Night Angel (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 2)

by Rosalie Redd

  A row with Drake might accomplish that task but removing the remnants of Finn’s tainted aura took precedence. As it was, he sensed the evil expanding toward him, as if eager to claim another victim.

  Seth wouldn’t forgive himself if another gargoyle became infected because they’d delayed too long and the “taint” spread like an unseen fog. He gripped the brim of his hat and nodded. “Let’s get ’er done, then.”

  Drake’s lip twitched. “You have the potion you picked up from Wynne?”

  “Right here.” Seth dug into the front pocket of his 501’s and withdrew a small vial. Through the glass, the silver and blue liquid swirled.

  Seth’s boss held out his hand. “The sooner I use the witch’s potion to cleanse Finn’s tainted aura from this place, the happier I’ll be. Can’t risk one of the other gargoyles running into this if it spread. That might start an infection among the ranks I don’t even want to think about.”

  Seth tightened his grip on the small bottle and held the special potion close. “I’ll do it. Finn was my best friend. He would’ve wanted it that way.”

  “That’s not protocol.” Drake scowled at him. “You’re asking me to break the rules?”

  “I’m asking you to bend them. A bit of compassion might do you wonders.”

  A flinch, ever so slight Seth almost didn’t catch it, darted across Drake’s features. “I can’t do that. Protocol must be—”

  “Damn protocol.”

  Drake pressed his mouth into a tight, grim line. “You’ve been itching for some time at your post, haven’t you? Hand over the potion or you’ll get exactly that.”

  Oh hell, no. Seth didn’t want to spend any more time at his post than absolutely necessary. He’d hated dark, confined spaces since age five after he’d fallen into an abandoned mine and spent the night there before his father had found him. Besides, he had plans to visit a young woman, a very sweet, innocent one he couldn’t seem to get off his mind.

  He clenched his jaw and tossed the vial to his stick-up-the-ass boss. “Whatever suits your fancy.”

  Drake caught the small container. As he uncorked the bottle, he smiled. “Thank the goddess Wynne had some on hand. I don’t know what we’d do without her sometimes.”

  Made from a mixture of herbs, strange liquids, and who knew what else, blue smoke etched with silver striations floated from the opening. Like a brilliant cloud, the potion encircled the area. Within the mist, sparks fizzled and sputtered.

  Drake’s grip on the vial tightened to the point his fingernails turned white. He closed his eyes. In the old language of the Otherworld, Drake spoke the ancient words. “Toyo non formidia. Lapido sans karoatoc. Asi de, asi do.”

  Darkness engulfed some of the cloud as if the malicious stain, left over from Finn’s transition, fought for its very life. The swirling eddy grew larger, expanding in the space between Drake and Seth. If Drake didn’t move, the darkness would pin him against the wall.

  “Toyo non formidia. Lapido sans karoatoc. Asi de, asi do.”

  The cold fingers of dread skittered up Seth’s back. “Watch out!”

  Seth lunged at Drake, caught the guy around the shoulders, and tackled him to the ground. The bottle slipped from Drake’s fingers.

  Glass shattered across the pavement.

  A flame burst from the spilled potion, lighting up the area in a brilliant flash. The roar launched Seth into the air.

  He landed on the grass several yards away. The muscles in his shoulders and buttocks ached from the impact, and his hat dangled from the cord around his neck.

  Not far away, Drake groaned. “Did the potion work?”

  Seth glanced at the small building. The twin lights lit up the entrance to each restroom. Bits of blue potion, evaporating quickly, covered the doors, the brick wall, and most of the sidewalk. The dark aura, however, was gone.

  “Yeah. All’s clear.” Seth rose to his feet, settled his hat on his head, and hurried to his boss. “You okay?”

  Drake stood and wiped the grass from his pants. “Yeah. Piece of cake.”

  Seth studied his boss, searching for any signs the “taint” from Finn’s aura had reached him.

  Drake pursed his lips. “What? Do I have potion on me or something?”

  The tension in Seth’s shoulders eased. Drake seemed as crotchety as usual. “That was a close one.”

