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

by Pauline Gruber

  “Funny thing is, I’m not worried.” The curl of his lips turns cruel. “I’m wondering how much it’s going to hurt when I rip off their wings. Or how long they’ll take to bleed out.”

  “Stop talking, please.” I turn away and pretend to focus on the scenery whizzing by. Dylan sounds like a monster.

  “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish. You saw what they did last night. To me. To Marcus.” Sweat beads on his forehead. “You told me how Garret tried to attack Marcus at the condo. Jude’s a pussycat in comparison. Gargoyles are the monsters here.”

  “This isn’t you,” I whisper.

  “Don’t pull that sentimental crap with me, Lucy. Life isn’t about hanging out at the mall or going to the movies. Cool cars, short skirts, and touchdowns? That’s not our world anymore.”

  “I get that. Trust me. I nearly died last year. I—”

  “Stop talking,” Dylan orders.

  If everything works tonight, then Jude will be safe. Garret and his army, with no enemy to fight, will leave town—without my boyfriend, hopefully. Then Dylan can go back to being a skirt-chasing football star. I couldn’t stand Dylan the Jerk, but I’ll take him over this new version.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Selima and I close the door behind us. I wrinkle my nose. Fresh paint? It smells awful, like a mix of car exhaust fumes and fresh cut grass. I would suggest we keep the door open, so we can all breathe, but summoning a demon is probably best done in secret.

  What used to be Gram’s basement storage room now looks like it was taken over by an angsty boy listening to way too much metal. The walls used to be white. Now three of them are the color of steel gray, and one is black. Some of the symbols painted on the walls look familiar, although I don’t recall their meaning. A round wooden table sits in the center of the room, and Aiden pulls up a fifth chair.

  He arches an eyebrow at the box in my hand. “A Ouija board?”

  “You said I had to bring a spirit board. I didn’t have time to make one, and I found this in the closet with the other board games.” I turn to Selima, my eyebrows raised. “You said this would work.”

  She touches my arm. “It’s fine.”

  “Like you’re an expert?” Aiden glowers at Selima before moving to light the four black candles set on posts around the room. North, south, east, and west. “Let’s hope it hasn’t been used to conjure in the past. Otherwise, we could have a serious problem on our hands.”

  “How serious?” I ask, my voice too high.

  “Stop trying to scare her,” Selima scolds him and pulls the Ouija board and planchette from the box, setting them in the center of the table.

  “Sit,” Aiden says, taking the chair facing the black wall. He places several sheets of paper facedown on the table in front of him.

  Selima and I sit on each side of Aiden. That leaves two chairs empty. “Are we waiting for anyone else?” I ask.

  Aiden mentioned that the more supernaturals involved in summoning Lucifer, the higher our chance of success. “It’s all about intention—something you’re familiar with,” he explained the night he originally met with Selima and me. “The more participants, the more able we will be to move a powerful demon through the planes of existence.”

  My knees knock under the table. Are we really going to do this?

  I bounce in my chair as the door bursts open. Max and Warrick stalk into the room.

  “Are we late?” Max collapses into the chair beside Selima. Warrick nods at me. The wooden chair creaks as he lowers his giant body onto it.

  “Another one of your many fine traits,” Aiden mutters under his breath.

  Selima narrows her eyes at Aiden, then Max. “This isn’t the place or the time for an argument. Shelve it, boys.”

  “Thank you for helping me—us—with this,” I say.

  “I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, cupcake.” Max winks at me, a mischievous look in his eye. “If we live through the next week, it’ll be nice to finally be debt-free.”

  I glance at Warrick, curious if he knows what Max’s talking about.

  “I was asked to help, so I’m here,” his deep voice rumbles up from his barreled chest.

  “Let’s get started,” Aiden says. He hands the papers to me facedown. “Pass these around.” He issues a stern look to everyone around the table. “Don’t turn them over until I tell you to. Our intent has to be unified and clear.”

  “Are we doing this in English or Latin?” Warrick asks.

