When A Gargoyle Kidnaps (Gargoyles Book 6) by E A Price (2)

Something hit him again, and he rubbed his head, wondering if he had perhaps been in the way of an incontinent bird.

“Castor!” hissed a voice.

He turned to find Tristan trying to hide behind one of the overgrown topiary animals.  He believed it was once meant to be a swan, but now, like all the other animals, it was a giant blob with a head.

“Sword in the Stone!  What are you…”

“Hush,” implored Tristan.

Castor grunted and flicked his tail.  He stepped closer.  “Sword in the Stone!” he repeated in a quieter tone, “what are you about tonight?”

Tristan looked around him, to make sure no one else was near.  “I fear I may have made a grave error.”

Castor raised an eyebrow.  “How so?”

Tristan winced and sighed and then winced again, before slowly moving out from behind the blobby topiary swan.  He pulled his wings back to reveal what he was carrying.

Castor threw back his own wings in surprise.  “Knights of the…”

“I know,” he interrupted, looking down at the slumbering form of the young female in his arms, “I fear I may have kidnapped her.”

*

One week ago

“Well, it’s official – you’re better on the computer than I am,” murmured Kylie over his shoulder.

Tristan smiled.  Computers were a lot like books; you just needed to know how to read them.  While some of the other gargoyles eschewed even trying to use the computer, Tristan saw its benefits – as he did with books as well, which again other gargoyles refused to have anything to do with.

In his day, most gargoyles refused to learn to read.  They said reading was for humans.

“Thank you, Chief’s mate… ah, Kylie.”

She beamed and left him to it.

His new chief’s mate didn’t seem to like the term ‘chief’s mate’.  She much preferred the gargoyles to use her name.  He supposed he could understand that.  In his time the title would evoke respect, and let everyone know that she or he were mated to the fiercest warrior in the clan – so treat them with respect or else.  But Kylie didn’t like being referred to as something that belonged to Luc – at least that is how she tried to explain it to Luc who did not understand in the least but acquiesced to her wishes nonetheless.

Tristan had held a strong position in his old clan – that of the chief tactician.  Most clans did not have that role.  Gargoyle tactics when it came to waging warfare generally only included shouting charge and then duly charging.  He was not the strongest or largest warrior, but his old clan chief valued his input.

Now, he was eager to learn of his new world, but still not entirely certain how he fit into it.  In the old days, they had always been at war with someone, and his tactical advice was necessary.  Now, he wasn’t so sure, wasn’t sure his new leader needed a tactician.  His old leader had been strong and brutal, but as Maggie would say, dumber than a box of frogs.  He would never describe his new leader, Luc as dumb – mostly because it wasn’t true but also because he liked his head where it was.

The new clan’s main concern was finding the remaining gargoyles and waking them.  Luc was a good leader, but it was a struggle to keep the gargoyles together.  They were gargoyles from many different clans, striving to deal with the losses of their old clans while coming to terms with the new world.  They struggled, but gargoyles were resilient.

Tristan spent his time reading, absorbing as much information as he could, hoping he can be useful.  He was on the small side for a male gargoyle, perhaps large compared to a human, but as a youngling, he had always dragged behind the other gargoyles.  Hence the need to learn, to be smarter than them, to figure out a way to beat them without using his muscles.

He had to admit the human inventions were intriguing.  The computer and the world wide web were certainly impressive, and he found himself using the computer more and more.  He was considering whether it would be wise to open up some social media accounts, to interact with more humans.  Though, he doubted Luc would be happy about that.  His chief would fear him exposing himself to humans, and ask why he would want to talk to humans he had never met when there were enough already running through the house.

Tristan shook his head.  He could not deny that it appeared to be a trend for the gargoyles to find human mates, which made him wonder if he would as well.  He wondered how he would feel if he did.  He did not hate humans but had never considered them in a way that would include mating.

“Hey, brainiac,” taunted Twenty-Six, sauntering into the room.  “Whatcha doing?”

Tristan smiled at the female.  She was very much a gargoyle, yet her mannerisms were so human, it was almost jarring to hear her talk.  He knew that she bothered Grey – but then, what didn’t bother the cantankerous male?

“I am looking at the news section of the town’s website.”  The Devil’s Hang website was the first he had ever seen and he found himself checking it on a daily basis out of curiosity.

“Yawn!  Why?”

