The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series

by Pauline Gruber

  Marcus grips my hand reflexively.

  I squeeze back reassuringly. “We have to give it a try.”

  Dylan and I study each other cautiously. I brace myself as I anticipate the familiar heat to race through me, for my nerve endings to snap, crackle, pop, and leave me trembling. So far…nothing.

  Marcus and Aiden take a step closer. Is it possible I’m holding back my feelings for fear of a fight between Marcus and Dylan? I roll my shoulders and try to relax as best I can as my boyfriend and his pseudo-brother hover beside me.

  I take a step closer to Dylan. Nothing stirs inside of me. In fact, standing this close to him annoys me. And that annoyance is growing.

  Dylan embraces me stiffly. His grip is too tight, and I can’t breathe. I shove him away. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”

  The smell of Dylan’s cloying scent kicks in my gag reflex. I reel backward and clamp my hand over my mouth.

  Dylan bursts out laughing. “I don’t feel a thing. You could be super ugly…not that you are.” His laughter turns to panic. “Because you’re not.”

  “What’s up with your cologne? You smell like Eau du Skunk,” I say at the same time.

  Wait…did he just call me ugly?

  “Like you’re Prince Charming?” I ask. Heat rushes through me, but not the kind that leads to kissing. I shove Dylan so hard he stumbles and falls.

  “What was that for?” he asks, sprawled on the sidewalk, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah, exactly,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

  Dylan aims a baffled look at Marcus. Marcus merely stands there, arms crossed over his chest, a grin on his face.

  “I’d say it took, little brother.” Aiden claps Marcus on the back, beaming. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile.

  Dylan pushes himself off the ground. “Whatever. Let’s go and get this stupid training session over with.”

  I fan my hand through the air as he walks past. “Just promise you’ll roll down the windows.”

  Why am I stuck having to train with him anyway? Then I remember what Jude did to Dylan. As much as I detest Dylan right now for nearly sabotaging the spellcasting last night, I plan to have it out with Jude. Once that’s done, then I will see if he’ll allow Dylan and me to train on different days.

  Marcus pulls me backward and embraces me. Then he turns me around and plants a kiss on my lips.

  Desire blazes through me like a lightening bolt. I grab fistfuls of Marcus’s hair and kiss him hard.

  Marcus finally stumbles away, breathless. He blinks several times, his eyes full of surprise. “Lucy…”

  Aiden squeezes Marcus’s shoulder, effectively breaking the intimate connection between us. “Everything is good here. We need to go deal with Max.”

  My brain struggles out of its heady fog. “What’s wrong with Max? Isn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

  Marcus shakes his head as if coming out of a daze. “Max tried to charm some people out of their valuable possessions. Henry bailed him out of jail.” He glances at his watch. “They’re probably back by now. Typical Max, right Aiden?”

  “I say let him rot behind bars,” Aiden grumbles.

  I don’t care what Aiden says. If Henry and Persephone believe we need Max, then Henry needs to work his lawyer magic and get the demon out of jail before it’s too late.

  Marcus flashes his crooked smile at me. The last thing in the world I want to do is go to Jude’s house. I can think of so many other things I’d rather be doing. All of them include my boyfriend.

  “Come back to me soon,” he says.

  “I will.” I smile at him.

  Dylan crosses and uncrosses his arms. “This love fest is super duper touching and all, but Jude’s gonna kill us if we’re much later.”

  I squeeze Marcus’s hand, then turn to go.

  * * * *

  Once in the car, Dylan glances at me. “Hey, I’m glad the spell worked.”

  “I’m super ticked off at you right now after the stunts you pulled last night. As far as I’m concerned we’re not friends today,” I hold up a finger, “but I’m going to let Jude have it for hurting you. I thought we were past his evil stunts.”

  “Just leave it alone, please. It’s over.”

  “What’s over?”

  “Just leave it alone. Don’t meddle,” he snaps.

  I make a face. “Don’t be such a jerk.”

  Dylan shakes his head. “Whatever.”

  After forty-five minutes of staring out the passenger side window, listening to Dylan chomp-chomp-chomping on his gum, we pull into Jude’s driveway. I burst out the passenger side door the second he puts the car in park, filling my lungs with fresh, non-Dylan polluted air.

