Frey

by Faith Gibson

  “Where the fuck did you run off to? And don’t lie to me, Abigail. You know you can’t lie to me. I have eyes on you.” Troy was in her face, voice low so nobody could hear their conversation.

  “I had to sign a permission slip for Matt.” Abbi shifted her purse strap higher on her shoulder, keeping her eyes on his. She found out a long time ago looking Troy in the eyes was better than looking away. At least if she was looking at his face, she could see him getting ready to hit her.

  “Next time, you tell me when you leave and where you’re going. Do you understand me? Sneaking out of the house looks really suspicious.”

  “I didn’t sneak out; I left you a note on the kitchen table.” That was the truth. She knew better than to just leave. “I have to get my stuff inside and get to the bus lane. Have a good day at work.” Abbi stepped away from Troy, but he grabbed her arm before she could go far. He moved his grip to the back of her bicep, pinching hard. “Owww,” she hissed, trying to pull away.

  “Where’s my kiss, Abigail?” Troy yanked her roughly to him, slamming his mouth against hers. There was no passion, no love in the kiss, only harsh brutality. As soon as he released her, she hurried away. Other teachers were arriving, and she took advantage of their presence to ignore her husband.

  Abbi spent the better part of the day thinking about Frey Hartley. Why did she have to meet him now? In the five years she had been married to Troy, not once had she thought about cheating on him. Leaving him? Definitely. But never cheating. She wasn’t perfect by any means, but she took her wedding vows seriously, even if Troy didn’t. Abbi knew he cheated on her, but that was on him. He had to live with his own conscience. If she were honest with herself, she was glad Troy found other women to have sex with. It kept him away from her. Even if she wanted to have an affair, there’s no way she could get away with it. Troy reminded her daily of the people he had watching her.

  It was better for her if she just forgot about Geoffrey Hartley. Thinking about him and the way he touched her would only bring about feelings she couldn’t follow up on. She had made her bed when she married Troy. Now she was lying in it.

  Troy sat in his cruiser outside the school. Abigail shuffled the children off the buses into the building. She smiled at every one of the kids, greeting them by name. Those smiles were genuine, heartfelt. Abigail never looked at him that way. He couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at him with something other than fear. If she wasn’t so goddamn pretty, he wouldn’t have to scare her. If she wasn’t so pretty, the other men wouldn’t want her, but then again, neither would he. Troy was a good-looking man. He knew it. All the women told him so. All the women except one. Even in high school when they first started dating, it was like he was her second choice. Her first choice would have been that fuckhead on the football team. Troy took care of him, though. Busted his pretty boy face up good. Fucker.

  Troy had worried about going to different colleges, but he convinced his buddy George to keep an eye on her. Like the good girl she was, Abigail went to class, work, and back home. If it wasn’t for her dipweed brother, she would more than likely have lived in a dorm just to get away from her aunt. That was the only time Troy had been grateful for Matthew. Abigail didn’t move to campus because she was afraid of leaving Matthew alone with Judy. Ah, Judy. If Abigail had known the truth about her aunt, she never would have married Troy. It was a good thing his charm worked as well as it did back then.

  As soon as his wife had all the kids safely inside the school, she left her post and headed in to begin her day. He really didn’t know what she did in there. Didn’t care. All he knew was staying in that schoolhouse for seven hours every day kept her out of trouble. Away from the prying eyes of men who might want her. There were a few men teachers, but they were either old or faggots. Yep, his Abigail was safe as long as she was in the school.

  Troy walked into the precinct a few minutes late. Normally he looked forward to going to work, but now they had that new queer detective strutting around like a fucking peacock. Speaking of Jenkins, he was headed toward the chief’s office. Troy knocked into his shoulder as he walked past.

