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

by Pauline Gruber

  I wish he would. I could use the comfort of my friend right now. My gaze travels across the food court to where Ella and Caroline stand. As if on cue, Ella throws her head back and laughs. She touches the arm of the blond guy standing beside her. Anger swells inside of me. It’s not just Ella and her pettiness or the fact she and Caroline lead these super carefree lives. It’s everyone else here, too.

  Dozens of happy, oblivious faces. These people go about their daily lives, to school or to work, eating, sleeping, flirting, gossiping, and judging. They’re not in danger.

  A huge ball of energy throbs inside of me. The sound of blood rushes in my ears. I focus on the walls, the ceiling, the tables, anywhere but at the people around us. I can’t risk hurting anyone. The energy…the anger…I need to release it, but I don’t know where to send it.

  I spot a series of three large garbage cans near the hallway leading to the restrooms. I let it go—all of it—and it’s blissful as the painful knots in my stomach ease and the tension in all of my limbs lets go.

  Shrieks ring out, and people run away as the garbage cans erupt. The contents shoot all over the ceiling and walls.

  “Lucy.” Dylan’s stern voice pulls me back. He and Selima take hold of my hands. The swirling chaos in my mind flutters, ratchets down then quiets. A sudden calm washes over me.

  The only person who’s ever been able to ease my turmoil is Marcus. My gaze locks with Selima. For just a moment, I push aside all of my distrust and send her a look of thanks. She returns a small smile.

  “Why don’t we take this outside?” she suggests. “I have more to tell you.”

  We file out of the food court as four security guards question spectators about the exploding garbage cans.

  Chapter Fifty

  Once we reach Dylan’s car in the mall parking lot, I hop in the backseat so Dylan and Selima can sit next to each other. Dylan can barely keep his eyes off of her since that kiss.

  “You said you had more to tell us,” I prompt her.

  Selima surveys Dylan and me. Her hesitation causes my heart to skip a beat. “The protectors that died at Jude’s house—the ones that weren’t burned to a crisp—were drained of all their blood.”

  “That’s not possible.” I didn’t see anyone draining them. “Could they have bled out from their injuries?”

  Selima shakes her head. “You don’t understand…”

  Dylan groans and buries his face in his hands.

  “What is it?” My attention bounces between the two of them like a Ping-Pong ball. “What am I missing?”

  “The healing powers,” Dylan whispers.

  Selima nods. “Garret believes Jude is behind it.”

  “So, we have Garret’s mutant army who consume demon blood and now someone’s stealing protector blood?” Dylan asks.

  A vision of Dylan suckling at Marcus’s wrist flashes through my mind. How had I been so naïve to think Marcus saved me simply by wrapping me in his embrace? I drank Marcus’s blood, too. I cover my mouth against the bile rising up my throat. “God, I feel so stupid.”

  Dylan’s eyes grow wide. He reaches between the seats to touch my arm. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you…”

  My voice squeezes out of my clenched throat. “But you didn’t.”

  “He made me promise,” Dylan says, his voice desperate. “And I was afraid you would freak out.”

  “I am totally freaked out, but now I’m also mad you didn’t tell me,” I snap. “I told you everything that happened to you at Jude’s house the other night.”

  “I know and…I’m sorry,” Dylan doesn’t sound sorry at all.

  “I want to know.” I glare at him. “Tell me what happened that night. And don’t you dare keep anything from me.”

  Selima touches my arm. “Lucy…”

  I shake her off. “Tell me.”

  Dylan exhales a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you, but fine. Thanks, Marcus.”

  “What happened that night, Dylan?” I push.

  He blinks at me several times, then swallows, before returning his attention to the windshield. Selima rests her hand on his thigh, and Dylan exhales long and slow. Is she working her protector magic on him?

  “Persephone, Henry, and Jude did everything they could for you. The ravens, too. Everyone fought so hard.” Dylan sounds sad. I feel bad making him remember, but it’s his own fault. “Persephone and Henry convinced Jude to change Marcus back, so he could help you. Jude resisted at first, but Henry flat out told him you could die. You had a head wound, broken bones…had lost a lot of blood.”

