She shook her head and stepped to her right, crouching to pick up a fist-sized piece of amber. Though cold at first touch, the stone quickly warmed. For a moment she imagined Gwen’s hand against her cheek. Her voice cracked embarrassingly when she announced, “This is it.”
Cal blinked. “Seriously?”
“She wasn’t rich, even if she had access to certain resources. She created the stone with what she had at hand.” Waving at the collection surrounding them, she continued. “Many of these were obviously prepared by powerful spell-casters with access to a lot of money. She said that some witches were just plain afraid to cross over to Otherworld after death.” And to think Giles had been planning to put her soul into one of these awful things before he let the vampires drain her. It probably wouldn’t have been an attractive stone either.
…
Witches are crazy bastards. Cal didn’t understand why someone would seal their soul in a stone. Who’d want to be in a chunk of rock for all eternity when they could have the luxury of Otherworld? Then again, life choices on Earth determined final resting places in Otherworld, and Twisted Ones went straight to demon territory.
On that grim thought, he conceded the point on final resting places.
Tom hummed next to him. “Giles won’t take this loss easily, and he’s sure as heck gonna come back for all of this. Grab what you can and run like hell.”
That meshed pretty well with Cal’s own thoughts. Unfortunately, with Rose standing a foot away, he couldn’t give voice to his burning question. He arched an eyebrow instead, hoping the ghost would understand what he couldn’t say.
“In his bedroom, under his pillow of all places.”
It must be good to be a ghost, sometimes. You could toss a place without leaving a single fingerprint. Tom just slid his body through surfaces to see what lay beneath. Still, Cal had no desire to join the dead. He planned to move on at death, maybe even become a full angel if he managed to fall in battle.
“Let’s get back to the plane before you can get even more hurt,” he said after a long pause. He trusted Tom’s instincts, and his own, regarding the necromancer’s return. He still suspected there was more knowledge about Giles hidden in the ghost’s head, but he’d push for answers later.
Rose studied him for a long moment. There was hurt there, but he was doing the right thing. He saw Anniko in that expression as well. She might have had only had four years with her mother but Rose had picked up that deadly stink-eye.
Next to him, Tom chortled, “Man, sucks to be you right now.”
Apparently. Damn it. It wasn’t going to be a pretty flight. Then again, that’s what he wanted: distance. Right?
In the face of her growing ire, he wasn’t so sure, but reminded himself her safety came first.
Rose’s fingers clenched around Gwen’s soul-stone. She pointed out a cluster of burned out stones. “Take the dead ones too. They might be drained of power, but the souls are still there, trapped and unable to move on.”
He sighed but acknowledged the point. Cal glanced at Tom. “Still willing to help us get them all out?”
Tom nodded, looking around alertly. Since he had the possibility of life dangled in front of him, he’d been unusually helpful…and serious, which was bizarre. “It’ll take some time, but if I’m alive, I should be able to handle it eventually.”
“He’s going to help.” Cal looked back at Rose quickly. “Gather what you can. We’re taking everything with us.”
She flashed him a brief, very cold, smile.
He much preferred imagining Rose’s sweet smile—while she was naked and he had his hands on her oh-so-gorgeous ass.
Shit, stop it, Calhoun. He couldn’t keep her safe and grope her.
Each time Rose moved her left arm to collect another stone, she winced. Wings were the worst place a gargoyle could get hurt. Depending on how bad the injuries were, sometimes even the healing sleep didn’t work in the first day. And God knew, a grounded gargoyle made an incredibly cranky gargoyle.
She was distracted and he had some other magical implements to steal, so he left. Tom led him straight up to a bedroom at the back of the house.
Cal rolled his eyes as he took in the décor. Giles appeared to be caught in a time warp that left him with the decorating sense of a horny teen boy. Playboy posters covered the walls, strangely intermixed with a variety of movie posters and even a motivational kitten clinging to a tree.