  “What the fuck, Quinn?” Jasper asked, but Troy kept walking, giving him a middle finger. What was the chief thinking, hiring a queer from out West? They were in the South for Christ’s sake. The fairy needed to go back where he came from and keep to his own kind, and he needed to take the weirdo from the crime lab with him. What kind of professional had fucking purple hair? The kind that attracted fairies like the detective. He had taken up for the kid yesterday. Fucking faggots. Troy would just have to find a way to make him want to go back West.

  Chapter Five

  Instead of going back to the speed bag, Frey re-taped his hand and hit the punching bag. If it wasn’t so early, he would find one of the Clan to spar with. He needed to release some adrenaline. The bag he was currently attacking had been specially made for him. Too many times he or one of the Gargoyles had taken to a bag and decimated it within minutes, forgetting their strength. Frey could shred the bag if he tried, but that would draw too much attention.

  What he really needed was to meditate. If he were at home, he would lose himself in the solitude of his woods or his lake and sit quietly until his mind stilled. Since he was the only one working the counter, he didn’t have that luxury. So, he did the next best thing; he hit something. Mason was due any minute to watch over the gym while Frey was gone to sword training. If he were an older Gargoyle, Frey would tell him to glove up and they would enjoy a little morning sparring. At fifteen, Mason was the youngest Clan member. With his Gargoyle blood, he appeared as though he was in his twenties. In just a few years, he would reach maturity and look to be in his thirties. Frey noticed Mason looking a little older every day. He needed to speak with Rafael about that.

  Speaking of the young Goyle, Mason walked right by Frey without speaking. His young cousin was definitely preoccupied. Frey punched, jabbed, and kicked the bag several more minutes. He kept watch out of the corner of his eye for Mason to come find him. When he didn’t, Frey went looking for him. Mason was sitting at Frey’s desk, his chin against his chest. Frey leaned against the door frame, removing the tape from his hands. When Mason still didn’t look up, Frey cleared his throat. Mason raised his head and leaned back in the large, leather chair. “What’s wrong?” Frey asked as he took the seat across from the desk.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I’ve been feeling out of sorts for a while, and today’s really bad. I’ve tried meditating, but my brain is so foggy, I just can’t sit there. One minute, I feel like I’m going to lose my lunch, and the next…” Mason shook his head.

  Frey finished for him, “And the next you feel like you want to annihilate the world?” Frey was pretty sure what was wrong with his cousin. He felt the exact same way, only he had felt that way for the last couple of hours, not days.

  “How did you know?” Mason sat up, focused.

  “Let me ask you something. Where have you been going, besides the gym?”

  “Sometimes I hang out at the lab with Julian. Other than there and home, I go to Rafael’s office. When he’s out of town, or going to be late, I make sure Willow gets in safely. I know the building’s secure, I still have to make sure she’s ok, you know?”

  Frey did know. It was in their Gargoyle nature to take care of the humans, especially the weaker ones. So, Willow was Mason’s mate. Frey couldn’t believe how many of the Clan were finding their mates so quickly. The fates must have flipped a switch all of a sudden. Rafael really needed to speak to the other Clan leaders and fill them in on the mating possibilities. “My brother, I do believe you’ve found your mate.”

  Mason opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Mason had the appearance of a man, but in truth he was still a boy. Gargoyle lives were so different than humans. When Mason was old enough, he came to live with Rafael to be trained. Several years had passed, and he was growing into a fine young Goyle. His training included fighting and
patrolling, not how to handle women. Hell, Frey was almost six hundred years old and still didn’t know much about the fairer sex. With Gargoyle females becoming extinct, the males had pretty much given up hope in finding mates.

  “I don’t know anything about females,” Mason said as he stood and paced the room.

  Frey stood and got in his space, placing his large hands on his cousin’s shoulders. “Welcome to the club, Brother. I am pretty sure I found mine this morning as well, and let’s just say that’s one fucked up mess.”