  “Well, it’s done now. Meet up with Damian and Grayson. The three of you can cover the west side tonight.” Drake picked up the bottle’s cork and shoved it into his pocket.

  “Before I join the others, I’ll stop at Beaumont’s and leave a note for him. He’ll want to know about Finn as soon as he returns from his vacation.” At least that was the excuse he’d given himself. Although he wanted to leave a message about their friend, what he really needed was to see Hannah.

  While on his post today in his stone form, he’d had plenty of time to think about her. He couldn’t let her birthday slip by without giving her a gift. His mama had instilled in him from a young age that it was important to honor someone’s birthday, and he’d do right by her memory.

  Many a day, he’d seen Hannah sit on one of the benches in the quad, pull out her sketch pad, and track the charcoal over the paper. Even now, the image of her swift, sure strokes and her sweet smile filled his mind. She’d love a new set of charcoal pencils.

  Drake flitted his discerning gaze over Lake Michigan then up to the almost full moon. “Tonight’ll be a busy one for the fae. Make it quick.”

  “As a jack rabbit in heat.” Seth smiled and traced the brim of his hat with his finger. Not waiting for a reply, he dematerialized straight for the campus bookstore with an eagerness he didn’t want to contemplate.

  CHAPTER 7

  Hannah rolled her shoulders, loosened her grip on the pencil, and brushed the charcoal over the paper. The familiar scratch of the graphite settled over her, warming her on the inside. She enjoyed these brief moments where she escaped into her private world and forgot about nasty things like abusive uncles and dark, dangerous fae.

  She traced a few lines around Sadie’s ear, filling in some of the details along her jawline then studied the portrait. Beaumont cupped Sadie’s chin in his palm, but the texture of Sadie’s hair and her appreciative grin needed work. Hannah had spent far too much time on the roses that bordered the edges, wanting every last detail to be perfect.

  Pain flared at Hannah’s temple, building to a loud, penetrating crescendo.

  The charcoal pencil slipped from her fingers and bounced against the floor. Shards scattered over the polished hardwood.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers along the bridge of her nose where the pain pounded in tune with her heart.

  Her stomach roiled. “No, no. Not again.”

  She ran from her art room, sprinted down the hall, and rushed into the bathroom. A bitter taste coated the back of her throat while she gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles aching from strain.

  The toilet taunted her. Ready to get down on your knees and pray to me?

  A part of her wished she’d throw up and get it over with. Instead, a bead of sweat trickled over her brow, and the skin on her arms prickled.

  Oh great. The chills…

  Apparently, she wasn’t over whatever bug had hit her last night. During the day, she’d started to feel better and managed to eat some soup and a handful of saltine crackers. She’d even laid down on the couch for a few hours, catching up on some much-needed sleep. That didn’t seem to do much good.

  Hannah turned her head and peered through the bathroom window. Darkness crept over the lawn. One of the lone oak tree’s branches tapped against the pane. Tick, tick, tick.

  “I wish Sadie were here.” Loneliness weighed heavily on her shoulders and tears stung her eyes.

  God, how she missed her sister, but Sadie and Beaumont deserved to enjoy their honeymoon. They didn’t need to worry about her.

  All her life, whether it was her mother, Sadie, or Aunt Sally, she�
��d relied on others to help her. Sooner or later, she’d have to take care of herself. Maybe now was a good time to start.

  With shaky fingers, Hannah grabbed the cup next to the sink, poured a glass of water, and brought it to her lips. As the liquid slid down her throat, the urge to vomit passed. Thank you, God.

  After a long breath, she pushed away from the sink. Maybe if she laid down for a while the headache and chills would disappear, but the idea of returning to bed didn’t sit well with her. Instead, she headed for the living room and the comfy couch.

  “Time to binge on a few episodes of Riverdale.” Her voice echoed down the empty corridor.

  As she entered the living room, she reached for the light switch.

  A faint tink pinged off the front window.

  The muscles in her shoulders tensed.