He chuckled.  “I find it interesting to see what the humans themselves find interesting.”

“Oh, so you’re studying them?”

“I suppose I am.”

One day they will need to live openly among humans, it would help to know what was now important to them.  Twenty-Six peered at the screen as the website popped up, and the snow graphics started falling over the picture of the town.

“Okay, it does look pretty,” she admitted.

“Yes,” he agreed almost wistfully.

Most of his time since awakening had been spent inside the house.  He knew very little of the local town, only what he had seen from afar.  He was starting to get just a little bit frustrated.

“Hey, look, there’s a message board on there – why don’t you write something.”

“I doubt Luc would…”

“Pfft!  You can post anonymously – just make up a name.  No one has to know.”

Tristan stared at the screen.  Huh.

*

Gwen awoke to the call of her name.  It took her a moment to realize what the strange taste was in her mouth – it was a candy bar wrapper she’d left on her bed that morning.  It had been breakfast, and Gwen didn’t have time to throw it away, never mind make her bed.

She peeled it away from her mouth and rolled off the bed, rubbing her tired eyes.  She had worked all day in the library and then went on to work some more at Bea’s antique shop.  Now, she was exhausted.

Grrr.  Plus, her stomach was growling dangerously.

Gwen tramped to the kitchen to find her mother trying to pick up a fallen pan of spaghetti.  Her mother had endured another round of treatment the day before, and it had wiped her out; her face was twisted in pain as she tried to bend down.

“Mom,” she sighed.

Her mother’s face creased.  “I’m sorry, baby, I just wanted to make dinner for you.”

“I'm all right, Mom.  I had a big lunch.”

Thankfully, her stomach kept shtum.  Gwen forced a smile and carefully assisted her mom back to her bedroom.

“So, do you want spaghetti?”

Her mother grimaced.  “I’m not very hungry.”

“I’ll make you something anyway.”

She settled her mother and brought her the new books she had checked out from the library.

“Thank you, baby.”

Gwen shrugged as her mother gave her that sad, apologetic look she always did and went back to the kitchen to clean it and cook for the two of them.  Her mother always felt so guilty about being sick, but it wasn’t her fault, and while Gwen felt a tiny, occasional twinge of resentment about it, she loved her.  Her poor mom had been diagnosed with cancer four years ago and had been undergoing treatment off and on since then.  For a while, they thought she was in remission, but it returned, and the treatments started all over again.  While she had her good days, her bad days were awful.

Her mom worked part time, but she didn’t make much as a cashier at the grocery store.  It was hard to find a job where the hours were incredibly flexible, and the boss didn’t mind the fact that her mom took loads of sick days.  Gwen was convinced the owner of the store only gave her mom the job because Martha charmed him into it.

Gwen cleaned up and decided on heating up one of the pot roasts Bea had made for them.  Several people in the small town made them meals to freeze so that Gwen could just heat them up whenever she needed them.

Gwen put together a tray and carried it into her mother's room.  She perched on her bed and as they ate – her mother like a bird – and watched a soap opera.  Gwen murmured her surprise that Antonio had come back to life, while Marta – who had previously had a hysterectomy – could now be pregnant with twins.  Her mother explained that Antonio faked his death and Marta had been duped into thinking she couldn’t have kids by the villainous Martinez.  It made perfect sense.

After dinner, Gwen left her mother engrossed in a new book, pulled on her sweats, dragged her hair back into a messy bun and fired up their old laptop.  Wifi was a luxury she wouldn’t usually spring for, but her neighbor, Tilly let them use hers for free.

Her mom hated taking charity, refused to do it out of pride.  But Gwen was way past being prideful.  Had been ever since her dad took off when she was sixteen because things were too tough on him.  Yep, her mom was in near-constant pain, Gwen was working and going to school full time – and things were too tough on the out of work butthole.  She remembered watching him pack up his car.  He left while her mom was sleeping.  He turned and gave Gwen an embarrassed smile, and said, “I’m sure the two of you will manage.”  That was it.  The last thing he said to his only daughter.

Now, she took what she could get from her neighbors and friends and just didn’t tell her mom.  She could be a downright leach, but she didn’t care.

She pulled up the town website and smiled as the snow started falling.  Martha – the town busybody - hired Gwen to design and put the whole thing together.  Busybody perhaps wasn’t fair.  Martha was just efficient, organized lots of things, made lots of people happy and then had the nerve to be both beautiful and a nice person.  She was just one of those women who annoyed others by being perfect.  Cow.

