Magic of the Gargoyles

by Rebecca Chastain

  “The managing editor has already hired me to cover Walter’s trial. Depending on how that goes, I could be taken on as staff. Isn’t that great?”

  “You’ll be running that paper in a year,” I said, believing it.

  Kylie glowed. “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  “Not work for Silvia Jones,” I said.

  “You quit! Good for you.”

  “Actually, she fired me.”

  “What!”

  “She sent a message this morning. Said she didn’t need someone with my ‘reputation’ in her office. Something about Jones and Sons not employing people who ‘fraternize with criminals.’ She also accused me of having a second job that was, and again I quote, ‘interfering with my performance and attendance at Jones and Sons and a direct violation of my employment contract.’ At least she’ll be sending my final check today.”

  “That woman has no business sense. She would be lucky to get someone with your reputation in her office. Good riddance!”

  I smiled. I should have been overjoyed to never return to Jones and Sons, to never have to suffer another lecture from Silvia or be condescended to by her sons again, but I was really going to miss the steady paychecks. Without my savings, even with Althea’s reduced payment for the remaining vials, I barely had enough to buy groceries after this month’s rent.

  “Now you can concentrate on running your business,” Kylie said.

  “My savings are gone, Kylie. I can’t run a business while I have no money.”

  “Throw away that five-year plan, Mika, and just leap in. Work for yourself full-time.”

  “In the meantime, Ms. Zuberrie will evict me.”

  Kylie snorted. “Evict the city hero? Hardly. She’s loving all the attention of having you here. Plus, if you leave, so will the gargoyles, and she’s not giving that up. Her cleaning spells have double their usual strength. You should see the kitchen: the tan floor tiles are white now.”

  “My shop at the Pinnacle Pentagon has already been leased. I can’t work from here—”

  “What have you been doing for the last three years?” Kylie asked.

  “That was different. Maybe if I took another quarry job . . .” I trailed off as Kylie crouched and peered under my bed. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for Mika.”

  “What?”

  “My friend doesn’t just give up, so I know you’re an impostor.”

  “I’m not giving up! I’m being prac—”

  “If you say you’re being practical, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “What would you have me do? Live paycheck to paycheck?”

  “Why not? It won’t be forever.”

  I glared at Kylie. It was easy for her to be optimistic. She was riding high from landing her dream job, and she had paychecks coming her way. I had nothing: no clients, no job, no money, no prospects. In three days, my dreams had plummeted from attainable to impossible.

  My gaze fell on Herbert. If I could do it all over again, would I do anything differently? The answer was immediate: of course not.

  I took a deep breath and pushed aside self-pity. “At least we’ll still be neighbors,” I said, meeting Kylie’s blue eyes.

  “And you won’t turn into a snob living in that hoity-toity neighborhood,” Kylie agreed.

  “And my apartment has more gargoyles than the Pinnacle does.”

  Kylie grinned. “You could charge more, too, as a gargoyle-enhanced practitioner.”

  I grinned back. This was starting to sound like it might work. “And who knows what sort of business your article will generate for me.”

  “I bet you have people lined up at the door.”

  As if in response, the front doorbell chimed.

  “That’ll be Althea,” I said. I grabbed the swaddled bundle of vials and headed for the stairs, Kylie trailing behind me.

  Althea waited in the foyer, lips pursed, nose in the air, though her shifting eyes and startled jerks at every sound coming from the kitchen spoiled her aloof airs. I wondered if she was looking for gargoyles or criminals or maybe the full-five squad to come barreling out of the dining room. Nervous or not, she inspected each vial before handing over my payment. She was just turning to leave when the door sprang open and a harried woman rushed in. Her silk clothes were rumpled and her hair had fallen from its chignon, but there was no mistaking the FSPP status in her bearing. Two boys trotted in behind her, both in their teens.

  “Ms. Gideon!” Althea said, clearly shocked to see the FSPP on my doorstep.

  “Althea Stoneward? I wouldn’t think you’d need a gargoyle healer,” the woman said, her gaze darting between me and the healer apprentice.

