Night Angel (Gargoyle Night Guardians Book 2)

by Rosalie Redd

  He’d used the extra energy with a passion he hadn’t experienced in decades, besting his one-night human kill record by five. Good thing, too, because with Finn on special assignment, he and Zain needed to make up the difference.

  They had a god to appease, and like it or not, Marco’s need for praise from a father figure still had him by the balls. Gwawl would receive his tribute. Hannah’s pure innocence was a special delicacy worthy of a God.

  The skeleton of his first kill, one he’d accomplished while still human, stood along the opposite wall. After he’d turned into a fae, he’d dug up the bones and reassembled his trophy here, where he could admire his work daily. The unlucky human was a constant reminder of his duty to Gwawl and his required tribute.

  “You going to welcome me home, Ralph?” Marco smirked, resting his cane on the skeleton’s outstretched arm. “Not tonight, I see. Well, keep trying, my friend, keep trying.”

  Marco removed his coat and tossed the damaged, stained material into the large stone fireplace. With a snap of his finger, flames roared to life as if eager to consume their next meal. Tonight, he’d conjure up a new coat, just as he did every night.

  He knelt next to the fireplace and pressed his thumb against the loose stone at its base. A hidden drawer slid from its track on a soft squeak.

  On an intake of breath, he withdrew the silver flask. Made from the melted daggers of the few gargoyles he’d killed over the decades, the container was as precious to him as its contents.

  Marco stroked his fingers over the engraved surface and unscrewed the top. He placed his mouth against the opening, then parted his lips.

  A small tendril of a white gaseous substance, almost like smoke, slipped from him and into the flask. The extra bit of strength he’d enjoyed ebbed from him in an instant, leaving a hard, empty pit in his gut.

  He couldn’t fail in his task to appease Gwawl or all might be for naught. After replacing his precious merchandise, he closed the drawer and rose to his feet.

  The hands on his Rolex indicated dawn approached in the human realm. Zain and Finn were to meet him here.

  “Where are my two babysitters?” he muttered to himself.

  They better not be late.

  Static electricity prickled the hair on Marco’s arm, and a low buzz filled the air.

  Two small whirlwinds burst to life, one near the fireplace, the other next to his dresser. The swirls churned faster, growing by the second, then quit as quickly as they’d started. In their place, stood Zain and Finn.

  Zain brushed his fingers through his dark hair, now uncurled from his braid, and smiled. His chipped tooth seemed so out of place with his flawless features. “You should’ve stayed a few minutes longer. The sunrise was a killer this morning.”

  The idiot must be a masochist. What fae stayed out to watch the sunrise?

  Marco narrowed his gaze. “I’m sure it was.”

  Finn leaned against the dresser, his palms pressed against the wood. He was empty-handed, no Hannah in sight.

  Marco’s pulse rose. “Where is my prize?”

  Finn drew his brows together. “I don’t think yer goin’ ta like what I have ta tell ya.”

  Marco studied Finn. “You failed to complete your assignment. Are you inept or did you blunder on purpose?”

  Finn pushed away from the dresser so hard, the wood surface cracked. Bits of dust rained onto the stone floor.

  Good thing there wasn’t a window in this place or Marco would’ve tossed the guy through it. Instead, he gripped Finn by the shoulder and shoved him into the wall. The rock shuddered from the impact. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll throttle your measly neck until I pinch your worthless head from your spine.”

  Zain placed his palm on Marco’s shoulder. “Don’t. Do you want to piss off Gwawl?”

  Marco fisted his hand but stepped aside.

  Finn glared at him. “Ya wouldn’t have fared any better. Hannah’s protected. By a gargoyle.”

  Unease scurried through Marco’s bloodstream. “By whom?”

  Finn laughed. “My old friend, Seth. Fitting, don’t ya think?”

  Marco stormed to the fireplace. As he passed Ralph, he swore the skeleton smiled in amusement.

  He placed his palms on the mantle and stared into the fire. A complication like this didn’t factor into his plans. “Give me details.”

