Stone Maiden

by Tina Gerow

  Ariel pulled her gaze away from Logan and slowly lowered herself onto the red velvet couch, careful not to muss her dress. “I’ve missed you too, Logan.” Her voice came out in a whisper and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay, which suddenly threatened. “I was thinking.” She cleared her throat and looked up to see Logan watching her. “There’s nothing that says we can’t be good friends. That we can’t still see each other, even after all of this is over. You’ll always be important to me.”

  Logan’s eyes took on a watery sheen. Was his heart breaking as much as hers? “I’d like that.”

  Silence fell between them until a discreet knock sounded on the dressing room door and a voice called out, “Mr. McAllister, you’re on in ten minutes.”

  Ariel stood and turned back toward Logan. “You’ll do great. I’ll be just off to the side of the stage and I promise, no succubus interruptions tonight.”

  Logan smiled and took Ariel’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he whispered and then placed a kiss on the back of her hand before releasing her.

  Ariel opened the door. “Oh, by the way, if you need me, or something doesn’t feel right, just turn and look at me and wink.”

  Logan laughed. “You want me to wink?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Well, we figured that would only enhance your reputation and it’s something you can do on camera without having to explain it.”

  He started past her and out the door, but then stopped and placed his palm against her cheek. “For you, anything.”

  Time stopped as they looked into each other’s eyes and Ariel’s chest tightened with emotion. She placed her hand over his. “Go on, and try to stay out of trouble.”

  Logan walked past her and turned to throw her a charming wink over his shoulder. “Just practicing,” he called as he walked toward the stage.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ariel scanned the crowd looking for anything out of place, or any vibes of evil emanating through the room. So far, everything seemed fine. Except the damn dress Kefira had chosen for her. Ariel knew this charity gala was A-list and she had to dress the part, but breathing would be a good thing here. And besides, if she needed to do a high kick in this thing, she’d rip some serious slits up the sides.

  But when Logan had seen it, she’d seen the raw desire in his gaze. So she’d gritted her teeth and silently thanked Kefira for the plunging neckline and form fitting material. At least until she had to wear it for more than five minutes.

  Her mood took a sudden and admittedly petty turn when she’d seen Charity. She showed enough that her normal form-fitting dress was out of the question tonight. Instead, she wore a loose-fitting floor-length that would no doubt start pregnancy rumors flying. But for the safety of all concerned, everyone had agreed to keep it under wraps for as long as possible. Despite Charity’s attempts to get national coverage for her engagement.

  The audience began to laugh and Ariel realized Logan’s monologue was well under way and apparently very successful. She glanced toward him long enough that if he needed to signal her, she could catch his eye, but he continued his banter with the audience as if each were a personal friend he was having a beer with on a Saturday night.

  Ariel turned her attention back to the crowd and suddenly felt clammy. Sweat broke out on her brow. She reached up to touch her forehead, and her hand came away wet. She took a deep breath as she began to feel light-headed and her stomach began to roil. Leaning against the wall, she concentrated and contacted her sisters.

  “Something’s wrong—I think I’m going to be sick…”

  Kefira appeared out of nowhere and slipped flawlessly into Ariel’s post as Ariel made an end run for the ladies room. She made it into a stall before what resembled her stomach contents for the entire last year came up.

  “Ariel, are you all right?” Dara stepped inside the stall and pressed some wet paper towels against Ariel’s forehead.

  After an eternity, the spasms in her stomach eased, and she reached over to pull a wad of toilet paper off the roll and blow her nose.

  She tossed the paper in the toilet, reached up to flush the contents, and then leaned her forehead against the side of the stall. The cool metal calmed her and she sighed and closed her eyes. “I never thought a bathroom stall would feel so good.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears.

  She’d only been sick one other time in her entire existence. About eight hundred years ago in Greece, someone tried to poison her. According to Dara, in order to make Ariel sick, it had to be enough poison to take out the entire Greek population. But who the hell would want to poison her now?