  On a gentle flutter, the curtains swayed in the draft coming in through the slight opening in the window. Beyond the windowpane, the streetlight lit up the sidewalk in a soft glow. Parked cars lined the pavement, silent and still. The old oak tree’s branches swayed in the breeze.

  Nerves. It’s just nerves.

  Still, the sense of unease straightened her spine. In the darkened room, the couch seemed to sprout shadows.

  The hair on her nape rose.

  She flicked the switch. Light bathed the room in stark white.

  The couch, the TV, and the coffee table rested in the same places they always had.

  She released a slow breath, and the tension in her shoulders eased.

  Tink. Tink. Tink.

  She shot her gaze to the window.

  With the light on, she couldn’t see outside. Yet, if she turned it off, she feared what she’d see.

  Tink.

  Hannah drew on her inner strength and raised her chin. She turned off the light once again.

  Through the window, she spotted a man standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark pants and a matching jacket, he had broad shoulders and short jet-black hair. The streetlight behind him bathed his features in shadows. He raised his hand and waved.

  Did she know him?

  She crept closer to the window to get a better look.

  “Hannah, lass, it’s Finn.” He took a step forward but stopped at the edge of the driveway.

  Hannah placed her palm to her chest. A shaky laugh slipped from her lips. “Finn? Just a moment. Let me get the door.”

  He was one of Beaumont’s friends, and she’d seen him around a few times and had liked his soft laugh and easy manner. She hurried to the large front door, unhooked the deadbolt, and tugged on the handle. The door opened on a soft whoosh.

  Finn paced on the sidewalk, his strides quick and purposeful. At this angle, the streetlight lit up his features. Tension lines formed around his pursed mouth. He met her gaze, and a smile chased away the strain.

  “Hello, lass. It’s good ta see ya again.”

  “What are you doing here?” She stepped onto the front porch and glanced down the street, first one way then the other. “Is Seth with you?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. How she longed to see him. Besides working on the same gargoyle squad, she’d heard stories from Beaumont about Finn and Seth’s close friendship. Where one went, the other wasn’t far behind.

  Finn held out his palms and shook his head. “I’m afraid not tonight, lass. That’s disappointin’ ta ya, I can tell.”

  She paced to the first step and wrapped her fingers around the rail. Confusion fogged her mind, competing with the headache that threatened to return. “Oh well, if you’re looking for Beaumont, he’s not here.”

  Finn inched toward the grass. “He’s not, is he? Well, fancy that. I’m really here ta see ya, though, lass. There’s somethin’ we need ta chat about. Mind if I come in?”

  “I guess.” She took a step toward him. “What is this about…”

  A yellow radiance encircled Finn’s eyes, and when he smiled, a set of long, pointed fangs glinted in the streetlight’s eerie glow.

  A scream lodged behind Hannah’s lips.

  Finn tore across the lawn.

  She sprinted to the safety of the house.

  Seth dematerialized across the street from Beaumont’s home. He placed his hand over the pencils in his coat pocket. Did he get the right kind? Would Hannah like them? He’d stopped at the campus bookstore and bought the nicest set available. How could she not like—

  On an inhale, the metallic scent of fae assailed his senses.

  He tensed, his gaze riveting to the old Victorian.

  Finn darted across the lawn toward the house.

  Hannah bolted for the front door.

  Dread spiked in Seth’s veins. No, no, no!

  He dashed across the street.

  As Finn scrambled up the stairs, Seth launched himself at the fae. His hat flipped through the air and tumbled into the grass.

  He tackled Finn around the thighs, and they landed on the porch.

  Seth’s elbow slammed into the concrete post. Pain ricocheted up his arm, and he grimaced but didn’t break his hold on the fae.

  Finn struggled beneath him, and they tumbled down the stairs.

  An odd mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion swirled in Seth’s mind. To see his best friend as a fae so soon after his transformation, and to have him attack Hannah, brought out a side in Seth he’d thought long dead. Not since his wife passed had such emotion roiled in his veins.

  He punched Finn over and over, taking out his frustration on this friend turned foe.

