Of Shadow and Stone

by Michelle Muto

  “What looks good to you?” Michael asked her, doing his best to thwart the conversation with Shirley.

  “The lasagna is incredible,” said Brittni, the wife of their costar Graham Benedict. “They always have the best mix of sauce and spices.”

  “The lasagna it is,” Kate said. “You sold me on it.”

  Two attentive waiters descended on their table, each with a bottle of wine. They moved quickly, pouring the wine that Dan had chosen.

  Laughter, sounding far too scripted, erupted from one of Kate’s costars in response to something Dan had said about Graham’s shirtless scene getting a lot of buzz from fans. Always the good sport, Brittni leaned in and rubbed her husband’s chest. Graham hugged his wife tightly and kissed her. They made a great couple, and Kate found herself slightly envious. Her thoughts began to drift back to Shadow Wood, and, more specifically, to Ian, and how she’d planted her hand on his chest. She recalled how wonderful he smelled, his easy laugh, the way his eyes . . .

  “You seem preoccupied.”

  “Sorry.” Kate realized Michael had said something she’d missed.

  “Everything all right?” Michael leaned in and placed a hand on her knee. Slowly he caressed it.

  Kate brushed away his hand. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Michael raised an eyebrow.

  Kate frowned. She’d once thought his relentlessness was a sign of strength and perseverance. Now she found it like a kid constantly tugging on the hem of his mother’s shirt for attention. “Why do you keep asking?”

  “I just want to make sure. Did something bad happen? The press? Paparazzi? I know how you feel about that.”

  “Like I said, I’m fine.” Thoughts of the black Mercury cropped up in her head. The notes she had found on the gate weeks ago. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d mention that to anyone here. Besides, there hadn’t been any more notes, and there was a chance that the person in the Mercury really was a photographer.

  “So what’s next for America’s go-to girl?” Dan asked, his eyes shifting from Kate to her agent and back again. He bit into a piece of garlic toast.

  “The scripts are rolling in,” Shirley proudly announced before Kate could utter a word. “Three that we’re looking at right now. Two action movies, one romantic comedy.”

  Dan glanced in Michael’s direction, clearly expecting some sort of reaction. Everyone knew Michael hadn’t fully accepted the breakup.

  “They all sound great, and it’ll be nice to work on something new. But first, I’m taking some time off,” Kate said.

  “Kate needs a little vacation, I think,” Michael added, putting an arm across the back of her chair. He waggled his eyebrows at the group. “Somewhere fun and private.”

  All eyes fell on her and Michael. They’d arrived together, and now this. She hated what he was doing. He was trying to control the situation.

  “Oh?” Janet, one of their costars, gasped. “Are you two—”

  “No, not at all,” Kate firmly stated. Why did everyone keep asking? She glanced at Michael. “I’m just looking to enjoy some downtime and move on.”

  Michael’s smile faltered. Maybe he’d finally stop pushing her. Right now the only person in Kate’s life was herself. Until the right time and the right guy came along, that was fine. If not? That was perfectly fine with her, too. She could be happy without being part of a couple.

  “Well, I’d love to work with you again, Kate. Until then . . .” Dan raised his glass of wine, and everyone held their own glass up in a toast. “To the future queen of the screen.”

  Michael and Shirley both raised their glasses a little higher. “To Kate!” they both exclaimed. Kate accepted the toast, enjoying the moment to its fullest.

  As the evening progressed, the toast, she realized, had been the best part. Allowing Michael to escort her to the dinner had been a mistake of epic proportions. What should have been a fun evening had turned into a nightmare, keeping Michael at bay and fielding questions about the two of them. He had photobombed at least half a dozen shots, all designed to make them look like a couple.

  “Show him you’re moving on,” Shirley had advised after dinner. “If you need to, I’m sure we could arrange something with PR.”

  “No,” Kate insisted. “The rumors will fly no matter what. The press will probably get hold of one of tonight’s pictures with Graham and me and swear we’re having a thing.”

  “Uh-huh. And I’m sure that’ll go over well with Michael. He’d probably believe it,” Shirley said.

