“Gargoyles,” Dylan mumbles.
“Don’t argue with me,” Jude says.
Marcus twitches and jerks beside me.
I continue, determined. “I’m not putting the entire student body at risk. They want me. Set up a meeting in the woods.”
If only I hadn’t ticked off Lucifer. We could really use his help.
I roll my eyes skyward.
Oops. I shift my attention to the floor. If I’m going to protect the student body and Jude, I’m going to need your help.
“Lucy…” Marcus lays a hand on my arm. A tremor passes from him to me. He needs to get out of here.
Jude narrows his eyes. He looks at Marcus expectantly and jerks his head toward the door.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll see you later,” Marcus murmurs. He presses his twitchy lips to my forehead then heads for the exit. “Later, Dylan. Jude.”
Jude seems to relish locking the door behind Marcus. Then he turns to me. “No school.” He points to Dylan. “Keep her in the house.”
As he strides down the hall toward his office, I get a quick burn across my wrist. Dylan jumps and grabs his arm and I know Jude stung him too. Stupid demon discipline.
Will he know we were in his office? My mouth goes dry as I replay everything we did from the time we got back from the mall.
That’s when it hits me.
“Oh, no!” I hiss. “The laptop is in the wrong spot. I slid it closer to me while sitting in his chair, and I never moved it back.” How could I have been so stupid? “He’s going to know.”
Dylan mulls that over. “Maybe he won’t notice,” he says, although the doubt in his voice fails to instill much confidence in me.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“This is creepy,” Dylan says as he scrolls through the photos we stole from Jude’s computer.
I’m not sure—and my mind isn’t capable of counting at the moment—but there has to be thirty pictures. How did Jude get these? Sure, Aiden passed information from Gram along to Jude, but this much?
There’s the photo when I was six and Gram had taken me to get a haircut, my eyes looking large and soulful under heavy bangs. Then there’s the photo when I was ten, a year I would prefer to forget entirely. The haunted expression in my eyes had everything to do with Momma and her first overdose. I swallow past the lump in my throat.
Dylan snorts. “This one’s great, although I think you nearly strangled Sheldon.”
I scoot closer to him on the bed and study the photo. Sure enough, there I sit on Sheldon’s lap roughly eight years old. My arms are wrapped so tight around his neck his eyes bulge.
“Can we skip the photos and move on to more important information?” I didn’t mean for that to come out as harshly as it did, but how can I explain to Dylan the pain these old photos stir up? It’s not possible for him—the super rich, popular, star of the football team—to understand where I came from.
“I think it makes the most sense to focus on the information about the gargoyles.”
Dylan sighs impatiently. “Make up your mind.” He selects another file and hits enter then whistles low.
The screen populates with photo after photo of protectors. I recognize a few faces: Garret, Ronan, Flynn, and Marcus. Below each photo is a name.
I gasp when I see the word Eliminated typed next to several names.
“Dylan?” My voice sounds hollow. “Do you think Jude killed them?”
“I don’t know, but this doesn’t look good.”
My eyes start to burn from staring at the photos for so long. I force myself to blink a few times.
Protectors killing and draining demons. Demons—possibly Jude—killing and draining protectors. It has to stop. Garret wants Jude. He wants me almost as much. I’m left with no choice.
“I have to lure Garret and his team to the woods.”
He jumps off the bed. “No. Let Jude do it.”
I flip over to a sitting position. “If this goes down at St. Aquinas, a lot of students will get caught in the middle. Garret’s making a point of coming after me just to hurt Jude. I’ll go to him, instead.”
“What do you think you’re going to accomplish by luring Garret and his team into the woods?”
“Listen, I need you on board, Dylan. You’re unbelievably strong.” He puffs out his chest just a little, and I know I said the right thing.
“We’re going to ambush Garret.” I pause for only a moment, nervous how he’s going to react to my next statement. “We can win if you’re willing to enhance my powers, like you did when we torched Jude’s tree.”
“He’ll kill you!”
