by Jasmine Walt
Or so she thinks.
“This place is amazing!” She looks around, following me into the living room. I set the papers on the coffee table, not needing to read through them. I’ve filled out this form a thousand times and can read it in my sleep.
“Thanks. I haven’t decorated much. Or at all, really. But it’s in decent shape. There are a few things that need to be updated, but it’s not too bad.”
“Once you get everything done, this place is going to be amazing. You need to have a housewarming party just to show it off.”
“Give me like five years to get started on that,” I say with a laugh. “And at least another three to figure out how to decorate.”
“If you want to bounce ideas off of me, feel free. I’ve been binging HGTV lately when Mavy wakes up in the middle of the night. Which has been nightly for the last three weeks.”
“Sounds rough.”
She nods. “It is. But I’d do it all over again.” She looks around the house, her gaze landing on the dining room. Specifically, the five table settings. “I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner,” she apologizes. “Especially when you have guests.”
“It’s fine. It’s just my cousins,” I say, going with a lie I’ve previously told. “They’re back in town.”
“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to dinner. See you tomorrow.”
I walk her to the door and watch to make sure she gets into her car safely. As she’s driving away, the headlights of her car illuminate what looks like a person hiding in the bushes. I jump off the porch and race down the cobblestone path. I’m not wearing shoes, and I don’t have my gun.
Neither stop me.
“Ace?” Gilbert calls from inside the house. I can feel their presence behind me, sprinting out to defend me against the monster that’s lurking in the yard.
Only it’s not a monster. It’s fucking Jared, and he has his video camera again. He tries to run away, but smacks face-first into a tree in his attempt to leave. His camera smashes into his face, lens cracking from impact.
I tackle him to the ground, so wishing I had cuffs on me. I give him props for being persistent, and he’s definitely onto something. But dammit, I can’t let him get away with this.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, pulling him to his feet. “Again?”
“They’re not there!” he stammers, pointing to the house.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a hold of his arm and start directing him to the house.
“They were there and now they’re not!” His eyes are wide with disbelief, and he walks toward the house without resisting just so he can get closer. Then he realizes what’s going on and jerks away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m arresting you.”
He spins around, jaw falling open. “You can’t arrest me.”
“Watch me.”
“All I did was trespass.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s illegal.”
“But I can’t go to jail for it.”
I push him forward again. “Glad you know more than me. I’m only a lowly detective who didn’t study law enforcement in college before joining the police force.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Like find murderers? Yes. But it’s hard when this teenage boy keeps harassing me.”
“I’m not—you can’t.” He looks at me, face paling for real this time. “I could get in trouble for that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
We go up the stone steps and Jared slows, looking at the posts where Gilbert and Thomas usually sit. I direct him to the living room and have him sit on the couch. One of the guys lands on the roof, hard and heavy and totally done on purpose.
Jared jumps.
I get my phone, but instead of calling this in, I grab that Memorial Day invite and call Jared’s father. His phone rings once. Twice. Three times before he answers. Jared’s dad has my number, but he still sounds startled when he answers.
“Hello, Richard,” I start. “This is Detective Ace Bisset from down the road.” I turn and look at Jared, enjoying the panic on his face a little too much. “I just caught your son sneaking around my house with a video camera and was hoping you could come get him.”
Richard sputters. “I’ll be right there. I am so sorry, Detective. I…I’m speechless. Jared is a good kid.” I hear keys jingling in the background. “He has a girlfriend. I don’t know why he’d film you. Not that you’re not attractive or anything. That’s not the point.”
Oh. Ew. His dad thinks Jared was sneaking around trying to get a shot of me naked or something. I wonder if the truth is comforting or concerning.
“Right. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up and turn back to Jared. He’s going through the footage he recorded. I hold out my hand for the camera. With a sigh, he hands it over.
“Why are you protecting them?” he asks as I delete what he recently recorded.
“Protecting who?”
“The gargoyles.”
Seriously, kid? “I’m not. Because I can’t. They’re just stone statues.”
“They were there, then they were gone. Then back again. And now gone again. You can’t remove them and put them back up over and over like that. It’s just not possible.”
He leans back on the couch and looks at me, arrogance lost. “I’ve lived out here most of my life. I’ve been past this house more times than I can count. And the gargoyles were always there.”
“Call me crazy, but people can redecorate.”
“Bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth,” I scold. “Or maybe I’ll change my mind and I’ll feel safer putting that teenage peeping Tom behind bars for the night.”
He swallows hard. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Darla’s seen them too. And she has nightmares about them. If you’re protecting them…I’m going to find out.”
Dammit. I want to hit something right now. Leave it to this stupid meddling kid to make me feel like the bad guy in Scooby-Doo right now.
“Listen,” I say, recognizing something in Jared that I see in myself. “If I’m strong enough to protect four ancient gargoyles who come alive at night, then I’m not someone you want on your bad side.”