  “Logan’s fine,” Kefira said inside her head, answering her unasked next question. It would have been the next logical step to assume whoever poisoned her would try to kill Logan.

  Ariel breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over at Dara. “What the hell is wrong with me? And why aren’t you out with Charity?”

  Dara gently reached down and brushed Ariel’s hair away from her face. “Don’t worry, Odeda is out with Charity. And when I left, she was having a terrific time needling her about her ‘baggy’ dress.” Dara made quote marks in the air with the first two fingers of each hand. “As for you, I doubt it’s poison, you ate what everyone else ate. But let’s get you back to the hotel and I’ll look you over.”

  Ariel’s stomach made urgent gurgling sounds. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it back, and I can’t leave Logan here with minimal protection.”

  Dara put a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I hardly think James, Kefira and Odeda are minimal protection. But if you’re going to be stubborn, you can sit back in Logan’s dressing room and be sick.”

  “I don’t want to be sick in front of Charity.” She knew it was petty and very vain, but she’d rather sit out back at the dumpster and be sick than do it in front of the blonde queen of the saccharine smile.

  “She’s up next, so you probably won’t even have to see her.”

  Ariel took a deep breath and let it out, willing her stomach to stop rumbling. “Do you think God will forgive me for hoping she gets some disfiguring disease—after the baby is born, of course?” she bit out as she leaned over the toilet for round two.

  Dara pressed damp paper towels to Ariel’s forehead. “If it’s one thing I know about God, it’s that She understand the phrase ‘only human’, even when it applies to us.”

  *****

  Logan read the teleprompter and kept the smile firmly pasted on his face. He’d noticed when Kefira took over for Ariel almost two hours ago. He also noticed, she’d never come back. Worry gnawed inside him, and he sighed gratefully when he introduced the next act and was able to finally exit the stage and grill Kefira about Ariel.

  “She’s not feeling well,” Kefira answered his terse question.

  The concern knotting his insides twisted tighter. “Is she okay?”

  Kefira’s blue eyes flashed. “Ariel will be fine. Your…girlfriend,” she said with distaste, “has requested you visit her in her dressing room. You won’t be needed again for about thirty minutes.”

  Logan knew when he was being dismissed. He also knew he deserved it. Ariel’s sisters treated him professionally and courteously, but they would never forgive him for hurting her. “I never meant to hurt her.”

  Kefira’s gaze searched his until she nodded. “Good intentions don’t excuse it.”

  “I wasn’t asking to be excused. I just hope she understands I’ll love her for the rest of my life.” He turned and walked toward Charity’s dressing room, forcing himself not to look back into Kefira’s accusing gaze.

  When he reached the door of the dressing room, he took a deep breath before turning the knob. How could he spend the next sixty years dreading seeing his wife and the mother of his child? Sighing, he pushed open the door. Charity sat draped on the single couch in her bathrobe. Odeda stood in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest, a mischievous grin quirking her lips.

  Logan nodded toward Oded
a as Charity sat up and glared at him. “What took you so long? “I’ve been in here stuck with…her.” She gestured dramatically toward Odeda.

  Logan bit his tongue against the acid retort that came to mind. He may have to marry her, but she had another thing coming if she thought he would allow her to treat him like her lackey. “I was on stage, Charity. As you already know. What’s the problem?” He purposely ignored her patting the couch next to her.

  “I just needed to see you, Logan.” Her eyes welled up with tears as if on cue, and Logan ignored the artifice. “And your bodyguard is being mean to me!” The classic Charity pout was back and she looked at him through lowered lashes.

  He wished they didn’t have to hide the gargoyle’s nature from Charity. He understood the necessity, but it would get rid of a lot of Charity’s whining if she knew Odeda could lift small cars without breaking a sweat. He turned toward Odeda. “I thought Dara was protecting Charity. Is everything all right? I heard Ariel was sick.”