  Throughout the night, the more Michael drank, the clingier he became. More than once she’d had to remove his arm from her waist or brush his hand off her leg under the table.

  All attempts at warning him off only seemed to encourage him. To Michael, it was a challenge. He’d tried to kiss her while dancing, but Kate turned her head. She hadn’t wanted to dance with him, but with all eyes on them, she’d relented.

  Now, as the evening drew to a close, all Michael wanted to do was dance as an excuse to press himself against her, to whisper drunken apologies in her ear, and to remind her how good the two of them had been together—in and out of bed.

  When Michael excused himself for a trip to the men’s room, Kate happily allowed herself to be pulled into a lively discussion with her agent and a few costars.

  “Dance with me,” Michael said upon his return, taking hold of her arm.

  “No,” Kate replied, pulling away. “We’ve already danced.”

  “Kate! Come on!” Michael complained. “You’re my girlfriend!”

  Kate tensed. Through clenched teeth, she whispered, “Enough, Michael. I am not your girlfriend.”

  “Sure you are!” Michael said, slurring his words. Conversations around them quieted. Michael—seeing he was center stage—nodded enthusiastically and raised his newly filled and spilling glass. “That’s right, guys. I’m the man taking Kate home tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows again.

  “You’re drunk!” Kate spat. “Knock it off, Michael, or so help me—”

  Michael grabbed her, pulling her toward him, and started to dance. “You’ll what? Spank me? I can hardly wait. Come on! Let’s show ’em how to rock this party.”

  Kate had reached her breaking point. She planted her high-heeled foot squarely down on his.

  “OW!” Michael teetered backward, spilling more of his drink.

  “Allow me,” Dan said, stepping in and taking Kate in his arms. She allowed him to whisk her away. “Thought you needed an intervention,” he said. “Graham is taking Michael’s keys and is offering to drive him home. Shirley says she’ll take you home whenever you like.”

  “Thanks,” Kate said, both relieved and completely embarrassed. Tomorrow, if Michael so much as called her, she’d threaten him with a restraining order. Or punch him. Maybe both. Michael stood by their table, glaring at her and Dan.

  One minute Dan was dancing with her, and the next Michael was trying to pry them apart. Dan pushed him away. “Hey! Hands off!” Michael warned.

  The urge to punch Michael returned. Kate forced herself to take a deep breath.

  Dan shot him a warning look. He might have been older and shorter than Michael, but Dan made up for it in weight and muscle. Dan didn’t like to be bossed around.

  Graham and another cast member pulled Michael away from them. “Let’s get some fresh air,” Graham said to Michael. “Come on, buddy.”

  “Let go of me!” Michael said loudly, as if this jealousy act wasn’t already drawing enough attention.

  Dan grabbed Michael by the elbow and led him toward the doors. “Let’s have a little talk outside, Mikey.”

  “He’s not helping his cause any, is he?” Shirley said to Kate.

  “It might be easier if I go out with them,” Kate said, grabbing her clutch. She wanted to do whatever it took to prevent Michael from creating an even bigger scene.

  “I’ll get my purse and keys,” Shirley said.

  “No, I
’m good, Shirley. Honest.” Kate turned and walked to the door behind the others.

  Shouts erupted outside, and Kate hurried to see what Michael had done now. Maybe she would get lucky and find him passed out.

  Please just let him pass out, she thought. Unconsciousness. That would be the best thing for both of them.

  “I’m fine!” Michael insisted as he straightened his tux, dousing her hopes. Both Dan and Graham gave him some space. Michael smoothed his hair and looked up at her. “I guess I had that coming, didn’t I?”

  Kate glared at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Michael, but you need help.”

  “What’s gotten into me? You, Kate. You! Why are you doing this?” Michael took a few steps closer to her.

  She started to speak, to tell him and everyone else within earshot that he was thickheaded if he couldn’t figure it out. No. She would not grant him the satisfaction of losing control. “I said enough! Just stop it. All of it. I mean it,” Kate said. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  And her. Why had she come here with him? It was no use being too hard on herself, though. Michael would have acted pretty much the same even if she’d shown up by herself.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. Let’s go home, and we’ll figure it all out tomorrow morning.” Michael took another step.

