"Nay!" I exclaimed, horrified at the idea of putting her in danger.
"No," echoed the harpy, backing me up without hesitation. "Mitschka can't carry two."
I shot Mitschka a look of thanks then turned back to Sophie. "If you don't hear from any of us by tomorrow morning, get in touch with Torrie's father. He works for the FBI and lives right here in Boulder."
"Do you have the address?" she asked, digging in her purse for her phone.
"Not exactly, but I know where Torrie lives," I answered, grabbing the cell out of her hand and pulling up a map. I showed her Torrie's house.
"'Kay," she murmured as she saved the address.
"Make Torrie's dad listen to you," I said. "Make him send people to the quarry."
"'Kay," she whispered again, biting her lip as she gazed up at me. There was nothing left to say. "Well, goodbye then."
"Aye, goodbye," I managed to force out.
"Havoc? Are you okay?"
"I…just thought it would be a shame if things were to go…badly. And I never got to kiss you."
"But you kissed me up on the hotel rooftop," she pointed out with a wry smile.
I stared at her for the next few seconds, wondering what to say next that would make her want to kiss me. "That wasn't a kiss," I scoffed.
"It wasn't?"
"Nay."
"Why not?"
"Because it didn't…last long enough," I murmured, lowering my mouth to hers.
But she stepped away before my lips reached their destination, reminding me…that she had a boyfriend. And reminding me of everything else that would get in the way of a kiss. I had to stop and ask myself what the hell I was thinking. Of course, she wouldn't want to kiss me! And Mitch wouldn't want her to kiss me either!
Two patches of pink appeared on Sophie's cheeks. "I don't want to ruin your lipstick," she mumbled, her gaze sliding to the house where Mitch stood in the open doorway.
"I…understand," I said, and straightened my spine then opened the car door.
Without any warning, she pulled me into a tight hug. "Come back," she said fiercely. "Come back alive and in one piece."
"I'll do my best," I told her.
"Promise me," she insisted as she stepped back. "Promise you'll come back."
"I promise," I said stiffly then turned toward the house. "Hooligan!"
Not unexpectedly, Hooligan didn't want to go with Sophie in the Jeep. He wanted to stay with me and go a-hunting for harpies. And it took a fair amount of time to round him up and convince him that he was, in fact, going off with MacKenzie's stepsister.
Finally, they were on their way, Hooligan with his head hanging out the window and barking a final goodbye while Sophie lifted her fingers in a shaky wave. With my hands buried in my pockets, I watched the car slip out of the drive and head off down the road. When there was no more car to see, I sighed and turned to face Mitch, still standing in the doorway.
"What?" I barked.
Mitch's mouth turned down at the corner. "Havoc loves Girly-girl."
My shoulders slumped in frustration. "Maybe," I allowed. "But Havoc loves a lot of people. Havoc loves his pack and Hooligan and—"
"Havoc love Mitschka one day?"
I studied the creature standing in the doorway. Even though she wasn't as bad as some of the harpies I'd dealt with before in my lifetime, she still fell squarely into the monster category. I'd hated harpies all my life. It was going to be hard to turn that around.
I climbed the steps and threw an arm around the harpy's shoulders. "If you help me rescue my family," I said as I guided her across the foyer, "you'll earn my eternal devotion."
Mitch smiled at me as we made our way to the back of the house. At least, I think it was a smile. But a harpy smile is not a pretty thing and I couldn't be absolutely certain that's what I was looking at.
Behind the house, we stood in the mayhem that had once been our beautifully landscaped backyard. "Ready?" I growled, keen to embark on the mission that would reunite me with my family.
"Ready," Mitschka confirmed and opened her big black leathery wings.
But before she could pick me up, a sharp rap on the front door echoed through the house and reached my ears in the backyard.
"What the…" I started angrily, thinking Sophie had come back.
Then I remembered.
Simpson had told me his replacement would be dropping by today…with the ID he'd promised us—the paperwork that would allow us to get drivers' licenses, enroll at college, travel freely…and get married. The paperwork that was probably the one thing my family wanted more than anything else in the world.
