The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (41 page)

“Enjoy the show, demon!” Garret roars.

“No!” I grab Garret’s fingers to pry them from my throat. His grip tightens. I choke and gag as his claws dig in further.
He’s going to kill me!
Heat races down my arms. A fireball tumbles off my hand and lands on his foot. Garret kicks it away. My feet dangle as he raises me off the floor.

Every time Marcus tries to get up, the gargoyles beat him down.

“He’s your son,” I rasp. Garret squeezes harder. Stars dance across my vision.

I kick at Garret with both feet as his men pummel Marcus and Dylan
.
It’s like kicking a tree. My shallow, intermittent inhales pick up a sweet floral smell. Marcus’s blood. My thoughts grow fuzzy.

“Stop!” a female voice cries out.

All commotion in the room halts. Everyone turns to Camille, her face a mask of fury. She strides across the room and stops beside Garret. “How dare you attack my son?”

Chapter Fifty-Four

“Your loyalties are divided. They won’t be, once he’s dead.” Garret’s voice is steel-edged. His grip on my throat loosens just a little while he focuses on Camille.

“Don’t you dare threaten my son,” she says harshly. Spotting Marcus on the floor, Camille rushes to him.

“Hgggg…” I thrash against Garret’s clawed hand.

Garret jerks his attention back to me. “Shut up!”

Fast as a bullet, I punch his windpipe with my fist.

Garret drops me, doubling over, gasping for breath. “You’re…going…to…pay, demon.”

Beyond Garret, Dylan stabs his fingers into his captor’s eyes. The gargoyle screams as he clutches his face and tumbles off of Dylan. The second gargoyle swipes at Dylan. Dylan jams his fingers, so they’re laced with his opponent’s then snaps the gargoyle’s wrist. The Franken-freak rears up in alarm and rage. Dylan kicks him in the groin, and the beast drops to his knees. Dylan hobbles off, but in the wrong direction. Is he looking for Selima?
No
!
I need him to amplify my powers.

Garret stirs behind me. I gulp air, wheezing.
Need to get away from him
. Lightheaded, I scramble on all fours over to Marcus. There’s so much blood. My stomach flip-flops from the overwhelming sweet, floral smell. Marcus groans, uncurling his body.

I stroke his hair. Using the bottom of my shirt, I wipe blood from his cheeks. “I’m here. Camille is, too.”

Garret almost killed me.
I shudder.
Heat races down my arms to my hands. I yank them away from Marcus, for fear I may accidentally shoot off a fireball.

Marcus’s two attackers stand behind him, hanging their heads. Neither will meet Camille’s gaze. Why do they cower in her presence?

“They…need…to…be…punished,” I rasp at Camille, who kneels on Marcus’s other side.

“I will see to that later. Now,” Camille orders the gargoyles, “you both will heal my son.”

“But the demon blood—” My hoarse voice cuts off with a violent coughing fit.

“It will be fine.”

Both gargoyles slide to their knees without so much as a glance at Garret. Why so obedient? Has Camille been leading the clan alongside Garret? The two beasts bite at the skin on their wrists. The dark-haired gargoyle applies blood to the wounds on Marcus’s face and chest. The blond presses his wrist to Marcus’s mouth. Marcus, who is only semi-conscious, pulls away.

Saliva pools in my mouth as I imagine drinking Marcus’s blood on the night of homecoming. My stomach heaves.

“Don’t fight it, Marcus,” Camille says. “You can’t protect anyone in the state you’re in, most of all Lucy. You must drink.”

I frown. Since when has Camille cared about my safety?

Marcus winces as he reaches for me. Based on his swollen, misshapen fingers, I’m guessing the monsters broke them. I would roast them both if they weren’t helping him now.

The blonde brute attends to Marcus’s face and hands.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to,” Camille orders the gargoyles. She rises and marches over to her husband.

Rage mixes with desperation in Garret’s voice. “All these years…the longing on your face. It’s always been him.”