  Lunch is a painful affair.

  I can’t tolerate the torture of his smacking lips any longer. “Can you keep it down over there?”

  Dylan holds up his burger. “At least my food doesn’t reek.” He eyeballs my plate. “What is that slop? Kale and beans? If you fart in my car later, I’m kicking you to the curb. You can walk home.”

  My jaw falls open. My embarrassment turns to fury.

  Jude flicks his fingers at Dylan, then at me.

  “Ouch!” I rub my nose and cheeks to ease the sting.

  “Toughen up, wuss.” Dylan snorts. “And you call yourself a demon.”

  I lean forward in my chair, my palms tingling. “Want to see what a real demon is capable of?”

  “Enough!” Jude slams his hands onto the table. “Outside. Both of you.”

  “Thank God. I’ll finally be able to breathe,” Dylan complains.

  “What? Are you going to beat us both like you did Dylan last weekend?”

  Dylan gasps.

  Jude narrows his eyes at me. “Is that what you would like me to do?”

  There’s an edge to his voice that makes me shrink in my chair. Jude’s irises turn black. He glances at Dylan.

  “Did you explain to Lucy that you volunteered for our fight session last weekend?”

  Dylan swallows. “I didn’t tell her about it. She drew her own conclusions.”

  I force myself to take a breath and continue. I don’t even like Dylan right now, but I have to do the right thing. “What’s wrong with you? If you need to teach someone fighting techniques or if you’re reprimanding them—someone you claim to actually care about—you don’t do it to the extreme.”

  Jude leans forward, wearing a look that would normally stop me dead in my tracks. “You’re going to lecture me on my parenting skills?”

  “You’re not Dylan’s parent. I don’t know why you did what you did to him, but it was wrong. You want me to spend more time with you, but I don’t like you. And when you threaten people or hurt people, then I despise you. You hurt Dylan. It was really bad, Jude.”

  Jude’s temple throbs. And he goes far too long without blinking. I brace myself in case he goes berserk.

  “Are you done?” he asks evenly.

  “I am.”

  “Then let’s go outside and train like civilized demons.”

  Dylan meets my gaze and mouths the words, Are you crazy?

  You’d think the creep would appreciate me going to bat for him.

  Once in the yard, Jude stands between us. “I may regret this later, but the two of you are going to train together today.”

  Dylan and I stand too close to one another.

  “Back off!” I spat.

  “I’m three feet away from you. Chill out.”

  I turn to Jude. “Do I get to set him on fire today?”

  Dylan cracks his knuckles. “Do I get to knock her on her bony behind?”

  Jude tries to ignore the verbal jabs. “We’re going to start with defensive versus offensive moves. Lucy, Dylan is going to come at you and you’ll need to outmaneuver him. For example…” He ushers Dylan off to the side and beckons for him to charge.

  Dylan tucks his head. A smirk appears on his face as he charges Jude like an angry bull. I wonder if he has revenge o
n his mind.

  When Dylan is a foot away, Jude drops into a squat and extends his leg out to the side. Dylan trips over the leg and goes flying. He slams onto the ground, jumps up, and comes at Jude again. Jude faces him, feet rooted in a wide stance until Dylan is nearly upon him, then he directs a powerful blow to Dylan’s solar plexus.

  My mouth falls open as I watch Dylan fly backward then slam onto the ground. I feel bad for him. Then again, he did call me ugly.

  “Who’s the wuss now?” I call out.

  “That…was…low,” Dylan wheezes.

  “Learn to anticipate,” Jude says crisply.

  Jude walks ten feet away then turns around.

  “Lucy, Seamus is out there, and once he realizes you’re still alive, he’ll be back. We’re going to reenact his attack from that night.”

  Alarm torpedoes through me. I open my mouth to protest, but seeing Dylan still trying to catch his breath, I want Jude to leave him alone for a few minutes.

  I square my shoulders and plant my legs. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

  “You tell me,” Jude throws back at me. “Recall the details. What was Seamus doing?”