Right on cue, one of the guys jumps down from the second-story balcony, and the sound of wings flapping echoes through the house. Jared jumps, twisting around to try and see into the dark room behind us.
The color drains from his face.
“You’re looking for something you’re not prepared to find,” I tell him. “I get needing to find answers and the compulsion to dig deeper. Trust me, I get it. That’s what I do for a living, after all. But this…the only thing you’ll be digging is your own grave.”
I think I laid it on a little too thick there. Oh well. Maybe scaring the shit out of him will finally keep him away. I don’t really want to arrest him and have any sort of paper trail leading anyone to the house and the guys. And I really do understand. If he wasn’t such a pain in the ass, I might admire the kid’s drive to uncover the truth.
The house shudders the way it does when the back door is opened and shut. A moment later the porch lights go out. Jared just about jumps out of his skin and peers through the curtained living room window. We’re in a room at the front of the house, right off the foyer.
“I really am sorry,” he says, voice wavering. “I didn’t mean to piss you off and make you go all ragey.”
I cross my arms. “Stop playing victim.” A car turns into the driveway. “Does your dad know?”
“Know what?”
“That you think the gargoyles are real.”
He looks away. “No.”
Nodding, I step away from Jared and move to the front door, wanting to get Richard inside as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have time to stop and look for the gargoyles. Or lack thereof.
He’s almost to the steps when I open the door, too flustered to notice anything. Thomas and Gilbert have taken
their spots again, wings drawn up around them to hide their human features. They’re as still as stone, and if you didn’t know any better, it would be all too easy to pass them by in the dark and assume they are statues.
“I am so sorry and so embarrassed,” Richard says as soon as he’s in the house. Gilbert lowers his wings, looks over his shoulder at me, and winks. Keeping my face neutral, I shut the door behind us and motion to the living room.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He rounds on Jared. “Trespassing? Trying to get pictures of her?” He runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Do you want to be labeled a sex offender for the rest of your life?”
“Dad,” Jared starts. “I wasn’t taking pictures of her!”
“Then what in the hell were you—we’ll talk about this at home. Did you tell Detective Bisset you’re sorry?” Richard shakes his head.
“Yes, I did. And I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” I say.
“Get up,” Richard orders Jared. “You have no idea how lucky you are she didn’t press charges or arrest you herself.”
I walk them to the door, mind made up about that stupid picnic. There’s no way in hell I’m going. My hand lands on the doorknob and I mentally reach out, seeing if the guys are still on the porch. They are, and I feel them before I see them.
“No!” Jared recoils. “No, no, no! They weren’t there a minute ago!”
Richard grabs Jared’s arm and gives him a swift jerk. “Not this again.”
“I’m not crazy, Dad!”
“In the car. Now,” Richard says through gritted teeth, making me feel bad for the kid. He’s not crazy, but what the fuck is anyone supposed to believe? Gargoyles don’t come to life and move around. Magic isn’t real. Anyone who says otherwise is crazy.
I believed it.
And now I’m living it.
Fuck, this sucks. Jared is an arrogant prick but he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a crazy person. He doesn’t need to be taken to therapy and prescribed drugs for a condition he doesn’t have.
Because magic is real. These gargoyles are actually men. And monsters do exist.
I don’t have time for this, and my brain is already fried. The only thing I need to worry about when it comes to Jared is keeping him the hell away from my house and yard.
I should have made the circle bigger. Crowding in the salt circle I made on the living room floor, I inhale deeply, trying to draw energy in around me. I’m sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, holding out my hands. Thomas links his fingers through mine and meets my gaze.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” I push my shoulders back, thinking I should have put my hair up into a bun or something. There are white candles along the salt line, bringing in positive energy. Or so the grimoire said. After going over the notes I made this morning with Jac, we decided a generic curse-breaking spell would be the best to try first. The spell works by banishing negative energy, which is used to send and create curses.
We’re sitting in a circle of salt for protection, have white candles all around us, and the mixture of herbs in the bowl near me will help vanquish negativity once they’re burned. Jacques said there’s a note added in there that makes him believe this spell has been used many times for centuries by my ancestors.
Despite it all, I still have a hard time believing in this shit.
Millions of people light candles every day and they don’t do spells. Thousands burn stinky herbs, like the mix I have in a bowl next to us. And even more believe in positive energy, karma, and a higher power looking out for them.
But to me, this still feels like a joke.
I look into Thomas’s eyes. He was born over a thousand years ago and doesn’t look a day over thirty. He turns to stone when the sun rises. He has wings.
Magic is real. Obviously. So why is this so hard for me?
Gilbert and Jacques are behind me, watching. Hasan is outside, keeping an eye out on the yard to make sure there aren’t any more interruptions tonight. Having an audience behind me makes me nervous, and though Gil won’t admit it, I know he’s worried about his brother. Who the hell knows what could happen.
I get to work, still feeling like I’m a B-grade actress in a low-budget paranormal movie, and grab the bowl of herbs, taking a sage smudge stick from inside and lighting it. Once the smoke starts billowing, I waft it around Thomas and force myself to concentrate.