“Not with you by my side.” I’ve thought through many different scenarios. This is the one I keep coming back to—the only one that keeps Jude and Marcus alive.
Dylan heaves a long, slow sigh and plunks down beside me on the bed. “Tell me the plan. The whole plan. Don’t you dare leave anything out.”
My favorite Florence and the Machine song blares from the cell phone in my pocket. I hold a finger up to Dylan. “Hey, Selima, what’s up?”
“Lucy, you’ve got to get here, to your school, now. I mean right now.”
The panic in her voice makes my blood run cold. Selima is the calmest person I know.
“What’s going on?”
The line goes dead.
“Lucy…?” Dylan looks from my phone to me, his face a mask of worry.
“Something’s wrong.” I jump up from the bed and head for the door. Dylan is right behind me. “We need to meet Selima at St. Aquinas.”
“What’s she doing there?”
I slip my shoes on and grab my purse. “Long story short? I gave her a tour. Now she breaks in and hangs out.”
“Weird.” Dylan grunts.
I glance at the bedroom door. “There’s no way Jude’s going to let us leave this late.”
Dylan looks toward the window. “It’s not that hard to get out of here, Luce.”
I frown. “What do you have in mind? I doubt tying sheets together will work, especially this high up.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Weren’t you the one jumping off Jude’s roof last year?”
“That was me. What about you?”
Dylan smirks. “I think I can manage.”
We throw open the windows, and I climb out. Dylan follows right behind. Jumping off the roof was scary, but somehow this is scarier. Maybe because it’s dark or perhaps because if Jude finds out, he’ll probably chain me up in the basement to keep me inside.
I grab Dylan’s hand and we stand side by side on the slanted shingles. I recall Selima’s frantic voice over the phone. This can only mean one thing. Garret’s team is at my school. We need to get them out before morning.
Dylan squeezes my hand. “Let’s do this.”
I nod, resolved. “Land soft. Don’t lock your knees.”
On three, we both leap from the ledge. Before I can register fear or anything else, we’re on the ground. On our feet, a rush of adrenaline passes through my body.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“What does Selima do all night at St. Aquinas?” Dylan asks during our drive over.
“She’s obsessed with the books in the old library. She sits by the floor-to-ceiling arched windows in the gym and reads by moonlight.”
Or maybe she’s helping the protectors in their plan to kill me, the little voice in my head whispers.
Dylan slides a sideways glance my way. “That sounds lonely. I should probably check on her sometime.”
What if we don’t live past tonight? that voice says.
Selima and Marcus meet us in the gymnasium.
Marcus doesn’t kiss or hug me when I walk in. Even now he keeps a distance.
“What’s going on?” I direct the question at Marcus.
He crosses his arms over his chest and nods at Selima. “Tell them.”
“I overheard a conversation between Garret, Ronan, and Flynn tonight a
t the condo. They’re coming here. They plan to nab you in the morning and then contact Jude to let him know they have you.”
“What are we going to do?” Dylan asks tightly. I flinch as his heartbeat pounds in my ears. The demon in him wants to fight.
Marcus faces me. “I won’t let them touch you.”
“Garret’s crazed,” Selima says. “The way he was talking today…the way he’s been acting. I’ve never seen him so focused on revenge.” She paces. “I don’t know their plan…not exactly.”
That gets Dylan’s attention. “What do you mean by exactly?”
Selima looks at each of us nervously. “Garret said he wants Lucy ‘taken care of’.”
“Does that mean something different in gargoyle-speak?” Dylan asks.
“Allow me to clarify.”
We whirl around as Garret strides into the room. He looks very different than he did the night at the condo, wearing an expensive navy T-shirt and designer blue jeans. These are clothes he can fight in.
I refuse to acknowledge my fear. We have to end this tonight.
“I came to Chicago,” Garret says, as he studies the room, “one of my favorites cities, for two reasons.” He ticks off one finger. “First, to kill an offending demon who has given me a lifetime of headaches.”