Tom fidgeted uncomfortably and waved a transparent arm toward the bed. Cal strode to it and yanked the pillow aside to reveal a single, slender stick of ebony. Oily tendrils of evil aura rolled off of it. He gritted his teeth, knowing it was going to be unpleasant to touch an item like that, the personal wand of a necromancer, and reached for it. Ribbons of fire raced through his body and he yanked his hand back with a soft yelp. “Fuck, fuck!”
“Well, duh. He’s demon-born. You’re an angel. Consequences, don’tcha know?”
Cal rolled his eyes. Yeah, he knew the consequences all right. The whole principal behind the fact that angels couldn’t tread on blasphemed ground and demons couldn’t go on holy applied to other implements too. Like the wand in front of him—it was going to do damage. But they needed it, so he’d find a way around the pain.
He yanked the case off one of the feather pillows, wrapped his hand, and cautiously reached for it again. This time, while heat still coursed through him, it was tolerable.
“Gonna be able to carry it?”
He’d have to. At least he wasn’t the one who’d actually have to wave it around when they stuffed Tom into Jonas’s soulless body. That lovely task belonged solely to Lucas. That’s why he got paid the big bucks.
Crappy treasure in hand, he left.
He had a gargoyle to distance himself from.
…
Settled on the plane, Cal stretched his legs out in front of him with a tired yawn.
He glanced down the aisle to the first of the separate rooms. Rose sat in the cabin, though the door was open. It was the small bedroom, sometimes office, Lucas used on long flights. She was carefully taking inventory of the soul-stones as she packed them away.
Wary awareness stiffened her frame.
Stretching his arms above his head, he swung up from his chair and meandered down the length of the plane to where she sat. Dennis and Madra, neither wounded in the fight, were playing chess again, but dawn was only minutes away. He faintly heard the sound of an alarm going off in the cockpit. The shift to stone happened whether or not the sun actually touched them and the man needed to prepare to make the adjustments necessary for the additional weight their transformation brought. The gargoyles’ ability to hear what he was about to say would be muffled once they changed.
For further privacy’s sake, he shut the door behind him. His heart hung heavy at what he was about to do. He and Lucas had agreed to try to shelter Rose from the truth about Gwen, but that wasn’t possible any longer. Not if he wanted her to understand just what kind of chance she’d taken. None of them could afford for her to risk herself like that again.
I’m a fucking bastard. But it was for her safety.
He quickly accessed the secured cloud site Lucas used, along with the rest of the Protectorate, for keeping their documents safe. He’d done a quick survey on the ride to the airfield, that everything they had about Gwen and her activities had been uploaded recently. Hopefully in the face of such evidence, Rose would accept what he was going to tell her.
“Hey there,” she said tiredly.
He forced a weak smile. “Not changing like the others?”
He hoped not. If she did, then he’d have to wait until she turned back before having this conversation and he wanted it over with. He stepped past her into the connecting kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of cognac.
“No. Not while we’re in the air. I have a slightly better chance of surviving if the plane crashes if I’m in human form. Bones heal. Stone doesn’t.”
She’d taken pain pills as
soon as they got to the plane, but that wouldn’t dull pain caused by a torn wing. No, what she needed was liquid relief. It would also provide her with a non-pointy weapon to throw at him. He’d rather dodge a bottle than one of her knives.
“This is disturbing,” she said, waving a hand toward the array of stones laid on before her. “You can actually feel their presences.”
“Can you?” He eased onto the bed behind her. “I didn’t think any non-necromancers could feel something like that. Or at least ones without Tom’s particular gift.”
“I just get a general feeling of ‘other’ from them. Even the burned out ones are still more than just rocks.” She set a chunk of what looked to be white quartz on the desk and sighed. “You going to cuddle that bottle or share it?”
Or perhaps not. The acid in her voice could etch crystal. “I forgot glasses.”
“Glasses are for sissies,” she said and grabbed the bottle. “I need something to take the edge off.” She unscrewed the lid, and then took several swallows.