  “I am here on business for Blackwell-Zakrzewska—” Althea’s eyes widened and she clamped her mouth shut. I smiled. In her attempt to make herself seem more important, Althea had just endorsed my skills to an FSPP.

  “If you or Blackwell-Zakrzewska have any further need of someone skilled with quartz, Althea, please keep me in mind,” I said, making the most of the situation. Althea scowled at me before bidding the FSPP good-bye. When the door slammed behind her, Ms. Gideon’s words sank in.

  “Are you Mika Stillwater?” Ms. Gideon asked.

  I nodded, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  “Good. We need your help.” She gestured, and her oldest son stepped forward, a small gargoyle in his arms. The upper half of her body was a dog’s head, torso, and front legs; the lower half was the tail end of a sea horse, including a sea horse’s delicate fin-wings. Her entire body was composed of intricate swirls of black, gray, and red agate. The gargoyle’s gray eyes were dull and her face pinched.

  “Um, I’m not really—” trained for this, I was going to finish, but Kylie cut me off.

  “Right this way,” she said, gesturing toward the living room. The boy thrust the gargoyle into my arms and everyone marched expectantly after Kylie. I staggered behind them, excuses forming in my head. The gargoyle weighed at least forty pounds, and I sank to the floor before I dropped her. Large puppy eyes blinked at me, and then the gargoyle relaxed in my arms, completely trusting. I met Kylie’s gaze, then Ms. Gideon’s.

  “I’m willing to pay whatever it takes,” Ms. Gideon said.

  “Oh, that’s not—”

  “I’d be happy to discuss Mika’s fees while she works,” Kylie said. Kylie drew the FSPP to the side of the room, away from me. Ms. Gideon’s oldest son followed, but the younger one knelt across from me.

  “Can you help Aretha?” he asked, his voice cracking over the words.

  I looked away from his hopeful expression and into the soulful eyes of the gargoyle.

  I’d spent a lifetime honing my quartz skills to prove I was better than average, to prove that I was good enough to compete with FSPPs and worthy of others’ respect. I’d never dreamed that those skills would translate into something far more important: saving lives. I felt a rush of pride at the thought; I was a gargoyle healer.

  “Yes. I can help.”

  The End

  Ready for the next installment of the Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles? Get your copy of CURSE OF THE GARGOYLES today!

  Author Note

  Thank you for purchasing Magic of the Gargoyles. If you enjoyed my novel, or even if you didn’t, please leave a review at the retailer site where you found my novel. Reviews, good and bad, are crucial for any author’s career, and even a one- or two-line review is an enormous help.

  Thank you!

  Continue the Adventure

  Curse of the Gargoyles, the second novel in the Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles, is now available. (Tab ahead for a sneak peek.)

  For insider access regarding new releases, bonus content, and other reader fun, join Rebecca’s newsletter:

  http://www.rebeccachastain.com/newsletter/

  * * *

  For a list of all Rebecca Chastain’s novels, including her internationally bestselling humorous urban fantasy series, visit RebeccaChastain.com
.

  Also by Rebecca Chastain

  NOVELS OF TERRA HAVEN

  Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles

  Magic of the Gargoyles

  Curse of the Gargoyles

  Secret of the Gargoyles

  Lured (a novelette)

  * * *

  Terra Haven Chronicles

  Deadlines & Dryads

  Leads & Lynxes (forthcoming)

  * * *

  THE MADISON FOX ADVENTURES

  A Fistful of Evil

  A Fistful of Fire

  A Fistful of Frost (forthcoming)

  STAND ALONE

  Tiny Glitches

  Join Rebecca’s VIP List to receive free stories, bonus scenes, and extras, plus information about new releases, giveaways, and more. rebeccachastain.com/newsletter

  Excerpt: Curse of the Gargoyles

  Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles Book 2

  “How’s Oliver doing, Mika?” Kylie asked.

  I jerked and glanced up from the journal open across my lap. We sat outside at a bustling café, soaking in the afternoon sun, and while I’d started out focused on double-checking my notes about my latest patient, a prasiolite and onyx gargoyle who had ingested moldy quartz loam, I’d long since stopped seeing the words. Instead, I’d been idly spinning a pentagram of the five elements above the pages, tuning them to perfect harmony with Oliver.