But, as for the website, Gwen was proud of her work, not just because of the money.  She was proud that other people could see it and enjoy it and take pride in it as well.  She was just sad that there wasn’t more to do.  Martha said she should update it and log the hours it took her to do it, and Martha would ensure she got paid for them – and Gwen didn’t doubt that as Martha always got things done.  But it was little more than a half hour out of her day – and not every day.

While grateful – again to Martha – for the job in the library, she found it tedious.  She also worked some part time hours in Bea’s antique store which again was boring, and as for the sporadic dog walking… she was definitely a cat person.  She wanted something that she could enjoy, something to flex her creativity.  Even her suggestions about book displays and moving the categories around to different shelves in the library had fallen on deaf ears.  Myrna, while nice enough, liked things done her way, and Gwen did not get a say.

She had loved web design at school, but given her mom’s worsening condition and a distinct lack of funds, college wasn’t in her future.

She sighed, trying to tamp down feelings of self-pity, and started adding bits of news to the site.  The Hendersons got a new dog – an imported poodle from France.  Karla Johansson won a full scholarship to study design.  Blah, blah, blah.  She could do this in her sleep.

Maybe she would change the design of the website, really give her something to work with.  The snow had been cute for Christmas, and she had hidden Santas all over the site for kids to find – they won a prize if they found them all – but maybe she should try something else now that it was the New Year.

She was just pondering that when a message popped up on the board.

‘I find the snow absolutely charming.  I particularly enjoy reading the news section and look forward to the daily updates.  Praise should be given to whoever created this website.’

Gwen read it over and over, her insides warming.  It was posted by someone called TG.  She tried to run through everyone in town who could be TG.  Terrence Gibson, Teresa Galway, Tim Green and, ugh, Tom Gellar – her ex-boyfriend.  They were either too young or too computer illiterate or too much of a douchebag to have written that.  It was short, sweet and charming – so that definitely let out Tom.

She’d never had many opportunities for dating.  Her high school boyfriend was constantly annoyed that she had little free time, so it wasn’t a surprise when he dumped her shortly before graduation.  To be fair, the thing she liked most about him was his car – it meant she could drive her mother to doctors’ appointments.  After him, there had only been one other guy – Tom.  At thirty, he was ten years older than her and had chased after her.  She had to admit, the main reason she let him catch her was that his father owned the local bakery – plus two more outside of town.  It meant fresh bread and lots of cakes for her and her mom, plus he had a great car, too, and he was more than happy to help pay Gwen’s grocery bill when she was a little short.  Things went south when he wanted Gwen to move in with him and leave her mother to fend for herself.  He was greatly surprised when Gwen told him to buzz off.

It wasn’t just about her mom – she also didn’t want to end up married to him and hauling around five kids while he was off spending time with his twenty-year-old girlfriend.  It was what happened to Tom’s mother.  Tom was okay, but he was kind of an ass.  When she told him she was disappointed not to get to go to college, he laughed and said a girl who looked like her would be wasting her time there.  Not to mention when they were shopping in Portland and she saw him kick a homeless guy that he considered was in his way.  No, she definitely did not want to end up with Tom, a thought that was reinforced after they parted ways.

Tom didn’t exactly take being dumped well and spread it around town that she was a ‘using bitch.’  Gwen wasn’t exactly proud of her past relationships.  She knew she’d used both men, but…  Nope, she couldn’t rationalize it – she’d chosen both men because they would benefit her and her mom.  She wasn’t proud of that fact, but she had tried to be a good girlfriend at the time even if she felt like a fraud inside.

TG.  Perhaps it was someone from outside town.  Had to be – everyone in town knew she was the one in control of the website.  They’d just say well done to her on the street – they wouldn’t bother with the message board.  No one in town used the message board.  Perhaps it was someone who didn’t listen to gossip.

Gwen ummed and ahhed for a few minutes before she finally decided to post back.

*

Tristan debated whether he should post anything.  Then after he did it, he debated the issue over and over again.  What he hoped to achieve, he was not sure.  But doing it, somehow made him feel more in touch with the outside world, more a part of the town that he could only watch from afar.

He posted as TG – Tristan the Gargoyle.  Not particularly imaginative, but he doubted any human would be able to work that out.