  Odeda narrowed her eyes and then nodded. “Dara is with her, she’ll be back in a minute. Probably just something in the food that made her sick.”

  “Wait a minute,” Charity interrupted. “We all ate that food.” She put a hand on her stomach and struck a pose as if about to faint—her other hand on her forehead. “Shouldn’t we have it checked or something?”

  Logan looked over in time to see Odeda hide a smirk. He stifled a sigh of relief. If Odeda still needled Charity, then Ariel wasn’t in any danger. He turned his attention back to Charity. “I’m sure the food is fine. Now if you no longer need me, I have to get changed for my next cue.”

  “But, Logan. What are you going to do about this?” Charity pointed at Odeda.

  Logan sighed, but turned back to face her. “Charity, you’ve never once asked me why I suddenly have security guards. I can only infer from that you don’t care. You got what you wanted, I acknowledge the baby as mine and when things die down, we’ll start planning a wedding.” He sighed as the straight jacket that had become his life tightened around him. “But if you think I’m going to be at your beck and call, you’re wrong. You’re getting a husband and a father for our child out of this, not a butler.”

  Her outraged gasp followed him as he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Guilt assailed him, but he squelched it quickly. If Ariel were the one he’d gotten pregnant, they would both be happy right now instead of miserable. He sighed and turned toward his dressing room. “If wishes were fishes…” He chuckled as he repeated what his mother had said to him so many times before she died.

  He opened the door to his dressing room and stopped short. Ariel was lying on the sofa with a bucket sitting next to her on the floor. She held a damp washcloth over her eyes. Her skin held a pallor and glistened with sweat like she had a fever. He rushed toward the couch, dropping to his knees in front of her and gently stroking her arm. “Ariel? Can I get you anything?”

  She pulled the washcloth down to look at him. “Sorry, I thought I’d be gone before you got back. Must’ve just caught a bug or something.”

  Logan laid a gentle hand against her forehead. Her skin was clammy, her eye makeup smudged from the wet washcloth spreading dark makeup circles under her eyes. And even now, Logan thought her the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Ariel started to sit up, but then moaned and collapsed back onto the couch. “You weren’t supposed to need your dressing room until the last hour of the show,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she leaned over and heaved into the bucket.

  Logan held her forehead in his right hand and rubbed her back with his left. Then when she finished, he wiped her mouth and helped her to lay back. “The finale starts in half hour. I’ll get you another washcloth. Don’t move, I just need to change, then I’ll get out of here and let you rest.” He changed quickly, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He knew when he was sick, noise of any kind just made it worse.

  He stopped short at his last thought. With a shock, he realized he’d never taken care of anyone before when they were sick. Not only did the thought of someone being sick usually make him squeamish, but he studiously avoided others when they were sick. It made him feel helpless and weak. Things that reminded him of the night he found his mother.

  A vivid picture sprang into his mind of her broken body lying on the floor, her throat a bloody mess that looked like so much hamburger, and a dark red pool of blood growing underneath her. In his mind’s eye, he stepped closer and realized she still clutched a large silver cross in her right hand, and smoke rose in lazy wisps from the metal, although he could see no burns on his mother’s hand.

  His legs buckled, and he reached out a hand to the wall to steady himself against the impact of the vision. He’d never seen this much of it before. It usually stopped where his dreams did, with her screams he heard from the top of the stairs after he snuck out of the linen closet. Will I ever remember what happened in its entirety? He sighed as his mother’s staring eyes still burned inside his mind, her fear a tangible taste on the back of his tongue.

  “Logan?” Ariel asked, placing a tentative touch against his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Worry for Ariel pushed away the vivid memories and he turned to gently take her arm and lead her back to the couch. “What are you doing?” he chided without heat. “You should be laying down, you’re sick.”

  She swayed and he caught her, lowering her to the couch before replacing the washcloth on her forehead. He let his fingers linger against her cascade of silky hair until a brisk knock sounded on the door.