I lifted my face to the darkening sky. We needed to be on our way. But I could spare five minutes to collect those identification papers. And if I answered the door, it would be a good chance to test my disguise. If I could convince an FBI agent that I was a girl, I knew I'd have no problems fooling a bunch of harpies.
"Stay here," I told Mitch.
Swiftly, I stalked the halls to the front of the house and paused for a moment with my hand on the doorknob, making a quick read of the man on the other side of the door. He was one of those people who is neither good nor bad but right smack in the middle, capable of kind acts but also capable of committing murder…which, come to think of it, is probably a handy personality trait if you're an FBI agent.
I opened the door and looked down at the little man with graying hair standing on the flagstone doorstep. The guy was probably five-three at the most. I tried and failed to suppress a sigh. Because I have never in my lifetime met a man that was five-three (or less) who didn't have what you would nowadays call a Napoleon complex.
"Hello," I said, then raised my voice an octave when I realized how deep it must have sounded. "Can I help you?"
The little agent had a large brown envelope in his left hand. It beckoned to me like an overdue love letter. My mouth watered just looking at it.
"Hello, Miss," he said. "I'm FBI Agent Ed Moreno and I have a delivery here for a…Dare Greystone."
So, I had passed the gender test. But telling Simpson to have the agent ask for Dare had been a mistake. A big one. I should have told Simpson to have his replacement leave the documents with whoever answered the door.
But I figured I had to gain his confidence as my next step; I had to convince him I was a harmless girl and a legitimate member of the household. I put a hand on my waist and tried to angle my hip with a feminine flourish. "You've just missed him," I said with my stock-and-trade charming smile. "But I'll be happy to take the delivery and make sure he gets it."
The charming smile that had taken me so many places in life let me down for the very first time. And I wondered if maybe the sort of charming-guy smile that worked on women just didn't work on men. Maybe it didn't translate across sexes. Or maybe it just didn't work on officious men.
Moreno snapped the envelope tightly under his arm. "I'm sorry but I have directions to deliver it to Mr. Dare Greystone."
"But I'm his girlfr—" I started, the word sticking in my throat. I don't know if it was because Dare was my brother or if it was just because he was a guy. Either way, I couldn't bring myself to be his love interest. "I'm his sister," I revised.
But I'd blown it.
The agent's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'm surprised he isn't here. My associate, Agent Simpson, assured me Dare would be available, along with the other members of his family. Is…perhaps Victor Greystone here? Or any of the other young men who live here?"
"I'm sorry," I said, and realized that Agent Moreno wasn't going to be giving me that envelope. Not today, anyway. It was time for damage control. "Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? I'm sure they'll be back by then."
"I'll be back early tomorrow," he decided, still eyeing me like he thought maybe I was some kind of femme fatale who'd knocked off everyone in the house and was trying to steal their identification papers to boot. In hindsight, perhaps I should have gone with the "sweet little girl next store" look rat
her than the "vamp" vibe I was currently trending. Damn that red lipstick, anyhow.
"We'll see you then," I said sweetly.
I watched him trot his officious butt across the drive and get into his SUV. Internally, I was kicking myself and hoping I hadn't done anything that would make the agent question his directions to deliver the documents. If we didn't get that paperwork, a lot of lives would be ruined. And it would be my fault.
I made sure Agent Moreno had pulled his car out of the driveway before I went back to Mitch in the back yard. The young harpy had retrieved her blade from the far end of the yard where I'd tossed it earlier. The shagreen-wrapped hilt jutted from the top of its sheath. I slanted a look at the long knife and lifted my gaze to her eyes.
"Might need it," Mitch muttered.
I recognized we were at a crossroads in our relationship. Did I trust the harpy to carry a blade while I had none? I came to a decision much more quickly than you might expect. Perhaps it was the clothes she wore that made her appear so much more…human than others of her kind. Or maybe it was the proud, challenging glint in her eye that made her seem so much more (and less) than a harpy. In returning to the quarry with me, Mitch was taking a huge risk. She was putting her life on the line even more than I was. If we failed to pull off this rescue, Mitch would certainly die before I did.
