Forged: The World of Nightwalkers (17 page)

He grew quiet for a moment, toying with a last piece of bell pepper left on his plate. “You see, we are no’ allowed tae have names once we are made. They strip us of them. I doona know why exactly. A way of humiliating and subjugating us, I suppose. Herron was the name of the great Politic general that led the charge that freed all of the first generation, or tribe, of Gargoyles. As homage every Gargoyle in the first tribe took a name starting with
h
. Every Gargoyle in the next generation put the silent ‘h’ in as the second letter in their names.”

“Then third put the ‘h’ in the third position,” she said with understanding. “So that makes you a second generation Gargoyle because the ‘h’ you use is in second position.”

“Aye.”

“What defines a generation?”

“A hundred years. If you were forged in the first hundred years you were a member of the first tribe. The second hundred, the second tribe. And so on.”

“I see.” She frowned at him then handed him her half-emptied plate. He took it and began to finish her leftovers.

“So in answer tae your original question, we each find a Politic Bodywalker tae swear fealty tae. We pledge tae protect them and theirs, stand sentinel outside their walls, and they in turn vow tae recharge our stones, give us a place in their homes and families and protect us in turn as we sit in our statue states recharging in the sun. ’Tis what you might call a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“I see,” she said again. “Do you like your Politic Bodywalker?”

“Oh aye,” he said with enthusiasm. “Menes is the ruler of the body Politic. A finer Pharaoh there never was. And he has a sweet mate as well. A fiery redheaded lass. Her name is Hatshepsut. Or Marissa. We use Marissa. Wi’ two souls comes two names and they choose which one tae be called by. Menes uses his host’s name as well. Jackson. You’ll meet them before all is said and done.”

“I will? A pharaoh?” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I’m fit for royalty.” She swallowed again and her hands began to wrap around each other. “It’s just a necklace. A pretty one. I can just stay here and keep it on.”

“No! You canna! That’s dark magic there,” he said, pointing harshly at the Amulet. “You’re coming wi’ me. The sooner we get that thing off you the happier I’ll be. You can be on your way after that, but I’ll no’ let you run around wi’ that on no’ knowing what it might do tae you.”

“Don’t try and boss me around! You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!” Then, before he could argue she seemed to rethink what he had said. “Dark magic?” She lifted the pretty necklace and looked at it, swallowing audibly. “How do you know that?”

“You canna get it off can you?” he retorted.

“Oh. Yes. There is that. But that seems harmless enough.”

“For what we see of it. Who knows what’s happening behind scenes? ’Tis verra dangerous, Kat lass, and make no mistake about it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She retrieved his plate and moved over to the sink. He could see her working things over in her mind. He could only hope she didn’t ask something he wasn’t able to answer.

“So how many days has it been since you were last in contact with your touchstone?”

And there it was. The one question he really didn’t
want to answer. Partly because he didn’t want to face up to it, and partly because he didn’t want to pile more worries on to her. Especially since the most urgent concern was currently around her pretty little neck.

What the hell did that mean exactly? And if he was supposed to be the one to harness the power of the thing, then why was it trapped on
her
body?

“Oh, doona worry,” he lied to her again. “I have more than enough time tae get back tae my touchstone. Doona worry about that.”

“Well, of course I’m going to worry about it. I don’t want you to turn permanently to stone. And before it looked like you were having trouble controlling it …”

He
was
having trouble controlling it. It was actually taking a conscious effort not to turn to stone, whereas before it had been an effortless thing. Usually it was like breathing … an automatic ability he paid little attention to. But now, if it got much worse he was going to be afraid to go to sleep, afraid that the unconscious state would allow for him to turn unwittingly. Maybe he was making a mountain out of the symptom, but he had never been away from his touchstone for this long before and he had no idea what it would do and when it would do it. It was a sickening feeling to know that you weren’t in control of yourself or your destiny. True, none of them were to any extent, but this was bringing that sharply into focus. For all of his three hundred years, he still wasn’t ready yet to die. He was needed. Jackson and Marissa needed him there to protect them even more than ever before. There was a demented god out there, reborn in Panahasi’s mistress’s body, that was
hell bent on destroying them all and he needed to be there to put himself between them and it. That was the way he should die. In battle. With wings spread wide and a weapon in his hands. A sword, to be exact. It was his preferred method of dealing with Templar bastards like Panahasi. It was pretty fucking impossible to recover from having your head lopped off.

No. He would not die by turning slowly to stone. He simply refused to.

“I think I’m going tae have a lie down,” he said, realizing that the more effort he expended doing other things the more likely he was burning precious energy away. But what he had noticed was that the more he ate the easier it was to keep flesh form.

“I think that’s a good idea. Did you have enough to eat?” She looked skeptical, clearly already having learned that he was a bottomless pit as far as food was concerned. “Do all Gargoyles eat this much?”

“Some more than others,” he said with one of those easy grins. “We have high metabolisms. The more we do the more we have to replenish our food stores.”

“I can see why that would be.” She eyed his massive stature. “Go rest. I’ll come check your bandages in a minute.”

He nodded and moved back into the bedroom.

For Katrina it was a lot to digest. She felt as though her brain was buzzing with information. It was so hard to believe there was this whole world right beyond her reach that she never knew of. A world that, like her, was subject to the vicious whims of the sun. She didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. About any of this. The one thing she was taking away from it though was that time for Ahnvil was clearly running short. It was going to take days for them to get out of there. The end of the storm and then waiting for the roads to clear
would probably take the better part of a week. Just how long was too long?

