Night Angel (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 2)

by Rosalie Redd

  Hannah shivered and slid her palms up her pink jacket’s sleeves.

  Every time he’d seen her, she’d worn something pink. This time it was her coat, sometimes it was a shirt, or even a piece of jewelry. The pure, feminine color added to her air of innocence.

  She drew her brows together. “Do you know what today is?”

  Seth compressed his lips and rubbed his chin. “March twentieth. It’s the spring equinox. Is that what you mean?”

  She smiled and shook her head. The soft glow from the porch light bounced off her golden hair. “I really didn’t expect you to know, but it’s my birthday today. I’m nineteen.”

  Nineteen seemed so young, but he’d been that age when he’d married Emily in 1880. He swallowed and removed his hat. “Nineteen, wow. Happy birthday.”

  “You know, if not for you, it would’ve been my last.”

  The look of reverence and adoration in her eyes just about brought him to his knees. He stepped back, putting space between them.

  She closed the distance and brushed her fingertips over the bare flesh on his arm.

  His skin tingled along their connection.

  “Would you like to come in? I’m sure Beaumont and Sadie would love to see you, and…”

  Beaumont, a former gargoyle who’d passed his test, fell in love with Sadie, the human pickpocket that had stolen his spark stone. She was also Hannah’s sister. A lump formed in Seth’s throat. He missed his former teammate and had visited a few times, but he didn’t trust himself around Hannah. She tempted him far more than he cared to admit.

  He squeezed her hand then released her. “I can’t. Not tonight. I have a job to do.”

  Besides, Drake would notice his absence if he stayed here much longer. Seth valued his freedom even if he had to traipse through the dark alleys at night and kill fae to protect the humans. A fitting punishment for his deeds.

  At least he didn’t have to worry about a fae nabbing her here. The witches warded this house. Thank you, Wynne.

  Her lips pursed into a perfect bow, Hannah drew away. “Okay, then. Maybe some other time.”

  She withdrew a key from her pocket, inserted the metal end in the latch, then met his gaze. “I’ve seen you a few times here, talking with Beaumont. Why don’t you ever stay?”

  A lump stuck in his throat. What was he supposed to say? There was no way he’d tell her she reminded him of his deceased love, both in appearance and in mannerism, or that he’d often watched her out of the corner of his eye when he’d stopped by to see his old friend.

  Besides, she was far better off without him. A nice young man would come along sometime, probably sooner rather than later, and give her all the things he never could—love, devotion, a life together.

  A lance of jealousy pierced his heart, and the spark stone nestled on his chest flared hot. If he ever saw her with another man, he might beat the guy to a pulp.

  He placed his hat on his head and gave her a quick nod. “If only I could.”

  Not waiting for her reply, he dematerialized in search of Marco. If Lady Luck smiled on him, she’d send that rat bastard of a fae to him along with a whole platoon of the evil creatures to kill, enough to erase his desire for what he couldn’t have—Hannah, soft and willing beneath him.

  CHAPTER 2

  Hannah McAllister inhaled, catching Seth’s lingering masculine scent deep into her lungs. Hand on the doorknob, she stared at the porch step. He’d stood right there not a moment ago but vanished before she’d even blinked.

  Still, she recalled every detail in vivid color—from his dreamy blue eyes, to his short brown hair poking underneath his Stetson hat, and on down to his sculpted muscles rippling under his dark blue button-down shirt. He was her savior, and a dream come true, all rolled into one fine package.

  Thank God, he’d appeared when he did. Otherwise, she’d be dead.

  Her pulse spiked at the memory of the fae, sending a jolt of pain to her temple. Despite his human appearance, the yellow glow in the creature’s eyes held a promise of death.

  Her death.

  Until she moved to Chicago last summer, she’d never known such evil existed in the world. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d seen wickedness up close and personal at the hands of her Uncle Frank.

  Mother was long gone, and after her father died four years ago, Aunt Sally had taken her in. Why her aunt stayed married to the creep, boggled Hannah’s mind. At least her aunt had held him off, distracting him enough he lost the urge to strike. Well, most of the time.