  Finn hissed and returned the blows. One struck Seth in the jaw.

  Cartilage cracked from the impact. Pain swept up the side of his face. He hardened his skin, turning the flesh as firm as stone.

  Finn’s fist slammed into Seth’s temple. The crunch of fingers breaking echoed into the night.

  Seth drew his dagger from its sheath. He held the blade over Finn’s left eye.

  Finn stopped his struggles. “Do it!”

  Seth’s fingers shook from strain. As much as he wanted to rid the world of another fae, he couldn’t bring himself to bury the tip in Finn’s eye. Instead, he rose to his feet and headed for the lawn, dragging Finn with him.

  A flash of regret flitted across Finn’s features. “Later, ya’ll wish ya would’a finished the job.”

  Grass and dirt whipped around Finn’s feet in a swirl, and amid the force of the mini-tornado, Seth lost his grip on his old friend.

  “No, damn it!” Seth tugged his whip from his belt and snapped it in the air.

  The ends swept into the swirling eddy, but only contacted air.

  Finn had disappeared.

  The soft click of the front door echoed into the night, and Hannah stepped onto the porch.

  Seth glanced at her, checking to make sure Finn hadn’t injured her. He scanned from her golden hair to her emerald green eyes, over full, luscious lips, past her tight-fitting pink sweater, down her slim waist, and over form-fitting jeans that hugged her well-rounded hips.

  Thankfully, she seemed physically unharmed, but he worried about her mental state. No human should have to witness such evil.

  He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. “Are you okay?”

  She licked her lips and nodded. “Just a little shaken up.”

  The sudden urge to pull her against him and hold her close whipped through him. His fingers jerked in response, but he resisted the impulse. He didn’t deserve to touch a woman as fine as Hannah.

  He curled his hand into a fist and glanced over the lawn. No sign of fae, at least not now.

  He picked his hat off the ground and wiped away a few bits of grass that clung to the brim. “We should get you inside.”

  Hannah rubbed her arms and met his gaze. “What happened to Finn? Why isn’t he like you anymore, and why did he attack me?”

  All kinds of similar questions swirled in Seth’s mind, but he needed Hannah in the house, safe and sound. “Good questions. What I do know is when faced with his test, Finn failed. He�
�s now a fae. We can discuss this more inside.”

  She crossed the threshold, and he followed her, closing and locking the door behind him. He mentally thanked Wynne, once again, for warding this house.

  Hannah hurried into the living room and turned on the lights. Soft illumination filled the space. She paced past the couch and stood in front of the side table. George, the Betta fish, swam in his bowl, his red tail trailing behind him.

  Hannah turned to face him, her cheeks flushed. Confusion etched her brows. “Finn’s a fae? What did he do?”

  The urge to withhold the information bubbled in Seth’s mind. He wanted to protect Hannah, do whatever it took to keep her safe. The less she knew, the better. When he didn’t answer, she crossed her arms.

  “Tell me. I want to know.”

  He strode to the couch, placed his hat on the coffee table, and met her gaze. “He killed Gabriel.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened. “He did?”

  “Yeah. Went against our number one rule to protect the humans.” Seth ran his hand over his face. “He’s a fae. I still can’t believe it.”

  A somber ache tightened his chest. He gritted his teeth, and sharp pain from Finn’s blow to his jaw radiated up the side of his face. The lingering discomfort was another reminder that his best friend was now the enemy.

  Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck. “You saved me. Again. Thank you.”

  Her cool, crisp, linen scent eased into his senses, burrowing deep. Smooth and silky, her hair caressed his neck, and the warmth of her skin sent tingles of excitement everywhere she touched.

  He wanted to give in to the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. Instead, he placed his hands on her arms and drew her away. She rested her palms on his chest, and sexual energy flared between them.

  He longed for more of her soft caresses over every inch of his skin. Except for his back and his damnable white wings. He never wanted anyone to touch him there.

  Hannah studied him, her green eyes shining like perfect emeralds then her brow furrowed, and a frown tugged at her luscious lips. “You’re injured.”