“Do you feel anything?” I ask him.
“I feel like coughing,” he replies with a smirk, turning his head away from the smoke.
“Glad this is working.”
“You have to power it, Acelina,” Jacques says, voice coming from behind me. “The curse is there, inside or around or maybe both. You need to reach in—metaphorically, of course—and feel it. Find out what powers it, and how to break it.”
Setting the smudge stick down, I take Thomas’s hand again and let my eyes fall shut. Once more, I’m painfully aware of everything I shouldn’t be thinking about, though this time, I’m able to push it away.
Focusing on the warmth of Thomas’s skin on mine, I listen to my heart beating. The thumping in my ears fades away, and another heartbeat starts to echo in the distance. I squeeze Thomas’s fingers, and his heartbeat grows louder and louder in my head.
Show me the curse. Something dark rushes out at me. Show me the curse. Red eyes peer out from the darkness. The sound of crickets surrounds me, and moonlight reflects off a still pond. Pain radiates through my entire body, and I’m cold.
Lifeless.
Dead.
I’m watching from above my body, looking down at my tattered dress pushed up around my waist, at the thick blood dripping from my mouth, and the bruises on my neck from being strangled. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror of death, but the body on the ground doesn’t belong to me.
It’s Braeya.
Shadows rush, cloaking me in darkness once again. Then someone screams. It’s a broken-hearted, defeated cry, and I once again get a flash from above. An older man scoops up Braeya, holding her close as he sobs.
Something falls out of her clutched hand, shining under the stars. Braeya’s father brushes her hair back, using his sleeve to wipe away the blood from her face. His tears fall, and darkness starts to swirl above us.
With trembling fingers, he picks up the shiny object, holding it up to the moonlight to see what it is. My own heart skips a beat, and whispers of the curse circle me. It’s covered in blood, but there’s no mistaking the object in Braeya’s hand. It’s a crucifix, and there’s only one reason she’d have it.
Jacques.
I yank my hands out of Thomas’s and fall back, almost landing on a candle. Jacques catches me, moving the candle out of the way just in time. I push myself up, scrambling to my feet.
“Fucking hell,” Thomas mumbles, rubbing his forehead. “Did you see all that too?”
I nod and look at Jacques. Everything rushes back and things start to click into place.
Braeya and her father were trying to get inside information on the Templar Knights, and already had a chip on their shoulder—rightly so—for the Knights trying to force Christianity onto them. But then Braeya realized Jacques wasn’t some crazy fanatical priest but really believed in making the world a better place. Gilbert told me they saw each other after she lifted the spell. Had she gone to him, taken his cross as a sign of peace, and was returning to her coven to tell them to lay off?
My heart is still racing. I rapidly blink, shredding the lingering emotions, and take in a deep breath.
“Did you love her?” I ask Jacques.
His dark eyes sadden and he looks away. He knows I’m talking about Braeya. “I don’t know.”
Usually his lack of actually answering would annoy me, but I believe him. He was spelled to think he was in love. He was kidnapped, tied up, and visions of love and happiness—even having his own family—were forced into his head. That would fuck anyone up.
“What the hell happened?” Gilbert asks, looking at each of us.
“I think Ace channeled something,” Thomas explains slowly. “And I saw it through her?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I think that’s right.”
“What did you see?” Gilbert’s on the edge of the couch, blue eyes wide.
Thomas looks at me, and then at Jacques, and I get it. He doesn’t want to speak of Braeya’s death in front of Jacques. Thomas looks Gilbert in the eyes, and something unspoken is said between them. Gil nods and leans back against the couch.
“I feel kind of sick,” I admit, and run my hand over my face. Thomas wraps his arm around my waist and leads me up the stairs. We’re both still unsettled, and I’m thankful for a moment alone to gather my thoughts.
“That was fucked up,” Thomas says when he closes my bedroom door. I sit on the bed, processing everything. “But now we know why we were blamed for her death. You don’t think—”
“No. He didn’t do it.” My heart starts to slow and I fall back against my pillows. “I’ve had dreams or visions or something,” I admit. “I’ve seen what she did to him. How much she got into his head. He wouldn’t hurt her.”
“This is fucked up,” he repeats, and lies down next to me. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” I turn my head, taking solace in his crystal-clear eyes. “I didn’t break the curse, but something happened. Honestly, I didn’t expect a damn thing to happen.”
“You’re so confident in everything but magic,” Thomas says, moving onto his side and shifting his wings underneath him. Hand landing on the curve of my hip, he gently kisses my neck. “You need to start believing. You have power inside of you, Ace.”
I cuddle up against him, snaking my arms around his shoulders, and find the comfort I’m looking for. His large body spoons around mine, making me feel safe and protected. Gently, he kisses the back of my neck.
“What you did might not have been what you hoped to do,” he whispers. “But it was amazing, Ace. You are amazing.”