“If you ever harm my son again, be prepared to sacrifice Selima.” Camille stands as still as her husband. She mimics the clawed curve of his hands, the hunch of his shoulders, though she has no claws and doesn’t bear the weight of wings.

Shock and horror register immediately on Garret’s face. “She’s like a daughter to you.”

“If you doubt me, you are a fool.”

Garret narrows his eyes, bares his fangs. He grabs Camille roughly, pins her arms behind her back.

“Release me, Garret.”

She shows no sign of pain or alarm. Instead, she studies the room. Is she taking stock of everyone who came to help kill Marcus? Problem is now that Camille’s disabled, she’s not going to be much help.

Garret glances at Ronan’s dead body and the pile of ash several feet away and shakes his head in disgust. He looks toward the window and shouts, “Team two!” Then he calls over his shoulder. “Qui! How long does it take to restrain my daughter? Get back in here!”

Dylan squats beside me. He does a double take when he sees my neck.

“Garret did that to you? I’m going to—”

I touch his arm to silence him. “Did you find Selima?”

“I did.” He purses his lips. “She doesn’t need any help.”

“What do you mean?”

Dylan shakes his head.

Three new gargoyles appear in the glassless windows.

“Uh, Lucy? How many more Franken-fiends do you think are standing by out there?” Dylan asks.

“Don’t know.” I feel as if my head is spinning. My legs feel wooden. The pain in my throat is agony. Tears spring behind my eyes.
I can’t do this much longer.

You’re no quitter, Lucy
.
Marcus needs you.
Dylan’s voice fills my head. He grasps my hand and a surge of energy floods my limbs.

Garret jerks his head toward Marcus. The two new gargoyles, baring wings, fangs, and claws spread their wings and fly across the room toward my boyfriend.

“No!” Camille screams.

“Let’s take out the two newbies,” I tell Dylan. Heat races down my arms, settling in my palms.

He and I both rise. The sound of his heartbeat thunders in my ears. Does he hear mine?

Team two maneuvers around us.

“Bad idea, guys,” I say, showing off the fiery beauties cradled in my palms. I draw my hands together and merge the fireballs into one big one. One gargoyle focuses on me while the other edges toward Marcus.

“Hey freak!” Dylan says. He steals my earlier move and sucker punches the gargoyle in the windpipe. The creep collapses with a heavy thud.

Gargoyle number one lunges to the right, faking me out, and kicks at the gargoyle healing Marcus’s hands. I launch a fireball at the attacker. At close range, he’s hit square in the chest. He jumps back, slapping his skin, tripping over the gargoyle tending to Marcus’s back. I catch the glint of metal and gasp as slippery Franken-freak number three holds a knife over Marcus’s prone body.

“A trophy, Sandor!” Garret cheers with sickening glee. “Bring me a trophy!”

Marcus’s eyes flutter open. “Save…my…mother and get out of here!” He coughs, spewing blood onto the floor. “Leave Garret to me.”

Dylan and I eyeball each other. Marcus is too weak and broken to fight his psycho father. We both know that.

A pounding fills my ears and my vision clouds over. I’m going to have to kill Marcus’s father. First things first:
I’ve got Sandor. You take the other one
. I tell Dylan.

He nods.

Sandor spreads one of Marcus’s wings, revealing row after row of bent, broken, and bloodied feathers. The gargoyle positions his knife at the base of Marcus’s once beautiful appendage.
Oh, God, no!
Is he going to hack it off?

“Think twice before you harm my son, Sandor,” Camille warns.

Sandor hesitates, swallowing.

I close my eyes, allowing the heat, the energy, to course through me. All of Jude’s training is paying off—either that or I’m just plain pissed off—and I’m ready for battle in seconds.

“Lucy…” Marcus says softly. “Save yourself.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Selima glides into the room, her white wings tucked against her back. As she steps out of shadow she swipes at the blood dripping from her mouth. I gasp as she proceeds to lick her clawed fingers clean.
Ewwww…she drank Qui’s blood?

“Told you,” Dylan says beside me.

