Daytime was better for painting as the one story building had a sky light, but one painted when Damien demanded. The light would be perfect at midday. He was a man with a temper and she didn’t have any need to feel the wrath of it. He didn’t get physical, but he did yell. Loud.
She put her hand on her hips and stared at the canvas that had notes on it. He hadn’t liked the purple she used. The background was too light. She sighed staring at it. She’d have to start over. She couldn’t fix the background without messing up what she’d done on top of it. Damien probably knew this. He might even have done it on purpose to ruin her Saturday night.
Damien was just that selfish and diabolical.
Before she mixed any paint or even retrieved a new canvas, she pulled out the gargoyle she’d taken from Meg’s house. “Hmm. What should I call you? You seem like a Declan. I don’t know why. I guess you’re Irish and that will have to do.”
She set him on the floor near where she would be working, then realized she might get paint on him and moved him to a shelf. “You’ll have a better view there anyway.”
At least better than the inside of her bag which is where he sat all night. She’d slept in, but not so late that Damien would get mad. Besides, he probably wouldn’t come in.
“You don’t want to meet him,” she said to the stone statue. As if it could hear her.
She’d never had company when she worked as Damien gave the rest of the staff fewer paintings to take care of. He somehow could make her feel valuable and worthless at the same time.
She mixed up paint, put a blank, new canvas on the easel, then yawned. She probably shouldn’t have stayed out so late last night. Being around her friends had been refreshing and she’d been loath to leave their company. Now she was tired even after sleeping late.
Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake off her tiredness. “I’ve got this. You’ve got this, Fiona.”
She put brush to canvas. If anyone was watching, they’d probably think she was in a trance. It did feel like that to her some days. This wasn’t even her creation. This was Damien’s vision, but she could share it. She could reap the pleasure she derived from painting it. He wouldn’t. Which brought her a certain amount of satisfaction.
What he would reap would be the money he’d receive from selling it. None of which would be passed down to her. She’d heard that other artists gave the actual painter a commission.
Not Damien.
She’d love to go out on her own. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she didn’t have her own style and someone accused her of copying Damien’s style? He was a bright star in the Philadelphia art world. She’d be ruined before she started.
Stepping back, she admired what she’d done then looked over his notes again. “That should do it.”
She glanced at the gargoyle. “Well, Declan, what do you think?”
He remained stony-faced. His fangs hung out of his lips as they were pulled back in a snarl. What was he mad at? Was he defending something? “Well, I like it.”
It was time to turn off the lights because the midday sun would be streaming in the skylight any minute now. The day was half over and she was only at it for an hour. This was going to take all afternoon.
“I’ll order food.” She turned to the gargoyle. “I’d offer you some, but you’re already stuffed. “
She laughed at her own stupid joke as she dialed the local pizza place. She was deep in more painting when the doorbell of the shop rang. Startled, she smudged some of the paint. “I hope I can wipe that off.”
With the pizza paid for, she wiped off what paint she could then eyed it to see how she could save the canvas. She didn’t want to start again.
She flopped onto the floor. She’d eat then figure it out.
There had to be a way to fix this.
Chapter Two
Declan was thankful that Fiona was asleep on the studio floor when he came alive. It had been twenty four hours since he’d been in her company. He’d known the minute she walked into Meg’s kitchen that she was his fairy. When she’d insisted she wanted to take him, if he could have, he would have leapt for joy.
“Donal? Sean?” he said in his mind as he stepped off the shelf and rose to his full gargoyle height.
“Declan?” came the answer back from Donal. “You’re animated?”
“Aye. Fiona is my fairy.”
Declan heard the chuckling in his head as he surveyed the area. He didn’t smell goblin so this was a safe space. He could leave the sleeping Fiona for a little bit. He found a blanket then tucked it around her. She was a beautiful woman. Russet curls framed her pale face. Ruby red lips pouted as she slept.
Too bad she was his charge.
“Where are you?” he said to his brothers.
“Come to my house,” Donal said. “We are both here.”
Declan loosened his wings and let out a groan. He’d missed this. Animation. Flight. He didn’t see any clothing, but he figured his brother would have some. He and Sean had already been through this. As much as it would chafe, he’d have to take their advice. Having always forged his own path, he knew this one was well-trodden. Which made it harder to bear.
Fiona murmured in her sleep, making Declan smile. She was adorable. From the gathering last night, his brothers knew her and she was friends with their fairies. She must know she was one.
A problem for another time.
He looked around and saw that there were stairs to go up. He took them two at a time, enjoying the feeling of moving again. He’d come alive in gargoyle form but knew that Donal and Sean used their human form more often so he switched to that. Just in case anyone saw him.
The building had a roof of course, but it wasn’t high. Still, he could follow Donal’s signal and get there via the sky. He flapped his wings once to test them, but they’d lost no strength in their dormant years. He was aloft and smiling as he flew in the night sky.
He landed on grass to see Donal and Sean waiting for him. Donal held out some clothing for him and he put them on. Then he hugged his brothers. “So glad to see you.”