  Finn strode up behind Marco. His loud exhale echoed around the room. “I went ta Beaumont’s house. Dear, sweet Hannah was alone. She invited me in. As I raced across the lawn, Seth tackled me. We fought. I ne’er would’ve given in ta him, but I couldn’t risk my life. Better ta wait him out.”

  “We only have two nights left.” Marco turned around and stared at him. “You should’ve tried again.”

  “Ya think I didn’t?” Finn scoffed. “I waited patiently, but I sensed Seth nearby clear until the wee hours of dawn. I’m sure Drake wanted him on patrol instead of watchin’ over a lass, but he remained, alert and waitin’. If I know Drake, he’ll have his hide for that.”

  Zain shrugged. “Do you want me to capture her?”

  Based on the first night, Marco’d lay odds Finn was the one most likely to betray him, but he’d be a fool to base his judgment on one night. Besides, this might be an even better test for Finn if his old best buddy, Seth, guarded Hannah.

  Marco shook his head. “No, I want you with me. We have more souls to bag for Gwawl. I have complete confidence Finn will come through next time.”

  Finn inclined his head but didn’t lower his gaze. “Aye, I will. One thing I noticed. The witches ward the place, but the spell is weak. I can promise ya this. I’ll find a way in.”

  “You do that and bring Hannah to me. Tonight, I want her full power.” Marco tugged at his shirt collar. The tight material chafed his neck, and he longed for a hot shower, a nice meal, and a relaxing day with one of his lady friends. “If I have to do this myself, you’ll be dead. Now, that’s a promise.”

  Finn nodded. “Have no worries about my ability ta complete my task. I’ll get the lass.”

  Marco waved his hand in the air, dismissing his two new “teammates.” “Go. Go. Both of you. Do whatever it is you do during your spare time. Leave me to mine.”

  A small whirlwind swirled around Finn. He vanished a moment later.

  Zain crossed his arms, and his muscles bulged beneath his jacket. His dark gaze pierced through Marco. “I don’t trust him. He was a gargoyle on Rhiannon’s team for over a century. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still fighting the transition to fae. You sure you don’t want me to handle this?”

  Marco clapped his palm on Zain’s shoulder. “Not yet, my new friend. If he fails again, you’ll get your chance. At sunset, we gather more souls. Don’t want to disappoint our boss, now, do we?”

  A hard glint flared in Zain’s hazel eyes. “I can hardly wait.”

  The impudent fae vanished in a mini dust storm.

  “Trust is such a fragile thing.” Marco turned to Ralph and stared at the skeleton’s dark, empty eye sockets. “We’ll see which one of them breaks it first. In either case, I will see pretty little Hannah again and suck all of the precious goodness from her soul. Then Gwawl will have his tribute, and I will obtain the promotion I so richly deserve.”

  The morning sun crested over the top of Stuart Hall, bathing the quad below in dawn’s soft glow. A bird’s quiet chirp echoed in the morning air, followed by another and then a third. The lawn and the walkways within the quad remained eerily silent and peaceful.

  No humans roamed the grounds quite yet. Not that Seth expected much activity today. Most students had fled like wild horses to get away for spring break. But not all.

  Seth had remained atop the old Victorian until the sun’s first rays nearly crested over the horizon then beat a hasty retreat to his perch. His only solace—Hannah would be safe from the fae during the day. The tension flooding Seth’s spirit eased, and an image of Hannah flashed through his mind.

  She stood before
him, brow furrowed. With a profound touch of kindness, she’d brushed her fingertips along his jaw. His chest tightened at the memory, and a longing for affection he’d craved for more than a century threatened to surface.

  He fought the emotion, shoving away the warmth that wanted to burrow deep into his soul. The likes of him didn’t deserve sweet kindness from someone as gentle and caring as Hannah.

  “Seth. Heads up. Grayson and I did our best to cover for you, but Drake joined us at the end of the last battle. He knows you turned off your tracker and went AWOL. Sorry, man.” Damian’s voice echoed through the mind link.

  “Watch out, my friend, he’s madder than a hornet,” Grayson chimed in.

  Seth seethed, but he didn’t regret his choice to watch over Hannah. “Thanks, y’all. ’Preciate the effort.”