She didn’t want to find out.

The big guy was starting to grow on her.

Odjit, also known as the imp god Apep, looked down at the dead body of Moribundi with a frown of consternation.

“Well, now I wonder how this happened. This is so unfair! If anyone is going to kill someone it’s going to be me! A perfect opportunity has been completely wasted. I’m sure I could have made an example out of him in some way.” She/He sighed deeply. “Oh well, there’s nothing to be done about it I suppose. Let’s hang his body outside the gate and pretend he did something terribly wrong to offend me.” Apep glared at the only two other people in the room. Panahasi and some girl whose name Apep couldn’t care less about remembering. “You realize this means death if rumors were to somehow abound otherwise.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they both said quickly, the young girl literally shaking from fear. It was just the kind of reaction Apep loved to see in his little minions. Apep gave his slightly rounded belly a pat, a strange sort of comfort to the sensation that he had not expected. Ever since he had been reborn into this strange and delightful woman’s body he had been enjoying the differences from being male to being female. And now, now that his new female body was impregnated by that poor, unsuspecting Night Angel, it was even more strange and delightful, even more enjoyable.

The Night Angel had been powerful and strong, and his seed was just as strong. But he had not been strong enough to keep Apep from taking that seed by force. He should be very grateful that he had left him alive afterward. After all, it might have been bad luck to kill the
father of his child. He was a god so he knew better than to tempt the fates. Even gods were subject to the whims of fate.

“I will do as my mistress asks,” Panahasi said with great deference. Today was one of those days where the groveling of his minions delighted him to no end. There were days of course when nothing could mollify him and, strangely enough as his pregnancy progressed there seemed to be more of those than usual, but this was not one of those days.

“Mistress?” Apep asked archly.

“My most glorious and benevolent mistress,” Panahasi corrected himself with a low bow and a complete exposure of his neck and back. Most pleasing indeed.

“Yes. Well. And then when you are done you can fetch your glorious and benevolent mistress some crawdads.”

“Crawdads, Mistress?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yes,” he hissed low, leaning in and narrowing his eyes on the underling. “Your mistress wants crawdads. Cajun crawdads. And plenty of them. The spicier the better. Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh no, Mistress. Your servant only wants to know how spicy you prefer them to be.”

What a waste of his talents, Panahasi groused in his thoughts as he went to his computer in order to research where the hell in Washington he was going to find crawdads.

“The storm has stopped,” Jacob noted from across the room.

“Huh? What—?” Bella sat up sharply in bed, her curling black hair falling in a rumpled cloud around her head and shoulders and he had to smile at the sight of her. She used both hands to shove back her hair and she grabbed up handfuls of sheets. She scooted off the bed, wrapping herself up in the sheet as her feet hit the floor. “Oh jeez, that’s cold!” she cried out, hopping from one foot to the other. They had lost electricity quite some time ago and outside of the fire in the hearth they had no source of warmth save each other. But they had happily been keeping each other warm and then some. Jacob obliged his wife and met her halfway over to him, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her over to the darkened window. Although he was naked he did not feel the cold quite like his half-human bride did. Just as his half-human bride couldn’t grow a seedling to a full-grown oak with just a thought in less than five minutes. But neither could he translate any language, nor could he see the future, both talents his wife did with ease.

He brought her over to the lodge room’s window seat, sat down on the cushion, and settled her into his lap. The lack of electricity didn’t bother them in the least.
They were used to it because Demon physiology and technology didn’t get along very well. They resorted to fires in many fireplaces, just like they had been doing for years in the land of England. She was already missing home. Not home exactly, but her children. She had not been away from them for a protracted period of time before, and even though it had only been a full day, she knew that it was going to be some time before she got to see them again. It was that feeling more than any of the others that told her this trip was being driven by her premonition senses. She didn’t want to face up to that. She was enjoying their time alone together and she was afraid of disappointing Jacob.

Just now she had been dreaming about walking in the snow. She had felt herself lifting her legs and pumping them down into the newly fallen snow. She had heard whispers in her head, unintelligible, as though she were getting some sort of message but it was coming out all garbled. Since she wasn’t a telepath, that made no sense to her at all.

“I said the snow has stopped,” Jacob said softly near her ear, his warm lips nuzzling her in the spot he just knew melted her bones into a big pile of goo.

She sighed with contentment. Then his mouth was on her neck and she went utterly limp in his arms. Heat spiraled through her, a heat that had never waned, not even when she’d been mad at him, in all the years of their marriage.

The Demon King, Noah, had wed them while she had been pregnant with her first child. A fact her bratty sister had pointed out to her, teasing her as being the “knocked-up” sister. What was ironic and a little sad about that was that Corrine now wanted to have children of her own and so far had been disappointed that it wasn’t happening. But Gideon, the Ancient Medic and healer had said that everything was just fine and that it was only a matter of time, so
they were just in a holding pattern at the moment. As for herself, it was time for them to start thinking about using a contraceptive. It had proven to be equally as difficult to get pregnant between their children, luck of the draw allowing them to hit it out of the park the first time with their first child. It had taken five years of unprotected sex before their son had come along. And she would like to have another child one day, but being immortal they had all the time in the world for doing that and she wanted to enjoy watching these two children grow up some more.