“We have to go home,” complained Joely marching into the room to collect her coat and purse.

Brom followed, cradling her six-year-old, Daphne.  Both Brom and Daphne leveled glares at her.

Joely and Brom were recently mated, and Brom was having difficulty with the fact that Joely insisted that she and Daphne live in the human town, rather than move to the mansion to be with him.

“You should stay here; your place is with me,” growled Brom, his thick tail twitching agitatedly.

Daphne pushed out her bottom lip, pouting like crazy as her arms tightened around Brom’s neck.  Tristan had no experience with human children, but he was greatly surprised at Daphne’s acceptance of Brom and all the gargoyles.  According to Brom, the girl barely even batted an eyelid when they met, even complimented him on his tail!

“Suck that lip back in, Daffy,” chided Joely, “you have a bed at home, and that’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

“Mommy!”

“I forbid you from leaving!” rumbled Brom.  But while his voice was resolute, even Tristan saw the wariness in his eyes.

Joely cocked her head to one side.  “Babe, it’s late, I need to get the troublemaker home – I really don’t have time to roll around on the floor screaming with laughter right now.”

Brom grumbled under his breath, and Joely led him out of the room, trying to placate him.

Tristan snorted.  Admittedly he had known Brom for only a short time, but the male had made himself known to be boisterous and gruff, and openly declared that he would never be whipped by a female as he believed Luc and Ric to be.  Apparently, those days were over, because Joely was definitely not about to roll over for her new mate.

The distraction gone, Tristan turned back to the computer to find a message waiting for him, and he could not deny a small thrill as he read it over and over.

*

Gwen twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger, waiting to see if TG would respond.  She had typed out several responses.  One gushing over his praise and going into detail about why she chose the colors and graphics, another just a simple ‘thanks, man’ – keeping it loose and all that.

In the end, she went polite and simple and posted using her full name - Guinevere.  Who knows – perhaps this was someone who would be interested in hiring her for more web design… hey, she could dream.

 ‘Thank you.  I hoped to create a website that would do justice to the charm of our town.  Have you checked out the town’s history page?  We have an interesting back story.’

Gwen fidgeted for a few moments.  It was silly sitting there, waiting for a response.  The person was probably long gone.  They probably just posted something polite and then left the page, not intending for anything further.

She was about to close down the computer when a new message popped up.

‘I have read it, thank you.  It was indeed fascinating.  Is there any further reading on the subject? I should like to know more.’

*

Tristan found himself smiling as he read her response.  He had read the town history a few times and found it interesting.  Unfortunately, the late professor’s well-stocked library didn’t include anything about the town history.  He had a lot of fiction, and books on magic, but apparently the town itself held no interest for him.

This Guinevere rattled off a few editions that could be found at the local library.  He wouldn’t be able to get them himself, but he was sure Maggie or perhaps Martha would be happy to pick them up for him.  Martha seemed almost beside herself to try and help them in some way.  Her mate, Drago seemed beside himself to ensure no other gargoyle got within five feet of her.

Guinevere.  It was a name that he understood was now considered old-fashioned.  It was refreshing to find that it was still in use.  The female herself seemed charming.  If she is a female…  When he started using the computer, Chris gave him a long list of warnings about people who lied in order to trap people and have them send them money.  There was apparently a scheme where people promised a large return of money for just a small investment – it involved a prince who was not actually a prince.  Chris told him not to trust anyone – ever.

But he doubted there would be any harm in chatting with this Guinevere.  For all he knew, she was a ninety-year-old great grandmother who enjoyed afternoon tea and crocheting doilies.  Technically, Guinevere could even be a male who for reasons of his own had chosen a female screen name.  Though, he doubted it.

Something within him stirred at her responses, something he could not even identify.  Pleasure, perhaps?

‘They sound interesting, have you read them all?’

‘Yes, I had to when researching the history – not that it was any chore.  Not that reading any book is any chore.”

‘I quite agree, my…”  He stopped typing and searched for the right word.  The term clan mates was accurate, but she would not understand that – and that would open him up for questions.  His tail flicked, and he settled on friends.  ‘My friends think reading is a waste of time, but I cannot think of anything better to do with my time.’

*

Gwen smiled with pleasure.

‘I agree,’ she typed, ‘I always max out my library card.’

Though, she didn’t bother to mention the fact that she rarely managed to get through the books before she had to take them back.  She usually fell asleep reading them, but it was nice talking to another bookworm.

