And yet, how could I not look?
I blinked, carefully focusing away from Kyle first.
I scanned the room again. Baristas. Customers. Books and CDs. Coffee bags. “What am I looking for?” Kyle didn’t answer me. Movement under the nearest table caught my attention. An inky black chinchilla-like blob sat on the table’s base, its glowing eyes watching me.
“What the hell is that?” Anything with life was always a version of white. Even the sullied souls of the sadistic still glowed with light undertones. Nothing living was all black—it was life that made everything glow. Furthermore, animals were never tainted by ambiguous moral choices like humans; animals were always white. The tiny fluff ball of blackness was darker than the inanimate objects around it. It was black—solid black. Impossibly black. Either there were varying degrees of life I’d never encountered and this was the zombie equivalent of life, or this creature—this pile of dust with bright eyes—was pure evil.
“Madison, meet your first imps,” Kyle said.
The imp cocked its head at me, clearly curious. Curious meant it could think. Curious meant it was trying to puzzle me out. A thinking evil creature was interested in me. Abandoning my job hunt and moving back in with my parents suddenly seemed like a great idea.
The imp hopped toward me.
I lurched to my feet, sending my chair careening into the people behind me. Scrambling around the table, I put distance between myself and the creature. Its eyes tracked me. It hopped out from under the table until it was less than two feet away from me. I tensed to flee.
Kyle waved his radiant hand in front of the imp the way a matador waves a cape for a bull. Like a bull, the imp charged. I squealed. The imp disappeared.
He’d said imps, right? With an s? I spun around, looking for more.
I spied three behind Kyle’s chair. Like the first one, the dark creatures were fixated on him. In a group they lunged. I jumped back, tripping over a chair. Windmilling my arms, I fought for balance while trying to keep the evil creatures in my sight, but gravity won. In a cacophony of wood and metal and flesh, I crashed to the floor. When I looked back at Kyle, the imps were gone.
“Miss? Are you okay?”
Reality popped like my ears had just unplugged. I blinked. The world swam. I rolled to my side. From my position on the gritty floor, I could see a circle of black-clad feet, and more approaching. Baristas. Everyone in the coffee shop had gone deafeningly quiet, making the cheerful jazz sound like it was blaring. I realized three things simultaneously: (1) everyone—from the patrons to the dishwasher—was staring at me; (2) I must look like I had gone absolutely, start-raving mad; and (3) my skirt was hiked up to my hips. Shit. Can you die from embarrassment? Please?
I untangled myself from the rungs of the chair I’d tripped over; stood faster than I should have, assisted by the adrenaline of embarrassment; and yanked my skirt down so that it covered me to my knees. I patted at my hair, pulling a bit of muffin out of a clump and wiping my hand on a napkin. And I assured everyone that I was fine, convincing no one.
How could I be fine? I’d just learned that I wasn’t the only person with soul-sight—or the ability to see in Primordium. Worse, there were evil creatures that lived alongside us, visible only in Primordium. Creatures that gazed upon me and Kyle with the same loving look I reserved for triple chocolate fudge cake. Somehow Kyle had made them disappear, but for all I could tell, it was magic, because how did you use a sight to make something vanish? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t just seen it. It was the equivalent of a person using their normal sight to move an object; it just didn’t happen.
Only it had.
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Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without readers like you. When I originally wrote Magic of the Gargoyles (long before it was published), I never dreamed of turning it into a series. And then you guys liked it; you really liked it! Thank you for giving me a reason to spend more time in this fun world, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
For pointing out the problems in Elsa’s motivations and the confusion of referencing Sleipnir (and more), thank you to my beta readers: Karl, Rebecca, Scott, Christina, Cathy, Maghon, and Kimberly. You guys are the best!
Carrie Andrews and Amanda Zeier, thank you for finding all the mistakes I glossed over a dozen times in my edits.
Noel, thank you for sharing your geology expertise and letting me pick your brain about rocks and minerals. Thanks to you, Mika doesn’t sound like a Wikipedia version of an earth elemental.
For the amazing cover, thank you, Clarissa!
As always, Cody, the only thing that you could do to be a better, more supportive husband would be to find me a living gargoyle of my own.
Finally, thank you, Mom, for encouraging my love of reading as a child and continuing to champion all my stories. Your word today is alula, used in here just for you.
REBECCA CHASTAIN is the international bestselling author of the Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer series and the Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles, among others. She has found seven four-leaf clovers to date, won a purebred Arabian horse in a drawing, and once tamed a blackbird for a day. Writing stories designed to amuse and entertain has been her passion since she was eleven years old. She lives in Northern California with her wonderful husband and three bossy cats.
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Curse of the Gargoyles (Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles Book 2) Page 16