Her shoulders dropped as she sighed. The sound reminded him of the night before when she closed the T’chan, when she’d writhed in the throes of pleasure. God, he wanted her to sigh with him like that.
He gritted his teeth against the need to console her.
Be strong. Cal shook his head violently, trying to remain focused on what he intended.
“Cal?” Humor edged her voice as she said his name. An unwelcome relief after the hint of ice earlier. “You okay?”
He coughed and shifted position on the bed, coolly moving a pillow onto his lap to avoid any questions until he could get his other problem under control. Once she threw the cognac at him, he’d be fine. It also gave him something to do with his hands, to avoid a moment of weakness that might have him reaching out to touch her. “Yes.”
She held out the bottle to him. “You want any of this, or are you trying to get me drunk?”
He took the bottle from her, avoiding any contact, and took a small sip. He grimaced at the smooth flavor. He wasn’t the brandy sort. Give him a bottle of Jack any day of the week and he’d be fine. The burn would help.
When she stretched her arms over her head, pulling the material of her shirt tight across her chest, he quickly averted his gaze. Not right, not cool.
Fingers snapped in front of his face and he jolted. Rose now stood over him. Just when did she move? He hadn’t heard anything at all. Geez, he really was out of it if she could move without him knowing it.
“Something on your mind?” She smiled tiredly and then settled in next to him. Right next to him. His brain tried to overload on him.
I’m tired. I need sleep. But he couldn’t chicken out. Best rip the Band-Aid off and let the hostility resume.
“Sort of.” He still hedged, even as his conscience called him a coward. “How’s your back feeling?”
“My back?” She reached out to hold his hand in hers, a gesture that he wanted to accept more than anything. Her gaze remained clearly focused on the bottle he held in his other hand. He offered it and she accepted, taking another hefty swig. “It hurts.”
“We need to talk.” He squared his shoulders and screwed his courage to the sticking place. No more delays. “No more bullshitting around and nothing less than full honesty.”
She leveled him with a steady glower. “Aren’t you usually honest?”
“Yeah. I’ve never lied to you.” He wasn’t going to start now, either. “But you’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”
He could go about this in a normal way, let her know he was backing away from the potential of “them” out of fear for her safety, but based on what he knew of her, she’d never buy that. She was too independent and sure of herself.
She shrugged. “So what’s new? Your boss hasn’t exactly been Mr. Sunshine with me. Might as well tell me what bug’s been up your ass.”
He studied her closely. There was definitely an edge to her.
“So, get on with it.”
“Lucas was a moron to have gone along with this plan of yours.” Her mouth fell open. “And I’m going to tell him that to his face.” Well, maybe to his phone. Texting would give his roommate a chance to cool down. “And I was even more of an idiot than he was, because I am the one who is supposed to be protecting you.”
“It was a good plan,” she said softly. “It was. It should have gone like we planned. I…do you think I’m mad at you?” Her eyes widened and she touched his leg, the anger from only moments ago gone. “I’m mad at myself. I took a risk, but we had to do it, you know that.”
“It was too much.” He frowned and eased her hand away. He couldn’t remain focused with her soft touch. It made him want more than just a conversation. “And I should have argued harder against it.” He looked away from her and tapped his fingers on his now-empty limb. “But I didn’t, because I thought, well…” God, he was going to sound like a total pussy for this. “I wanted you to feel like you were doing something, and I thought I could protect you. It was my fault, not yours, that this got screwed up. I should have put my foot down, and I didn’t, oh so many times.”
She blinked and reared back. “You… Okay, now I’m confused. What are you trying to say, Cal?”
“That I let you down. And that’s not acceptable. Not to the Protectorate and not to me.”
“Acceptable.” She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “Okay. So what?”
“I let my feelings for you—yes, I had them even before we kissed at the mansion—interfere with my judgment. I wanted to make you happy, so I didn’t argue as hard as I should have. And then, because I was relaxed with you, because we were getting along so well, I let down my guard. I should never have allowed Vicky to walk off with you alone.”
