She retrieved a small box of tools from her bedroom and we went to work, switching the strings around.
"Does your mother know martial arts?" I asked as she stretched one of the strings.
Mim looked up at me. She shook her head and grinned. "Just belly dancing," she answered. "So the worst she can do is jiggle her tummy at you."
She was trying out a few chords when her mom stepped through the front door. As I got to my feet to greet her, she looked at me and dropped the paper bags she was carrying. An orange rolled across the hardwood floor. "How did you get here?" she demanded.
Just stick to the script, I reminded myself as I scooped up the orange and took a deep breath. "Hello, Miss Monroe. I came to apologize for what happened to Mim's hand. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am."
"It wasn't Dare's fault," Mim cut in with a swift lie. "The barn door was crushing my fingers and his knife slipped while he was trying to pry it open."
Ignoring us, Mim's mother gathered the bags from the floor and stalked into the kitchen.
"Just don't separate us," I pleaded quietly as I followed her. I opened the fridge and looked for a place to put my orange. "I'll do anything you ask. Anything."
Tight lipped, her mother opened several cupboards and started putting the food away.
"Please, Mom," Mim added as she helped her mother with the cans and packages.
Miss Monroe slanted a look in my direction. I could tell that she didn't trust me. I could also tell that she had a hard time when it came to turning down her daughter. Finally she spoke, though it was obvious she had misgivings about her decision. "Against my better judgment, I'm willing to give you a trial period of one month."
I let out a short sigh of relief. I could do it. I could convince her mom I was okay in a month. In a month, I could convince her I was a friggin' saint.
"But you can only see Mim here at the house and you can only come over when I'm home. If you're in her bedroom, you leave the door open. I'll be watching you closely."
I held her gaze. "I understand."
"And if you ever put so much as another scratch on her, I'll take a golf club to your head."
"Uhh, Mom, we don't have any golf clubs," Mim pointed out.
"I'll buy one especially for the occasion. One of those big ones. What are they called?"
"Do you mean a driver?" I volunteered helpfully. I knew how she felt. It was the same way I'd felt when Mim was in the harpy's clutches. The situation was dead serious but I was so relieved, and I was having a hard time hiding it.
"Any questions?" she snapped.
"Just one," I answered, in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that was bouncing off the walls. "Where do the oranges go?"
She didn't go for it. With an icy stare, she pointed at the bottom of the fridge where I found a drawer with two lemons and an apple. My orange joined them, looking as nervous and isolated as I felt.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked as I rubbed my palms into my thighs. "Anything you need done around the house?"
Her mouth formed a shrewd knot as her gaze narrowed on me. "I have about a cord of wood out back that I'd like someone to split."
At last, I had an excuse to smile. "I'll get right to work."
So I chopped wood while Mim sat on an old tree stump and kept me company. It was cold out in the shade behind her house but the work and Mim's smile kept me warm. Every now and again, Mim's mother would pass the kitchen window and look out at us with a curious expression on her face, as if she'd never expected to find a guy who'd chop wood for her daughter.
She had a lot to learn about me, and how I felt about Mim.
Epilogue
Looking back, it's hard to believe that Mim ever doubted my love. Now she says it's the most certain and constant thing in her life.
She's currently taking my venom every morning, highly diluted in a very tall glass of water. The first few days were really hard for me. I was afraid she might have a reaction to the poison; sometimes that happens. But thankfully, it doesn't seem to be bothering her.
At the rate we're going, we figure it will take twice as long as it took for MacKenzie to build up an immunity to the poison. But we're going to take it slow and make sure Mim's safe when I finally mark her. I don't mind waiting.
Recently, she's been getting a lot of compliments which—let's face it—she totally deserves and I love what it's doing for her confidence. Even MacKenzie's mom commented that Mim was turning into a lovely young woman. I just wish Cory Devereau hadn't asked her out again. Lucky for me, she turned him down. Mim and Mac think the venom in their bloodstream is affecting their looks and making them prettier. I don't know about that. To me, Mim doesn't look any different than the day I met her. She's always been crazy beautiful.
The day she got her bandages off, we celebrated. Havoc helped me fix macaroni and cheese and I took the casserole down to share with Mim and her mom. But when I saw what was left of Mim's fingers—the bruised stumps—I couldn't eat. Needless to say, Mim's mother ended up with a lot of leftovers.
But I think her mom is gradually warming up to me. After dinner, she asked me to build a fire downstairs in the woodstove, and it gave me a chance to spend some time alone with Mim. I got the fire started then pulled her into my arms, and for ten minutes we just stood there, locked together as close as we could get.
'Course she wasn't allowed to come with us when we made another trip out to Limon a few days ago. We didn't find any sign of our missing kin. We're convinced they had to wing it out of there in a hurry. Since they didn't get a chance to leave any signs for us, Mac suggested that we leave signs for them to find, in case they ever make it back to Limon. So we got to work.
