by E A Price
“An expensive one?” asked Gwen uneasily.
“No, Martha said she would find us one who will do it pro bono – her mother has a lot of connections. If you think Martha can be bossy, then clearly you’ve never met her mother. Martha’s bossiness is merely in its infancy.”
“I thought you didn’t like charity.”
Her mother gave her a sad look. “I don’t, honey, but I’m not too stubborn to accept kindness from a friend. Martha thinks with an aggressive enough attorney; we’ll get the house. I mean, it’s not like we’re asking for back alimony or child support – it’s the least he can do. Especially since for about three years before he left he was unemployed, and I was paying the mortgage. I'm not unreasonable.”
Gwen smiled. Unknowingly, she was echoing her father’s words. Though, this time the phrase rang true.
“Anyway, I have to get to work.”
“Call me if you feel sick,” ordered Gwen, worrying about her already.
“I’ll be fine,” she chuckled, “but thank you, honey. I didn’t make you anything for dinner…”
“I can manage.”
She sighed. “I know, honey. You’ve had to.”
They hugged, her mother giving her a stronger squeeze than she had in years and they parted.
Gwen felt a lot happier and started rooting around the cupboards. Since her mother wasn’t going to be there, she would make Tristan something to eat.
She was supposed to be working late at the library but had given her late shift to Frances. She was in her seventies and worked part time when she felt like it. She felt like working late tonight, and Gwen wasn’t going to argue. Not when she had Tristan’s visit to look forward to.
They could enjoy a meal together. Almost like a real date.
She giggled, but yeah, it was almost like a real date. She remembered his kisses and yeah, they were really something.
Well, being with a gargoyle wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. Martha and Kylie were doing it, and judging by the way she found Martha and her gargoyle, Drago the other night, there didn’t seem to be any physical reason a gargoyle and a human couldn’t be together.
Tristan did make her happy. Maybe she was feeling overly optimistic, but why not a gargoyle?
*
“That was delicious,” said Tristan, wiping the sauce from around his lips.
“Thanks.”
Gwen really hadn’t been sure what to feed him. There was no handy ‘cooking for gargoyles’ cookbook available, but he certainly seemed to enjoy the pasta. So much so he didn’t let cutlery get in his way and just went Godzilla on the bowl. Not that she particularly minded, she was just glad that she had made four times the usual amount than she would have if her dinner companion had been human.
“I’m sorry I destroyed your chair.”
He looked so guilty that Gwen couldn’t help but smile.
“My fault for trying to fit you into the chair.”
Memo to self – gargoyle tails and wings were not meant for ordinary kitchen chairs. He had tried, but his tail had destroyed it and highlighted how shabby their furniture really was.
Gwen passed him dessert.
“What do you call this?” he asked eyeing it with suspicion.
“That’s just an ice cream sandwich – the cheapest the grocery store sells, but coincidently, the most delicious. We kind of ran out of cupcakes.”
Tristan took a big bite, and his face screwed up in pain.
Gwen winced. “Ooh, brain freeze.” She wondered whether this was his first time having ice cream – given his reaction she would guess so.
“My head feels as if it is about to explode!” he growled, just a little dramatically as his wings fluttered, threatening to destroy another piece of furniture.
He clutched his head and Gwen perched on his lap holding his hands, planting a kiss on his forehead. She was torn between soothing him and bursting into laughter. She’d never known anyone have quite such an intense reaction to ice cream.
Eventually, he stopped worrying about his head and focused on the fact that she was on his lap. He smiled, his hands snaking around her as he chuckled, mildly embarrassed.
“First time with ice cream, champ?”
“Indeed it was. I do not think I like eating anything that cold.”
Gwen placed her hands on his chest, his muscles rippling beneath her touch. She wondered whether he didn’t bother with a shirt because it was hard to take it on and off with his wings. Whatever the reason, it would be a shame to cover up these muscles. He really did look like he had been carved. Every inch of him was perfection. It didn’t seem strange to her that she was thinking along those lines.
“We’re getting through a few firsts.”
“I think I like kissing best,” he murmured.
“Hmmm, me too.”
His arms tightened around her, and she leaned in for a kiss, only pausing as someone banged on her back door.
Tristan stiffened, his eyes flashing. “Your mother?”
Gwen shook her head. “Doesn’t usually bang on her own door, and I know she took her keys.”
The bang sounded again, a little more insistently.
“You go hide in my room, and I’ll get rid of them,” she said.
Tristan grunted in displeasure, but as she pushed away from him, he did as she asked.
“Just,” he sighed, “call me if you need me.”
Gwen frowned. “Why would I? It’s probably just my neighbor.”
“You should always be careful,” he declared as he carefully maneuvered his wings through the small kitchen. “You know my kind has enemies.”
Her stomach gave a small lurch. Could she be in danger because of Tristan? He left before she could reply to that and quickly opened her door to her impatient visitor. Unsurprisingly, it was her neighbor - Tilly.
