by E A Price
Martha felt like she was walking a tightrope across a lake filled with alligators that hadn’t eaten in weeks and were particularly partial to blondes.
There was a noise downstairs, and Martha smiled. At least there was one bright spot – Timber. Good job she hadn’t taken her cat with her. He was nowhere to be found when she came in the door earlier, but apparently, he had decided to resurface.
She could do with one of Timber’s haughty stares while she tried to hug him.
“Timber, baby?” she cooed as she virtually skipped downstairs. “Come to mama.”
She only let out a small scream as she found the man in her kitchen – the same man who had kidnapped her and attempted to molest her before Drago showed up. The small scream showed that she was becoming more and more used to these horrible situations. A month ago her scream probably would have woken the dead.
He barely looked alive. Bandages were covering half his face, and his damaged arm was tied against his chest. But he’d managed to find another gun.
“How did you…” Get out the hospital? Get into my house? Find another damn gun? Manage to survive?!
He swayed violently, the gun wavering.
“Where’s that fucking creature?” he rasped, his voice barely a voice at all.
“He’s… gone, far away.” She peered out the window, realizing the sun was just setting. He would be waking soon, but he was still injured, and there was no way she was sending this lunatic up to the mansion. She hadn’t been paying much attention when they brought Drago home, but she saw at least one baby and Joely’s daughter there. She wouldn’t risk their lives, never mind Drago’s. “Really, really far away.”
The man wheezed. “You’re a fucking awful liar. Where is he?”
“I just, I don’t… He’s not here, and I won’t tell you where he is,” she admitted miserably.
“I’ll cut off every single one of your fingers until you tell me.”
He was weakened and barely able to stand. She needed to do something, rush him, pick up something and throw it at him. She found herself frozen to the spot – useless as ever.
His one visible eye swiveled in the direction of the front door as they heard it open.
“Darling?” called an all-too-familiar voice.
Oh no.
“Darling? Where are you?” demanded the frantic voice of her mother.
“Mrs. Haverford, please,” Chris tried to placate her, but she could hear her mother moving around her house.
The man jerked the gun away from Martha’s direction and pointed it at the door. A door her mother was surely about to come through any second.
No, absolutely not!
Martha felt for the nearest thing to her – which happened to be a spatula – and ran at him. She managed to knock him over and violently started trying to thrash him – with the spatula.
“What on earth?” squealed her mother, intermingled with Chris’ loud swears.
As if things couldn’t get any worse, her kitchen window exploded. The room filled with growls and the irate form of an enormous gargoyle.
Chris pulled Martha away as she swung her spatula and Drago, all teeth, claws and wings grabbed the man and snapped his neck.
“Martha?” squeaked her mother.
“Mom?”
Drago, Chris, and Martha froze and looked at her. Her impeccably dressed mother was standing in the middle of the chaos, her hands on her cheeks in terror.
Martha peered around at the broken window, the shattered furniture, the dead body, the tongue-tied police officer, her cat Timber who had just arrived at the party and the glowering gargoyle.
“I can explain everything.”
Her mother fainted.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You should go home,” murmured Chris to Drago as Martha tried to make her mother more comfortable.
Chris should be the one to go home. He shouldn’t be fussing around Martha while his own mate awaited him. Drago should have said that and was going to say that, but given that he was still vibrating with fury his response came out as a growl.
Chris sighed. “Martha, tell him to go home before your mother wakes up and Portland PD arrive.”
Drago growled again, waiting for her to tell him to leave. He wasn’t planning on leaving, of course, but he expected Martha to want him to go. Moments passed, and Martha surprised him with her silence.
“Martha?” insisted Chris and Drago snapped his tail, not liking this other male giving Martha any kind of order.
Chris rubbed his forehead. “Drago…”
“I am not leaving,” he hissed.
If he let Martha out of his sight again who knows what the Avalon-loving hell would happen. He left her the previous night, and she was kidnapped. He had to leave her to sleep, and she was attacked in her own kitchen. The female was not safe to leave alone!
On waking, he had found her gone, with only her sweater in his hand. Naturally, he had come after her, and it was just luck that he had got there before that dragon dung of a human hurt her – again! He was angry with the human for coming for her again, angry with Chris for allowing Martha to leave the mansion, but most of all he was angry with Martha. Angry that she was constantly in danger, and angry because she made him care about her so damn much.
“Martha?” tried Chris again.
“Both of you, hush,” murmured Martha, “she’s coming round.”
The dead human was still in Martha’s kitchen – Chris insisted they not move him. Drago’s only regret was that his death had been less painful than he deserved. Chris called the hospital and discovered the male had managed to kill the police officer guarding him and had stolen his gun. They had been looking for him until Chris called and were on their way to Martha’s house. Chris would tell them he killed the male; Drago didn’t care about that. But he would need to leave before they arrived, though he would not go far. Would not risk leaving Martha alone, even if she would be with a crowd of human police officers – that still wasn’t safe enough.
Martha’s mother groaned as her eyelids tentatively opened.