  On the few times Hannah had tried to interfere, it always ended up worse for her aunt, so she did her best to keep her distance. Later, she’d learned her uncle had a healthy fear of God. She used that to her advantage. Who knew words could be so powerful?

  A car drove past, the engine’s rumble fading into the distance and reminding her she couldn’t stay out on the porch all night. Iciness crested over her shoulders and down her spine. Although the wards around the house’s perimeter protected her, even in this nice neighborhood, evil could pay a visit.

  She twisted the key in the lock and opened the door.

  “Happy birthday, sis!” Sadie rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders. The tips of her shoulder-length dark hair tickled Hannah’s neck.

  Hannah returned the squeeze from the one person that meant more to her than anyone. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Sadie about the fae. Not tonight. Instead, she did what she’d always done, buried her pain behind a smile. “I’m nineteen. Can you believe it?”

  Sadie drew back, and her familiar grin curled her lips. “I know, right? That’s so exciting! I’m glad we found each other again.”

  “Me, too.” Hannah stared into her sister’s green eyes. Their shared eye color was one of the few things they had in common.

  Sadie had left home after their father died and had become a street kid. Both physically strong and mentally tough, she carried a healthy dose of skepticism and was slow to trust.

  Hannah, on the other hand, became a cheerleader, a straight-A student, and even belonged to the drama club. Where Sadie had run from her problems, Hannah had done everything she could to become self-reliant. Although she wasn’t tough like Sadie, she was determined, and when she put her mind to a task, she gave it her all.

  Sadie arched a brow. “Finish your final paper?”

  “You bet. Sent the file hours before the deadline.” Hannah dropped her backpack on the couch. The cushions bounced from the weight.

  Beaumont, former gargoyle and now Sadie’s husband, strode into the adjacent dining room. He carried a cake, his biceps stretching his dark T-shirt taut. Scrawled in barely legible white letters on top of the chocolate frosting were the words “Happy 19th Birthday!”

  “Sadie made you a cake. I attempted to frost it.” A chagrinned smile tugged at his lips. “You want a piece?”

  Hannah’s throat constricted at their effort to honor her birthday. “It looks fantastic!”

  Sadie smirked. “Hold judgment until you try a slice.”

  Hannah removed her pink jacket and laid it over the back of the couch. Pink was Hannah’s favorite color. Even now, her fingernails sported a raspberry cream polish that matched her lacy, fuchsia, V-neck T-shirt.

  The few friends she had in high school often told her she was too optimistic for her own good. They knew her uncle was an abusive bastard. But who wanted to live life jaded and bitter? Hannah refused to let him steal any more of her joy than he already had.

  “Let’s eat.” Beaumont set the cake on the table next to a stack of plates and lit the candles.

  “Happy birthday to you…” Off-tune and out of synch, Beaumont and Sadie sang the familiar song.

  Tears formed in Hannah’s eyes. The warm display was in such sharp contrast to her last disastrous birthday. An image surfaced, taking her down memory lane.

  Aunt Sally carried a cake, singing the tune. Uncle Frank stormed into the room, launched the cake at the wall, and b
ackhanded Sally. “You’re spoiling the rotten kid.” His actions and words had lingered for months.

  As Sadie and Beaumont finished the song, Hannah wiped the tears from her eyes, and they all settled into their seats around the dining table.

  Hannah scooted forward, stared at the candles, and drew in a large breath.

  “Wait!” Sadie placed her hand on Hannah’s arm. “Did you make a wish?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “Hurry, before you blow them out.”

  Hannah’s mind raced. What should I wish for?

  Beaumont leaned toward Sadie, his gaze filled with reverence, and placed a kiss behind her ear. Sadie giggled, and a sly smile formed on her lips.

  Longing swelled in Hannah’s chest. I want to be loved like that.

  Given the male influences in her life, her father’s drunken absences, her abusive uncle, and her high school boyfriend who just wanted to get in her pants, she’d never found anyone who’d proven he wasn’t in it just for himself. Even so, a sliver of hope that someday she’d have a real adult relationship with someone worthy had kept her from giving herself to anyone.