“Hey sweetie,” trilled the bubbly Tilly. “Sorry for all the banging but I’m in a rush – I’ve got a date waiting for me, but I wanted to drop off this pie I made for you and your mom. It’s cranberry and walnut spice. This is my first batch. Best eaten the day it’s made.”
Tilly thrust a still warm, spicy scented pie in her direction and Gwen took it lest Tilly drop it.
“Thank you; it smells delicious.” She wasn’t particularly surprised – Tilly was both a fanatic and fantastic baker. She had a small baking blog that Gwen put a link to on the town website – she also included one or two of Tilly’s recipes on there too. Tilly was always trying new recipes and testing them out on Gwen and her mother. As generous as everyone else in town had been over the years, Gwen maintained they probably would have starved without Tilly’s calorific contributions.
“My pleasure, sweetie. I’ll pop by to see what you think tomorrow. You have a good evening.”
Tilly all but ran away, only wobbling slightly on what appeared to be four-inch heels.
“You too,” called Gwen after her.
She turned to find Tristan watching her.
“Your neighbor? She is very… pink.”
Gwen nodded and placed the pie on the counter. Tilly loved the color pink sure enough. “She dropped off a pie. You can have a slice if you want. You’ll probably like it better than the ice cream.”
“I startled you when I said we had enemies.”
Gwen looked at him. “No, I…”
“I did, I saw it on your face.”
“I suppose I just hadn’t realized that…”
“That your association with me may be dangerous. It might be,” he admitted. “The people who wish to hurt us are vicious. You could get hurt in the crossfire, or worse someone like Ophelia may come after you. I cannot deny it is a risk. It is too much to ask of you.”
Her stomach clenched. She knew that tone – that was the breaking-up tone. No, no, she didn’t want that. “Tristan…”
“You have your life and your mother to consider. Being with me could be dangerous, and there would be many limitations to our relationship
.”
She could feel him slipping away from her, could feel him retreating, could sense both his anger and his despair at the situation.
“Please, Tristan, I just need time to think – this is all so sudden.”
There was another knock at the door, and he growled in exasperation.
“Probably Tilly again, just go back in my room – we need to talk. Promise me you won’t go anywhere?”
Tristan reached out a hand to her and quickly dropped it as the door almost shook with the resumed banging. “I promise.”
He retreated, and she took a moment to breathe deeply, wishing for once that Tilly wasn’t quite so friendly or kind. Every instinct she had told her she didn’t want him to go, but… it was just a lot to process.
The door handle started moving before she got to it and she frowned. That actually wasn’t like Tilly.
She yanked the door open to find a startled Tom on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
Seriously – where she worked and now where she lived. Was the dumbass stalking her?!
“I live here,” she hissed, looking him up and down. He was covered head to toe in black and lugging a large sports holdall.
“You’re supposed to be at work,” he said in a quieter voice, glancing around him.
“I switched shifts… it doesn’t matter.” Gwen folded her arms. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes darted back and forth. “I came to talk to you.”
“But you just said you didn’t think I would be here.”
Tom licked his lips and pushed past her, forcing her back into the house. He pulled the holdall higher on his shoulder, something like glass clinked inside.
“What are you doing?”
He looked around. “Your mother’s at work, right?”
“Yeah,” she replied slowly. The alarm bells that started when she first saw him were now blaring at her to get away from this creep.
“You can still say yes,” he blurted.
“What?”
“We can still be together. I’ll take care of you.”
He looked almost desperate, but Gwen was unmoved.
“I’m sorry, Tom, I don’t want that.”
His face turned ugly, and he snatched her arm, squeezing it hard. “You found someone else with more money to use and dump.”
Her heart beat furiously, but Gwen managed to keep her temper. “We broke up because I found out how cruel you could be, and that clearly hasn’t changed. Now, let go of me.”
“You bitch! Did you think I would just let you use me? Let you take my money. I should at least get my money's worth.”
“No, Tom!”
The two of them started struggling, pushing and pulling at one another. Gwen dug her nails into his arm, but he barely seemed to notice.
“Let her go,” said a dangerously deep voice.
Tom’s jaw dropped, and while he didn’t completely let go of Gwen, she managed to turn and see Tristan glowering at him. Gone were the kind eyes and smile of the gargoyle she had come to care for. His wings were spread, making him look huge while his muscles trembled as he squared his shoulders. He looked like he was readying for battle, and he looked magnificent.
“What the fuck is that thing?” cried Tom.
“He’s not a thing,” snapped Gwen.
Tom looked at her in horror. “Don’t tell me…”
Gwen scowled at him.
“You and that thing are… no, you can’t be!” Tom looked like he was turning green.
“It’s none of your damn business what we do.”
He looked like he was going to be sick.
“Let. Her. Go,” snarled Tristan, his words were punctuated by the flick of his tail.
Tom released her, hauling her towards Tristan, who eagerly caught her.
“Are you honestly telling me you prefer this ugly fucking thing to me?”
“In every way possible!” screamed Gwen. “Get out of my house!”
“Then you’ll get what you deserve!”
Tom ran out of there and she started really freaking out.