We had to be careful because we didn't want any harpies to find the signs and follow us to Pine Grove. MacKenzie outfitted us with some spray paint and we left a rune on a shed roof close to the crash side. Nailed to the old shingles, we attached a note in a plastic bag with Mac's address. If a harpy found it, she wouldn't be able to read it. If one of our kin found it, they could ask someone to tell them what it said. Back in Pine Grove, we painted the same rune on MacKenzie's roof.
MacKenzie told us that, eventually—maybe in a year or so—the runes we'd painted would show up at online map sites. So Chaos and the others might be able to search for us on the Internet one day, assuming they made some friends who had computers. I just hoped we didn't have to wait that long before we were reunited with our family.
Which rune did we leave painted on the roofs?
The one that means "home".
As for our housing situation, with two days left before Mac's mother returned from Europe, we decided we'd have to move into the house next door. MacKenzie seemed to think the place was overpriced and showings were rare to nonexistent, so we figured we'd be safe there for a week or two while we continued our search for a rental. It was only meant to be until we found something else. MacKenzie used an old ID card to open the back door. We broke into the place and checked it out.
While Victor and Defiance took off down the hall to inspect the bedrooms, Havoc explored the kitchen then wandered into the living room. "Guys?" he said slowly, his voice echoing in the empty house. What does R-E-N-T spell?"
"Rent," I called from the dining room, without giving his question much attention.
"Where did you see that?" MacKenzie demanded as she and Valor shot out of the laundry room and hurried over to join Havoc in front of the window.
Havoc lifted his chin. "Over there, on the sign out front."
"What?" she exclaimed, peering over his shoulder.
The rest of us followed, gathering at the window. Sure enough, the place was available for rent. It was anyone's guess when the sign had been changed; we didn't drive past the property on our way to town so we hadn't seen it. The rent was pricey but the location was ideal. The only potential downside was the landlord—of course—the creepy ex neighbor. But according to the leasing agency, he's living in Alask
a and they're managing the property for him. So hopefully, we'll never have to deal with him.
But if he does come back, we'll deal.
With MacKenzie's help, we filled out the lease applications and got them turned in. At first, it looked like money might be a problem because we had no credit history but when we offered three months' advance rent, the leasing agency decided we were a good risk.
So, now we have our own place.
I could tell that Valor hated leaving MacKenzie's home even though he was only moving next door. He didn't like to leave her without his protection. But we didn't have much choice since MacKenzie's mother was going to be spending more time at home after she returned from her vacation in England.
We tried to tell him there wasn't any real danger. The scary neighbor was gone and Hooligan would never let anything happen to his MacKenzie. Besides, Mac was turning into a kickass witch who could take care of herself. On top of all that, we were only like a hundred feet away and our gargoyle-hearing guaranteed we'd know if MacKenzie ever needed help; we could be over there in thirty seconds. But I knew how he felt; I felt the same way about Mim. I still hoped to move into her basement one day, after I'd won her mother's confidence.
Anyhow, we spent the next day carrying our clothing from MacKenzie's place to the house next door. We didn't own much besides our clothes and a few tools but we've picked up a few things since then; things we found online and at thrift stores. And Mrs. Campbell donated a kitchen table while Mim's mom let us have an old couch.
I really do think she's warming up to me.
And Mac's father threw in a bed and a desk. We got to meet the other half of MacKenzie's family when we went down to Denver to pick up the furniture. Havoc just happened to have his clogs with him and did some dancing for the kids. They stood in the garage and held their hands over their ears and screamed their heads off. I guess they were pretty impressed. I don't know. It's hard to tell with little kids.
Mac's twelve-year-old stepsister tried out the wooden shoes but they were way loose so Havoc promised to carve a smaller pair for her, then come over and practice with her. You should have seen the way she looked up at him. You'd have thought he'd promised her the moon. I guess she's normally pretty shy so MacKenzie's dad was pleased at the way they hit it off.
But here's the real news from Pine Grove.
The other day, we were all over at MacKenzie's place for lunch, when someone knocked on the front door. We hadn't heard a car pull up the driveway but we could tell that the person behind the door was okay. They weren't dangerous or anything like that. But Valor and Hooligan went to the door with Mac, just to be safe.
Curious, I stepped from the kitchen so I could see what went down in the entry. A slender girl stood on the doorstep. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the freckles scattered across her nose made her look young, probably younger than she actually was.
"Can I help you?" MacKenzie asked politely.
"I hope so," she started hesitantly, her gaze searching into the house. "I understand a box was recently shipped here from Mr. Hamilton in Texas."
"That's right," Mac answered cautiously as Valor put his arm around her shoulder.
"I just wanted to make sure it got here okay," she went on.
"We received the shipment," MacKenzie answered a little stiffly, as if she was starting to wonder what was going on and didn't want to reveal anything more than she had to.
