Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  I took a few steps in one direction and the trail went cold. So I returned to my original spot only to find the lass must have moved off because I could barely sense her presence anymore. Anyhow, with all immediate thoughts of Sophie forgotten, I worked my way around the big room, homing in on that adorable personality until I sensed I was really close. The lass was in the middle of a tight knot of kids who were all dancing together. I could see her hair swinging in rhythm to the music. It was covering her face.

  Then the crowd parted and I got my first good look at her.

  She was wearing a dress that belonged on a princess, a confection of pure white chiffon with a tulle overlay sprinkled with tiny points of light that sparkled as she moved. Her toes peeked out demurely from the bottom of the hem. The dress was modest in front. But out in back, it was something entirely different. It fell so low I could see the dimples on either side of the perfect sweep of her spine.

  She was hot and she was an angel.

  And I was frickin' smitten. With a capital "S".

  Besotted with a capital "B".

  Long, dark brown hair. Big green eyes.

  Yeah, it was Sophie. You probably saw that coming. And she was dancing with another guy. Probably that boyfriend MacKenzie had tried to warn me about.

  The delicate spray of roses on her wrist matched the pink tie he was wearing. So it was a good bet he was her date. But that wasn't the only bad news. Because the guy with the dark brown hair was good looking, too. (Well, good looking for a human.) And from what I could tell, he was a nice guy.

  Just my luck.

  I'd found the most perfect girl in the world and it looked like she was into someone else.

  But it's not like me to give up without a fight. Faint heart never won fair maiden and all that. Straightening my cufflinks, I threw back my shoulders and waded through the crowd of dancers.

  Okay, so maybe it was a little old fashioned, but I cut in. Or at least, I tried to. I tapped Sophie's date on the shoulder, planning to slip between the two young people as soon as he gave me an opening. But Sophie's date didn't seem to understand how the whole "cutting in" thing worked. He just ignored me. So I tried to pull him out of the way to get to her. And that didn't work either. The guy just shrugged me off.

  That left me with very few options. And I didn't fancy starting a fight with Sophie's date since I thought she might not approve of fighting in general, and boyfriend-fighting in particular. Girls are funny that way.

  But it wasn't like Sophie and her date were dancing alone. There were a whole bunch of kids out there on the floor who were clearly dancing together. So I figured, what's one more, right? And I slipped around behind Sophie, syncing my movements to hers, swaying to the music as my body spooned hers.

  "This is nice, isn't it?" I murmured, lowering my mouth to her ear.

  "Wh-what?" she exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt and spinning around to face me.

  "This is nice too," I said, my voice a little husky as my gaze slipped down her frame to those adorable little shoes. Unable to resist, I pulled her into my arms and kept up the rhythm.

  "What are you doing?" she cried, her hands on my chest, shoving me away. "Who are you?"

  She didn't recognize me! But I figured it was the sunglasses. And maybe the man-bun, because I'd never worn my hair that way before. So I took off the shades and dangled them from my fingers. I grinned down at her. "Sophie, darling. Don't you remember me?"

  I saw recognition in her eyes as her green gaze met mine. First, there was shock. Then there was something else. Something…more than sadness. Something tragic and resigned. Something that almost broke my heart, that I wanted to reach out and fix. And I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.

  "Yeah, I remember you," she said quietly. "You're the guy who promised he'd wait for me…then disappeared for the next four years."

  Chapter Six

  Stunned doesn't even begin to explain my reaction. I stood there with a million explanations stuck on the tip of my tongue. Eloquent arguments like, "Wait. What?"

  And even better stuff like, "But I just spent four years in my stone form, waiting for you!"

  And, "You think that was easy?"

  But not one of those arguments saw the light of day. They jammed up in my throat while I stood staring at Sophie in a state of shock. By then, her boyfriend was back at her side, his arm around her waist, tugging her away.

  I just stared at her back (which was beautiful, by the way) and tried to process. My sweet little Sophie (who had always been crazy about me) had just turned her back on me.

  I retreated to the punch bowl and sulked alone. (Well, alone except for the dozen girls that had gathered around me, asking me annoying questions like where was I from, and who was I with.) But I ignored them and scowled across the room, my gaze stuck on Sophie who had returned to the dance floor with her date—Mr. Nice Guy. Mr. Really Nice Guy. Mr. Prince Effing Charming.

  And since there were so many girls hanging around with me, a lot of guys started migrating in the same direction. So, there were a bunch of girls lined up on my right. And a bunch of guys on my left. And they were crowding me a bit. And I was in a pretty crap mood. From all appearances, I didn't take rejection well. That would have been hard to predict since it hadn't happened before. But evidently, I sucked at it.

  It didn't help that I was so…taken with her. One glimpse of her and my heart was gone. She was adorable and lovely and hot, hot, hot. She had a vibe as sweet as Mim's and legs as long as Whitney's. Not that I could see her legs, but I could tell by the length of her dress that the girl had the goods.

  But it wasn't just the legs. And it wasn't just that she was stunning in the looks department. The girl had the whole attitude thing going on too. She radiated confidence. The shy little twelve-year-old I had previously known had all but vanished. And this rare, wild beauty had stepped in to take her place. And I wasn't the only one who thought so. She was definitely the main attraction in the large room. At least for all the guys. I don't know what the main attraction was for the girls.

