The Greystone Bundle (Books 1-4)

by Taylor Longford

  A drop of water splashed on the counter and my gaze jerked to her face. Our MacKenzie was crying. And MacKenzie hated crying! She always worked so hard to convince everyone she was tough.

  "Oh, no," I soothed while Hooligan gave me a dirty look. Valor took the box from her hands and set it on the counter then collected her into his arms. "Don't cry, Mac. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to growl at you."

  "It's not the growling," she said brokenly into Valor's shoulder. "It's your ribs. I didn't know you were hurt."

  "It's not that bad," I insisted. "It's a scratch, really. It's nothing compared to…" But my throat locked up and I couldn't go on. I couldn't say it was only a scratch compared to what I'd done to Mim.

  Feeling completely miserable again, I hung my head and studied the tile floor as if it might be able to offer me absolution…or at least swallow me up. I noticed my hackles were bleeding as well and adding to the general mess I was making. Absently, I lifted my fist to my mouth and sucked on the broken barb that stuck out from beneath my first finger.

  "It's not that bad," Defiance confirmed, his quiet voice thankfully drawing attention away from me. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and opened his wings so he could show Mac an old, ragged tear that ripped across his back. "I got this one from a harpy," he reported solemnly. "But she didn't live to brag about it."

  The sight of the terrible, old wound didn't do much to cheer MacKenzie up. She buried her head against Valor's shoulder and muffled her sobs while he stroked her hair and soothed her with soft words spoken in the old language.

  Closing his wings again, Defiance took the roll of gauze from the counter and headed toward me. When he jerked his chin upward, I raised my wings and arms for him. He went to work, wrapping the thin white cloth around my ribs. His mother had been a healer and we've always gone to him with our injuries. I felt confident he'd do a good job. I gritted my teeth, knowing it would hurt.

  While Defiance worked on my ribs, Havoc and Valor showed off some of their old scars to MacKenzie. By the time they were done, she was laughing and crying. The laughing might have had something to do with the tiny scar on Havoc's big toe. "That's enough!" she finally insisted, and gave Valor a shove. "You're making my knees weak."

  Defiance's fingers were strong and businesslike as he deftly bound the wound. He didn't worry too much about being gentle; he was more focused on getting the job done right. When several layers of cloth banded my ribs, he stretched the ends tight and prepared to tie them off. "Can you still breathe?" he asked.

  "Barely," I answered honestly, then groaned as he pulled the ends tighter.

  "What about now?" he demanded.

  "Not at all," I wheezed, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied with anything less.

  "That oughta do it," he said and made a knot in the ends. His sadistic smirk was way overdone. Defiance would like you to think he's a tough, emotionless bastard but I've seen tears drip from his chin while putting Courage back together after a harpy attack. The guy's just good at hiding his emotions.

  "Was there…any word from Mim?" I asked, just in case she'd called while I was in the shower. I closed my wings over my chest.

  MacKenzie shook her head and my heart felt a little heavier…though how it could feel weightier than lead was a mystery to me.

  The rest of the day crawled by without a call from Mim. I desperately wanted to see her, to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. But I wasn't sure she'd want to see me, after what I'd done to her, after the shock had set in, after she realized she had to spend the rest of her life without her fingers.

  I was looking at another sleepless night on the couch.

  Just before MacKenzie went up to bed, she brought a box down from her brother's room and plugged it into the back of the television. "It's an old game system that used to belong to my brother," she explained. "The games are pretty dated."

  "I can guarantee you they'll be new to us," Havoc assured her as she tossed two controllers in our direction. Havoc played with me until midnight and, after that, I was on my own. I'd reached Level Five when the sun made its lackluster appearance to signal a new day.

  "Breakfast is ready," Havoc called out on Saturday morning.

  "Not hungry," I grunted as I guided my hero through a labyrinth and slashed at a murderous yellow blob.

  Almost immediately, I heard MacKenzie stumping in the kitchen. Ominously, her thump-step seemed to be heading in my direction. When she reached the living room, she moved in front of me and blocked my view of the television. My hero died an untimely death as I slowly lifted my gaze to her face.