  Mason glanced up at Frey’s face, grinning. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Don’t look so happy about it either. If I’m miserable that means you’re gonna be miserable, because I’m going to need a sparring partner.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Frey laughed, remembering the last time they’d been in the ring together. Mason was strong since he had shifter blood, but he was no match for the older, experienced martial arts expert. “Let’s get you out front. I have to head over to the armory and meet Uri.” Frey was looking forward to sparring of a different sort.

  By the time Frey and Uri reached Dante’s estate, the rest of the Clan who were scheduled to train had arrived. Most of the Gargoyles owned large pieces of property in and around New Atlanta. Dante’s was the most open, therefore, the most conducive to a training field. Every member of the Clan had access to each other’s property in case of emergencies. The gates were secure with voice activated entrance.

  It had been almost two centuries since the Stone Society had felt the need to train with swords. There were a few poisons in the world that could take down a full grown Gargoyle, but if you wanted to be certain one was dead, you needed to decapitate him. The females were susceptible to some of the more severe human diseases.

  Rafael’s father, the previous King, had been slain two hundred years earlier. The cheating bastard of a Gargoyle who took his head thought if he killed Edmondo Di Pietro, he would automatically step into the role of King. He was wrong. The throne would have gone to Rafael, even if he hadn’t beheaded the one who’d slain his father. That had been the last time any of the Stone Society had needed a sword. Until now.

  With the exception of the Unholy causing chaos, the Clan’s lives had been fairly calm. With Gordon Flanagan missing, the Unholy were growing more chaotic every day. Frey was responsible for Flanagan being missing. He shot his helicopter out of the sky when the bastard was gunning for Tessa. His body hadn’t been found. Yet.

  Uri passed out the practice swords the Clan kept secure at the armory. He learned the art of swordsmithing from his father, who learned it from his. Over the years, the alloys used in the swords changed as each male learned of a better combination for lighter, more lethal weapons. The swords they were using for practice were different than the ones Uri forged personally for each Gargoyle. Julian had found a way to boil high concentrations of hellebore root so that Urijah could add it to the liquid metal. Striking another Gargoyle with their swords would slow their opponent down, giving them an added advantage.

  The Goyles paired up. Like riding a bicycle, it didn’t take long until the weight and movements of the swords became second nature. Urijah and Frey were sparring with each other. The loud clanging of many swords eventually eased to the sparking of only two. Fairly evenly matched, Frey and Uri entranced the others with their artistic footwork and choreographed movements. When they finally stopped, a loud ovation broke out from the other Clan members. Frey grinned, feeling alive.

  Instead of taking the swords back to the armory, they stored them in Dante’s garage. Frey got in his Jeep and headed back to the gym. The last few hours had taken his mind off Abbi. She had signed the consent form, so hopefully Matthew would show back up to begin his training soon. When he pulled in the lot, he parked in his reserved spot. It was late afternoon, which meant Matthew could arrive at any moment. The women’s self-defense class was underway. Mason was an excellent teacher, even if his good looks often distracted the women. Frey would love to convince Abbi to join one of the classes.

  Every time the door opened, Frey anticipated Matthew walking in. He really needed to get his head on straight where the boy was concerned. Even if he was the brother of Frey’s mate, he didn’t need to show partiality. He definitely couldn’t go easy on him. At fifteen minutes after nine, the bell over the door chimed, and this time it was the kid. His face was flushed as if he’d been running.

  “Am I too late?” he asked, as he attempted to catch his breath.

  “Depends on the reason,” Frey told him honestly. If the kid had a legitimate excuse for being so late, he would still start his training tonight.

  “I couldn’t get away from work. One of the other busboys called in sick, so that left only me. If I can’t train, maybe I could hit the weights or something since I’m already here.” Matt was shaking his hands out and dancing on the balls of his feet.

  An idea popped into Frey’s mind, and his mouth spit it out before he could stop himself. “Why don’t you come work here?” Dammit, you’re already getting involved.

  “Really? Like, uh, what kind of work?” Matthew raised his eyebrows and stopped bouncing.

