by Tami Lund
“Oatmeal. With blueberries.”
Okay, he could do that. Hopefully. He opened cabinet doors until he found one that contained a variety of dry goods, including a tube of oatmeal that wasn’t the instant kind you poured hot water over and called it a day. Sighing, he lifted the container and read the instructions.
“So what’s a Daughter of Light?” Sofia asked again.
While Griffin prepared breakfast, he explained. “A Daughter of Light is a witch who is also descended from the gods.”
“I’m a witch?”
Sofia had said that she did not know what the little girl was, which, he supposed, made sense. Depending on how long she’d been a loner, Sofia may not even be aware of the existence of Daughters of Light. Hell, Penelope may be the only one left in this world. Warlocks had been quietly killing them off for decades now.
“You are,” Griffin confirmed. “A very powerful one. More powerful than almost all other witches, in fact.”
“Because I’m also a god.”
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
He chuckled but then frowned. This discovery led to all sorts of complications. It also meant that Sofia and Penelope needed more than just him to protect them.
He’d never been responsible for protecting a Daughter of Light before—well, except for that time that he’d rescued Penelope, but in his defense, he hadn’t realized what he was up against back then.
This was different. He’d come to New Orleans intent upon proving himself to the coolest and most powerful gargoyle there was: Oliver. Except this was not what Griffin had anticipated as a first assignment. He’d hoped for rescuing kittens from trees as a lead in to the difficult stuff.
No way was he prepared for something so important as keeping possibly the only existing Daughter of Light safe.
Chapter Four
Several thoughts hit Sofia all at once.
One, she’d definitely slept for more than three hours.
Two, Penelope had not woken her, which was concerning.
Three, there was someone else in the house besides her and Penelope.
Even more concerning.
She sprang out of bed and snagged a robe to cover her camisole and panties. Pulling open the door, she hurried down the hall until she came to a stuttering halt at the entrance to the living room.
Penelope, in her pajamas, her hair an uncombed rat’s nest on her head, sat cross-legged on the floor, with Pinky the purple dragon in her lap, her tongue thrust between her teeth as she focused on the game of Candyland spread out before her.
Griffin sat across from her, watching as she calculated her next move.
What in the world?
Sofia didn’t need to bother asking how Griffin had gotten into her house. She’d witnessed his ability to bypass locks just last night. Still…
“What are you doing here?”
He glanced up, his gaze lingering on her bare legs beneath the short robe, and her dragon, dormant for far too long, lifted her head and took notice.
Great. He isn’t even a dragon.
So? her dragon replied.
Sofia shook her head. Now was not the time to get into a discussion of species with her beast.
Penelope glanced up and waved. “Hi, Mommy.”
Sofia’s heart melted a little every time she heard that moniker. She hadn’t intended for Penelope to call her mommy, but the first time she had, Sofia’s fierce protectiveness of this child had quadrupled, and it had only increased in strength every day since.
Griffin nodded at her daughter. “We were letting you sleep in.”
Sofia frowned. She felt… fantastic, in truth. How much sleep had she gotten?
“It’s ten o’clock,” Griffin supplied, like he could read her mind.
Good gods, she hadn’t slept this late since the day before she’d spent that fateful night with Griffin, four years ago.
“Why? How did you even know? How…?”
He nodded at the window overlooking the backyard. “I stayed watch last night, outside Penelope’s bedroom. When I heard her wake, I came inside and convinced her to let me make her breakfast instead of waking you up to do so.”
“You…” Apparently, a full night’s sleep rendered her incapable of completing a sentence.
“Coffee,” Griffin said, hopping to his feet. “You need some.”
“She drinks a lot of coffee,” Penelope supplied.
That kid. Sometimes she was too honest.
“Come on,” Griffin said, motioning to Sofia to join him in the kitchen. Instead of pouring her a cup of joe, as soon as she was close enough, he grasped her arm and squeezed. Sofia’s dragon started prancing around like a dog about to be handed a bone.
Down, girl.
“We need help,” Griffin announced.
“Huh?” Sofia gave the half-full carafe a longing look.
“I know as a gargoyle my main job is to protect those who both need and deserve it, and you and Penelope certainly qualify, but-but I…that’s not been my main focus for the last few years. At least not, well, not to this extent.”
Why was he telling her this? “We’ve been managing by ourselves for four years, so if that’s your reason for returning, you can go ahead and fly back to New Brunswick now. We’re fine.”
He canted his head. “You remember where I’m from.”
She remembered a lot about that fateful night. Too much.
Elbowing him out of the way, she pulled a mug out of the cabinet. In childlike scrawl, the words “World’s Best Mom” were written across the white surface along with a bunch of terribly drawn flowers and dragons. Penelope had made it for her at daycare for Mother’s Day last year. It was a human daycare, run by the church two blocks away, and Sofia had enrolled her partially to ensure the kid had some sort of social interaction skills prior to starting kindergarten, but also so that Sofia could catch a few hours’ extra sleep three days a week.