  “Should I get another coffee?” Kylie asked, indicating her empty cup.

  “Let me check.” We’d been here a little over an hour. It was probably long enough.

  I nudged the pentagram into flight, lifting it above the heads of people in the busy city pentagon before zeroing in on Oliver. The half-grown gargoyle crouched two buildings over and three stories up on his favorite perch on the peak of the library’s marble facade, craning his long neck to peer over the edge to watch people come and go. Several government buildings and a few restaurants, including the café, ringed the pentagon, but Oliver preferred the magic of library users. I’d chosen the table where Kylie and I sat partially because it afforded me a view of Oliver at all times, but mostly because it was an outdoor seat close enough for me to reach him with my magic.

  The pentagram kissed Oliver’s side and dipped into his body. In the past five months, I’d perfected the elemental blend of my gargoyle companion: carnelian quartz earth, with a strong band of fire and smaller portions of wood, water, and air. I tried to be discreet and not disturb him, but he lifted his head to find me even as my magic told me he was feeling balanced and healthy.

  “He’s better now,” I told Kylie. “Between an hour or two a week here and a couple hours at the market, he’s stabilizing.”

  I let the weave dissolve and shut the journal. It’d been a gift from Kylie, and she’d had Mika Stillwater, Gargoyle Healer embossed in gold on the leather cover. After all these months, I still got the same nervous thrill at seeing my name and title together. Most of the time I still considered myself a midlevel earth elemental with a specialty in quartz—a specialty that happened to make me uniquely suited to work with the living quartz bodies of gargoyles. I loved my new career as a healer, but I kept expecting someone more powerful and knowledgeable to come along and replace me.

  Standing, I hefted my bag filled with twenty-five pounds of seed crystals that I’d purchased earlier and wedged the journal on top before tightening the drawstring. Kylie deftly wove a basket out of air and levitated the cumbersome bag to knee height. I admired her skill. I could have created the same elemental lift, but I would have needed a boost of extra magic from Oliver to help me. I grabbed the over-the-shoulder straps and used them like a leash to keep the bag close to us as Kylie collected her research books and we exited the café.

  “Do you think Oliver will stay behind this time?” Kylie asked.

  “I doubt it.” He might if I encouraged him to. I ignored the thought. “He’s not like other gargoyles. He likes to wander.”

  “I think he just likes to be near you,” Kylie said.

  “Which is the problem.” Gargoyles had a symbiotic relationship with humans. They could enhance our magic, making them coveted additions to any building or home. In turn, while they bolstered a person’s magic, they also fed off it. Despite being made of stone, gargoyles required a balance of the elemental energies to be healthy. I suspected it was why most gravitated toward busy public buildings and the households of full-spectrum pentacle potentials, or FSPPs, where the inhabitants all possessed powerful control over all five elements. Living with me, Oliver consumed mostly earth, and it threw his system out of whack, making him lethargic and potentially stunting his growth. As soon as I’d realized the problem, we’d started making frequent trips to public places where he could supplement his diet.

  “It’s not a problem,” Kylie said. “You’ve figured out how to keep him healthy, and when he’s with you, he’s happy. Besides, look at it from his perspective. He’s assisting Terra Haven’s one and only gargoyle healer. I bet the other gargoyles are jealous.”

  “Ugh. That makes me sound disgustingly self-important.”

  Oliver released a trill loud enough to turn every head in the busy pentagon, and the sound lifted my heart. He launched from the roof, startling a flock of pigeons when he unfurled enormous stone eagle’s wings from his sinuous Chinese dragon body. Oliver was a glossy orange red of almost pure carnelian, from his square muzzle and stone beard to the feathery rock tufts at the tip of his long tail. With the sun shining through his rock feathers, he looked like he was suspended on wings of fire as he dove toward us. The graceful roll of his long body through the air made it easy to forget he weighed over a hundred pounds—until he landed too hard and his stone feet clapped against the cobblestones loud enough to echo through the surrounding buildings.

