Other books by Pauline Gruber:
The Girl and the Raven
The Girl and the Gargoyle
Copyright © 2015 by Pauline Gruber
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Dragonfly Ink, Ltd.
P.O. Box 2042
Palatine, IL 60078
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN 978-0-9910774-2-7 (for print)
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover Art by Phatpuppy Art
Cover Design by The Bookish Brunette
Formatting by Author E.M.S.
Author Photo by Sopho Studio
In loving memory of my sister,
Susan Gruber,
my very own protector.
Chapter One
Lucy Walker
The clatter of my cell phone bouncing against the nightstand startles me awake. My heavy lids refuse to open. Another late night on the roof with Marcus—and that was after spending two hours working on a killer CD mix for him. Did he struggle this much when he made my CDs last year?
I snuggle into my pillow, sleep beckoning. My phone vibrates again. I reach for it with a groan. Marcus is probably the only person I would forgive for bugging me this early. Maybe my gargoyle boyfriend wants to meet me for an early morning kiss? Nothing could top that.
Seriously??? Are you kidding me??? You’re the luckiest girl alive!
I reread Katie’s text, but it makes no sense.
I bolt upright. Is it possible she saw us last night? Crap. I fell asleep on the roof with Marcus. He and his wings, in all their glorious beauty, delivered me safely to the ground. He doesn’t need his wings for that small of a jump. He did it for me. He knows I love them.
I swallow a shriek as I spot the figure leaning against my dresser.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” I snap, my heart hammering against my rib cage.
Jude crosses his arms over his chest. In the year that I’ve known him, my father has learned to mimic human gestures well. Then it hits me. That’s one of my most common gestures.
“I would like to meet your great-uncles.”
I swallow hard. “I told you it would happen when the time’s right.”
“I’m done waiting.”
“Let me ease them into it,” I plead.
My phone vibrates in my hand. That’s when I remember Katie’s message.
Well????
What do I say to my best friend and neighbor if she saw Marcus deliver me to my bedroom window? Play dumb?
My uncles putter around the kitchen, clanging pans and chopping vegetables. The smell of fresh brewed coffee drifts into my bedroom, followed by the heavy, smoky smell of bacon.
“Perfect. We can have breakfast together,” Jude says.
I return my cell to my bedside table.
“Please,” I whisper. “Not today.”
The front door creaks open. Sheldon grabbing the Sunday paper from the sidewalk? How do I get rid of Jude? I throw off my sheet and blanket, thinking through a safe response to Katie.
“Bernard? Can you come here, please?”
Something about Sheldon’s tone causes the back of my neck to get all prickly. Do they know Jude’s here? How did he get in, anyway? Did he pick the lock on the front door?
“Lucy?” Bernard calls out.
Jude pushes himself off the dresser. “I’ll be out front. Come and invite me in.” In one smooth motion, he climbs out the window. So that’s how he did it.
I change out of pajamas and into shorts and a T-shirt, my stomach churning.
How do I introduce Jude?
Sheldon despises him for what he did to Momma. Never mind that he’s been absent my entire life. How do I explain that Gram played a role in keeping my father and me apart? And that she used magic to do it? My uncles are in the dark about everything. They don’t know Gram was a witch. They don’t know about all the supernaturals living in the three-flat building. And they don’t know I’m half-witch, half-demon. If they did, I think their heads would explode.
“Lucy?” Sheldon’s voice is much louder this time.
“Hey, Sheldon. Bernard. What’s up?” I say as I enter the living room. Travel brochures decorate the coffee table. Are they still debating between Costa Rica and Alaska for our family vacation?
“We were going to ask you the same question.” Bernard frowns, his hands on his hips.
They know about Jude, but how?
Sheldon grabs my hand as Bernard pushes aside the drapes and jabs his finger toward the window. “What in the world is that?”
I look outside.
Oh no.
Katie’s text message now makes sense.
My mouth falls open as I stare at the brand-spanking new dark blue car that screams, Officer, I’m a teenage driver, please pull me over. Shiny and gorgeous, adorned with a humongous red bow on top with words written in gold, so large I can read them clearly from the apartment, Happy Belated Birthday, Lucy.
My entire nervous system buzzes with panic. Subtlety is not Jude’s strong suit.
I feel the weight of my uncles’ stares.
“Something you want to share with the class, Luce?” Sheldon asks.
I wrap my arms around my stomach. Forget butterflies, I’ve got a violent case of hornets swarming in my belly. “Yeah, that’s a tough one.”
“There’s a sixty thousand dollar vehicle sitting outside with your name on it. Give it a try,” Bernard pushes.
Sixty thousand? I’m torn between wanting to pummel Jude and melting into a pool of goo under my uncles’ hot glares.
I jump at the sudden knock at the front door. A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body. My father couldn’t wait ten minutes?
Neither of my uncles move. A second knock rings out, this time more urgent. I rush to answer it, relieved to get away from Sheldon and Bernard.
It’s Marcus and he looks unhappy.