“Oh my god, he saw you! What do we do? What do we…”
Gwen’s panic attack was cut short as something hurled through the window. They froze for a moment, not comprehending what it was.
“Fire!” roared Tristan, dragging Gwen into his arms and surrounding her with his wings. She clamped onto his body, closing her eyes tightly.
Gwen heard another window smash. Tom was throwing lit bottles of alcohol into her house – he was trying to burn them alive!
The fire alarm was beeping like crazy. Tristan, clutching her tightly, roared and ran through the house, careening into her bedroom and leaping through her window. When he finally stopped moving, he had to peel her off his body.
“Please, let me see that you are not hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she breathed while trying to force her legs not to collapse from under her. She almost wished she hadn’t opened her eyes. “Tristan, your wings, you’re on fire!”
*
A couple days later
“Mom, please, don’t – I’m fine.”
“Let me fuss over you for once.”
Gwen had spent one night in hospital after the fire. Given that she had been in the house when the fire started, the doctors were surprised she had not inhaled more smoke, but they were happy to let her go home. They had no idea she had been cocooned by a gargoyle.
Not that she had a home anymore. Nope, their very flammable house went up in flames, along with all their stuff.
Her mom rearranged her pillows again.
“Seriously,” said Gwen impatiently, “they’re as fluffed as they’ll ever be.”
Her mom bit her lip. “I can stay home.”
“Please, just let’s try and be as normal as possible, mom.”
Not that living in Martha’s house was very normal. The house was so prim and perfect and floral that Gwen was afraid to touch anything. But Martha insisted they stay with her. She told them that she was spending most of her time with her boyfriend anyway – she gave Gwen a furtive wink at that point – that she would barely notice they were there. Clearly, Martha had never seen the catastrophe zone that was Gwen’s bedroom – she had a knack for turning the tidiest of places into disaster areas. Tilly and a few others had offered their spare rooms, but Martha had two spare bedrooms and pretty much just took over and moved them in. Though, there wasn’t much to move. They didn’t have anything. They were wearing donated clothes – mostly Martha’s, which, given that Martha was nearly six foot and curvy, did not help Gwen’s self-esteem.
Chris, the police chief told them they might be able to salvage a few things, but the house was a little unstable at that moment, so they would have to wait for an all clear from a fire investigator – when he or she got the chance to come by. Apparently it was a low priority.
Tom crashed his car while speeding away from the house. He sped into a tree, and his car caught fire and actually exploded. He died in a fire. Ironic, considering he tried to kill her that way.
After getting her statement, Chris looked for her dad – he believed that Tom had intentionally been there to set fire to the house, and he wanted to find out whether her dad knew he was going to do it. But he had already left town – hopefully, this time for good. If he ever got in contact, her mom would let Chris know. If the man had any sense whatsoever, he’d stay away for good.
The house was insured, so at least they would get some money – eventually. For now, they would have to rely on help. No change there. But Martha insisted she didn’t want rent from them, even though her mother insisted they would be paying something.
Gwen called out goodbye when her mom finally left and waited until the door shut and kicked away the piles of blankets her mother insisted she have.
It had only been two days since the fire, but they had seemed interminable. After they got out the house, Tristan had beat out the fire on
his wings and then beat a reluctant retreat when they heard sirens coming. He hadn’t wanted to go, and she hadn’t wanted him to either – fearing how injured he really was – but him being discovered would throw up a whole heap of other problems. So, with barely even a goodbye, he had flown into the night, his wings still smoldering.
Gwen had been itching to see him, and desperate for any crumbs of information she could gather from Martha. Unfortunately, her mother hadn’t wanted to leave her side, and she hadn’t been able to get Martha alone to speak candidly about the gargoyle. But she was seeing Tristan tonight – even if she had to walk all the freaking way up to the mansion.
Gwen looked up just as something big dropped into Martha’s back garden. She caught the movement through the window.
“Tristan,” she murmured, flying out the back door.
It was lucky he had such good reflexes because she didn’t give him a second to even stand up straight as she launched herself at him. He easily caught her, not even stumbling under the extra weight in the least. If she hadn’t been so relieved, she might have reconsidered before hurling herself into his arms. He had been injured the last time she saw him, after all. Though, truly, he looked none the worse for wear. He was even smiling.
“You’re okay, I’ve been worried sick,” she gushed, rubbing her cheek against his.
Tristan carried her into the house. “I am fine.”
“You were on fire!”
He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her. “Being part dragon has its advantages.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Tristan settled onto the couch with Gwen straddling his lap. She made a half-hearted attempt to move to her own seat, but his arms tightened around her, and she snuggled into his chest.
“What for?” he asked softly as his claws lightly traced patterns over her back.
“You were worried you were putting me in danger and trying to be all noble about it and my dick of an ex-boyfriend tried to kill us!”
“That is not your fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.” For all of her sins where Tom was concerned, she really didn’t consider that being burned alive was in any way justified. Though, it did shock her enough to realize she didn’t want to lose Tristan. “But it’s not your fault that people want to harm you either.”