  "You didn't eat anything yesterday," she growled, her brown eyes flashing fire.

  I slumped back on the couch and rubbed a hand over my eyes. "I'm sorry, MacKenzie. I didn't realize." I felt like I'd caused enough trouble without Mac worrying about me so I joined them at the kitchen counter and tried to eat a few bites. Despite Havoc's culinary skills, the scrambled eggs went down about as easily as a mouthful of ashes.

  As soon as Havoc started loading the dishwasher, I joined him at the sink, quickly scraping off my plate and hoping nobody would notice how little I'd eaten. If they did, they didn't say anything. And when we were done with the dishes, Mac insisted we get together for a writing lesson in the dining room. It had been a week since we'd had a class. Normally, we had a lesson almost every day but with everything going on lately, we'd gotten out of our routine.

  I knew MacKenzie was just trying to insert some normalcy back into my life but I had a hard time focusing. Still, I managed to fill an entire page with carefully penciled words. Only, when I took a close look at my work, I realized I'd written, "I'm sorry" like a hundred times. I crushed the paper into a ball and left it on the table as I stalked from the room.

  "Where are you going?" MacKenzie demanded while the others stared at me.

  "I don't know," I snarled. I reached for my coat in the entry. "Somewhere where I can't do any harm."

  "Well, I'm sorry," she insisted as she ratcheted up onto her feet. "But you can't go just now."

  "Why not?" I demanded, and glared at her from the entry.

  "Because we haven't had our healing session yet."

  I balled my right fist close to my face. "In case you hadn't noticed, I don't need healing anymore. I have barbs now."

  "I noticed you have two of your eight barbs," she returned sharply. "But they keep bleeding. So we're going to have a healing session. Sit down. Now."

  I glanced around at the rest of the pack. Their stony expressions told me they were ready to tie me down if I didn't follow her orders. A mutinous growl rumbled in my chest as I threw myself into a chair and slapped my hands down on the pine tabletop. Defiance, Victor and Havoc closed their notebooks and pushed away from the table. Except for Valor, I was alone with my tormentor.

  MacKenzie got her oak rod from the shelf in the corner of the room. "I know you're worried about Mim but she'll be back."

  I scowled at the determined redhead.

  "She's crazy about you," she insisted quietly as she took the chair beside me and Valor watched us from the other side of the table.

  "Maybe she was," I grunted. "Maybe she isn't anymore."

  MacKenzie closed her fist around the piece of oak and rubbed her knuckles over the back of my hand. "Power of oak, power of wood," she started. "Work your magic to make things good. Work your power to heal these scars. Heal the flesh and restore Dare's barbs."

  I was in such an ugly mood that even Mac's bad rhyming didn't improve my sense of humor. But, amazingly, my knuckles felt almost immediately better.

  "What is it?" MacKenzie asked as if she could sense something was different this time.

  I frowned down at the backs of my hands. I could almost see the broken flesh changing before my eyes. The deep tears closing up. The red flesh losing its heat. The soreness fading away. "They…feel better. Your magic is working."

  "Really?" she exclaimed then checked my face. "You're not just saying that?"

&nb
sp; "See for yourself," I told her and showed her my hands.

  "See?" Valor told her excitedly as he leaned across the table. "Your magic does work, Kenz."

  Our little witch allowed herself a small smile. "Maybe," she admitted. "A little bit."

  I leaned back in my chair and smiled back at her, then realized my ribs felt better too but before I could say anything, Hooligan's bark came from the family room. Victor's shout came next. At almost the same moment, golden light poured through the dining room windows and stretched across the table.

  The sun was finally out.

  We shared a quick look of understanding then pushed back our chairs but Havoc and Defiance shot past us before reached the entry. Down in the family room, we found Victor kneeling beside the sofa. He watched the window as he quietly explained to his brother how we were going to open the blinds and let the sun in, and how we'd all taken a first aid course and were ready to give him CPR if he needed it.