“But what you accuse him of…you have no proof!” I say.
Even in the dimly lit room, there’s no missing the menace in Garret’s glare. Marcus takes hold of my hand and tugs me to his side.
“Second,” he ticks off another finger, “to appease my wife, we came to reconcile with her—our—son.”
Marcus snorts.
First Jude and now Garret. Why can’t anyone call Marcus by name?
“Imagine my disgrace when I discover our son has taken up with the offending demon’s offspring.” Garret clasps his hands behind his back and stands still as stone as his gaze lands on me again. “My rogue son consorting with the enemy is an insult to what we are, what we stand for. I won’t tolerate it.”
Marcus drops my hand and takes a step forward. “What’s your problem? No one’s getting hurt.”
“There aren’t any rules against it.” Selima smiles sweetly at her father. “I checked.”
“And now you turn my beloved daughter against me.” Garret’s piercing gaze never leaves my face. “You are a wicked, wicked thing. I’m going to kill you.”
All the air whooshes from my lungs. No! All this time I thought I had accepted the idea of death, so long as I could save the people I loved. But I want to live. I survived life in the trailer park with Momma. I survived three—three—near-death experiences last year. I survived demon training with Jude.
I raise my right hand and a fireball appears. I bounce it on my palm for effect. “Not if I kill you first.”
Marcus and Dylan stand ready on each side of me.
“A puny, inexperienced demon.” Garret snickers. “I will squash you like a bug.”
Puny?
“Enough, Father.” Selima moves to stand in front of me. She wraps her slender fingers around my forearm. My anger fades and the fireball snuffs out.
“Why did you do that?” I tug my arm free. “He’s here to kill me. Are you going to help him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Selima turns to Garret and squares her shoulders. “I know about the blood drinkers in the clan.”
Garret shifts uneasily. “It’s merely an experiment.”
“But you plan to kill Jude for allegedly draining protectors, while our own kind do the same thing to demons?”
“We needed to know the effects,” Garret says.
“And when you saw those monsters, why didn’t you stop?”
“Because he got hooked,” I say.
Garret flashes a cocky smile. He takes a step back and cups his hands around his mouth. “Team one!”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Six of the floor-to-ceiling windows shatter.
Marcus throws me to the floor and flings his body over mine. I catch a glimpse of blue-jean clad legs and boots stomping toward us, the hardwood bouncing under their weight.
“Selima, get Lucy out of here.” Marcus jerks me up from the floor by my arm. I yelp as he nearly removes my shoulder from its socket. “Dylan and I will stay and fight these goons.”
Across the room, Dylan grabs a protector in a headlock. With a swift jerk of his neck, the protector slides to the floor dead. My stomach flips with a sickening twist as I realize he learned how to kill from Jude.
Marcus throws his shirt to the floor then hunches as wings spring from his back. He spins around and drives his fist into the face of an oncoming gargoyle. Blood splatters in multiple directions.
I’m not going anywhere. This is my fight. I glance over my shoulder to tell Selima as much, when I come face-to-face with Flynn. He grabs me by my hair and yanks me to my knees, his claws cutting against my skin. He’s taller than he was the night of Caroline’s party, probably on account of the demon blood he’s ingested. His shoulder-length brown hair flutters as he expands his slate gray wings.
“It’s good to see you again, darling,” he says in his pompous English accent. “Tonight is not your lucky night.”
Heat races up and down my arms, and energy vibrates throughout my body. I’m unable to turn my head due to his grip. I hurl a fireball behind me.
Flynn yanks my hair as he lunges to the left. I cry out as he stands on my calves. He wrenches my arms behind my back and restrains my wrists with a plastic zip tie. I attempt to tug and twist against it, but it’s too tight.
“Let’s watch lover boy get pummeled,” he says close to my ear.
Two protectors grab hold of Marcus while a third lunges at him, claws swiping. Three against one. Bad odds. Marcus sinks an elbow into the gut of one of the guys holding him, then swings around to strike the other in the face.
