by E A Price
He’d found her lovely, but he couldn’t have guessed it was also the female he had enjoyed conversing with. She was lovelier than he could have imagined. He did not look at humans and find them either attractive or unattractive – he wasn’t sure what was supposed to be beautiful in humans, but she appealed to him in a way none other ever had… and he had made her faint twice, not to mention the kidnapping part and having her almost toasted by on overzealous Danica.
The only thing really injured from Danica’s outburst was an antique painting of a young shepherd boy rounding up sheep. It was pretty hideous to begin with, so none of them thought it would be missed. Drago was slightly singed, but he didn’t seem to notice much.
“No, no, no!” growled Castor to Grey and Danica. “We are not killing anyone!”
Tristan snarled at the three of them while Martha threw them a panicky look. Drago grunted reassuringly. At least Drago would keep them under control. Martha apparently knew his Guinevere – she wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, and so by extension neither would Drago.
But the way Tristan was feeling at that moment, he felt like he would fight anyone and destroy anything that tried to hurt her, or even touch her, or perhaps even look at her in a funny way.
It was perhaps fortunate that the house was so empty. Annis and Brom were at their human mates’ homes and the other gargoyles out hunting. He believed Luc had taken Kylie somewhere for a little alone time – something that was in short supply around there he thought sourly. While Martha’s father had decided to tag along with the hunt – he made a good companion for Leo, an elderly gargoyle who had difficulty keeping up with his younger brothers and sisters.
Guinevere started stirring. Her sculpted mouth puckered and her forehead creased.
“Gwen,” exclaimed Martha, squeezing her arm.
“Is the big one wearing clothes?” whispered Guinevere. “I’m not opening my eyes until I’m sure he is.”
Martha sighed, a little in relief. “He is, I promise.” She sent her mate a reproachful look, but he just snorted.
“Martha is too,” put in Danica, “so you don’t have to worry about tripping over Grey’s big, fat, floppy, wet tongue!”
She glared at Grey who was torn between snarling at her and protecting himself from the stirring Drago. “I was not looking at her!”
“You were drooling,” grouched Danica, folding her arms and clearly pouting.
Tristan ignored them. “Guinevere?”
Those long eyelashes fluttered, and chocolate brown eyes immediately sought him.
“Tristan?”
“Guinevere?!”
“Tristan?!”
“What is happening?” murmured Castor to Danica. “Is this normal for a human female?”
“You’re asking her?” sneered Grey.
There was a muffled ‘ow’ and a slight smell of singed flesh, but Tristan didn’t take his eyes from Guinevere.
She seemed to be at a loss, and her eyes continuously roamed over his body. He wondered if she was disappointed - as if he was somehow lacking. As if she wished he were human.
Her stomach let out a loud rumble, and her expression passed from confused to abashed.
“How long since you last ate?” asked Martha just a tad censoriously.
Guinevere shrugged. “I’ve kind of been busy today, what with one thing and another.”
Her eyes finally left him and moved onto the other gargoyles, before landing on Drago and quickly moving back to Tristan.
“Grey, please bring her something to eat,” said Martha.
“I already did,” he complained, “and she threw it on me, and I do not take orders from you, female.”
Drago rose to his feet slowly, his wild gaze finding Grey. The male watched him uncertainly.
“Oh, I’ll go!” grumbled Danica, “since it’s such a big deal.”
“I did not say I would not,” argued Grey as the two of them bickered all the way to the kitchen.
“I will make sure they do not burn the whole house down,” sighed Castor trailing after them.
Martha looked between Tristan and Guinevere for a couple of beats before she went over to Drago and took his hand. “I need your help with something in… another room.”
“What?” he asked curiously.
Martha smiled. “Does it matter?”
His lips twitched, and he eagerly pulled her with him as he virtually ran out of there, leaving the two of them alone. Tristan’s wings twitched.
“What are… ah, I mean, what…”
“I am a gargoyle.”
*
A gargoyle?
She’d seen gargoyles in movies and on TV, and the stone ones on buildings, but none had ever looked quite so human. Obviously, he wasn’t human but…
“What were you doing in the library at night?”
“I was trying to send you a message,” he admitted a tad bashfully.
“How come you stopped? I was worried you…” were too busy to contact me because you were canoodling with Martha. She let the sentence hang in the air
“My chief found out that I had made contact with you and forbade me from doing so again. He fears the exposure of our kind.”
“But you didn’t listen?”
“I did not wish for you to believe I had abandoned you.”
Gwen flushed as she realized she had confided quite a few personal details with him. Would she have done so had she known he was a gargoyle? Honestly, she had no idea. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed he existed now and she was looking right at him! Perhaps she should touch him to make sure he really was real.
“Why were you in the library?” he asked.
“I work there, and I went back to turn off all the computers.”
He pursed his lips in disapproval. “Hmmm, it is not safe for you to be out alone at night.”
“Tell me about it; there are gargoyles lurking everywhere.”