  But we didn't have time to waste. We didn't know how long the sunshine would last. Lifting his hand, Victor signaled us to go ahead and open the blinds. Taking a deep breath, Valor tugged gently on the drawstring.

  Clearly pleased with our decision, Hooligan romped over to Valor's side, lifted his huge paws to the window seat and helped the bottom of the blinds up with his nose. He turned his head expectantly toward the sofa as the sun's rays spilled in through the windows and bathed Reason with light.

  But the fallen gargoyle didn't stir.

  Rees didn't wake.

  Gobsmacked, we looked around at each other. Of all the possible scenarios, we hadn't expected this. Almost from the start, we'd assumed Reason would make the change back to life as soon as the sunlight reached him, even if he was injured. Even if he was choking or drowning or needed CPR. Now we didn't know if he couldn't make the change or if he just wasn't ready. Maybe he didn't want to make the change. But that would mean Hooligan had completely misjudged the situation.

  "Maybe he just doesn't have the strength," Valor suggested as we gathered around the sofa. "Even with the sun's help. Maybe he's too weak. Maybe he lost too much energy in the pool."

  We didn't know what to think. But Hooligan had some ideas. We watched as he galloped from the family room, returning a few seconds later with something in his mouth. "What is it?" MacKenzie asked when he pushed his muzzle into her hand.

  Into her palm dropped the oak rod she kept on the shelf in the dining room; the piece of wood she'd been using only minutes ago on my barbs. She frowned at it like she didn't know what it meant.

  But I did.

  "Hooligan's telling you to wake Reason," I started slowly, and wondered why we hadn't thought of it sooner. MacKenzie had wakened Valor twice without the help of any sunshine at all…and without the help of any modern technology. When it came to waking gargoyles, she had a gift.

  "Wake Reason?" she questioned hesitantly.

  Valor spoke up encouragingly. "Your power is greater than you realize, Kenz."

  "Are you kidding?" she mumbled as her shoulders slumped a few notches. "I totally failed at finding Chaos, Force and Courage."

  "You healed my wounds," I pointed out.

  "But I haven't been able to bring back your barbs, Dare. I just healed a few sores."

  "But you scryed for me and found me," Valor insisted.

  "That's only because I was desperate," she argued with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  Valor caught both her wrists. He wrapped his hands around her fists and held them against his chest. "You stopped your neighbor from cutting down the rest of his trees. You woke me without the help of direct sunlight!"

  "We don't know if I really stopped the neighbor," she argued. "He might have just gotten tired of slaying trees. And I was desperate again when I woke you."

  "But you woke me on two separate occasions," he insisted passionately as his hair fell over his eyes. "Once in the garage and again when the harpy captured me. Maybe…maybe that's your gift, Kenz. Your magical strong point. Your forte."

  "Just give it a try," Havoc chipped in quietly.

  "Aye," I agreed softly. "Just try."

  Victor held his breath with his gaze fixed on MacKenzie while Hooligan gave a low woof and looked from his mistress to the sofa.

  It was six against one.

  MacKenzie reached up and guided Valor's hair back behind his ear. She glanced down at the piece of wood closed in her fist. "I appreciate your faith in me, guys, but I'm not sure I deserve it," she muttered. "I wish I could wake Reason, but—"

  The sound of coughing came suddenly from the sofa, followed by Victor's stunned shout.

  MacKenzie stared up at Valor. "What the—" But she didn't finish her question. As her gaze cut to the sofa, she could see that Reason had rolled onto the hardwood floor. He was on his hands and knees, gasping for air.

  Victor knelt beside him, looking shocked but happy. "I think he's okay. I think he's going to be okay," he insisted. "He isn't coughing up any water."

  "What the heck happened?" demanded a confused but ecstatic MacKenzie.

  Valor and I shared a knowing look.

  "You did it," he told her, picking her up by the waist and swinging her into a spin while Hooligan danced around them.

  "You did it," I confirmed as Valor returned her to her feet and rocked her in a hug.

  "But I never said anything," she argued, her voice muffled against Val's shoulder.