  No, wait. They were all looking at me.

  I sighed. It was all so frickin' damnably inconvenient.

  And I'd like to point out right now that I didn't mean to start a fight. I just wanted a human take on the whole Sophie Kowalski phenomenon going on out there on the dance floor. I wanted to know if Sophie looked as pretty to a human as she did to me…or if I was just looking through a pair of gargoyle rose-colored glasses. Because, when it comes to my kind, we see what's on the inside of a person before we see what's on the outside. And I thought the sweet vibe pouring off of Sophie might be affecting my judgment. Not that it would change my feelings for her, mind you.

  So I elbowed the guy next to me. He was bigger than me. Taller and wider; altogether a big teenager. "Dude," I growled, and flicked my head toward the lovely vision in the middle of the room. "Is yon lass as pretty as I think she is?"

  He scowled down at me. "Yon lass?"

  "That girl," I translated impatiently. "Is she as pretty as I think she is?"

  "Which one?" he muttered and turned his attention back to the dance floor.

  "The one in white," I shot back, exasperated. He had to be a simpleton, right? Which one did he think I meant?

  "Sophie Kowalski?" he grunted. "What kind of question is that? Everyone wants in her pants."

  And my brain didn't even want to process that statement. In fact, I think my brain shut down, hung out a "closed" sign and went off to Spain for vacation. Slowly, I turned to face him, my teeth grinding in my jaw, my fingers crushing the paper cup in my hand while a pink fountain shot up from my fist and splashed down onto the floor.

  The guy backed away, not because he was afraid of me, but because of the mess I was making. "What're you staring at?" he asked, his scowl deepening.

  I looked him up and down then settled my gaze on his face as I tilted my head. Automatically, my hand went to my hip where I normally carry my knife. "I'm just
wondering what you'd look like without your ears," I said, my voice silky with violence.

  The big guy looked confused. "I'm sorry?" he said like he didn't understand but was pissed anyhow.

  "I'm sorry too," I growled.

  "For what?" he demanded, rolling his thick shoulders like he was ready for a fight if I wanted to start something.

  "For this," I answered. Then I picked him up and threw him into the punch bowl.

  Yeah, that flimsy little folding table wasn't exactly designed to support a 180-pound mass accelerating toward its surface from a height of five feet. It proceeded to collapse, scattering plates and snacks and cups onto the floor…not to mention the contents of the punch bowl. I watched the pink liquid rush across the polished wood like a small tsunami while girls slipped in their high heels and their boyfriends caught them before they could fall.

  Then everyone was backing away from the growing puddle, the girls hitching up their dresses to save their hems from besmirchment. On the far side of the shallow pond, I latched onto the sight of Sophie's cute little toes peeking out from her silvery shoes. Irresistibly, my gaze was drawn upward to her lovely face. She was staring at me.

  Actually, everyone was staring at me.

  Then the big guy in the punch bowl fought his way up to his feet and jumped on me. Which wasn't really a problem because, even though he was a lot bigger than me, he wasn't nearly as strong. I was handling him with no problem until the rest of his friends joined in.

  Man, the guy had a lot of friends. I was scrambling to keep up as the fight expanded across the room, and several of the cherry blossom trees went down in the process. Well, more than several, actually. We had a proper melee going on and managed to wipe out the entire orchard before the chaperones got involved. With a couple of burly dads to lead the way, and several teachers urging them on, the fatherly heroes threw everyone involved out on the sidewalk in front of the venue.

  The big guy and his friends probably would have tried to beat the crap out of me if they hadn't been so indignant about the whole situation—and so determined to get back into the prom. Immediately, they started pleading their case to the chaperones.

  My word! Who'd have thought guys that big could whine at such a high pitch? You'd have thought their ship had gone down in the north Atlantic and they were freezing their cojones. But even so, I couldn't help but feel sorry for them for missing their prom. Besides, if they didn't get back inside, they were probably going to turn their attention back to me. And I didn't fancy being a stain on the asphalt parking lot.

  So, I straightened my jacket and lifted my chin. "They're absolutely correct," I told the teacher who seemed to be in charge. "It was my fault. Unprovoked, I threw this poor lad into the punch."

  The woman frowned at me then looked at the big kid flexing his fists beside me. Now keep in mind that—at that time in my life—I hadn't reached my full height. I was perhaps five-eleven while the kid beside me was toweringly huge. And his group of friends weren't any smaller.

  My man-bun had come loose during the fight and I shook my dreads out of my face. "I deserved what happened next," I told her resolutely. "These brave lads should be allowed to rejoin the gala."

  The big guy next to me gave me an askance look. "Gala?" he questioned.

  "Party," I translated for him. "In this case, the prom."

  "Yeah," he growled, catching on. "We should be allowed to rejoin the prom."

  The teacher's gaze flicked from the students to me. She was an attractive woman and not much past her forties.