  I close my eyes as it comes back to me. I’m overcome with the sensation of falling, feel the branches grab at my skin, hear the crunch of my skull. Nausea, black and thick, fills me. I press my arms tight around my stomach to ward it off.

  “It was the most surreal thing I’d ever seen.” Dylan’s voice catches. “Marcus was disoriented. Persephone whispered to him what needed to be done. The next thing I knew, these massive wings exploded from his back. There was blood.”

  Blood? Marcus had never bled from the change before.

  Dylan shakes his head, struggles to continue. “Marcus held you and wrapped his wings around you. The thing is…” His voice dips and he clears his throat.

  Selima takes hold of his hand. She nods, urging him on.

  “The thing is his wings didn’t close tightly around you. I saw what he was doing. He held his wound against your mouth, forcing it open. He kept begging you to drink.” Dylan’s voice falls to a whisper. “There was so much blood. All over your face, your body, the table…on Marcus and Jude.”

  Did I drink?

  Dylan twitches. He’s shivering. Selima presses her hand flat against his leg, and within seconds the shivering stops. “You wouldn’t drink until Jude commanded you to.”

  Just like Dylan the other night. “How…how much?” I don’t know why it matters, but I want to know.

  “So much that Marcus passed out.”

  Selima gasps, her head jerks in my direction.

  Dylan levels his gaze at me. “Jude commanded you to…over and over, even after Marcus fell to the floor with you still wrapped in his arms. Henry and Persephone shouted at Jude to stop, told him he was going to kill Marcus.”

  Silence fills the car.

  “What happened then?” The words burn in my throat. My demon father did what any parent would do in a crisis situation. He fought to save me. But it almost cost me Marcus.

  “Aiden decked Jude.” A small smile pulls at Dylan’s mouth then slips away. “It broke Jude’s focus on you, long enough for you to stop drinking. While everyone was distracted, Aiden got Marcus out of there.”

  “With that much protector blood in your system, you would heal quickly. And painlessly,” Selima says.

  Which was exactly what happened. Within twenty-four hours, I was healed. I thought it was magic though, not Marcus. The heightened sense of smell, the brighter, richer colors in everyday things like raindrops, flowers, and butterfly wings—and the feeling of euphoria—all of it means something different to me now. Protector blood is like a drug. And I never want it again.

  “Lucy, do you think Jude could be stockpiling blood in case you ever get injured again?” Selima asks.

  I’m wondering the exact same thing. Based on Selima’s tight expression, she knows it, too. Does this mean she’s no longer on my side? And what about Jude? If he’s draining protectors, then I’m caught between two evils. Can I blame Garret for wanting to kill Jude and wipe me out of existence?

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “I should’ve told you the truth about that night.” Dylan turns the corner onto Jude’s street.

  It still surprises me how long and dark the streets are in this part of Lake Forest. You would think a rich community would want their yards and roads well lit. They would if they knew a demon lived among them.

  I squint out the windshield and notice a familiar car parked outside of Jude’s gate. “What
’s Marcus doing here?”

  Dylan swerves to the side of the road and parks behind Marcus. I slam my door at the same time Marcus climbs out of his car.

  Marcus and Dylan nod at each other in greeting.

  “How did dinner go with Camille?” I want him to know that I know. He should’ve been the one to tell me.

  “She’s trying to convince me Garret’s not a bad guy,” he says. There’s no apology in his voice, which ticks me off even more.

  Dylan leans against Marcus’s car and crosses his arms over his chest. “She knows about Garret’s plan?”

  “She knows and she supports it,” I say, smirking at Marcus. “It’s great Camille is trying to convince you to make up with Garret while he’s planning to kill my father and me.”

  Marcus’s frown is immediate. “Camille passed along a warning. She said that Garret’s basically gone off the reservation. He believes Jude is draining protectors, and he’s hell-bent on revenge. Camille seemed afraid of him.”