Breath whooshed from her. “You think that because you and I agreed to maybe explore the attraction, you slipped up?”
“Yeah, something along those lines. And that’s why it, the kiss and anything else like it, can’t happen again. I have to concentrate on keeping you safe. It’s too important now, more than ever, since Giles, and by extension Lucifer, know you’re alive.”
She gestured with the bottle, a faintly exasperated expression crossing her face. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about? That’s it? The way you talked, I thought you were about to ream me out for being stupid, you idiot. Not, mind, that I’m admitting it might have been at least a bit reckless to do what I did, but…c’mon.”
That’s it? Oh. And she did indeed seem to accept responsibility for the mistakes they’d made in dangling herself in front of Giles.
She also didn’t look nearly as devastated as he’d expected that he wasn’t going to kiss her again. That was more than a little lowering to his ego. But it should be a good thing, right? “Not entirely, no. But I wanted to get that out there first.”
“Good grief, there’s more?” She took a longer pull from the bottle and then flipped the cap on it. “First, I think you’re wrong about letting your guard down just because you’re attracted to me—and me you.” She rolled her eyes and snorted.
If he hadn’t noticed the liquid in the bottle slosh around, he might have bought into her composed voice. So he had upset her.
“But for the moment, okay. Don’t think I’m going to just sashay off into the sunset.” Her eyes narrowed and she jutted her chin at him. “You listen here. I don’t give up, and I don’t quit. I’d have laid down and died when I lost Reny and Rory if I were the quitting type.” She poked him in the chest with her finger, but not hard enough to hurt. “So, fair warning, you’re not getting rid of me just by saying you won’t let yourself be attracted to me.”
Well, that was blunt enough. Not like he expected her to wander off. No way in hell. He puffed a breath out between his lips. He hadn’t anticipated her arguing with him about it. They’d just met, after all. At least not to debate so relatively rationally and calmly. Maybe she’d take the rest of it better than he expected her to.
“Now, since cl
early you think whatever else you’ve got on your mind’s going to upset me, might as well get on with it.” She clasped her hands around the bottle.
“It’s this whole thing with Gwen.” He cracked his neck with a loud pop and let out a hefty sigh of relief. It released some of his tension, but not nearly all of it. Time to get this all out in the open. It should give her enough anger to keep her from looking at him with those beautiful silver eyes of hers. He wasn’t a saint, and damn, he wanted to do more than just admire her from afar. It just wasn’t safe.
“Despite what you believe, she’s not a nice woman. She was, never stopped being, a witch gleefully in bed with the Twisted Ones.”
Her expression flattened out and her fingers stilled on the bottle before she could lift it to her mouth again. Uncertainty flitted through her eyes. “She saved my life.”
Interesting. Not the automatic and quite vehement response he’d expected. Maybe something had happened with Giles to help convince her there was more to Gwen than she’d previously admitted.
“That’s what it appeared, but there’s no chance of that.” He pulled his cell phone out and opened the cloud app. “She didn’t just happen to be at the massacre. She engineered the event.”
The cabin went deadly silent. He didn’t hear her breathe for almost ten seconds.
Then her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned white around the edges as she leveled a steady glare on him. “I somehow doubt that,” Rose finally said, every word tinged with ice. “Maybe, Gwen wasn’t a perfectly nice woman—she apparently used to laugh over me with Giles. But she’s no murderer. ‘Sides, the Twisted Ones don’t let witches plan their assaults.”
“They do when said witch has been sleeping with Lucifer for months before the attack, and also with a Sentinel to deliberately get close enough to find out where the compound was.”
Color washed from her face.
“It’s all right here, plain as can be.” He held up the phone. “Every fact and document the Sentinels have on her, including the letter she wrote to Lucas about you. Not only did she taunt us with Reny’s possible existence, the rest of her so-called ‘letter of introduction’ was nothing more than putrid hatred in which she trashed you as being a ‘flighty idiot who wouldn’t know two and two made four if the four hit her in the wings’.”
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