  “I’m warning you,” Kate said, daring him to come any closer.

  A valet driver pulled up in Michael’s car. Behind that, another pulled up in Graham’s dark green Jaguar.

  “Maybe you should drive,” Michael suggested to her. The valet offered her the keys, which Kate snapped up as Michael fished his wallet out to pay.

  “There’s no tomorrow for you, Michael. You’re just lucky I’m not taking a cab.”

  “We’ll follow you to your place,” Graham said. “Then Brittni and I will see to it that he gets home.”

  “Is this why you won’t give me another chance?” Michael asked. “Have you been having a threesome with Graham and his wife? Christ, Kate!”

  “You’re sick,” Brittni said as she glowered at Michael. “Like Kate said, get some help.”

  Kate was beyond furious now. Her head buzzed with rage. It was all she could do to retain any professional composure.

  “We’re done here,” Kate said, doing her best to control the anger in her voice. She turned to the others. “Throw him in the trunk if you want.”

  “Kate, why don’t you let one of us handle him? Let Shirley drive you home,” Dan said.

  She walked around to the Porsche’s driver side. She’d never felt this enraged before. Once she had Michael in the car, away from everyone else, she had every intention of telling him off. For good. “I’ve got this, Dan. Thanks.”

  “Come on, Kate! Don’t be like this!” Michael mumbled from the other side of the car.

  Don’t be like this? This? He had no idea. Kate fumbled with the car keys, dropped them, and cursed under her breath as she picked them up.

  “Hey!” Michael called out, pointing. They all looked up at the rooftop. Michael rubbed the top of his head. Gravel and some small stones lay at their feet.

  “What happened?” Kate asked.

  “I think someone is on the roof,” Graham replied. “Knocked something over up there and pushed down a few small rocks. One clocked Party Boy on the melon.”

  Michael sat on the curb, still rubbing his head, but seemed otherwise okay. One of the valets ran back inside for some ice. At least the incident had quieted Michael down.

  “The roof?” Kate asked, just as a vision struck her. She was looking down from the roof at herself and the scene below. She steadied herself against the Porsche’s door.

  Not again. Not here.

  Kate shook her head, and the vision cleared.

  Up on the rooftop, the gargoyle peeked over. Kate glanced around. Had anyone else seen it? Someone else had to be seeing this.

  No! Go away!

  You wanted him unconscious.

  Brittni attended to her husband, making sure he hadn’t been hit. Michael got to his feet. He gaped at the small rocks on the curb, then back to the rooftop as he held the bag of ice the valet brought him to his head. He staggered a step or two, but more from the alcohol than injury. Dan was scouting the roofline.

  He’d see it. Surely Dan would see it!

  “Do you see someone?” Kate asked cautiously.

  The gargoyle grew perfectly still.

  “No.” Dan shook his head. “Did you?”

  Kate stared up at the gargoyle. She forced herself to breathe, to act normally. “No. I didn’t see anything either,” she lied.

  “The manager is checking into it,” one of the valets assured them.

  Kate couldn’t tear her gaze away. It was right there! They were all looking right at it!

  It wasn’t moving, though. The stone gargoyle, which appeared more humanlike than some of the others she’d seen lately, hung outward from the rooftop. The body was covered in a suit of armor made up of acanthus leaves. The creature’s mouth was open in what might be an eternal scream.

  The others must see it! But if they did, it wasn’t registering. To them, it was just stone, part of the architecture. They’d expected a person, or at the least a bird or a stray cat that had managed to find its way to the roof. They had no idea that the gargoyle hadn’t been there when they’d arrived earlier.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kate

  Kate paced across the kitchen floor. Her morning coffee and shower had done little to erase the scene at the restaurant from her memory, much less prevent her from thinking about the gargoyles. It was as though some unseen tether kept them in her thoughts.

  Somehow they needed her. She felt it in her bones.