“Mom,” exclaimed Martha in relief, leaning forward and hugging her.
The female was similar to Martha, shorter and her body slightly plumper, but Martha’s beauty certainly came from her.
“Oh, darling,” her mother exclaimed, grasping her daughter. “The local police chief called me about the beach house and about Jackie's death, and I knew you were staying there, and I was so worried!” she babbled as tears flowed down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” burbled Martha, tearing up herself. “I thought you’d be in Switzerland for a few more days; I was going to call…”
“We arrived home this morning. Carter broke both his legs, and he insisted we return home so he could get real treatment by his doctor.” She rolled her eyes. “Now, what happened with…”
Her voice trailed away as her eyes drifted away from Martha and they fixed on Drago. He remained still as a statue as her mouth dropped open. For a moment, he thought she would scream. Instead, she just let out a silent wail and pointed at him.
“I… I… I,” she stammered, “I thought I dreamed him.”
“Get in line,” murmured Martha smiling slightly.
Her mother started shaking her head. “What is he? He’s a monster! A monster! How can you both be so calm?” she cried looking at Martha and Chris.
“He’s not a monster, he’s a gargoyle,” said Martha gently.
“A gargoyle?!”
Martha nodded.
“What is he doing here, Martha?”
He felt Martha’s fear radiating from her, while something warm and furry rubbed against his foot. He looked down to see a cat circling his legs, looking up at him with a smug expression. Smug probably because two seconds later the damn beast pressed its claws into his leg and tried to us him as a scratching post.
Drago growled between gritted teeth and flexed his leg, shooing the beast away. The cat sauntered out the roo
m, its tail high, and swishing as if he was laughing at Drago.
On hearing the growl, Martha’s mother looked like she was ready to leap up and take a running jump out of the window to escape him. He merely continued to stand and watch. He was unusually calm on the outside. His wings were tucked behind him, his tail still and his hands clasped as he waited. But his heart was thundering so hard, he was surprised no one else could hear it. He would never admit it to anyone for anything, not even Martha if she offered to dribble ice cream all over his body and slowly lick it away, but he feared Martha’s answer. He was waiting for her to pretend the intimacies they had shared had never happened. Waiting for her to denounce him, just as Muriel had. He had always known she would reject him, but now that it was happening, he found he had heartburn. Which was strange as he hadn’t eaten in a while, but his heart did seem to be in pain. What other reason could his heart hurt except…
“Mom, he’s here with me,” admitted Martha shyly.
The quiet declaration made his thoughts stutter.
“What on earth do you mean?” asked her mother in horror.
Martha rose to her feet and walked over to Drago. She took one of his hands in hers, and he inhaled, watching her as she looked up at him and blushed.
“He’s with me,” she said, not looking away from him.
He searched her face for a lie, for some kind of tell that this was a new kind of cruelty, but there was nothing there. Well, there were a few things there – kindness and affection, but they always seemed to be present in Martha. At least, he thought he always detected them when she looked at him.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” said her mother.
Martha swallowed and took a deep breath. “You’re my mother, please don’t make me spell it out any clearer.”
“You can’t possibly mean…”
“I am your daughter’s boyfriend,” declared Drago, making more than one jaw drop in the room. It was not a term he particularly liked, but it would do for this purpose. To show her mother what Martha meant to him. He had done a spectacularly bad job of keeping his distance from Martha, and now, there didn’t seem to be any reason to try. She had known her mother would not take the news well, but she had not lied or tried to placate her with half-truths. Martha had claimed him, and it was about time he claimed her.
“Crimeny,” muttered Chris, rubbing a hand down his face.
Martha was surprised at first, but her face quickly flushed with pleasure.
Her mother wasn’t quite so pleased – in fact, she wasn’t pleased in the least. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” said Martha.
“But… but… look at him!”
“I am looking,” murmured Martha and she gave him the kind of look that would have had her kissed to within an inch of her life if her mother and Chris weren’t there. Possibly still if it were only Chris.
“He has wings!”
“And I like them.” She traced her spare hand up and down one, making it twitch.
“Can’t you talk some sense into her?” her mother snapped at Chris.
Surprisingly, he grinned. “Seems she has plenty of sense already, ma’am.”
“I’m in a madhouse!”
They heard the sirens approaching.
Martha looked at him regretfully. “You better go.”
“I won’t be far,” he promised gruffly, squeezing her hand.
She smiled. “Good,” she said with feeling.
He considered a brief kiss goodbye, but her mother had already fainted once that evening. Instead, he nodded at Martha, ignored the other two humans and made his way out the back.
*
Her mother didn’t say a word about Drago to the cops, for which Martha was grateful. But then, her mother was currently worried that she was suffering a mental breakdown, so Martha didn’t know if that was any better.
Chris informed the cops that the man broke in – through the shattered window, tried to attack Martha and Chris killed him in the scuffle. They believed it; mostly because they were glad the man was no longer alive to hurt anyone else and it helped that Chris was a police officer too.