She added a dollop of creamer to the cup and then filled it with steaming, dark liquid before lifting it to her nose and breathing deeply. She took a tentative sip and sighed.
Someone made a strangled noise, and she opened her eyes. Griffin stared at her in a way she didn’t quite recognize. Did he think she was insane? Or was that attraction in his dilated pupils?
It was hard to tell.
“Hold on,” she said, lifting a finger and taking another few sips. After another sigh, she said, “Okay, I think my brain is functioning on at least two-thirds of its cylinders now.”
His lips twitched. “Are you always like this in the morning?”
“Nope. Usually, I’m super grumpy. But I’ve just had the first full night’s sleep in four years, so I’m damn near cheerful at the moment.”
He snorted. She glowered and drank more coffee.
“We need to talk about Penelope’s protection,” Griffin said.
Sofia shook her head. “I just told you, she’s perfectly fine.”
“No, she isn’t. Do you know what a Daughter of Light is?”
She frowned and took another drink. “Nope.”
He squeezed his fists and paced from one end of her tiny kitchen to the other, which encompassed maybe three steps of his long-legged strides. “She’s very special. Way more special than you comprehend.”
“Hey. Despite the way she was left on my doorstep, I happen to love that child as if she hung the moon in the sky.”
“Her ancestors likely did,” he muttered, which made no sense and wouldn’t even if she had enough caffeine in her system.
“But your love for her is not what is in question here. Sofia, she’s a precious commodity.”
“Again, I’m fully aware. I know you don’t get it, but, well, I became a parent that day I woke up and realized you’d abandoned her with me. I’ve been raising her for four years. I fully comprehend how special she is. Way more than you do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Are we seriously going to have this battle? Because I
’m fully prepared for war on this point.” She slammed her mug down onto the counter with enough force to splash pale brown liquid everywhere but not to break the ceramic.
He winced. “You are missing the point.”
“No, I’m—”
“Hey, Mommy, guess what?”
Sofia turned to her daughter, who had entered the kitchen, and, apparently, the conversation.
“I’m a god!”
Sofia stared at her child. Penelope had a hell of an imagination.
“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Griffin said.
Sofia’s gaze darted from the crazy girl to the crazy gargoyle. “Is this a game you all created this morning? Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that I don’t know the rules?”
Penelope giggled. “It’s not a game, Mommy. It’s true. I’m a god. Oh, and a witch.”
“Yeah, Griffin told me that last night.”
“He told you that I’m a god and a witch?”
Sofia frowned and chanced a glance at Griffin, who gave her a stony stare in return. “No, just a witch.”
“And I’m a god, too. See? Feel my fingers.” The little girl grabbed Sofia’s hand and pressed the tips of their fingers together. Sofia definitely felt magic, but she had no idea how to differentiate between hers and Penelope’s.
Griffin shook his head. “She can’t tell, Penelope. She doesn’t have enough experience with other beings to be able to separate the various kinds of magic. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure most dragons don’t even know the story of the Daughters of Light.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Sofia said, reluctantly. Very reluctantly. “Tell me the story.”
Griffin hesitated. Oh, so he wasn’t quite ready to confide the rules of this game, huh?
“Come on, out with it.”
He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Sofia took the time to study his face, the serious set of his jaw, the fine lines around his eye, which was when the first niggling of concern wormed its way into her brain.
“Basically, Daughters of Light were created to destroy warlocks after they damn near decimated the witch population a couple of centuries ago.”
Sofia remained still, waiting for more, but Griffin did not expand on his incredibly brief description.
“Warlocks are bad,” Penelope piped up.
Sofia glanced down at her daughter. “How do you know that?” They’d never talked about warlocks, mostly because Sofia didn’t know anything about them beyond that they were bad dudes who did not have a conscience.
“Uncle Mitch told me.”
She was going to have a come to Jesus conversation with her boss about what he talked about in front of her little girl.
“Who is Uncle Mitch?” Griffin asked. “Your brother?” He gave Sofia an imploring look, but she shook her head.
No, Mitch wasn’t her brother. Mitch was a super nice guy, and her brother, well…he wasn’t. Enough said.
“He’s my boss.”
“You take the child to a bar?”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “When I pick up my paycheck, yes. Or if we happen to be in the vicinity on my days off, because Mitch and Bebé both adore her.”
“What did Uncle Mitch tell you about warlocks?” Griffin asked, looking to Penelope for an answer.
“They’re bad, bad men. They don’t care about anyone. And they kill witches because witches are the only beings who can keep them in check.”
Griffin glanced at Sofia and shrugged. “That’s a reasonably accurate description.”
Penelope puffed out her chest like he’d just given her a compliment.
“If witches keep the warlocks under control, then where do Daughters of Light come in?” Sofia asked, annoyed by her own curiosity. Although, if this had anything to do with Penelope, then of course she needed to know as much information as possible.
“Normal witches aren’t equipped to protect themselves against warlocks,” Griffin explained. “Even though most of them have comparable magic, witches have consciences, whereas warlocks do not, which gives them a step up in any sort of warfare.”