  Camille never seemed afraid of anyone. “What about the protectors who are dosing themselves with demon blood? Did you ask her about that?”

  Marcus nods. “She said she doesn’t know anything about that.”

  How can he be so stupid?

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Marcus snaps. “I believe her.” He reaches for me, and I back away. He’s choosing his mother—who belongs to the clan that came to Chicago to kill Jude—over me. The pain of his betrayal squeezes my insides so tightly I can barely breathe.

  Marcus rubs the back of his neck. “After I left Camille, Aiden and I paid a visit to St. Aquinas. They’ve been there. Garret’s men. Their auras are all over the place.”

  My mouth goes dry. My heart beats way too fast. There are over a thousand students who attend St. Aquinas. Fireballs, fangs, and claws could cause a lot of damage to a lot of kids. I shudder.

  “Listen to me, Marcus. We have to move this away from the school.”

  “I hate to say this, but we need to talk to Jude,” Dylan says. “If we have any hope of setting up a meeting in the woods, we need to get him on board with it first.”

  Jude’s going to be angry we kept all of this from him this long.

  I pull my hair over my shoulder and twist it nervously. “Let’s get it over with.”

  Marcus’s gaze flickers uneasily at Jude’s mansion.

  “You don’t have to fight the change once you’re inside. No one will see you.”

  “Fine.” Marcus reaches for my hand, but I pull away. He exhales heavily. “Let’s go.”

  I expect Jude, with his super sense of Marcus, to meet us at the front door, but he doesn’t.

  “He’s probably working,” I say once we’re inside. I knock twice on the double doors of his office, but there’s no answer. When we enter the room, I’m surprised to see Jude’s desk chair is empty.

  “His car wasn’t out front,” Dylan says.

  How did I miss that? Now it makes sense why Marcus isn’t struggling.

  Dylan glances at Jude’s desk. “Do you think he fixed all of his surveillance equipment yet?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” I say. Jude’s desk holds a laptop and a phone, both brand new. The side table that normally holds the security monitors is empty. “I think it’s time to find out what Jude has on me. Otherwise, we’re in the dark about what the protectors know.”

  Jude’s chair creaks as I take a seat. Being on this side of the desk is scarier than I thought it would be. Jude’s a nut about privacy. What would he do if he walked in and found me nosing around?

  Marcus glances at the door nervously. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, she does,” Dylan says sharply. “She’s the only one in this room Jude won’t exterminate for snooping through his stuff.”

  I nibble my bottom lip. I love Marcus for his concern, but Dylan’s right. I need to do this.

  Expecting a piercing alarm or poisonous darts to shoot at me from some secret compartment in the desk, I gingerly lift the lid on the laptop. Nothing happens. I sigh with relief. Then the screen comes to life.

  “Crap. It’s password protected.”

  Marcus and Dylan come around the desk to stand behind me.

  “It could be anything,” I say.

  “What if it’s not?” Dylan says. “One of my dad’s biggest gripes about his clients is that they don’t take security serious enough. They have accounts with huge sums of money, and they pick super basic passwords.” He sits on the edge of the desk. “Most people don’t use a combination of letters, numbers, and symbols like they should.”

  “What do most people use?” I ask.

  “The names of their kids or some combination of all the names of the family.”

  Marcus arches an eyebrow. “You think it could be that easy?”

  “It’s worth a try.” Dylan nods at the computer.

  I suck in a deep breath as I plug the letters L-U-C-Y into the box on the screen. My heart pounds as I hit enter. An immediate response appears telling me the password is invalid.

  “So much for your theory,” I say, deflated.

  “Not so fast,” Marcus says. “Jude had more than one child.”

  “Zack.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “Good call.”

  “Your uncle…I mean your brother…” Dylan teases.

  “Marcus, punch Dylan for me.” Like I need a reminder that Jude had relationships with both Gram and Momma.

  “I’ll bank that request for another time,” Marcus says. I can feel him smiling behind me.