"Was the angel inside the crate…was it…was he okay?"
"Angel?" MacKenzie exclaimed, obviously taken by surprise. None of us think of Reason as anything remotely like an angel. He's way too cynical to make good angel material. "I'm not sure I understand your question."
"I just want to make sure he's okay," she insisted stubbornly. "Could I see him?"
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," MacKenzie replied and started to close the door.
"Please," she said quietly but desperately. "I know it sounds bizarre, but that angel saved my life."
As MacKenzie hesitated, I turned and looked at Reason sitting on the barstool in the kitchen. His deep blue eyes were shocked wide as his gaze connected with mine.
"Elaina," he whispered.
###
REASON
A GREYSTONE NOVEL
Book Three
by
Taylor Longford
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Reason's Prologue
Almost every gargoyle can tell you a story that involves a close call with a harpy. My father was a young warrior during the great harpy wars that almost wiped out our race, and he told some spine-chilling tales of battle and survival. Everybody loves stories like that.
My story's a little different.
It starts back in England in the middle of the thirteenth century. Back then, my father and brothers and I lived with the rest of our pack in a fair-sized community of gargoyle families. Our homes formed a square on the east side of York, just north of the bridge over the River Foss. The two-story houses enclosed a grassy courtyard on three sides, where we kept sheep and goats and even a few horses. A low wall closed off the south side of the yard, and looked out on another square of houses across a wide road. Most of our human neighbors didn't know about gargoyles but there were a few good people in town that we trusted with our secret.
I'd turned fifteen that summer and it was my responsibility to water the livestock every morning. I'd just filled the trough behind the house when Defiance called me to the other side of the yard where he was using the wall to mount his horse. The sky was blue and the grass was springy underfoot as I loped toward him, the smell of wood smoke from the morning cooking fires drifting on the air.
Beyond the wall, the sun splashed down on a family of small children playing in front of their home. Three youngsters chased each other around in a game of tag while a toddler sat with an upturned bowl between his chubby legs and banged the round wooden top with a stick. On a large island known for its dreary weather, it could easily be described as a glorious day.
"You should have bargained for a shorter horse," I taunted my cousin when I reached him, shaking my head when I thought about how much his father had paid for the long-legged creature.
"I'll grow into this one," he answered with his usual stubbornness.
"She's a beauty," I admitted, reaching up to stroke the horse's neck. The mare was a deep golden color with black mane and stockings.
"Come on up," Defiance offered, patting behind him on the horse's back. "I'll give you a ride down to the river."
A lift to the river sounded good but before I could step up onto the wall to mount the mare, a large black sail appeared in the sky above the house across the street. On a beautiful sunny day when you're not expecting trouble, you don't react right away. Several heartbeats went by before I realized what I was looking at. We hadn't sensed the monster's evil presence because she wasn't close enough yet. Following my startled gaze, Defiance whipped his head around and muttered beneath his breath, "Harpies."
It was a strange sight and one to put ice in your veins. Harpies usually hunted at night and rarely flew in the daytime, at least not in places where anyone might see them. This one must have gotten into some fermented apples. It was the only thing that could explain her lopsided flight and reckless behavior. But "strange" swiftly changed into something much more ominous.
Because, as we watched, we saw several more dark shapes tilting wildly over the town.
Defiance cursed a medieval oath. I saved my breath and hurdled the wall, sprinting toward the children. Behind me, I could hear the voices of my family and pack, the men telling the young gargoyles like me to take cover, Havoc's mother calling his name.
Ignoring all of that, I raced across the road to the little ones. If a harpy got hold of me, she probably wouldn't kill me. A harpy wouldn't take a gargoyle's life unless she had no other choice. The human children were another matter. As far as harpies were concerned, they were just tender morsels for the cooking pot.
"Run," I shouted at the children. "Get inside." The three youngsters stopped their game and stared up at me. Uncertain looks creased their small faces. "Get inside," I roared and pointed upward. "Harpies!"
They knew what harpies were. Though humans tolerated their presence in and around York, the winged demons were routinely blamed for lost livestock and missing travelers. And wherever people got together, in the market or outside churches, men traded stories of monsters that dropped out of the sky and attacked at night.
The children turned toward the open doorway as I continued my race in their direction. The oldest lad scooped the toddler into his arms and disappeared into the house. The young girl grabbed the hand of her little sister and followed. The harpy reached the girls a split instant before I did, clawing at the smaller one's skirt and yanking her away from her sister. I pulled my knife and dove for the child, slashing my blade at the heavy fabric of her dress and separating her from the harpy's talons. Rolling on the ground, I shoved the tiny lass through the open door.
The harpy lifted back into the sky with the tattered cloth clutched in her talons. She didn't realize right away that she'd lost her prey. When she did, she wheeled in the air and shot toward me, screaming in fury. She made a grab for me but I scrambled into the house and slammed the door behind me.
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