  Lungs burning from holding her breath, she exhaled hard and fast. The rush of air blew out every candle.

  Hope and excitement, mixed with the tiniest bit of nervousness, rippled along her arms. Although her girlfriends had talked plenty about sex, Sadie had never contributed to the conversations since she was still a virgin.

  Beaumont clapped.

  Sadie touched Hannah’s arm, warmth embedded in her gaze. “I saw that gleam in your eyes. You must’ve wished for something good. I’d ask what it was, but…”

  “It wouldn’t come true.” Hannah twisted her fingers over her pursed lips, locking in her secret. “I’ll never tell.”

  Sadie laughed. “Good.”

  Beaumont slid a knife through the cake, balanced a large slice on the blade, and dumped it onto a plate. He handed the piece to Hannah along with a fork.

  A sense of fatigue crested over her shoulders, and a headache built behind her eyes. The final paper had taken a toll on her energy level, but she pushed past the pain and gripped the plate.

  She slid the utensil through the baked confection and slipped a forkful into her mouth. The sugary sweetness barely registered for her gaze focused on the knife’s glinting tip as Beaumont cut another piece.

  Her mind returned to the night’s earlier events. The fae’s glowing eyes. His sharp claws. Fleeing, hiding, shivering with fear.

  What would Sadie do if Hannah had died tonight? Hannah shook her head and shoved the gloomy thought away. She’d survived, like always, and would continue to do so as long as she made smart choices.

  Sadie placed her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. Her brows furrowed. “Sis? Did you hear me?”

  Hannah blinked. “What?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

  “Along where?”

  Sadie sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and studied Hannah. “On the cruise with us. I’m sure we could get an extra cot put in our suite and—”

  Hannah held up her hand. “Sleeping on a cot in your room while on your Caribbean cruise honeymoon is one of the worst ideas, like ever. That’s just weird.”

  “But we’d have so much fun and—”

  “Little bandit.” Beaumont brushed a stray hair behind Sadie’s ear. “Hannah will be just fine. She’s nineteen. Maybe she has her own plans for spring break. With some hot new boyfriend we know nothing about.”

  Beaumont winked at her.

  “Um, there’s no boyfriend, but you two don’t need a third wheel.” Besides, she wanted time to sketch her belated wedding gift to Beaumont and Sadie. They’d married over the winter holidays, and Hannah hadn’t had time to create the piece.

  Now that spring break was here and they had plans, she’d finish the sketch and give it to them when they returned. Sadie had always liked the pictures Hannah had made for her, and Hannah couldn’t wait to make this special sketch for both her sister and Beaumont.

  Pain blossomed behind her eyes, crashing over her in a wave of agony. She inhaled and held her breath until the ache receded.

  “Hey, you okay?” Sadie trailed her fingers down Hannah’s arm.

  “I’m fine.” Her stomach roiled. She couldn’t get sick. Not now. But it was just like a flu bug to wait until all your classes and tests were done, then swoop in and slap you with a good one.

  Sadie crossed her arms. “Nothing happened today at school, did it? You look pale.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Hannah crossed her arms, mimicking Sadie’s posture.

  As much as Hannah longed to tell her sister and Beaumont about her brush with death, she refused to give Sadie a reason to cancel the trip. Sadie and Beaumont deserved their honeymoon.

  Sadie blew out an exasperated breath then wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders. “All right. I just worry, you know? We’ve been back together now, what, nine months? I can’t help it.”

  Love for her sister swelled inside. “I love you, too. You and Beaumont will have a great time. Can’t wait to see you off tomorrow morning. Don’t forget to send me pictures, okay?”

  Sadie drew back, her eyes moist. “Of course. Oh, I almost forgot.”

  Sadie rose from her seat, hurried to the sideboard, and withdrew a package wrapped in blue and white striped paper. She returned and held it toward Hannah. “For you, from the both of us. Happy birthday.”

  Beaumont rose from his seat, strode to Sadie’s side, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “We hope you like it.”