“Um…hi…” I nod subtly toward my uncles. “Not a good time.”
Marcus glances over my shoulder. “Just stopped by to see what you’re doing today.” He bends to hug me. “Persephone called. The ravens are going berserk. She had to set them free to keep them from injuring themselves trying to escape.”
Persephone lives in the third floor apartment. She’s also a witch and was Gram’s best friend.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I whisper in his ear.
“Marcus, do you know anything about this car?” Sheldon calls out.
“I haven’t been outside yet. What car?” Marcus pushes past me into the apartment.
My uncles pull the drapes back to expose the sweet sixteen birthday gift.
“I see,” Marcus says stiffly. “I’m guessing he wants to talk to you.”
And that’s when I notice his twitching, the strain of his muscles as he tries to suppress the urge to morph. Duh. Marcus knows Jude is here. He can sense him. This is going to be bad. Sheldon and Bernard will be furious. I’ll be grounded forever, no longer allowed to spend time on the roof with Marcus. Will they insist I quit my nanny job with the Douglas family? Will they kick me out for being the world’s biggest liar?
“Who gave you the car, Lucy?” Bernard asks.
“Uh…well…” It suddenly feels like a hundred degrees in the room as a droplet of sweat trickles down my back. “You see…”
Marcus’s jaw is clenched, and cords stand out on his neck. He’s fighting the change. This is torture for him. I have to tell my uncles and get Jude out of here for Marcus’s sake.
“It’s a gift from my father,” I blurt out. My mind races for an abbreviated version of the truth. “He…he contacted me recently. He knew all kinds of stuff about me. And Momma. And Gram.” I pull my hair over my shoulder and twist it. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him after all these years, but I did meet him…over ice cream.” My voice trails off at the looks of confusion on Sheldon and Bernard’s faces.
Sheldon pulls at his bottom lip. “Your father?”
What was it Sheldon told me about Momma and Jude last year?
“She seemed to lose her mind. Literally. Her life revolved around him, and when he left, it was like her mind…and her will to live…went with him.”
Bernard pulls the dishtowel from his shoulder, his eyes coming into focus for the first time since I dropped the bomb. “Lucy, this is big news. Did you say the man is outside? If that’s the case, you should invite him in. He can have breakfast with us and introduce himself.” His gaze slides from me to Marcus. “Marcus, you’re welcome to join us as well.”
“I don’t think Marcus can stay.” I put a hand on Marcus’s arm and give him a firm shove toward the door. Being in Jude’s presence will only torture him more. Even now, he’s trembling, and his skin is hot beneath my fingers.
Marcus ignores me and nods at Bernard. “I’d love to. Thanks.”
I can’t think of a way to argue with him that won’t involve my uncles finding out I’ve hidden other things from them, too. Why can’t Marcus listen to me for once and go back upstairs to his own apartment? It’ll be bad enough having breakfast with Jude and my uncles, but Marcus and Jude together in one room could be a disaster. They hate each other too much.
Sheldon and Bernard stare at me expectantly.
“Would you like me to go with you?” Sheldon asks. “To invite your father in?”
There are a hundred ways this could go horribly wrong, but I can’t think of an objection that will sound reasonable to my uncles. I shake my head, trying to keep the alarm from my face. I need a couple of minutes alone with Jude. I force my legs to walk outside to Jude’s fancy black sedan. I refrain from giving it a swift kick.
Jude rolls down the window. “What do you think?” he asks. I ignore the shark-like smile on his face. “I chose blue because it favors your coloring, but if you prefer something else, just name it.”
“We had a deal. You were supposed to stay away from my uncles.”
“I grew tired of waiting.” The smile is still on his face. “Besides, with your horrible commute to school, I thought you could use a more convenient method of transportation. Also, I believe fathers giving daughters a car for their sixteenth birthday is traditional.”
“Yeah, you’re father of the year, Jude.” I glare at him. “Is it normal in the demon world for fathers to hang out in their daughter’s bedroom? Because in the human world, it’s creepy and inappropriate.”
“I like to watch you sleep. It’s the only time you look…peaceful. If you lived under my roof…”
He’s been in my bedroom before today? A white-hot ball of panic surges inside of me. Is he going to force me to move in with him? What does that mean for Sheldon and Bernard?
“That’s not going to happen.” Maybe I should put bars on my windows? Right, like that would keep him out. But it’s the hard look in his eyes, the curl of his mouth that leaves me breathless. Like he would do whatever it took to get me to move in with him.
Sheldon and Bernard. My fingers start to tingle. Heat races down my arms. I could blast him right now. Torch his car. Better yet, I could torch his birthday present. I funnel the heat to my fingertips.
The foyer door opens behind me. Crap. I gulp in air and tamp down hard on the heat.
“Lucy?” Sheldon calls out. He sounds nervous. I can’t blame him. For all he knows, Jude will drive me bonkers, just like Momma.
My uncles stand on the front porch, both wringing their hands.