“So Fiona?” Donal said.
“Aye. I knew it when she walked into the kitchen last night. Go raibh maith agat. I’m glad you let her take me. I might never have been around her long enough to become animated again.”
“You’re welcome, Declan.”
Sean clapped his back. “We need to bring you up to speed.”
“I know a lot from what you’ve said to me about your daily lives,” Declan said.
He was eager to get back to Fiona. There have been many things he’d missed about being animated. A woman’s touch was definitely one of them. He wasn’t worried about charming Fiona. He had been good at charming fairies years ago. They couldn’t be that different now.
This would be easy. He’d find the goblin. They’d defeat him and then he’d get the girl. For however long he wanted. Which if history repeated itself, was not long. Every female gargoyle and fairy he’d come in contact with knew this wasn’t for forever.
“Still, you need to find out who the goblin is.”
Declan looked around the yard, feeling a little lost. Being reanimated was not as fun as he’d expected it to be. “He wasn’t in the place she was painting.”
“The studio?” Sean said.
“Aye. She was working then fell asleep,” Declan said.
He moved his arms to get the feeling back in them. He’d been in stone a long time. His brothers hadn’t mentioned that it would be an adjustment.
“That’s her workplace,” Donal said.
“Whatever.”
“If she’s safe there then don’t worry. The goblin will show himself,” Sean said.
“Okay. I get it. Leave her alone, but how am I supposed to make contact with her. Does she know she’s a fairy?”
“No. She won’t. I don’t know if that’s part of the Fairy Queen’s curse, but it is the reality. We live in a world now that doesn’t believe in magic. It d
oesn’t believe in fairies or gargoyles.”
“Tis sad,” Declan said.
Life had been very different in the old days. He’d seen flashes of the new world from his perch on the church. Donal and Sean had filled in a lot also. He’d figure out the advantages of this different place and time and use them.
He would make contact with Fiona. Even if his brothers warned against it. He wasn’t them and he handled things differently. He’d never been afforded the chance to prove his methods in the old time.
“Tis what it is, Declan. We adapt,” Donal said.
“Clearly the rule against being with a fairy is gone,” Declan said.
“Aye, but I wouldn’t count on it. It might be a fluke that Donal and I fell in love with our fairies. Fiona is a different woman than Colleen and Meg.”
Declan nodded, but he’d stopped listening. He was itching to figure out how to make contact with Fiona. It was all in the delivery of the lines and the situation. He’d make something happen. Especially if his brothers warned against it. They didn’t like to take risks.
“I think I got all of the rules,” Declan said.
“You need a place to stay,” Sean said. “I can get you hooked up with Tex who lives in my building.”
“Tex?”
“Aye, Declan. He knows about us as gargoyles. He lives in a tall building and Colleen and I live in the penthouse. You have easy access to a roof.”
Declan couldn’t remember a time when they lived indoors. They’d sat on that church roof through all sorts of storms. Donal handed him a device. “It’s a phone. I’ve programmed in Tex’s address. He’s waiting for you.”
Declan stared at the thing in his hand. Sean taught him how to use it then Declan was in the air. He’d stop by to see Fiona before he went to Tex’s place. He’s missed flying the most. Well not more than a soft woman, but flying had been a close second.
He landed outside of the art studio, darkness still hanging around. Inside Fiona was still asleep. At least she was safe. He could find his new home and get back to her later.
He took off into the night, landing on the high rise that Sean had directed him to. He took one more glance over the city of Philadelphia as Donal had called it then tucked away his wings and went to meet Tex.
***
Fiona woke from a strange and lovely dream about a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. The strange part was that he had wings coming out of his back. She had no idea what had been in the pizza she ate last night that made her dream such a thing.
Before she could fully surface from the dream world, she realized that someone had tucked a blanket around her. Who would do that? She didn’t have any more time to ponder that thought before the door to the studio opened.
She tensed as Damien stormed in, clearly unhappy already. Not that Damien was ever happy, but there were times when Damien wasn’t completely unhappy. Those days were far and few between. Today wasn’t one of them either.
“Fiona?”
Damien nudged her with his foot. She flickered her eyes open to look up at him. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his hair stuck out at odd angles. Not a good sign. The date must have gone badly. Not her concern.
She stretched then yawned.
“This is what you do for me?” he said.
“What’s wrong with it?” She sat up eying the painting she’d finished last night. She looked at his notes then back to the painting. “I did what you asked.”
“You are incompetent, Fiona.”
That was harsh, but not surprising to her. She didn’t even flinch anymore when he said it. She accepted that Damien thought very little of her. That she was the best at duplicating his style of painting didn’t seem to matter. She sighed. “What did I do wrong?”
As if she had to ask. He would tell her without any prompting. She pushed off the blanket and she felt as if she were leaving a cocoon. Too bad she wasn’t emerging as a beautiful butterfly. At least not in Damien’s eyes.