Her mother remained quiet while they dealt with it all. Martha was just relieved when they took the body away. Chris also arranged for someone to come and board up her window until it could be fixed.
As she was walking her mother out to her car, she said, “Thank you for not saying anything about Drago.”
Her mother gave her a severe look. “They wouldn’t have believed me if I had. What on earth are you thinking?”
Martha shrugged. She wasn’t sure she could ever make her mother understand. To her mother, there was no possible way a man could be lovable unless he had a decent job and a healthy bank balance.
“I care about him. He’s saved my life over and over.”
“But he’s not normal! How can you ever hope to be normal with him?”
“Maybe I’m not meant for normal.”
Her mother looked at her like she had just admitted to wearing a foil hat at night because she was certain aliens were listening to her thoughts.
Martha pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Well, I, ah,” she stammered, not very used to Martha apologizing, and Martha regretted that. She hadn’t been easy to deal with as a teenager, always angry about losing her father, and jealous of her mother’s new husband and kids. She’d felt like an outsider all the time, but her mother had always tried to make her part of the family.
“I’m sorry for everything. For how difficult I’ve been over the years.”
“Nonsense, you have nothing to be sorry for. You were never difficult – even when you were a teenager. If you want to know what difficult is, try living with your brother and sister for a week.”
“I wasn’t easy.”
Her mother’s eyes turned wet. “Nothing was easy after we lost your father.”
Martha bit her lip. She knew her mother would need to find out the truth about her father eventually, but that truth should come from him. She felt queasy about keeping this from her, but she wasn’t going to spring this on her – her mother had probably been through enough for one night. Then there was the whole being a psychic thing – that wasn’t going to go down well. Though she could have done with a vision or two to let her know that A – she was going to be attacked, and B – her mother was coming to visit. What was the point of being psychic if she couldn’t use her powers to avoid unpleasant situations? She bet she couldn’t get lotto numbers either!
“You won’t tell anyone about Drago? Even Carter, right?”
“No, he certainly wouldn’t believe me,” she chuckled. “Just, be careful and call me – I want to make sure you’re still alive, and I expect you to visit once a week so I can see that you’re okay.”
“I will.”
Martha realized her mother was going to do what she always did with things she considered unpleasant – block them out, pretend they weren’t happening. It was the best scenario they could hope for.
They exchanged 'love yous' and had a tearful goodbye, and she gladly waved her mother off as she drove away.
Martha was relieved, tired, yet also pleased with the night's events. Drago called himself her boyfriend. She found herself smiling unexpectedly as she realized she had a gargoyle boyfriend.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Martha found everyone waiting for her when she returned to the mansion. Or when she was forcibly returned to the mansion. After her mother left, Drago swooped down, scooped her up and flew her there. Flying was quite nice, she liked seeing the town below – or at least she did after she worked up the courage to open her eyes and not bury her head in his shoulder.
Would Chris bring her suitcase?
Drago strode through the garden towards the amassed group of gargoyles and humans. They were all watching them. She noted her father and Danica were not among them and felt a momentary fear that he had left.
; “My dad…” she started.
“Is not a member of the clan so is not here to welcome you.”
“Welcome me? They look as welcoming as if they had torches and pitchforks,” she joked, though he didn’t react to the comment. “My dad, he…”
“Has not left, no. I would not allow him to leave you again.”
“Thank you. Maybe you should put me down,” she whispered.
“No.”
Martha wriggled in his grip. “I feel silly up here. They’re all staring.”
“I do not care.”
She tried pushing against his chest to get down, but it was like a butterfly going toe-to-toe with a rhinoceros, so she gave up and tried not to look too embarrassed by their interested faces.
“Hi,” she tried lamely.
Luc, the one who had taken charge earlier and who she understood to be with Kylie, stepped forward. He gave Drago a frustrated look – one she could relate to – and then turned his eyes to Martha.
“He did not kidnap you, did he?”
Drago snorted but said nothing.
“No, not… not really.” He didn’t give her much of a choice when he scooped her up off the ground, but she was planning on coming back anyway.
“He has not forced you to do anything?”
Drago’s arms tightened around her, and his chest heaved.
“Of course not,” she snapped.
Drago’s chest seemed to deflate again in relief.
“You are his mate?”
Martha glanced at Drago with hesitancy, but he didn’t seem uncertain at all, he just nodded.
“Then as long as you keep our secrets you are welcome.”
“Thanks, I think, I’m still a bit overwhelmed.” She glanced at Drago, but his expression was stony as usual
“Yes, there is much to discuss.”
“Oh you’ll get used to everything in no time,” dismissed Maggie. “Now come on, let’s find a bedroom for you.”
*
“What do you think of this?” growled Luc, eyeing Martha and Drago cautiously.
Kylie looked over at the new happy couple. Drago still hadn’t released her, but Martha seemed to be relaxing and didn’t seem scared or intimidated in the least by the enormous gargoyles surrounding her. In some ways, she was a lot like her cousin, Maggie.