  Under normal circumstances she might have thought she’d been having hallucinations. Or that she’d gone mad. But she was perfectly sane. First, there was the flower she’d brought back from the castle. Now a gargoyle had thrown gravel off the rooftop. The gargoyle had done it because of her. Because she’d been angry with Michael.

  And she hadn’t been dreaming.

  Until last night, there had never been a gargoyle on top of Dominick’s restaurant. Never. She was sure of it. Somehow they’d followed her. No longer did she need to dream about them. Worse, she didn’t think it was a few random creatures come to life. No. Intuition told her it was all of them. Everywhere.

  Intuition? Where had that come from? Yet the word fit. She was connected to them, and they to her.

  Which sounded totally crazy. Not that she’d tell a soul.

  It was all because of her visits to the castle. Everything tied back to Shadow Wood.

  Okay, so they were bound to each other. Great.

  But what did they want? How could she stop all this? She pursed her lips in frustration. The gargoyle on top of Dominick’s had meant to injure Michael. The attack on the two teens had happened after the incident with the elderly couple.

  Declan had the answers. That much was certain. But what about Ian? Did he know, too? He hadn’t mentioned the gargoyles at all. Did he know about all this, or was he in the dark like she was? Another thought occurred to her: What if the gargoyles wanted Ian for something, too? If he didn’t know that, he deserved to.

  She could ask. Just pop in and out. Quick question.

  For some reason, Ian didn’t seem to be part of Shadow Wood or whatever was happening there. He seemed . . . normal.

  But was he? If so, why was he there? Did it really have anything to do with his books?

  She did a quick online search for Ian McGuire on her phone. It brought up his website. Kate scrolled though his books. Nothing jumped out about gargoyles—or castles, for that matter. Just creepy thriller-horror stuff. His bio seemed normal, too, as did a few blog entries.

  So what if he knew? So what if he didn’t?

  It didn’t concern her.

  Did it? He was a smart guy. He’d figure it out on his own. Probably had more information than she did. He was there
, with Declan, where all this craziness began.

  Shouldn’t she warn him, though, just in case? But tell him what, exactly? Her thoughts seemed to be racing in circles.

  She had meant to find Declan during her last visit and ask what the hell was going on. Instead, she had met Ian, and the damn cell phone had yanked her back before she was ready.

  Which meant she had to try again before the gargoyles killed anyone else. She’d turn the cell off this time. She’d turn off the ringer on the house phone, too.

  Tonight she’d talk to Ian first—see how much he knew. Kate sensed the gargoyles were watching everything and everyone around them. And they were waiting for something to happen. They’d always been watching, she realized. For centuries the gargoyles had been perfectly positioned for observing the world.

  “You know how silly this all sounds, right?” she said aloud. “You need that vacation. Stat.”

  Maybe if she went over the scripts Shirley had sent over, she’d feel better. She’d figure out what to do next. Kate rinsed out her coffee mug and headed up the stairs. With any luck, she’d finish one of the scripts before a quick workout this afternoon.

  Halfway up the stairs, her vision doubled. She could still see her darkened house, the stairwell, and the living room below. But she could also see the gargoyle, its bloody feet, and the remains of a man’s body underneath the creature’s claws. The victim’s blood-soaked shirt had been shredded. In the gaping hole of the chest cavity she saw his lungs, the upper part of his stomach, and a few glistening rib bones.

  Kate retched.

  Near the body lay a woman’s expensive handbag, the contents haphazardly discarded among broken bottles and garbage. The wallet had been rummaged through. Old photos and receipts lay in crumpled piles.

  Kate braced herself against the wall and closed her eyes. Go away, go away! Stop. Please, stop.

  The gargoyle glanced up, surveying the dimly lit alley lined with cardboard boxes and aging Dumpsters. The alley was void of all other life. Anger and another feeling—justification—passed through her. The anger she might have been able to understand, but justification? For what? Killing a purse snatcher?

  The gargoyle lowered its head and tore away another piece of the corpse. Kate heard the wet sound of the creature chewing muscle and flesh, smelled the coppery scent of the blood along with the stench of rotted trash.