tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. It looked burned-embedded into his skin instead of inked on the top. Small
welts rose on each line, like scars. It was a deep, blackish color. She wished she had her sketchpad and pencils so she could draw the pattern. It would not be an easy design to tattoo, especially with the raised lines. She leaned closer to him trying to get a better look, not quite able to believe it had taken her so long to notice it.

  “What are you doing?”

  She fell back. “I was looking at… your tattoo.”

  “Why? Do you recognize it?”

  What? “No,” she blurted, suddenly feeling like a kid who was caught doing something wrong.

  He stood abruptly. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Oh—kay.” A shiver of panic trembled in her stomach.

  “It would probably be easier if I showed you.” He held out his hand to her.

  She reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. A flash of heat spread up her arm, instantly warming her all over as he pulled her easily to her feet.

  “Come on,” he urged, tugging on her hand slightly.

  Not expecting his strength, she stumbled forward and smashed against his body. He smelled… different. It was a strange combination of lingering remnants of cologne and something unidentifiable, headier. It drew her in. The very air around them became charged. It was as though time had stopped and she was caught in the moment, unable to do anything but feel…not able to stop herself she pressed up on her tiptoes, her hands sliding up his chest… he leaned closer too. She held her breath. She knew without a doubt he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him…

  “I’m sorry.” He took a deliberate step away.

  Evie felt so many things at once she wasn’t sure which craptastic emotion took precedence over the others. Scotty’s voice from Star Trek echoed in her mind like a loudspeaker: ‘Oh nooo Captain she’s been hit…again. She can’t take much more of this or were going ta have ta shut her down.’ “Did I do something wrong,” she heard her big mouth ask like a pathetic little peon.