  “I’ll recite the spell in Latin, while the rest of you read it in English.” Aiden’s hands tremble as he fingers the paper in front of him.

  I wonder for the first time if Aiden knows what he’s doing. He’s the one who warned me about catastrophic consequences. Maybe he’s nervous because once Jude finds out Aiden helped me, the two of us will be in big trouble. Or maybe he’s afraid of Lucifer. He’d be a lunatic not to be.

  My insides quake. We’re crazy to do this. Totally wacko. But I have to do whatever’s necessary to protect Jude.

  Aiden pushes the sleeves of his black pullover up to his elbows. He thrusts a finger against the table, his frown touching on every face around the table.

  My gaze locks on him. A strange vibration starts in my belly. Nervousness? Or some kind of shared supernatural energy?

  “Key factors to keep in mind.” Aiden raises one finger into the air. “Focus. I can’t say this enough. If your concentration falters at any point, we fail. Second.” He jabs two fingers into the air. “The rules: we specify the demon we’re conjuring, then we extend a formal invitation, then we enlist his assistance with taking Jude underground.” His gaze sweeps the table again. “Any questions?”

  Questions? I have a ton. Like…will this work? Will Lucifer be ticked off and blow up the three-flat, killing us all? Is Selima double-crossing me? Is Aiden? Will Jude sense what we’re doing and somehow put a stop to it before we even begin?

  I shake my head along with everyone else. Nope. No questions.

  The vibration in my belly spreads, and now my entire body trembles. Just nerves. Just nerves. Just nerves.

  “Take a moment to clear your mind. Close your eyes. Take several deep breaths,” Aiden instructs.

  “Meditation? Nice. Maybe we can do yoga next time,” Max chimes in.

  “For a guy who wants to be debt-free, you don’t act like it,” Warrick rumbles.

  Max slinks low in his chair and pipes down.

  Aiden, Selima, and Warrick close their eyes. I follow suit. Hopefully, Max does, too.

  I inhale long and slow, then exhale. I repeat, focusing on quieting my thoughts. Right now, nothing else matters. Protect Jude and the others. Get Garret and his gang out of town.

  “In a moment we’re going to flip the sheets of paper over.” Aiden’s voice is relaxed.

  My body tenses at his words. A million things could go wrong.

  I take another deep breath. Protect Jude and the others. Get Garret and his gang out of town.

  “On the count of three,” Aiden says calmly, “we will flip our pages over. I will read mine aloud in Latin. Lucy will lead you in reading the spell in English.”

  We need to get on with it.

  “One…two…three. Flip your sheets of paper over,” Aiden instructs.

  My heart leaps into my throat and nearly chokes me. I flip my page over as I struggle to maintain deep, even breathing.

  The second Aiden’s voice rings out I start reading. The others’ voices fall in line with mine.

  “Lucifer, your eminence,

  We hereby request your assistance,

  To save Jude Morgan, your right hand, and Lucy, your namesake.

  Make no mistake, to ignore this request will mean to forsake those important to you.

  We respectfully invite your emergence,

  Your resurgence.

  In order to avoid the demise of those you hold dear,

  We ask that you take Jude Morgan and hold him near.”

  “
Rest two fingers of each hand on the planchette.”

  I jerk my head back at the sound of Aiden’s voice. I look around the table, feeling dazed. A strange vibration moves through my veins. How deep was I?

  We all squish our fingers together onto the guiding device in the middle of the Ouija board.

  “Now, we wait and see if he will grant us a response,” Aiden says.

  We sit like that, our arms poised over the wooden board until our fingers cramp. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. Was this a waste of time? I double my focus, make my intention clear.

  Lucifer, please, save him. Save Jude. He’s the only parent I have left. If he means anything to you—and I think he does—don’t allow Garret to kill him. Keep him safe. Take him back with you. Allow him to be your right hand again. Or promote him. Do whatever you want. Just take him. Please.

  Nothing.