  I sent her a charming smile. "I really shouldn't have been in there to begin with. I don't attend your school, which I'm sure you noticed. And I didn't have a date. Essentially, I crashed the party. So, really, these students of yours were just defending their—ah—turf."

  I don't know whether it was the argument or the smile or my clever use of modern slang but one of them worked. The boys were allowed to return inside. The teacher hung back and watched them go through the door then threw a smile back at me before she followed them in.

  It really is amazing how far a charming smile will take you in life.

  Anyhow, finding myself alone, I walked down the sidewalk in front of the building until I was outside the glare of the lights in the parking lot. I found a dark spot beside a tall juniper to hang out. And wait. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Sophie at the end of the night.

  And as I stood there with my hands in my pockets, I brushed aside all those niggling little guilty doubts about what had just gone down, inside at the prom. Like the look on Sophie's face as she'd stared at me from the center of the wet dance floor. The horror. The confusion. The disappointment. All of it targeted directly at me.

  It really was unfortunate the way things had turned out.

  But I had no doubt I would be completely forgiven. Because Sophie was in love with me, right? She'd always been in love with me. Always and forever, as they say in the romance books. I couldn't wait for the prom to end so that I could confirm all that.

  But the end of the night came sooner than I expected.

  Because almost immediately after the fight, the kids started leaving the prom in droves, streaming through the doors and heading for their cars. Some of them were complaining that the night had been ruined by some jerkoff skater from Spruce Hill. On the upside, several others seemed excited and animated about the big fight that had livened up the event.

  But—the bottom line was—all of them were leaving.

  Maybe the floor had been too sticky for dancing.

  Toward the end of the mass exodus, Sophie came out of the building on her boyfriend's arm. I stepped a little deeper into the shadows and drank in the sight of her. My God, she was lovely. I daresay she was the prettiest girl in the world. I was glad I'd hung around to see her, even if it was only to watch her go off with someone else. But I felt like I'd travel to the ends of the earth just to catch a glimpse of her!

  Her boyfriend was opening the car door for her when she lifted her head and found me in the shadows. It was like she knew I'd be there. Like we were attuned to each other. Like we were meant for each other. And, no, I don't think it was only wishful thinking on my part. We shared a connection. A deep connection that time and space would never alter. And, yes, I can be quite romantic when I want to be. Obviously.

  Saying a few quiet words to her date, Sophie told him she'd be right back.

  Her boyfriend caught sight of me as she stepped away so he knew where she was headed. I could tell that he didn't want her to go, that he didn't think I was safe. And being a really nice guy, he was watching out for her.

  But the poor girl couldn't resist me.

  I couldn't look away as she drew nearer. My eyes were latched to her slender frame as she made her way across the parking lot on her sexy silver heels.

  "Havoc," she said softly when she reached me.

  "Sophie," I answered, my words unexpectedly catching in my throat.

  "Why?" she asked, searching my face. "Why did you do this? Why turn up after all these years?"

  "I made a promise," I told her quietly.

  "It's a little late for promises," she said gently.

  "I'm sorry, but it's hard to explain what's been going on for the last four years."

  She looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry if things have been hard for you."

  Aye, it had been hard. Like hard as stone. But how could I tell her that? Gargoyles aren't supposed to reveal the secret of their existence to people who weren't going to be involved in their lives. As far as Sophie knew, I was off being an apprentice in a London restaurant for the last four years. I'd chosen my career over her.

  "Your boyfriend seems really nice," I said, rummaging around for something to say that wouldn't get me into trouble.

  "He is," she said, smiling back in the direction of the car in the middle of the parking lot; it was one of the last vehicles out there. "Ian's really nice. But…"

  "But he's not good enough for you," I finished f
or her.

  A spark of fire flared in her green eyes. "We're very happy together, Havoc."

  "Really?" I challenged her. "Because when you're with him, I could swear there's something missing."

  "Like what?"

  "Like me," I shot back. "And something else. Passion, maybe."

  She tilted her head and smiled through her frown. "What are you talking about?"

  "You don't look at him the way you look at me," I argued quietly but seriously. "The way you're looking at me right now."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe that's because I'm angry at you!"

  I shook my head. "You're not that mad."

  "You don't think so?" she argued, looking surprised with me. "Havoc, you ruined prom night for me and my entire class. And prom night is like, THE most important night of a girl's life!"

  I buried the upstart twinge of guilt that had raised its rebellious head inside my otherwise clear conscience. "I'm sorry if I spoiled your evening," I told her. "But you should have gone with me. We had a date."

  "Is that why you ruined the prom for me and everybody else? Because I didn't keep our date?"

  "Nay," I answered swiftly. "I wasn't trying to ruin anything. I was just standing by the punch bowl, minding my own business. But somebody said something…"

  "Somebody said something…you didn't like? And that's why you started a fight? That seems a little immature."

  "You didn't hear what he said," I muttered.

  "So you don't even regret what you did in there?"

  "I said I was sorry," I countered.

  She waited for more. More sorries, I guess. More deep-felt apologies. Obviously, she had expected more from me. And she deserved more. More than brawling and fighting and prom-wrecking. And I knew she was giving me a chance to redeem myself.

  "If I got a do-over…" I started.