‘Are there any books that you can recommend that I may not have read?’

‘Oh my gosh!   Where to start…’  Gwen glanced around her bedroom.  It was stacked with paperbacks in various degrees of falling apart.

She still had all the books from her childhood, as well as a large collection that she had picked up for a steal at various yard sales and second-hand bookstores.  Hey, she got a copy of Cold Comfort Farm for ten cents – can’t go wrong with that.

‘What do you like to read?’ asked TG.

‘Actually, anything.’

When she was younger, her dad had hogged the TV, spending nearly every spare moment of his time watching it.  It meant that Gwen had to find her fun elsewhere, so she had read everything she could get her hands on.  That continued to this day – buying and reading anything she could.

“What are some of your favorite books?’

Gwen’s eyes drew to her treasured shelf – filled with the books that were so dog-eared they looked like a weak gust of wind would tear them apart.

‘The Princess Bride, Carpe Jugulum, Cold Comfort Farm, Northanger Abbey, One for the Money – to name but a few.  I kind of have eclectic tastes, but mostly I love things that have humor in them.’

‘I have read Northanger Abbey; it was wonderful.  I will try to seek out the other titles you have suggested, thank you.’

‘I hope you like them.’

‘I am sure I will.’

Gwen hesitated.  She should sign off.  It was getting kind of late for her, and she still had half a dozen things to do for tomorrow.  But she didn’t want to; she wanted to continue talking, wanted this warm bubbly feeling in her stomach to continue.

Through working two jobs, she had little time for friends and had lost touch with the kids she went to school with. It was nice to be friends with someone, even if she had no idea who was at the other end of all these posts.  But it was more than that.  Talking with her old friends had never felt this… satisfying?  Elating?  There was just something about this TG that instinctively made her happy.  Talking to him (or her) just felt so incredibly right and she didn’t know why.  Perhaps she had been lonelier than she realized.

Gwen yawned and felt her eyes droop.  Yeah, she still had a lot to do, and she was already falling asleep.  Reluctantly, she ended their conversation.

‘Unfortunately, I have to go.’

The response came quickly.  ‘Will you return to the message board tomorrow night?’

Well, she would have to log back on to edit the website anyway.  So definitely, and not just because she was already excited about exchanging more messages with him (or her!).

‘Yes, I hope you will too.  Good night.’

‘I will.  Sweet dreams.’

“Sweet dreams,” Gwen murmured aloud, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

*

Tristan smiled and closed down the computer.  Exchanging words with this female, Guinevere – for surely she had to be a sweet female – had been almost exhilarating.  It filled him with a warmth he had not known in… well, something he had never known.

Once upon a time, he had almost been mated.  It was to be an arranged mating with another clan, thought up by his leader.  She had been a thoughtful young gargoyle, less aggressive than other females, and he had enjoyed her company as she had his.  But the mating was ended before it even began.  Her clan’s leader insulted his leader, and all ties were immediately broken.  She was mated to someone else within a month.  He had felt disappointed by this, but while he had liked her, she had not incited such feelings of pleasure in him as he was now experiencing.

Tristan stood and stretched out his wings.  He set forth for the professor’s library.  He would find those books she suggested and devour them.

*

The next day Gwen could not wait to check for messages.  Helpfully, at the library, she was able to use the computer and had sporadically checked the board all day.  Or maybe that should be, unhelpfully.  She was disappointed that there were no messages from TG all day.  But he did say ‘tomorrow night’, so perhaps he was busy in the day – probably working like her.

Still, she was itching to talk to him again.  She was so preoccupied she barely even noticed Tom and his date in the diner when she went in to collect Myrna’s lunch for her.  Tom sneered at her, whispered something to the lissome young woman with him and then she snickered.  A few days ago Gwen might have blushed and been embarrassed.  Now, she could care less and gave the two of them a haughty smile.  Seemed like they deserved each other.  Joely winked at her and slipped her a free cupcake.

After work, both the library and stock taking at Bea’s store, she virtually skipped home.  She found her mother in the kitchen actually making her favorite dish – chili and fresh cornbread.

Her mom looked great; her cheeks were pink, and Gwen thought that she could actually detect a few more pounds on her frail frame.  Thrilled, Gwen gave her a huge hug.