He stared at her, his nostrils flaring. With his lips pressed together, he grunted. He was going to give it to her with both barrels and for once, she wasn’t sure she cared. She was never going to please him. She hadn’t ever been able to please him. Even when they’d been together.
“You have to ask.”
She folded the blanket, not in any hurry for the dressing down. He stood in front of the canvas, his fists and jaw clenched. “You’ve used the wrong color. Again.”
She looked at the paper he’d given her notes on. “You said to use five parts Thallo blue and one part Chromium Green and one part Cadmium Green. It’s what I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
This was always her favorite part. Not. She had done exactly what he said. She’d once done it in front of him and he still said she was wrong. Her contract could not be up soon enough. If she thought she could get fired and still find another job she would have done that by now. Damien’s reach in the art world was too long for her to part ways any way but amicably.
If that was still possible.
“Yes, Damien, I did. I would have liked a little tinge of yellow in there. I think it is the look you are going for, but I did as you asked.”
He eyed the canvas then her. “Yellow would work. You should have put it in.”
“Damien, you hate when we improvise.”
He waved a hand. “Just fix it.”
“Okay, but I’m not doing it over. I can fix the color on the canvas.”
He took a brush and dipped it into a cup of water. He then streaked it across the canvas, effectively ruining everything she’d done. She should have just told him she would fix it and not how. Now she would have to start over.
Those canvases came out of her paycheck. She wanted to yell at him, but if she didn’t make this right she wouldn’t get the commission when he sold it. As it stood, she was dangerously close to not being able to pay her rent. If she could hack the commute she’d live out in the suburbs by Meg. Because of Damien’s erratic behavior, she needed to be close to work.
Damien eyed her as if daring her to get mad at him.
“Take the canvas with you when you leave. I’ll get a new one,” she said.
He wouldn’t get to her. No matter how much he tried. Six months or so and her contract would be done. She’d move on. He couldn’t say anything bad about her. He couldn’t block her from a job.
It was all in the contract.
He frowned then stalked towards the door. “I give you too many chances, Fiona.”
And I’ve given you too much of my life. And worse, I’ve given you too much of my art.
Chapter Three
Fiona greeted Meg and Colleen both with a kiss on the cheek. She’d been surprised when Meg had suggested they get together. Her two friends rarely tore themselves away from their male companions.
Not that Fiona could complain. She needed her friends tonight. They met in a bar near Colleen’s work. She was still in her suit, but she’d paired the staid gray jacket with a colorful blouse. Fiona had bought her that blouse knowing she would leave the original firm, eventually.
Fiona sat on the stool they’d saved for her. “How is your new firm?”
“It is so nice working for myself. Now I just have to find a place out in the suburbs like Meg and Donal,” Colleen said. “Sean is itching to get out of the city.”
“I cannot believe you’ll both be out there. I’ll be in the city by myself,” Fiona said.
“We are only an El trip away. It isn’t that far,” Meg said.
“But not as close as when you lived in the city.”
“I know,” Colleen said, putting a hand on Fiona’s arm. “If you lived out of the city, you could get a bigger place.”
“I know, but Damien likes us all on call.”
“Damien,” Colleen spit out. “How is that bastard?”
Neither Colleen nor Meg had ever liked Damien. Even when Fiona had been dating him. Now that he’d dumped her for a younger woman, they re
fused to hide their disdain. She wouldn’t defend him. At least not tonight when his criticism of her painting was still raw and fresh on her mind. “He’s the same as he’s always been.”
Meg eyed her. “Not making excuses for him?”
“No, and I think he took my gargoyle.” Colleen and Meg exchanged a glance, but Fiona went on. “It wasn’t there when I finished with work. He must have stashed it while I was asleep.”
The waitress came by and took their drink orders.
“You have that shell-shocked looked,” Meg said. “What did Damien do now?”
Fiona waved a hand, knowing they’d heard the story before. Or the same story because it had repeated itself more than once in the time she’d been working for Damien. “He wasn’t happy with a remake I did even though I followed his exact directions in terms of what colors to mix. I was right that it needed more yellow, but I don’t know anything.”
“You really need to get out of that contract,” Colleen said.
“And do what? I give him a reason to hate me, he’ll badmouth me all over the art community.”
She wouldn’t be able to get a job. She wouldn’t be able to do any art let alone her own. Working at Walmart would suck the life out of her.
“You are so sure of that, but what if he wants you gone? It sure seems like it, Fi. He isn’t very nice to you,” Colleen said.
“He’s told me more than once that I’d never make it on my own.”
“Bullshit. You are more talented than he is. He can only paint. You can do sculptures, pencil drawings and even some stuff with fabric,” Meg pointed out.
Fiona wasn’t so sure. Her friends were well-meaning, but they couldn’t tell real talent or not. They weren’t artists. They were her friends, there to tell her what she wanted to hear. She rubbed a hand down her face. “I know all that, but you guys aren’t art critics.”
Colleen rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t matter. You have talent, Fiona. All your art professors in college said so. They couldn’t all be wrong.”
When Garogyles Love Trilogy Page 16