She giggled nervously, and Tristan smiled slightly. A voice in the back of her head told her over and over this wasn’t possible – that he couldn’t possibly be real, and yet, he was. The voice also told her she should be terrified of him – or at least mildly worried. Yet, she wasn’t.
“No wonder you didn’t want to talk about yourself.”
Tristan chuckled lowly. The sound was rich, and tingle inducing. “It is hard to explain to a human that you are a creature they never knew even existed.”
“Yes, I can honestly say I never saw it coming.”
She looked at him over and over, and despite her initial shock, she wasn’t scared of him. He was… Tristan. The same Tristan she had been talking to. Okay, so he didn’t look anything like she was expecting, but it was still him, and intrinsically she felt safe with him.
“I am sorry I kidnapped you,” he said, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I did not wish to leave you alone.”
“It’s, ah, okay.”
She’d never expected to be told sorry for being kidnapped – what was the correct response? Lots of strange new experiences today.
Gwen bit her lip. “I should really be getting home.” Her mom was probably wondering where she was.
“After you eat,” he said with a slightly bossy edge.
“Sure.” Her stomach gave a wobble of agreement.
“About what you have seen here…”
“I… I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Thank you.”
“You believe me, right? You’re not going to keep me here?”
“No, I would not do that. I do trust you.”
That elated her more than it probably should.
*
Martha offered to drive her home, and Gwen eagerly accepted. She didn’t really trust her legs to get her there at that moment.
Neither Drago nor Tristan had been particularly pleased to see the two of them leave. Drago had to be distracted by the unfortunate Grey while Martha slipped out the door. Tristan had merely looked at Gwen uncertainly as she lef
t. He did not say anything, but he must have been wondering whether they would continue their… what would anyone call it? Their relationship? Or was that too strong of a word for what they had?
Honestly, she didn’t know where they went from there. She was still trying to process everything. Gargoyles! Actual freaking gargoyles existed. Not to mention…
“That girl, Danica…” started Gwen.
Martha pressed her lips together. “We’d rather you didn’t mention her to anyone. A lot of people want to use her for her abilities.”
“So she really can start fires with her mind?”
Martha nodded, and Gwen let out a breath, slumping into her car seat. Either the world was a lot crazier than she thought, or this was one very long, detailed hallucination brought on by exhaustion.
Her mind kept wandering back to Tristan. Of all the scenarios she was expecting for her online friend, a gargoyle definitely wasn’t one of them. She had thought they were flirting, but that couldn’t be true given what he was… could it? Martha had certainly seemed enamored by the large gargoyle.
Gwen slanted a look at the tall blonde, remembering how she had looked in that skimpy underwear, and feeling mightily relieved that at least she wasn’t dating Tristan. As far as Gwen knew, Tristan was available. But still a gargoyle. But should that make a difference?
Ugh! Thank heavens it was her day off tomorrow. She could sleep all day long and mope over the situation to her heart’s content.
*
It was pretty late by the time she made it home. Surprisingly, her mom was still up and reading a book.
“Hey, mom.”
“Hey, honey, did you have a good time tonight?”
Martha didn’t want her to worry and had called her mom to say they were hanging out. Apparently, her mom believed that without question. Either her mom was incredibly trusting, or Martha was an excellent liar - probably a little of both. It also made her wonder how long Martha had been lying to cover up dating a gargoyle. Well, however long, she certainly looked happy.
“Sure,” she muttered as she realized her mom was waiting for a reply.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She smiled, though she looked a little pale and Gwen’s protectiveness kicked in.
“Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine; don’t worry. Tilly from next door came round, and we watched The Bachelor. If anything, I’m just emotionally drained because he picked all the girls that were completely wrong for him.”
Gwen chuckled, shaking her head. “I thought you hated that show.”
Her mom had never been keen on TV. She had only picked up her soap opera habit in the last few years when her illness meant that she didn’t have the energy to do anything else.
Her mom shrugged. “Tilly loves it, and Tilly’s enthusiasm can be infectious.”
Gwen yawned. “I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Good night, honey.”
“Night mom.”
As she lay in bed that night, she reflected on the truly odd day she had, but the one thing that kept coming back to her was Tristan’s face, with his warm smile and kind eyes.
*
Tristan soared past her house. He had to make sure she got home safe. Besides, Luc could not kill him twice, and given everything else Tristan had done that night, this probably would not make him madder.
He regretted not eliciting a promise from her that he would see her again, but in truth, he had been fearful of her answer. He cursed his reticence now. Surely it was better to know she hated him now than to wonder about it for days and possibly weeks. But she was shocked by the gargoyles’ existence, and even more shocked to learn she had been communicating with one. He needed to give her time. Once the truth sank in, she was more likely to give him a favorable answer.
At least she had not been too horrified by his appearance. In his time he had known humans who had looked upon his kind with hatred, who had thought them demonic and beastly.
In fact, she had even smiled at him, and if he was not mistaken, there was wonder in her eyes when she first caught sight of him. Was it too much to hope that she could see past what he was to the person she already knew? Could she see him as something more than a monster?