I turn back to Jude, my tone sharp as a knife. “My uncles want to meet you. I’m supposed to invite you in for breakfast. If you screw this up for me…if you harm them in any way, I—”
“I would be delighted.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car. Way too eager.
I notice his window is still down. I glance up at the sky, hoping for a storm to come and ruin the interior of his expensive vehicle.
Jude strides ahead of me and thrusts his hand out to Sheldon. I follow like an afterthought, my insides frothing as if I’ve just made a deal with the devil, which, actually, I have.
“Sheldon Meyers. Vera’s brother.” Jude smiles broadly as they shake hands. “It’s great to meet you.” He turns to Bernard. “And you must be Sheldon’s partner, Bernard Goldman. You’ve done a wonderful job with Lucy. She adores you both.”
Charisma pours off Jude in waves, coating my uncles and sucking them in. They fall all over each other, grinning as they quickly usher Jude inside. This is not the Jude I know and don’t love. These aren’t the uncles I know and do love, either, treating Jude as if he’s some hotshot celebrity. I’m embarrassed for them, and I’m angry at Jude for making them act this way.
Jude pauses in the living room. His attention lingers on every single detail—the built-in bookcases loaded with books and knickknacks, the framed artwork, some of which is older than me. Some of this stuff belonged to Gram. I wonder if Jude recognizes anything.
“I hope you’ll stay for breakfast,” Bernard gushes.
“We’ve made an egg casserole, but if there is something else you prefer, we can whip it up in no time,” Sheldon adds.
Jude isn’t listening. His gaze locks on a series of framed photos arranged on the far wall—Gram and Grampa looking serious, standing tall and stiff, Momma goofing around, making her younger brother, Zack, laugh. Momma was fourteen in this photo. Sheldon tells me sometimes I wear her same smile.
The photo of Momma riding on Sheldon’s back when she was eight is one of my favorites. So is the black and white shot of Gram and Uncle Zack. Bernard took this candid picture one night when Zack, who was around eleven at the time, danced with Gram in the living room of the old house while listening to records. They both wore carefree smiles. Gram told me once that with most boys, that was the age they stopped wanting anything to do with their mom. Zack was different. He never liked being far from her. Her eyes had filled with tears. They always did when she talked about him.
A spot on Jude’s temple throbs. He leans in, as if drawn to the photographs. He doesn’t blink or breathe. I touch his arm, zapping him in the process. He tears his attention from the photographs. His gaze meets mine, black and threatening. His lips curl down into a hellish snarl before he turns away and follows my uncles into the kitchen.
Something in those photos upset him. A tremor of terror ripples down my back. It’s never a good thing when Jude’s upset.
Chapter Two
“Great. Just great,” Jude grumbles under his breath as he eyeballs Marcus in the kitchen.
“Marcus…this is Jude Morgan,” I talk over Jude, trying to keep the edge from my voice.
Will Jude play along? What if he tells my uncles that we first bumped into each other the day I arrived in Chicago, that we’ve met several times since then? My uncles would kill me. Or worse, they’d give me that look, the one where Sheldon cocks his head, his hazel eyes large and full of hurt. Bernard would simply focus on something else, like the sink full of dishes, the weight of disappointment causing his posture to bow.
I glance at Marcus, hoping he’ll give me that secret smile, the one that says everything will be all right. No such luck. He looks like a tightly wo
und spring about to buck loose at any moment. Guilt slams into me immediately. I have no right to expect Marcus to comfort me when he’s miserable. I follow his scowl, which is directed at Jude.
My father sits at our twenty-year-old butcher-block table in a kitchen that is one quarter the size of his, clutching an Earth Day coffee mug. He takes in the old table, the walls covered in green paint and white wainscoting, Gram’s homemade curtains on the window; then his eyes move back to the table. His annoyance at Marcus’s presence evaporates. He’s basking like a contented cat in a ray of sunshine.
Sheldon clears his throat. “So, Jude, I’m puzzled that you’re just coming into Lucy’s life now.”
Jude nods. “I understand your concern. Vera, Lucy’s grandmother, made it quite clear she didn’t want me to be part of Lucy’s life. I attribute that to the fallout between Donna and me. There were hard feelings.” He takes a sip of his coffee, then another. His temple throbs again. The happiness I witnessed moments ago is gone. His posture grows rigid. The grip on his coffee cup tightens. “They kept me from my daughter.”
I eye my uncles nervously.
Marcus stirs. I can see he’s dying to call Jude out. His face flushes with the effort it takes to keep his mouth shut and his spasms under control.
“I was given bits of information through the years. I suppose I should be grateful for that.” He turns to me, his dark gaze softening a bit. I force a smile. I need to keep his mood as light as possible. “All I ask is to be a part of your life now.”
“But a car?” Bernard’s face twists with disbelief. “I—we—get that you probably want to make up for lost time, but that’s pretty extravagant.”
“Never mind that I’ve been working and saving up to buy my own car.” I want to make it clear that I don’t need his help.
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 1