That damn sense of foreboding had returned.
Griffin continued his story. “If the witch population were decimated, it would throw off the circle of life, I suppose you could say. If witches were destroyed, eventually, so would all of humanity. There would be no balance between the various species. Chaos would ensue. The world would be devastated in a matter of a few generations.”
“Well, that’s morbid,” Sofia muttered.
“In desperation, the leader of the witches and her mate went to the gods and begged for their help.”
“Cool,” Penelope said, her eyes wide as she practically breathed the word.
Griffin nodded. “The witch and her mate offered up their only daughter as a sacrifice to end the war. The gods accepted the daughter and mated her to one of their own. The god and the witch had many daughters, all with extraordinary magic beyond anything the witches or warlocks had ever experienced before.”
“Daughters of Light,” Penelope pronounced, grinning proudly. Sofia eyed her baby’s messy hair and mismatched socks. Was she truly descended from the gods?
“How come I’ve never heard of these demigods before?” Sofia asked.
“You said yourself that you live a reclusive life,” Griffin pointed out. “That aside, however, it is more likely because that first generation of Daughters did their job. They went to war with the warlocks and won. The remaining warlocks retreated to the woods and mountains of Europe and Asia, leaving the witch population to live their lives in peace.”
Oh good. For a moment there, Sofia had been afraid Griffin was about to tell her that her daughter would have to be trained for combat.
“Unfortunately,” Griffin said, “for too many generations, the Daughters of Light were not needed. Their mothers stopped teaching them how to fight. In many cases, they did not even tell their offspring that they were descended from gods. The witches became complacent.”
Uh-oh. Sofia did not like the sound of that.
“Eventually, the blood of the gods became diluted, and the newer generations did not produce as many Daughters of Light. Few have been born over the last couple of decades. And approximately forty years ago, the warlocks realized this. They left their hiding places and began to quietly destroy the Daughters of Light. We are now in danger of repeating the cycle we’d thought broken hundreds of years ago.”
Sofia reached for the coffee carafe. “I’m gonna need more caffeine.”
Chapter Five
Griffin was impressed.
Sofia didn’t panic. She didn’t cry or throw a temper tantrum. She didn’t refuse to believe him. She simply said, “What do we need to do?”
It was resigned, but she wasn’t fighting the inevitable. Yes, she’d become the mother to this child, so of course she intended to protect her at all costs, but she also recognized the need to allow Penelope to be raised as she was meant to be—as a Daughter of Light who would one day go on to safeguard her own species—or die trying.
“Since Oliver sent me here to protect you, I assume he is aware of Penelope’s legacy,” Griffin said.
“That’s why you returned? Because you were told to?”
Oh hell, there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she lowered her lids and cut her gaze to the side. Damn it, he’d said the wrong thing.
Deflect, Griffin, deflect!
“I returned to New Orleans to accept a position with the gargoyle brethren here.”
Wait, how was that deflecting?
“And where do I fit into the picture?”
He recalled that fateful night, four years ago, when he’d lain in bed with Sofia snuggled into his side and he’d thought, We sure do fit perfectly together.
“Well, theoretically, I’m supposed to protect you. And Penelope. But, um…” He scratched his head. “I’m not an expert at taking care of Daughters of Light. That’s not where I’ve focused my,
er, gargoyle training. So I’m going to make sure you get the best daughter-protector on Oliver’s crew.”
She canted her head and watched him steadily, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she said, “What if I don’t want some other protector?”
“Trust me, Sofia. You are better off without me in your life.”
“Am I? I knew nothing about warlocks or Daughters of Light until right now. What if you hadn’t come back? What if a warlock showed up tomorrow? Or next week? Or even after Penelope is an adult? If you hadn’t told us what she is, I never would have done whatever I need to do to ensure she can protect herself.”
She was a remarkable woman, but then again, he’d known that four years ago. That was why he’d left Penelope in her care.
“Okay, yes, I will grant you that. I meant…what I meant was beyond Penelope’s care. I should not have seduced you that night. It was entirely unfair.” To both of us. “And it will not happen again.”
Which was a damn shame, because now that he was near her again, the memories of that night were as sharp as a master chef’s favorite knife. That ridiculously short and far too thin robe she was wearing certainly didn’t help matters, either. He kept catching himself trying to get a glimpse down the front. What was she wearing under there?
Sofia lifted her chin. “Fine. Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
She was not acting as though she were relieved. In fact, he still sensed disappointment. She, understandably, despised him.
But did she also want more from him? Now that was enticing, not that he could do anything about it. He was part of Oliver’s brethren now and had to play by the leader’s rules.
“I should go speak to Oliver.” Except it was late morning on a Sunday, which meant the cemetery would be teeming with humans, courtesy of popular haunted tours. Griffin found it amusing that humans paid other humans to take them to allegedly haunted places in hopes of seeing ghosts or other supernatural creatures, when all they had to do was look around with a keen eye as they wandered the streets or entered an establishment. New Orleans was full of dragons and gargoyles and witches, among a dozen other beings, and humans were entirely unaware.