  I stare off, putting myself back on the roof. Seamus’s daughter, Daphne, was nothing but a pile of ash on the ground to my right. Jude called out to me. Seamus appeared across the roof. His arms directed toward me. He was muttering under his breath. “He cast a spell at me.”

  “How do we stop him?” Jude barks as he paces.

  My mouth goes dry. It takes effort to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “You…you threw fireballs at him. It didn’t work.”

  “Tell me what you’re going to do instead,” Jude says as he moves back and forth between Dylan and me. “How do we disarm him?”

  “It’s about his hands, right? Why not break them?” Dylan wheezes.

  “That’s a great start,” Jude says, “but if you’re dealing with a powerful demon like Seamus, he can direct the spell with his mouth, his eyes, even a slight nod. Besides, he’d have hurt—or killed—Lucy before anyone got close enough to his hands. Next option?”

  It comes to me suddenly. “Knock him off his feet, break his focus on me.”

  Jude nods encouragingly. “And how do we do that?”

  “Someone charges him from the side while his attention is on me.”

  “He’ll throw a fireball, toast that second person, and in the blink of an eye you’re back in his sights. Next?” Jude bellows like a drill sergeant, but instead of frustrating me, it’s exhilarating.

  “You and I bombard him with fireballs, toast him like you did Daphne.”

  “I’m the strongest demon around, and I wasn’t able to take him out. With you helping me, no offense, we don’t stand a chance. Next!” Jude clasps his hands behind his back as he continues to pace. His tension-filled expression sweeps between Dylan and me.

  Fireballs won’t do it. Breaking his limbs won’t do it. A diversion won’t do it. What else is there?

  “If only there was a way to do to him what he was trying to do to Lucy,” Dylan says, scratching his jaw.

  Jude’s face breaks into a self-satisfied smile. “Correct. A reflection spell.”

  Dylan mirrors Jude’s smile. Suck up. Are the two of them best buds now?

  “How do we do that?” I ask.

  Jude rests his hands on his hips and nods over my shoulder. I turn around. Henry and Aiden cross the lawn toward us.

  “A reflection spell is not a demon spell,” Jude says.

  “Witchcraft,” I say.

  He nods. “Henry,” Jude says. The two men shake hands.

  I resist the urge to hug Henry. Since I don’t hug Jude, I suspect he would take offense at the preferential greeting.

  Aiden surveys Jude warily. He glances over at Dylan, but says nothing.

  “You’re here to teach me a reflection spell?” I grin at Henry. “Cool.”

  Henry pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and I catch the look of discomfort on his face. I’m guessing he’s not too happy to be at Jude’s house. Having him and Aiden here assures me that nothing will get out of hand today.

  “It’s the perfect defensive tactic against a demon.” I shoot a quick glance at Jude, surprised that he’s sharing this information. “Or any aggressor.”

  “The key,” Aiden says as he moves to stand beside Dylan, “is not to tip your hand.”

  “But he’ll hear my spell. My hands will be aimed at him,” I say.

  “Whisper the words, so he can’t hear you,” Henry says.

  I flush with embarrassment as soon as he says this. I’ve witnessed Persephone whisper spells on numerous occasions, but it never occurred to me to wonder why she whispered.

  “The spell will need to be precise, and your focus has to be one hundred percent on target. Use your eyes, the subtle jut of your chin, nod your head, point your feet. One distraction and your opponent will best you.”

  “Will that really work?” Dylan asks.

  “It will. Let’s run through it,” Henry says. “For this example, Lucy will come up with a spell, and we’ll pit her against Jude.”

  Great! I thrust my chest out as I step forward. “Poor Dylan. Left out again. If only you could conjure magic.”

  Henry frowns at me. I swallow and turn away.

  “If you knew what she ate for lunch, you’d stay up wind of her,” Dylan warns, then breaks into a fit of laughter.

  “I’m going to lock the two of you in the basement if you keep this up,” Jude warns as he and I face off thirty feet from each other.

  Jude moves his lips, his eyes watching me intently. With a quick flick of his hand, which remains low against his thigh, I’m thrown off my feet and I slam onto the ground.

  I grit my teeth as pain blasts through my hip and tailbone. “A little warning would be nice.”