  I type in Z-A-C-K. My finger hovers over the send button. “What if the password is Zackary? How many more attempts do you think I have?”

  “How did Jude refer to him?” Marcus asks.

  I think back to my conversation with Jude about Zack and shake my head in frustration. “I only remember Jude referring to him as his son.”

  “Then you have to pick one,” Dylan says.

  I rub my palms on my jeans. Zack or Zackary? Gram only ever referred to him as Zack. Same with Momma. That’s my decision then. I hit enter.

  That same message appears, telling me I entered an incorrect password.

  “Forget it. We’re done.” I push away from the desk, my stomach clenched in a fiery stress ball, and climb out of Jude’s chair.

  “You probably have one more attempt. Let’s give it another shot,” Dylan says.

  “No way.” It suddenly feels like a hundred degrees in Jude’s office.

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” Dylan asks.

  I jerk my head back. “I’ll put in yet another incorrect password, and the computer will lock us out. Jude will come home and know we’ve been messing with it.”

  Dylan shakes his head in frustration. “You think Jude’s the one you have to fear? What about the gargoyles who are out to kill you and Jude?” He jabs his finger toward the computer.

  I swallow hard and slide back into Jude’s chair.

  “Don’t hate on all protectors. There are still plenty of us—the non-psychotic kind—out there,” Marcus says to Dylan as he wheels the chair and me to the desk.

  “Understood, but your kind tried to kill me the other night. And they’re out to kill Lucy. I don’t take it lightly when someone comes after me and my family.”

  Family. I smile to myself.

  “Dylan, you said that some of your dad’s clients combine all the names in the family. Can you give me an example?” I ask.

  “It’s mostly the first couple letters of each name.”

  Jude’s family: Jude, Zack, and Lucy. Wait. There’s Gram—Vera. I roll my shoulders out, trying to ease the tension. My fingers hover over the home row on the keyboard. With my eyes glued to the screen, I type: J-U-V-E-Z-A-L-U. My finger trembles over the enter button.

  Dylan sighs. “Just do it already.”

  I whack the button much harder than necessary then hold my breath waiting for the reject message to appear. It doesn’t. Instead, Jude’s mo
nitor populates with all of his software icons.

  “And we’re in. Great job, Lucy.” Marcus kisses the top of my head.

  We search through his files and find one aptly called Lucy.

  Dylan thrusts a USB drive into my hand, and I copy the file.

  “We got what we came for,” Dylan says. “Shut it down.”

  “Just a second,” I tell him.

  If Jude has a file on me, maybe he’s got one on Marcus, too. I return to the search window and type in GARGOYLE.

  Three files pop up, and I copy them all.

  Marcus yanks my chair away from the desk. “Jude’s home,” he hisses. “Shut it down now!”

  I close everything down, shut the lid, then slide the USB drive into the pocket of my jeans.

  We make it to the front door just as Jude enters. A flicker of annoyance registers on his face. “You go to the mall for a shirt and return with a gargoyle?”

  I hold up my shopping bag. “Several shirts.”

  Jude isn’t amused. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He saved Dylan’s life the other night. Or have you already forgotten?”

  “He came to warn us that Garret’s men are scoping out St. Aquinas,” Dylan says.

  Jude’s gaze narrows.

  “Aiden and I picked up their auras tonight. They know Lucy’s class schedule.”

  Jude slams the door behind him. “That’s it. I’m pulling you out of school.”

  “Or we could arrange a meeting,” I suggest. “You could reach out to Garret. Try to settle this.”

  Jude squeezes the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. I would laugh at the uncharacteristic gesture, if it weren’t for the anger rolling off of him.

  “It won’t do any good,” he says. “Their new secret regime is determined to exterminate me.”

  Of course he knows—he’s frickin’ Jude.

  “But why?” I ask.

  He gives a small shake of his head. “I need to make some calls. And you,” he thrusts his finger at me, “are not going to school tomorrow.”

  “What if the protectors show up looking for me? What if they attack other students?”