  “Twenty minutes, Mr. McAllister.” Logan jumped as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Then, when he realized what he’d done, he chuckled at himself.

  “Thanks,” he called back as quietly as he could and still be sure he was heard.

  “Go, Logan,” Ariel said from under the washcloth. “I’ll be fine.”

  He stood and looked down at her still, pale form. Logan closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. Lord, you’d better have a damned good plan, if you expect me to trust you like this.

  He quickly left the dressing room, closing the door softly behind him. When he turned back around, he was face to face with the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. This was saying quite a bit since he’d met the gargoyles.

  She had a straight lustrous fall of auburn hair, which extended nearly down to her calves and her eyes were the most luminous gray he’d ever seen. Hip huggers and an extremely tight tank top encased a sculpture perfect female body. Was she one of the presenters? Maybe a super model or actress? “Excuse me,” he said and took a step back away from her. “I didn’t see you there.”

  A flash of irritation sparked in the depths of her eyes, but then she smiled and the dark hallway seemed to brighten. “I would be happy to see you anywhere you’d like,” she said, in a Marilyn Monroe voice, leaning forward to allow him a free view of enticing cleavage.

  How quickly life changes you, he thought to himself and stifled a sigh. Not long ago, he would’ve jumped at the obvious offer.

  But then he met Ariel.

  “I’m flattered, but I need to be on stage soon.”

  Storm clouds gathered inside the woman’s eyes, and her perfectly shaped auburn brows furrowed. “Don’t rush away on my account,” she said and reached out a slender hand to rest it lightly against his chest. And then, to his surprise, she began to hum under her breath.

  The warmth of her hand permeated his suit jacket, he started to remove it, but then the melody she hummed caught his attention. The woman stared into his eyes and began to sway back and forth a tiny bit, in time to the haunting music. It was lovely and enticing, filled with haunting dissonances and a wonderful minor key, which gave it a mysterious air.

  Logan began to picture the notes written down in his mind’s eye when he realized he’d heard dissonances. In order for there to be dissonances, more than one note had to be hummed at the same time. He shook his head, that wasn’t possible with
the human voice. Which meant this woman was another supernatural beastie come to prey on him.

  Terrific, another day, another being who wants to castrate me.

  Suddenly, his dressing room door flew open behind him and Ariel appeared in the doorway.

  Logan instinctively started forward to protect Ariel, but faster than his human reflexes could act, the woman before him hissed and struck out, raking her fingernails over Ariel’s chest, shredding the front of her dress and exposing her breasts. Several deep furrows oozed blood, but Ariel looked more irritated than injured.

  Ariel’s hand snaked out and grabbed the woman’s wrist much as she had Jeb’s the first day he’d met her. The next thing Logan knew, the woman knelt in front of Ariel with both arms twisted behind her back at a painful angle. Logan opened his mouth to ask the woman’s identity when he heard footsteps and looked up in time to see James jogging down the hallway toward them.

  The woman gasped, her eyes rounded with fear when she saw James and she tried to bow her head down to touch the floor, but was caught short by Ariel’s grip.

  “Ariel.” James’ deep voice echoed down the dark hallway. “Are you all right?” he asked, his gaze obviously assessing the damage to her chest.

  Several doors down, another dressing room opened and a new boy band Logan couldn’t remember the name of filed out. Logan held his breath, but the men merely snickered as they passed by and kept walking. He shook his head. Nothing fazed these people. That’s why he was content to remain a songwriter and not a performer.

  Ariel spoke, bringing his attention back. “I’ll be fine. Can you handle our guest?” She said the last word with obvious distaste. “I’m still not feeling well from earlier, and Logan needs to be on stage.”

  “Forgive me, sire,” the woman simpered, her voice sultry, but no longer the breathy Marilyn Monroe. “I did not know this one was under your protection.” She gestured toward Logan with her head. “Please…” she begged, “have mercy upon me. I meant him no permanent harm.”