But not if I could help it.
"You might need it," I agreed solemnly.
So, we were a team.
But I had to fight my instincts all the way into her arms.
I was focused on the rescue plan as Mitch took off and we lifted into the sky. Otherwise, I might have noticed two familiar vehicles heading back to the house—a green Jeep from the south and a dark SUV from the east—their headlights spearing through the falling darkness like ghostly white lightsabers.
Chapter Eighteen
The wind swept my hair around my face as I looked up at the young harpy carrying me. I couldn't help but wonder about her history. She was such a strange little creature with her clothes and her knife…and her surprising sense of pride. "So, what have you been doing for the last few centuries?" I asked.
"Mitch go stone," she answered. "All harpies turn to stone. Wait to scent gargoyles."
"What made you think there were any gargoyles left? Didn't our kind die out in your time?"
"Harpies knew about the lost nine—the pack trapped in stone. Just didn't know where gargoyles were."
"The lost nine?"
"Havoc and his family," she explained.
It sounded like my pack had turned into a bit of a legend after our disappearance. At least, a legend in harpy circles. "So, all of your kind turned to stone and waited?" I murmured.
"All harpies that were left," Mitch said, correcting me.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked.
"Many harpies die before then. Killed."
"Killed?" I asked, surprised. Harpies weren't exactly easy to kill. "What happened?"
"Gargoyles hunt them down. Led by Great Warrior. Kill many harpies. Only a few many left."
"Great Warrior?" I murmured. "When did this happen?"
"Mitschka wasn't there. Only hear stories from mother."
"Ah," I murmured.
"Harpies say Great Warrior still lives," Mitschka offered. "Turned to stone and watching over his stolen treasure."
My ears perked up at that. Treasure was a subject that always interested me. "Stolen treasure?" I asked.
"Harpy treasure."
"Where?" I asked.
"North country."
"Scotland?"
"In the cliffs," she said, and slanted a look down at my face. "In the place where Grotschka kept the one named Dare."
"D-Dare," I stammered, realizing that she was talking about the aerie where my brother had been held captive. "But Dare is my brother."
"Mitschka know that," she said quietly. "Mitschka know all the names of the lost nine." She started chanting. "Reason who drew on bridges long ago, Force the strong, Victor the gold, Dare the reckless, Defiance the cold, Valor the brave, Courage the mild, Chaos the dangerous, and Havoc the wild."
"Havoc the wild?" I echoed on a low rumble of laughter.
"Only Mitschka know the names," she said proudly. "Names handed down from her mother."
Shaking my head, I wondered who had decided I was Havoc "the wild". Certainly not Mitschka's mother; I was fairly certain I'd never left a harpy with a good impression of me. But I was more interested in the treasure than who thought I was wild. Grotschka's hoard had been considerable back when Dare was imprisoned in that aerie in Scotland.
"And the treasure is still there?" I asked.
"Treasure bigger now. Much bigger. Great Warrior collected many harpy treasures together in one place."
I thought about all that gold and silver and jewels, sitting there…waiting for someone like me to go get it. "Why…didn't the harpies get together and try to steal it back?"
"Too scared. All harpies too scared of crazy bad gargoyle. Some try at first. All die. Mad Mal kill them all."
"Mal?" I sputtered, turning in her arms and grabbing her shoulders. "Did you say Mal?"
Mitch seemed to like my hands on her shoulders. She smiled wistfully down at my knuckles where my hackles covered my barbs. "Mad Mal," she said.
"But…but I had a friend named Malarkey, back home in York."
"Maybe many gargoyles with same name?"
"Maybe," I muttered, releasing my grip on her shoulders. The harpy had a point. There might have been many gargoyles named Malarkey over the centuries between our imprisonment and when the gargoyles died out…whenever that was.
"Mitschka never see Great Warrior. Mitschka never go to the aerie in North Country."