*
Gwen slept until the afternoon, her dreams peppered with flying creatures and one in particular who smiled at her, giving her some very funny feelings.
She would have lounged for longer were it not for the unbearably loud arguing from outside her door. At first, she told herself it was just the TV, but as she regained consciousness, she realized one of the loud voices belonged to her mom, and the other, her dad.
Gwen rolled out of bed, landing on one of the many piles of clothes currently decorating her bedroom floor and pulled on her robe. She stumbled into the living room to find her mom shouting at her dad.
“I want a divorce and the money I am owed from my house!” yelled her dad.
“You can have your damn divorce, but you will get money out of me over my dead body!”
“Don’t tempt me,” he hissed, his face twisting into an ugly expression.
“Get out, or I’m calling the cops.”
“I won’t wait forever,” he said, and while the words were not threatening, the tone certainly was. He raked a contemptuous look over both Gwen and her mom and marched out the house.
“Mom?”
Her mother looked more agitated than the time Gwen microwaved her Barbie doll. She was only five, and she had dropped the doll in a puddle and wanted to dry her off quickly. It started a fire, destroyed the microwave and melted Barbie. Her mom blamed her dad who hadn’t been watching Gwen. No, he’d gone to the store to buy some beers and left Gwen to her own devices. The Barbie was replaced, though Gwen’s aversion to microwaves persisted to that day.
“You knew he was back?”
“Well, I…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gwen toyed with the sash of her robe, feeling guilty and foolish. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
Rather than anger, her mother’s face creased in sadness. “Oh, honey, I’m your mother – let me do the worrying.”
“But, what are we going to do?”
“I’d be glad to give him a divorce,” scoffed her mom. “But I’m not letting him walk away with my house. I’m going to talk to Tilly; her cousin is a receptionist at a law firm. I’ll get us some advice.”
Gwen felt her stomach turn to stone as she thought of Tom’s offer. “Mom, Tom said that…”
“I don’t care what that man has to say about anything,” she interrupted waspishly.
She blinked at her mother’s sudden, fiery tone. “But don’t you…”
“Honey, I didn’t like to say anything while you were dating, but that man was not and is not good enough for you. I don’t want you going back to him just because you’re worried about money.
“I’m your mother, and I appreciate and feel completely guilty about everything you do for me, but this is my fault – I should have filed for divorce when he left, I should have sorted out the house. Let me do the worrying for once. Now, you’ve had a long week – why don’t you bring your quilt out and when I get back from next door we’ll watch our favorite film – it feels like ages since we did that.”
Gwen beamed, feeling infinitely happier. “I’d love that. I’m going to get some toaster waffles.”
“Get me some too and don’t forget the cocoa.”
*
Gwen made it through the door to her bedroom and let out an eep as she found a gargoyle struggling through her bedroom window.
“Hello,” he said slightly awkwardly.
“Gwen?” called her mom.
“I’m fine, just stubbed my toe, night!” she blurted as she quickly shut her door.
Gwen hovered next to the struggling gargoyle and Tristan grimaced.
“I believe my wings are stuck.”
“Ah, okay, let me just…”
The
next few minutes were filled with awkward maneuvers and wings slapping in faces as they tried to dislodge him.
“What on earth possessed you? Look, just hold still while I… no, don’t move… wait a second… umph…”
“What if I move like this…”
“No, don’t – agh!”
Finally, Tristan slumped into the bedroom, scattering her piles of clothing and old magazines she had yet to tidy. Gwen’s chest heaved as if she had run a marathon.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize,” he rumbled in a low voice.
“That’s it?” she asked, mildly disappointed and she didn’t know why. “All that effort of fitting you into the room for that?”
His tail flicked as if he was nervous, but his expression remained peaceable. “I was not sure whether you would respond to a message – if I managed to find a computer. My leader is,” he winced, “displeased with me, to say the least.”
“You told him I’m not going to say anything, right?”
Uneasiness coursed through her. She had visions of a male even bigger than Drago coming to her room at night, red eyes blazing as he dragged her out of bed and… that was as far as that imagining went. She didn’t dare allow it any further. The other gargoyles did worry her, and she did not feel like she would want to be left alone with one. Except for Tristan. They were alone right now, and she didn’t feel scared. Nope, that definitely was not the emotion that sprang forth.
“I have assured him you can be trusted, as did Martha and Kylie.”
“You say that but when we were sending each other messages you didn’t trust me enough… wait, did you just say Kylie?! Kylie?! Kylie as in Bea’s niece, Kylie?”
She’d known about Martha, but Kylie was a surprise – maybe even more so than Martha.
“Ah, right, we did not mention Kylie last night.” He forced a nervous chuckle.
“Who else in town knows?”
“Ah, perhaps I should not say.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, the only person I really confided in recently…”
“Was me,” he groaned.
“Yes.”
“You are disappointed,” he stated, his wings ruffling lightly behind him.
“N… no.”
“You are. Because I am a gargoyle. I wished to tell you that I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of myself. I am sure you were expecting something quite different to me.”