  “Where are we going now?” Oliver asked. His voice had deepened as he’d grown, but it still carried the undercurrent of chimes and in no way sounded like it came from a stone throat.

  Here was the moment to encourage Oliver to stay. With the variety of elementals who frequented the library, it would be a good, healthy home for him. But the words stacked up in my throat, and I swallowed them.

  Oliver and his four siblings had been my first gargoyle healer case, and after I’d saved them, they’d stuck around to roost on the Victorian where Kylie and I both rented rooms. However, over the last few months, the other four had begun to explore various rooftops around the city, looking for more permanent homes. I kept waiting for Oliver to follow suit, all while hoping he’d stick around a little longer. Life without him was going to be lonely.

  “To the gallery and then home. Unless you have somewhere else to go, Kylie,” I said. I’d been pointedly avoiding looking at Kylie so she wouldn’t see my guilt, but I glanced her way when she didn’t respond.

  Kylie had stopped a few feet behind us, eyes riveted on a whirl of tangled air hurtling through a gap in the buildings and heading straight toward her. Though it moved fast enough to blur, I recognized her signature elemental twist on the bubble of captured sound: One of Kylie’s rumor scouts had found something.

  She pulled her white-blond hair aside as the air cupped her ear, feeding the message privately to her. Her blue eyes lit up and a flush brightened her pale cheeks.

  “Well?” I asked. “What’s the story?” If anything put that glow on my journalist friend’s face, it was the possibility of a front-page piece of news.

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I’ve got to go.”

  The weave dropped from beneath my bag and it crashed to the cobblestones, jerking my shoulder with it.

  “Oh, sorry. Here.” Kylie thrust her books into my arms. “I’ll send word if I’ll be done by dinner. Bye!” She spun and sprinted toward the nearest alley, shoulder-length hair streaming behind her as she disappeared around the corner.

  “Okay, then. It’s just you and me, Oliver.” I crouched to add Kylie’s books to my bag. This wasn’t the first time Kylie had literally raced away, chasing a story. If it
panned out, I’d find out about it tonight or tomorrow. In the meantime, I had errands to finish and work of my own. “Unless you want to stay,” I forced myself to say.

  “I want to see what sold,” he said.

  The tightness in my chest eased as I shared a smile with the little gargoyle.

  I swung one strap of the bag over my shoulder and rested the awkward, poky bulk against my left hip, leaning to the right to compensate. After two steps, I switched sides with Oliver. His long body and four stubby legs gave him a bunching, loping gate, and his back kept bumping the bottom of the bag. Perhaps little wasn’t the right term for him anymore. He was almost three feet long and half as tall with his wings closed. When he’d first come to live with me, he’d been small enough to hold. If I didn’t stunt him and he kept growing at a normal rate, he’d reach over six feet long.

  “Want to make any predictions?” I asked.

  “The gargoyle pendants will be sold out, of course,” he said. “Especially the ones of me.”

  “That goes without saying.” My lifelong dream of becoming Terra Haven’s preeminent quartz artisan had veered off course when I’d discovered I could heal gargoyles. Now, I wouldn’t change a thing, but I still enjoyed working with inert quartz, and since being a gargoyle healer provided sporadic income, I made jewelry and sold the items through a local gallery to supplement my earnings.

  “Maybe the wind current earrings, too,” Oliver said, eyeing the earrings I wore. I wriggled my head to set the earrings in motion, and the gargoyle’s bright eyes tracked the movement.

  Like all my pieces, the earrings were made out of quartz. These were carnelian—at Oliver’s request—and I’d reshaped the sturdy rock to slender, twisting ribbons so light the breeze fluttered them against my neck. Maintaining the structural integrity of the quartz while stretching it so thin took a level of skill that had taken me almost a decade to master. I owed my abilities as a gargoyle healer to those years of dedication, too. I’d worn my hair up so the sun could shine through the slivers of orange rock and catch people’s eyes. Since I was the only person in the city escorted everywhere by a gargoyle, I tended to attract attention, and I wasn’t above trading on the free advertising.