Free, Marcus wrenches the attacking gargoyle’s wrist. Bones snap. The two fallen gargoyles jump up and go at him.
“Marcus!” I struggle anew against my restraints, wincing as the hard plastic cuts into my skin. How do I get these things off? Melt them? I envision a fireball.
Bad idea!
Startled, I look over at Dylan. What are you doing in my head?
He frowns at me. Your skin will melt, genius.
A spell then? I suggest.
Better. Make it fast. We need your fireballs.
I close my eyes and focus on the makeshift handcuffs.
Undo these restraints
Allow me to escape
Grant me freedom
Before we are beaten
I tug at the bindings. Nothing.
Visualize. Imagine the zip ties snapping apart. Crumbling.
Deep breath in then out. My lips move fast, my words silent. I sink deeper into focus as I repeat the words.
Crack! The pressure of the restraints loosens.
Selima joins Marcus as he fends off two attackers. She jumps backward to avoid an oncoming strike, spins and horse-kicks the guy in the solar plexus. Garret nods at a female gargoyle, whose pale gray wings bounce as she grabs Selima from behind.
“Get off me!” Selima whips her head around to Garret. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”
“All for the good of the clan,” Garret replies.
Dylan sprints after the female gargoyle, but Ronan clotheslines him. Dylan drops to the floor, clutching his throat.
“No!” Selima and I both shriek as Ronan stomps on Dylan’s chest. Dylan grabs Ronan’s foot and yanks him off balance, rolling out of the way as the gargoyle crashes to the floor.
Selima bites and kicks her captor, but the monster-fied woman braces her tightly.
“You’re a traitor, Selima. You need to be punished.” Garret nods at the woman again. The gargoyle drags Selima, bucking and flailing, from the room.
No way I’m going to let one of Garret’s freaks hurt Selima. I focus on the female gargoyle.
Release Selima as if
her skin burns to the touch
You nearly faint from the pain, it’s too much
Don’t bite or scratch
Because you know you’re mismatched
I repeat the spell, but nothing happens. Selima and the woman are gone.
Marcus drives his fist into the face of an oncoming gargoyle, slamming him against the bleachers. The gargoyle rises unsteadily to his feet. Marcus smashes his elbow into the side of the gargoyle’s skull, the soft spot high on the temple. The gargoyle falls to the ground. Marcus leaps toward Flynn and me. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you,” he says to Flynn. Then he turns to Garret. “This is between us. Release Lucy.”
“Between us?” Garret snorts. “You were never part of anything. You weren’t wanted. Not by me and, in the beginning, not by your mother.”
Heat roars inside of me, settles in my hands.
“Liar!” I witnessed Camille’s regret and guilt during the meeting in Marcus’s apartment. “Camille always wanted Marcus. Is that why you hate him so much?”
Garret arches his body, his angry roar bouncing off the walls. Wings, black as coal, unfold before me. Garret’s shirt lands in a torn heap. His barrel-sized chest heaves. He smiles, revealing two dagger sharp fangs.
Garret smacks his lips. “Time for you to go.”
I hurl a fireball at Garret and instantly have a second one ready. Flynn snags my arm, swinging me around. His fist collides with my fireball. He yelps, slapping his burned hand.
“I can’t trust you to eliminate one little nuisance!” Garret barks at Flynn, charging toward me.
At the same time, Marcus lunges for him.
“Back off,” Garret growls. He shoves Marcus, sending him stumbling and tripping over a large netted bag of basketballs.
Flynn reaches for me with his good hand. I spin away. I crunch over broken glass, pivot, and nail Marcus’s father with two successive fireballs. Garret dodges the first one. The second? Bullseye. Nailed him in the chest.
Across the room, Dylan scrunches his face against the smell of singed flesh as he smashes his elbow into Ronan’s face. Ronan’s nose crunches and blood spurts free. The blond spiky-haired protector stumbles to the floor, blinded by his own blood.
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 29