I shrugged. "You'd only see a gray statue if you did."
"Havoc is right. But Mitch's mother say Great Warrior has black hair and eyes of gold—gold like shining treasure."
"Gold?" I whispered on a short intake of breath. Memories crashed down on me, memories of laughing gold eyes glowing in a tanned face framed by shining black hair. Mitch was talking about Malarkey! "Your mother knew him? And he's still there?"
Mitch's face was solemn. "If legends true, Great Warrior still watches over his hoard."
"Wow," I murmured, amped to think I might see Malarkey again. That we could get together and get into all kinds of twenty-first century trouble. But how old would he be, I wondered soberly. He'd evidently killed a lot of harpies. Maybe he was in his twenties…or even his thirties. And maybe we wouldn't have very much in common anymore.
"Almost there," Mitch said, interrupting my thoughts.
Dragging my mind back to the present, I searched the ground and saw the quarry off in the distance, a vast expanse of bare red rock without a tree or a plant or even a weed to give it some life.
"We aren't going to run into any of your sisters down there, are we?" It was a little late to ask, but harpies are usually born in pairs. And if Mitch had a sister at the quarry, it would definitely complicate things.
"Mitschka have no sisters," she answered.
"Good," I said, my mind shifting gears and focusing on the upcoming rescue attempt. "When the harpies all leave and go back to the house to look for more gargoyles, try to stay behind at the hideout with us."
"Mitschka try," she answered solemnly. "But harpy Gangboss already not trust Mitschka."
"Why is that?" I asked.
"Retschka not like Mitschka's clothes. Thinks clothes are wrong for harpies."
"I see," I murmured. Like I said earlier, I'd never seen a harpy in clothes before so I wasn't surprised that Mitch was considered a rebel in her culture. "Why do you wear clothes, Mitch?"
"Mitschka's mother dressed Mitschka in clothes. She learned from Mitschka's father."
"Father?" I echoed, inviting her to say more. Mitschka hadn't mentioned her father before.
But the harpy seemed to have other things on her mind. And clearly, she wanted to get them off her chest before
we reached the quarry.
"When Mitschka gets lots of Havoc's poison, Mitschka be as pretty as Girly-girl. Then Havoc not love Girly-girl no more?"
"I'm not in love with Sophie," I muttered, scanning the sky for harpy lookouts.
"Havoc bad liar," Mitschka scoffed.
I searched the harpy's face. The little monster really wasn't bad as far as harpies go. If we survived the night and managed to rescue my family, Mitschka would be wearing my rune. And Sophie would be together with Ian.
Discouraged, I pulled in a long breath. Regardless of what happened today or tomorrow or for the rest of my life, I didn't think I'd ever stop loving Sophie. But that wasn't what the harpy needed to hear.
"Havoc will get over Girly-girl," I sighed.
"Havoc sure?"
"Not in the least," I muttered as a long stretch of flat red ground scrolled beneath us.
Mitch circled the bleak landscape as we descended, eventually setting down in front of the concrete bunker that was built into the cliff. There were no windows in the building and only one wide door that wasn't much different than a standard garage door, except that it was bigger.
"What now?" I asked, eyeing the cameras mounted near the roof of the building. The cameras slowly panned the area where we stood, reached the end of their sweep, and turned back again.
"Mitschka and Havoc wait here until others come get us," Mitch muttered.
"Alright," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest and finding my stuffed bra was in the way. I shook my arms out at my sides, wondering how girls maneuvered around their chests. I decided I'd have to ask Torrie about it when I got a chance.
But Mitch was frowning at me.
"What?" I asked.
"Havoc forget to act like a girl."
"Oh," I said and got with the program, repositioning my stance with my legs close together, one knee bent, and a hand on my hip. "How's this?" I asked.
Grinning, Mitch grabbed my elbow and pushed me toward the building.
The big door rolled slowly upward, exposing a large empty bay. Well, empty except for a lone harpy. The large hag shuffled toward us. She looked curious…and suspicious.
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