  Frustration traveled through him like an electrical current. He stirred within his stone gargoyle but was unable to stretch his arms, legs, and even wings.

  Damn, how he hated the confinement, but at least there was enough light for him to see. If he’d ever been trapped in his gargoyle without his vision, madness might’ve claimed him long ago.

  “Seth.” Drake’s deep voice pinged over the mind link. “Tell me what’s so damned more important than sending fae into the ether.”

  The urge to spin a tale and lie to his boss lingered on the tip of Seth’s tongue. Tension tightened around his soul. Since he’d become a gargoyle, he’d left deceit behind along with the cards. He steeled himself and let the words fly. “Protecting a human woman. Marco’s targeted her and—”

  “You know the rules. We’re night guardians, protectors of all humankind. We can’t afford to spend time guarding a single human.” Drake expelled a long breath. “You’re lucky Damian and Grayson handled the fae tonight. If they hadn’t, I’d blame you for any human deaths.”

  “It didn’t come to that.”

  “Good thing. If it had, I’d ground your ass to your post for a week. As it is, I should hold you here for at least a night, but I need you out in the field.” His boss exhaled loud and slow. “You’re a good warrior, Seth. Don’t disappoint me again.”

  A bitter thickness coated the back of Seth’s throat. His job meant everything to him or so he’d thought. Now, doubt plagued him along with his guilt. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Drake clicked off the mind link without a reply.

  Although Seth hadn’t lied to his squad leader, he hadn’t shared the entire truth either. He had every intention of checking in with Hannah at dusk.

  Finn or some other fae would try again, and Seth vowed to protect her no matter the consequences. For her, he’d risk a thousand nights trapped in his gargoyle and endure every moment of the torment.

  CHAPTER 11

  Soft fur tickled Hannah’s cheek, rousing her from a deep sleep. The tail end of a dream, one of a tall, dark, sexy man who looked a lot like Seth, slipped from her memory. She brushed the fine hairs that were tickling her away and opened her eyes.

  A thin shaft of sunlight streamed between the crack in her curtains, tracked over the floor and onto her bed, the brightness piercing into her brain. She blinked and focused on her surroundings.

  Snookums sat on the corner of her comforter. He licked his front paw, his long tongue tugging at the fur with each stroke.

  She slid back on the pillow with a soft groan. “Why did you wake me up so early, Snookums? You hungry?”

  As if he understood, he rubbed against her shoulder. The rumble of a soft purr reverberated in his chest. A moment later, he jumped off the comforter. His nails clicked against the hardwood floor as he headed into the hallway.

  Hannah placed her arm over her face, blocking the sunlight. Memories of last night resurfaced with a vengeance—Finn’s attack, Seth’s rescue, Wynne’s potion. How had she ended up in such a situation? It was all too much to comprehend.

  She pushed aside the bedsheets and rolled to a sitting position. The joints in her shoulders, hips, and knees ached, flaring the headache behind her eyes.

  “I need medicine.” Her words, raspy from her dry throat, echoed in the quiet room. Although she’d snagged the bottle from the coffee table and swallowed some of the medicine before bed, she was well past the four-hour limit. No wonder her head hurt.

  Hannah grabbed the small green bottle from her nightstand, uncorked the top, and brought the glass to her lips. The smooth, cool liquid eased down her throat. She exhaled a long breath and set the vial on the table.

  The pounding at her temple ebbed to a dull throb. She massaged the spot then glanced at the digital clock nestled on the nightstand—1:12p.m.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Had she really slept through the entire morning?

  Wynne would arrive soon. Besides, Hannah needed to work on that sketch for Sadie and Beaumont. She’d finish that drawing even if it was the last one she ever made.

  Hannah rose to her feet. White spots formed in her vision and dizziness threatened to take her down. She wrapped shaky fingers around her bedpost and placed her forehead against the cool grain.

  A shiver rippled from her shoulders and down her arms to her fingertips. She exhaled a long breath. A moment later, her vision cleared.

  With slow, measured steps, she headed for the bathroom. A nice, warm shower should do her wonders.