“Selima, what have you done?” Garret’s voice booms, his eyes bulging.

Selima crosses the room so fast she’s nearly a blur. She stands before her father, taller than she was just an hour ago. I watch her profile. “What I had to do. I’m not going to let you kill my brother and my friends.”

I can’t see her fangs, but her lisp gives them away.

“On the count of three, we take out these goons,” I whisper to Dylan.

Camille cranes her neck to study Garret. “How does it feel, knowing your precious daughter has turned into a monster, like you?”

“Shut up,” Garret’s murmur turns into a shout as he shakes her. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

The gargoyles glance from Garret and Camille back to Marcus, uncertain.

“Sandor, Demetrius, if you touch a hair on my son’s head, you’ll both die,” Camille says. Her ruthless tone sends a shudder down my spine.

Marcus narrows his eyes and tilts his head toward Sandor ever so slightly. The knife. I give Marcus a small nod.

“Whose idea was it to start drinking the blood of your own kind, mixing it with demon blood?” Selima asks.

Garret and Camille both stand mute.

“You had everyone believing it was Jude—the big baddie—slaughtering protectors and draining them. But it wasn’t.”

She stops pacing, bouncing slightly on her balls of her feet. “All this time I’ve been spending with Lucy, getting to know her as Camille asked—”

I gasp. Selima was acting as a double agent?
I knew it.

“Sorry, Lucy.” Selima shrugs. “Camille needed to know if you were a threat.”

“She’s a demon!” Garret hisses. “What more evidence do you need?”

“While I was getting to know Lucy, I spied on Jude. Want to know what I discovered?” Selima grins her bloody grin.

Dylan leans close to me. “Damn. The girl I’ve got the hots for is bat-crap-crazy like her dad.”

I grimace. “I hope not. I don’t want to have to take her out.”

Selima peers over her shoulder at Sandor and Demetrius. “Quiz question, fellas. Twenty points if you get this right. What’s the telltale sign that someone’s consuming a mix of protector and demon blood?” She taps her watch as she waits for someone to speak up. “Sorry, fellas, times up.” She thrusts her hands toward Garret and Camille as if they are the grand prize. “You lose your mind!”

Sandor falls from his crouch, his knife clattering to the floor. His laser beam gaze slides from Garret to Camille. “You told us it was safe. That it made us better warriors.”

Garret’s attempt to stare down Sandor fails.

“And you…” Selima whispers to Camille. “It started with protector blood, didn’t it? Did it make you feel less guilty about abandoning Marcus?”

Camille narrows her eyes, but says nothing.

“That’s enough, Selima,” Garret warns.

Selima swipes at the droplets of blood below her mouth. The red smear gives her a ghoulish appearance. “This new regime sucks. I side with Marcus and Lucy.”

Garret’s face flushes red. He turns to the window. “Team three!”

More monster-fied gargoyles leap through the glassless windows.

Garret points to me. “Kill her!”

I struggle to think of the maneuvers Jude and Henry taught me. The harder I try to think the less I remember. I’m tired and sore in every way possible. But none of that matters because five oversized, angry-faced monsters are coming our way.

Marcus pushes himself up on all fours, gritting his teeth. Dylan and I thrust ourselves in front of him.

Take them out,
the voice in my head whispers
. To hell with remorse
. I conjure two fireballs and with leaden arms lob them at the approaching gargoyles. I struggle to produce two more and hurl them, throwing my whole body into the movement. My aim sucks and the gargoyles are upon us.

“Lucy, Dylan, duck!”

Dylan and I lunge as five fireballs fly past us in quick succession. Jude barrels across the room, his face flushed and teeth bared. The gargoyles bob and duck the flames, but it stops their pursuit of me. I sigh in relief. My father is here to help.

“Lucy!” Dylan reaches for me as someone grabs me roughly from behind, dragging me backward.

Sharp claws clutch my throat, pulling me tight against a hard-bodied gargoyle.

Lower your chin to your chest, now!
Dylan yells in my head.
If he crushes your windpipe, you’re toast!