  "Yes, you did," I insisted. "You said that you wished you could wake Reason." And evidently that was enough. I have a feeling she could have woken him without speaking a single word. "You're the witch."

  She gave Havoc a high five then leaned over to pat Hooligan's scruffy head. "I'm the witch," she agreed happily.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reason was dripping wet and shaking violently, his collar-length blond hair plastered to his head. We figured he might have lost a lot of body heat in the pool, so we wrapped a blanket around him and Victor hurried him upstairs into a hot shower then got him into bed. We were all curious to find out what had gone down Texas, but Rees couldn't stop coughing long enough to tell us what had happened to him.

  MacKenzie doctored him up with some cough medicine and started some tea when she came back downstairs.

  "He's burning up," Victor muttered worriedly when he joined us in the kitchen a few minutes later.

  Mac fixed a cup of tea with honey and lemon and Reason seemed a little better after he got some of it down. He remained silent and withdrawn, however. Maybe his throat was raw and it hurt to talk, but he didn't seem all that eager to tell us what had happened in Texas.

  MacKenzie was afraid he had an infection in his throat or lungs and started talking about Dr. Anders again. Before she could go too far with that idea, I reminded her that her healing spell had worked on my barbs and told her about my side feeling better too. I guess the encouragement helped, because not too long after that she headed up the stairs with the oak rod in her hand. And an hour later, Reason was asleep, his temperature down to what she considered an acceptable level.

  We all checked on Reason several times during the day but he didn't wake up again. After dinner, I slouched beside Havoc on the couch and watched him play the video game, trying to decide if I should go down to Mim's house and wondering if she'd want to see me or not. Eventually, I decided that if she wanted to talk to me, she'd have called.

  It was a depressing revelation.

  When Havoc got tired of the game, I picked up the controller and took over. I'd reached Level Eight by the time everyone else went up to bed.

  At two o'clock, I heard Reason coughing. I knew I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon so I made him some tea with honey and lemon like MacKenzie had done earlier and headed up the stairs. I could tell that the rest of the pack was asleep from the regular rhythm of their breathing and I tried to be as quiet as possible.

  "Hey," I said softly as I opened the door to Reason's room.

  "Hey," he whispered back.

 
; With the bedroom door open, letting the light in from the hall, I helped my cousin into a sitting position then stuffed his pillows behind his back. I glanced over at Victor, sleeping in the bed below the window.

  Reason took a sip of the hot tea. "Thanks," he rasped then eyed me from beneath his tawny eyebrows. "So what's wrong with you?"

  Evidently, he could talk after all. But he seemed happier asking questions than answering them. "What makes you think anything's wrong?" I countered, and dropped into the upholstered chair beside the chest of drawers.

  Reason covered a cough with his hand. "Like most mammals, gargoyles normally sleep at night."

  I smiled. Not because Rees was being all that funny but because I was relieved to see him acting like his old cynical self.

  "And when it comes to sleeping," he added, "you normally take first prize."

  He had me there. It's not like I had many talents, but sleeping through the night and into the morning was something I generally excelled at.

  "So what's wrong?" he persisted quietly.

  I pushed out a sigh. "Do you remember Mim?"

  "How could I forget Mim?" he whispered as he lifted the cup to his lips again and took another careful sip.

  "Well, I cut off her fingers," I muttered. "And now she isn't talking to me."

  "Can you blame her?" he croaked.

  Grimly, I shook my head.

  He blew on the surface of the tea. "I suppose you had a good reason for cutting off her fingers?"

  "I don't know," I gritted. I leaned forward and braced my forearms on my knees. "What difference does it make? I don't know if she'll ever forgive me. I mean, would you? Other than murder, what could be worse than chopping off a girl's fingers?"

  "Almost drowning her?" he suggested soberly.

  I stared at him while the digital clock on the nightstand flashed the time. Although Reason's suggestion sounded flippant, his tone was heavy with guilt. "How did that happen?" I asked.

  "You first," he hedged.

  I reached up and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. "A harpy captured Mim and was holding her hostage."