  Okay, so how can I persuade you? I think I get how this works. Whenever Jude gave me something—whether I asked for it or not—I owed him something in return. What will I owe you? I don’t have much, but name it. I’ll give it to you. Just promise that you’ll keep Jude safe as well as everyone else in my life.

  Do I have to name them? Is that how this works? Well, here goes: Sheldon, Bernard, Persephone, Henry, Dylan, Ethan, Brandi, and Marcus. And Jude. Should I add Aiden to the list? He’s helping me out, so I might as well. And Selima, too, although I’m still not one hundred percent sure she’s on my side or if she’s serving as a secret agent for her father. Anyway, just name it. Whatever you want from me to keep everyone safe…I’ll give it to you.

  The planchette trembles and a collective gasp rings out.

  “Don’t force it,” Aiden warns.

  I fear my slick fingers will slide off the device, but I don’t dare apply pressure. The plastic apparatus wiggles slightly, then creeps across the board. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I study everyone’s fingers, check to see if their nail beds are red from effort and their fingers stiff from applying pressure. No. They’re all resting gently like mine.

  The planchette inches over to the letters and lands on H. It shakes against the board then moves to O. The device pauses then moves to W. The lights flicker and I jerk my gaze to Aiden, then Selima, gulping down breaths to stay quiet. Neither of them pulls their attention from the board. The plastic piece lunges and I struggle to keep my fingers in place.

  D.

  Suddenly, the piece races across the board. Is anyone else freaked out by this? I don’t dare inspect their faces.

  A.R.E.Y.O.U.

  “How dare you?” Max whispers. “Oh, man. Aiden, what have you gotten us into?”

  “It’s still moving,” Selima hisses. “Don’t remove your fingers.”

  H.A.L.F.L.I.N.G.

  My pulse throbs at my temples.

  “Halfling?” Warrick asks.

  Tears burn my eyes. Half-witch, half-demon. Being the namesake of Lucifer doesn’t mean so much after all. In an instant, I’m back in Tennessee. Trailer Park Lucy with the drunk, addicted Momma. The one who wears clothes that none of the other girls would be caught dead in. I dared to think I meant something to the ruler of the underworld. This was my chance to save Jude—and everyone else—and I blew it.

  The planchette falls still. Aiden pulls his fingers away. The rest of us follow suit.

  Halfling. Lucifer is angry.

  I wrap my arms over my chest, suddenly cold.

  “I’m sorry.” I sink against the back of my chair. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. Any of you. This is…”

  “Lucy…” Selima’s throaty voice tries to comfort me.

  What was I thinking, trying to pull off something this huge? I just ticked off the biggest demon in existence.

  I jump up from my chair and race from the room.

  I failed to save Jude. Just like I failed to save Momma.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I pull my knees tight against my chest and tilt my head back, staring at the sky. Who do I think I am? I was so sure I was doing the right thing. I was so sure Henry, Persephone, and Marcus were wrong, and I was right.

  I jump at the squeaking grind of metal. Marcus’s face appears above the ledge, followed by the rest of him. He sits beside me and pulls my hand onto his lap. We stay like that for a few minutes.

  With a quick peek at his smooth expression, I know he’s not mad at me anymore. The fact that his fingers are laced through mine is a good sign, too. “Is this where you say, I told you so?”

  He gives a small shake of his head.

  “You can, you know. You were right. Everyone was right,” I grumble. “What was I thinking? I was about to unleash the greatest evil of all on Chicago.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Only because it didn’t work.

  He squeezes my hand. “Can I offer an alternative?”

  I nod.

  “I’m going to meet with Camille.”

  “After that night at the condo? Garret went after you, and she didn’t stop him. He could try to hurt you again.”

  Marcus presses his fingers to my lips. “I’m meeting with her. Just her. No Garret.”

  My frown deepens. “I don’t trust her.”

  “You don’t trust her, but you were going to trust Lucifer?”

  I open my mouth then close it again.

  “I want to talk to her about the clan, and I’m going to suggest a truce between Garret and Jude.”

  I smirk. “Like that’s going to work.”