  Dylan bursts out laughing. “That was graceful.”

  Jerk.

  “You’re not going to get any warning from Seamus,” Henry says as he strolls between Jude and me. “And you won’t have time to get creative and rhyme. You’re basically going to form instructions. Then you will repeat them over and over. Focus on your intent.”

  “Like a chant?”

  He nods. “Have you put something together yet?”

  That fast? I frantically shake my head as I start to think. If Jude’s trying to throw me off balance and knock me off my feet—

  My feet fly out from beneath me. I slam onto the ground.

  “Give me a minute!” I climb to my feet, rubbing my throbbing tailbone.

  Dylan laughs so hard he stumbles and nearly falls. Aiden crosses his arms over his chest, a smirk on his face.

  “Work faster,” Jude says dryly. “If I were Seamus, you’d be dead by now.”

  Pain radiates in my lower back and butt. As I shoot a dirty look at Jude, I notice his lips moving again.

  Crap!

  “Take his words and send them back. Take his words and send the back. Take his words and send them back. Take his words—”

  Flat on my back, black dots dance across my vision. I gasp for air, squeaking with each inhale. Dylan’s laughter fills my head. Without comment, I flip over and crawl onto all fours. I ignore the pain and stagger to my feet.

  “Think like a mirror, Lucy,” Henry advises, eyeing me nervously. “Or remember that children’s rhyme.”

  I consider his words for a second. Then it hits me.

  “I’m rubber, you’re glue, bounces off me, sticks to you,” I whisper furiously. Jude’s lips are moving, his eyes fixed on me. I return the stare, visualizing Jude slamming onto the ground. “I’m rubber, you’re glue, bounces off me, sticks to you.”

  Jude’s feet fly out from beneath him, and he lands on his butt. My mouth falls open. It takes a minute to sink in that I made that happen. Me. All by myself. Without thinking, I raise my hand to Henry, and we high-five each other.

  The sky is no longer above me as I’m thrown off my feet. I slam onto the gr
ound. I raise my head a few inches.

  “Ouch!” Dylan cackles. “Gloat a little more, Lucy.”

  “Poor sport.” Henry glares at Jude as he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. “You okay?”

  I wipe the dirt off my jeans, buying time as I catch my breath. “Yeah.”

  Jude and I lock on each other. His lips move, but so do mine. As I whisper the spell, I visualize him falling. Over and over. He flicks his wrist and I leap aside, dodging the spell as I focus harder.

  Jude lands on his butt again.

  Ha! See how his tailbone likes it.

  “Again!” Henry calls out.

  Jude hops to his feet. Is he immune to pain?

  We run through the drill five more times, and all but once, my modified childhood rhyme works.

  “Now, we’re going to work on fireballs,” Henry says.

  “I’m growing mold over here,” Dylan grumbles from the sideline. “Give me something to do.”

  All fired up over beating Jude, I conjure a fireball, balance it on my hand for a second, then pitch it at Dylan. I’m rewarded when his eyes nearly pop out of his head and he lunges to the left to avoid being hit.

  “Still bored?” I tease.

  “Play nice.” Jude aims for a strict tone, but there’s no missing the twinkle in his eyes. Demon pride?

  Henry, on the other hand, glowers at me. “Dylan can’t use spells yet or conjure fireballs. He can’t defend himself. I expect better from you.”

  I thrust my chin in defiance. “I’m not apologizing. He’s been a jerk to me all day.”

  “Cry me a river,” Dylan balls his fists under his eyes, mimicking a sobbing baby.

  I’m tempted to throw another fireball at him, but Henry stares me down. After a moment, he turns to Aiden. “Was there a problem with the spell last night?”

  “According to Persephone, this is a possible outcome. It’s temporary,” Aiden says tightly.

  “How temporary?” Jude asks.

  “I assumed the four of you could handle this,” Henry says.

  “It was your bright idea to bring Marcus and Dylan together—with her—under one roof.” Aiden stares Henry down. “You were needed here, not running around saving a worthless criminal.”

  Thank God, Aiden doesn’t mention Max by name. Since Jude knows him, our plan would be blown wide open.