  Hannah scooted the chair back and stood. With trembling fingers, she accepted the gift. Gentle, at first, she tugged at the paper’s edge.

  “Rip it open.” Beaumont’s brown eyes sparked.

  A laugh bubbled from deep within, chasing away her earlier gloom. She grabbed the paper and ripped it off the gift box. She lifted the lid and—

  Her breath stalled. “It’s beautiful.”

  Hannah withdrew the angel from its resting place. The tips of the angel’s white wings flared at the ends, and its eyes seemed to project a fierce protectiveness.

  She trailed her fingers over the palm-size wall hanging, enjoying how the cool ceramic eased the warm clamminess in her hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Not giving Sadie a chance to respond, Hannah hugged her sister. The bond between them warmed her heart.

  After drawing away, Sadie smiled. “I remember when you broke the one Mom gave you a couple of weeks ago. You were so sad, and I know how much that piece meant to you.”

  Hannah sniffled. When she was six years old, Mom had given her the angel before she’d walked out the door never to return. Hannah had held on to the small memento ever since and had cried when she’d knocked it off its resting place over her bed. To have Sadie give her another, though, meant more to her than she could say.

  She forced the lump in her throat down with a hard swallow. “This one is much nicer. You shouldn’t have.”

  Sadie waved her hand in the air. “If you’re worried about the money, don’t. I wanted to get you something special to make up for all the birthdays I missed.”

  Hannah’s chest tightened at Sadie’s heartfelt words. She’d missed her sister so much over the last four years and they’d grown close again these past few months. Threatening tears burned her eyes. Refusing to cry, she straightened her back.

  “I know right where to put this one. Goodnight, and thanks!” Before Sadie could see how much the gift had affected her, Hannah raced up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  An empty picture hook rested over her single bed. She crawled onto her comforter and set the angel in its place. Here, he’d watch over her as she slept. Even as a sense of peace settled over her shoulders, her pounding headache resumed.

  The cake soured in her stomach. Her mouth watered, the precursor to—

  Hannah lurched off the bed and ran straight for the toilet. She’d caug
ht a nasty bug after all. Her stomach roiled, and she slipped to the floor and wrapped her fingers around the cold rim, her face mere inches from the porcelain throne.

  The sound of her quick breaths echoed from the bowl. What a way to spend a birthday, right? If not for the queasiness churning in her stomach, she’d laugh.

  A few minutes passed without incident, and the nausea receded. Her arms weak and shaky, she pushed off the floor and rose to unsteady feet.

  Her mirrored image caught her attention. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, her cheeks seemed flushed, and sweat beaded her upper lip. If today wasn’t her nineteenth birthday, she’d swear she looked much older, and she couldn’t attribute all of that to the illness. Had the pressure she placed on herself to succeed and beat the odds taken a toll?

  A shudder rippled down her arms, leaving goose bumps in its wake. She rubbed the bristled flesh. The black lines of her tattoo peeked from beneath her shirt. She slid the fabric over her left shoulder and stared at the design of a small pair of white wings.

  Memories assaulted her like an unwanted visitor. Uncle Frank’s fist smashing against her back, her ribs, her shoulder, anyplace clothing could cover the bruises. That was the one time she’d arrived home from school before Aunt Sally, who’d ended up caught in traffic.

  After the bruises healed and out of guilt, her aunt had given in to Hannah’s request for a tattoo and taken her to Destination Ink, the local tattoo shop. Hannah had known right away what she’d wanted.

  Somewhere out there she had a guardian angel. She believed it deep in her soul. That terrible day her uncle had seen the ceramic angel her mother had given her sitting on the picture hook over her bed. He’d ceased the beating, leaving her bruised, but not broken.

  Hannah released the shirt. The fabric slid over her skin, covering the tattoo once again. She studied her reflection a moment longer, wondering at the young nineteen-year-old woman staring back at her. Could a man ever love me?

  Doubt danced across her mind, unbidden and unwelcome, but she chased it away with a determination she’d honed to a fine point over her short life. After the negative way men in her life had treated her, she refused to rely on any man to survive.