  “I need help cleaning the showers, washing the towels, things like that. I will pay you whatever you’re making now, and that will cut out the drive time between your job and here.” Frey didn’t need someone doing those chores, but it meant Matthew would have more time to train.

  “I don’t know what to say. Why would you do that?” The kid was skeptical, and Frey really couldn’t blame him. They’d met once.

  “Say yes or no; it’s up to you. The why is because I like you and want you to succeed. No hidden agendas.” And because hopefully one day, you and I will be family.

  “Yes. Okay, yes! Thank you. I will need to give notice, but after that I’m all yours.” The kid was back to bouncing.

  Frey laughed at his eagerness. “Then come on. I’ll show you to the locker room and you can change. We won’t train this late, but we can hit the bags.” Frey showed him where to get changed and to stow his backpack. Frey taped their hands before going through a series of stretches. Taking Matt to the speed bag, he showed him the proper technique. It usually took newbies a while to get the hang of the small bag, but Matthew caught on quickly. The teen was a little taller than average but fairly skinny. He would need to change his eating habits, adding in quite a few more calories if he planned on putting on any muscle.

  Next, Frey handed Matt a jump rope as he took one for himself. They had only been jumping for a few minutes when he heard his cell phone ring. It was Rafael’s ringtone. “Keep jumping, I’ll be right back,” he told the kid and retrieved his phone. “Yo, Rafe, what’s up?”

  “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. I wanted to find out how training went.”

  “I’m working out a new client right now, but I have a few minutes. Training went well. Everyone found their groove fairly quickly. Uri was magnificent, as always.”

  “Well, he should be. For someone as talented as he in making the swords, he should be able to wield one better than the rest of us.” Rafael’s admiration for their cousin was evident in his voice.

  “Truth, Brother. How is Maria? Any word from Dante or Gregor?” Frey hated being out of the loop where his family was concerned.

  “We came close to losing Maria. She flatlined, but the nurses brought her back. I had a meeting with Jonas, and let’s just say he’s on board with whatever we need from him. There’s a long story regarding him and Maria, but the short of it is Maria is an old family friend. She’s aware of the Gargoyles, and she knows exactly who Jonas is. He is pulling strings and taking over her care. As soon as she’s able to be moved, he’s bringing her to New Atlanta.

  “Jonas has also reached out to Athena for assistance. Since Isabelle was taken to Poros, we believe Alistair is behind the kidnapping. Nobody knows his holdings better than my mother. She has promised to help as much as she can. As for Dante, I spoke to him earlier. T
hey know where Isabelle is, so they plan on rescuing her first. It seems he and Isabelle’s son have some sort of mental connection. Hopefully that will allow them to find him quickly and bring everyone home soon.”

  “Let’s hope so. Listen, I still need to talk to Kaya, but that can wait until tomorrow. I’ll stop by the station to see her. Hang on a second.” Frey covered the phone and told Matthew, “Take a break.” He returned to Rafe, “I need to go. Don’t want to have my client pass out on the first day. I’ll talk to you soon. Be well, my King.”

  “And you, Cousin.”

  Matthew was sipping water. “Sorry about that, family stuff,” Frey said. Even though Matthew was a teen, he didn’t want him to feel as if he weren’t important.

  “Believe me. I understand about family stuff,” Matthew muttered as he tossed the paper cup in the trash.

  That, Frey absolutely did believe. Now, he needed to gain the teen’s trust and learn all he could about Abbi.

  Chapter Six

  Abbi was slow getting out of bed. She’d long given up in convincing Troy it wasn’t how many times you had sex but when that determined getting pregnant. She was on bus duty again this morning, so she couldn’t be late. However, after school she was going to the pharmacy to buy an ovulation kit. Somehow, she was going to avoid having sex during that time. If that didn’t work, she would find a way to go back to her doctor and get one of the shots that lasted six months. Even if Troy found out, there wouldn’t be anything he could do to her at that point. Nothing worse than he already did.