  Thirty minutes later and feeling a little better, Hannah stood in front of her mirror and admired her clothes. She rubbed her hands over the soft material of her rose-colored sweater. Paired with her favorite jeans, she’d picked this particular outfit because the bright, vibrant tone reminded her to stay positive. Things would work out in the end. They always did, didn’t they?

  She focused on her features reflected in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed her eyes despite the concealer she’d applied. Doubt’s cold fingers threatened to creep up her spine. What if she didn’t survive? Worse yet, what if she turned into a fae?

  “No. That won’t happen.” Drawing on her inner strength and her faith, she peered at the ceramic angel resting over her headboard. The beautiful white wings, spread wide, flared at the tips.

  Her guardian angel watched over her, and his name was Seth.

  Thank God, he’d come to her rescue. She’d be dead without him, her soul sucked dry by that vicious fae, Marco.

  The hair at her nape rose, and she trailed her finger over the mark behind her ear. How she hated having his brand on her skin. If there was a way to cut it off, she’d do it regardless of any permanent scar.

  Bolstered by her belief in her savior and her resolve to survive, she snatched the medicine from her dresser, turned on the ball of her foot, and headed for the kitchen.

  After feeding both Snookums and George, Hannah poured herself a bowl of Rice Krispies and settled into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. The little round chunks bobbed in the milk, and the trademark pop, crackle, and snap made them appear alive.

  Hannah’s stomach soured. “Nope. Not happening.”

  She shoved the bowl away. A tidal wave of milk crested dangerously close to the brim, and a few pieces of the cereal threatened to escape.

  The familiar ding of the doorbell’s chime rang through the house.

  Hannah rose from her chair, the hard, wooden feet scraping against the linoleum and echoing through her brain. She winced, even as she hurried down the hall. When she reached the front door, she leaned on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole.

  Wynne and her sister, Sasha, stood on the front porch. A pretty floral scarf hung around Wynne’s neck, the yellow and blue flowers accentuating her blonde hair and blue eyes. Sasha, an older version of Wynne, stared directly at the peephole. A smile broke across her features, and she waved.

  “Thank God.” Hannah yanked open the door. “I’m so happy to see you both.”

  Wynne strode through the doorway and wrapped her arms around Hannah. “So glad to see you, too.”

  Sasha joined in the group hug, and a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg infiltrated Hannah’s senses.
Tension drained from her shoulders. How she loved her friends.

  A moment later, Hannah drew away to close the door.

  “How do you feel?” Wynne’s intense gaze focused on her, concern etched in the fine lines around her eyes.

  Fatigue tugged on Hannah’s mind, and her legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. “Tired. Sore. A little scared.”

  Sasha placed her hand on Hannah’s arm. “I can imagine. You’ve had a rough time.”

  “Let’s get you into the light so I can get a better look at you.” Wynne grasped Hannah’s hand and led her into the kitchen, Sasha following not far behind.

  Wynne set her blue Coach purse on the table. She rested her gaze on the cereal bowl, and she furrowed her brow. “What have you eaten today?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I just woke up a little while ago.”

  “Food will give you energy. Eat something. Okay?”

  Hannah shook her head. “It churns my stomach.”

  “The nausea is only a sensation caused by Marco’s hold on you. Part of the soul-stealing weakens the victim by making their appetite seem non-existent which makes it easier to prey on them. If you can, ignore the nausea and eat some food. It will help you feel better and give you strength to fight.”

  Hannah sighed. As much as she wanted to eat, food didn’t appeal to her. “Okay, I’ll try later. I promise.”

  Wynne wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders and tugged her close once again. “I’m so sorry. This can’t be easy for you.”

  Sasha embraced them both. “No damn dark fae is going to steal your soul, not if we have anything to say about it.”

  Warmth spread through Hannah, lightening her spirit. She held the two witches near a moment longer then drew away. “I want to thank both of you. Your friendship means the world to me.”

  Wynne smiled, but her anxious gaze traveled over Hannah’s features. “Why don’t you sit down and let me have a look at you.”