  “I have to try, Lucy,” Marcus cups my chin and forces my eyes to meet his, “for you. For me. I have to try.”

  My heart sinks with the most awful realization. “She’ll offer you anything to get you to leave and join the clan.”

  Marcus doesn’t look at me. “If I can be assured of your safety, I’ll consider anything.”

  He’s already decided. Marcus is going to leave me. Anger and alarm swirl through my insides. Gram’s gone. Momma’s gone. Now, Camille’s going to take Marcus, too. Where will that leave me?

  I pull my hand from Marcus’s.

  “Lucy…”

  Without a word, I leave him sitting there.

  Trusting Lucifer suddenly doesn’t seem so silly after all.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  So many herbs—agrimony, aconite, citron, foxglove, poke, sweet grass, and toadflax. Not a single one of them will help me. I add the book to the discard pile and grab another. I turn page after page. Another protection spell, a binding spell, a seeking spell, and a spell to remove a curse.

  An enchantment spell? That’ll come in handy now that Marcus’s mother plans to take him away. I mark the page with a red Post-it note. Then I flip through more pages. My foot tap, tap, taps under my desk as I scan more text.

  How dare you, Halfling.

  I really thought Lucifer was the answer. So much for my gut. There has to be something I can do to save Jude and get rid of Garret and Camille before they take Marcus away to the clan.

  Ice cubes clank against the glass as I down half of my lemonade then set it on a notebook, so the condensation doesn’t mar my desk. I bury myself back into Gram’s books.

  Two-thirds of the way through the stack I pause. My breath bounces like a hiccup in my throat. A vanquishing spell. Could that be the answer? If I could send Jude someplace for a little while, at least until Garret and his team move on, then he’ll be safe. I would only have to worry about Marcus and myself.

  Vanquish this demon from time and space. Would the spell send him to another dimension?

  What does that say in the margin? Gram’s handwriting is scrunched and small. I squint and lean over the book, lowering the head of my desk lamp closer to the page.

  Effective in killing demons. Don’t use, unless this is the intention.

  Hiccup.

  I close the book with a heavy thump and add it to the discard pile. Killing Jude is not the goal. Banish? One of the books talked about banishing a demon.

  Wi
th a sigh, I hug the books I’ve already combed through and slide them back toward me. Time to start over. The table of contents of the first book offers nothing useful. Same with the second and third. I run my finger down page after page in book four, my eyes skimming.

  Bingo! I find references to banishing.

  My heartbeat flutters. Could this be the answer? Will I find a way to save Jude?

  And Banish You From This Place Forever More.

  Forever more? I scour through more pages. Isn’t there a temporary banishing spell? And where exactly would he go?

  I check the remaining books. There’s no better news about vanquishing or banishing demons. Cross those options off the list.

  What about Seamus? Without Jude, who will help protect you when he shows up?

  I lower my head onto the open book. Seamus. Garret. Camille. Jude. Marcus. It’s too much. I want carefree.

  What would you know about that? The voice in my head scolds. Carefree is something you’ve never had.

  A darkness creeps through me like dense fog, paralyzing me. I’m back in Lexington in my closet-sized bedroom, listening through the paper-thin walls as Momma fights with her latest boyfriend, drunk and high. She doesn’t care that we’re under the threat of having our electricity shut off or that I’m hungry—so hungry—all because she blew her disability check on drugs.

  Lucy.

  A ghostly whisper. My spider senses tingle.

  I glance furtively around my bedroom. A shiver passes over my skin. Then another. I catch sight of my own exhale as my teeth start to chatter. The condensation on my glass of lemonade has dried in the arctic chill.

  Suddenly, I hear a noise…eerily familiar…but out of place in my bedroom. It takes a moment before I recognize it. It’s the sound I hear every Sunday when I squeegee the shower doors while cleaning the bathrooms. The squeak of my desk chair is deafening as I spin around. That’s when I see the message on my dresser mirror.

  You are not alone.

  I can’t blink. I can’t breathe. I can’t even move.