“Goodness, honey!” exclaimed her mom chuckling, “it’s so nice to see you in such a good mood!”

Gwen shrugged but could not hide her grin as she flipped through their mail.  Even the extravagant medical bills couldn’t put a damper on her mood.  “Just glad that you’re looking better.”

“I’m feeling better, thank you.  Now, why don’t you go relax and let me take care of you for a change, you do so much for me…”

“Mom…”  She hated it when her mom felt any kind of guilt over her condition and how Gwen worked hard to try and pay her medical bills.  Made her feel guilt too.

She pointed the spoon at her.  “Don’t argue with your mother, now scoot.”

Gwen gave her another hug, and a whispered ‘I love you’ which delighted her mother.

“Call me if you need a hand.”

But really, she was excited to be able to get to her computer.  She threw her coat on top of a pile of clothes in her room – she really needed to do laundry – and grabbed her laptop, pulling it onto the bed.  In the many minutes it took for her computer to boot up – it was so old it was virtually steam powered – she tapped her foot impatiently, chewed on her nails and almost considered tidying her room.

Finally, she logged on and almost squealed in glee as she found a message waiting from him.  Honestly, she has no idea if he was even a he.  TG could be a ninety-year-old woman serving consecutive life sentences for murdering puppies for all she knew.  The puppy part was unlikely, but still, she was enjoying chatting with TG.

She didn’t really have time for friends, so it was just nice to talk with someone who didn’t feel sorry for her or annoyed because she had no time to spend with them.

‘I read all the fiction books you suggested.  They were all marvelous.’

OMG!

‘You read all those books already?!’

*

Tristan chuckled.  Honestly, he could not put them down, and not just because they had been immensely enjoyable.  They had been wonderful books, but they were made more enjoyable by the fact that he knew Guinevere loved them.

Guinevere.  His Guinevere.

He had dreamed of his mystery woman all day in his stone sleep.  In his dreams, she was blurred, just out of reach.  He could not imagine how she may look.  In truth, he was not a good judge of what made a female human attractive.  He was no innocent when it came to females, but he could not say he found them attractive, nor they him.  To be brutal, he had been lustful, and they had been available and lustful, too.  Gargoyles had never bothered with the niceties of dating; when they had a need, they dealt with it.

Tristan had tried looking at both the gargoyle and human females of his new clan objectively, but while he liked them as sisters of the clan, he felt nothing more for them.  He supposed he liked Maggie’s darker hair and almost elfin features and he also enjoyed the symmetry of Martha’s face, though he would never say the latter out loud – he was not suicidal.

‘I am a fast reader,” he typed.

‘No kidding!  Which did you like best?’

‘I am not sure I could choose one.  I have to agree that I also enjoy the humor in these books.’  He sometimes found it hard to judge human humor, but it had not been difficult in these books.  Gargoyle humor was easy – it was all but non-existent.  ‘I very much enjoyed the take on vampires in Carpe Jugulum.  I cannot say that I particularly enjoy vampire stories, but perhaps I will rethink my stance.’

‘I know, me too!  I think vampires have been done to death, but I love that book.  Particularly the ending where they’re all craving tea and biscuits! ;)’

Tristan peered at the strange use of punctuation.  What on earth was that supposed to signify?  He stared at it for a while and was considering putting it into a search engine until it finally hit him.  It was supposed to be a wink and a smile!  Oh, how clever.

‘I very much enjoyed The Princess Bride also.  Again, fairytales are not something I would normally read, but I liked that there were parts about the writer’s life set amongst the story.’  Here Tristan attempted his own winky face.

“What are you doing?” grumbled Grey.

Tristan jumped up, his wings knocking over a lamp.

“Nothing,” he growled defensively.

The male narrowed his eyes.  “You waste your time with that human contraption.  You should be training and sparring with the rest of us.”

Tristan tried not to roll his eyes.  Grey was of the opinion that everything invented by humans was evil and to be avoided.  Though Tristan knew that Grey had actually been using the shower in his bedroom.  Perhaps the shower was not evil.

“Some may argue you are wasting your time training for a war that is not happening.”

Grey let out a sound of disgust.  “There will always be a war.  Sooner or later the humans will come for us.”

“Perhaps you should train against a human.”

Grey smirked, flexing his muscles as his wings quivered.  “None of them seem keen to fight me.”

Tristan kept his face neutral as he said, “Perhaps you should ask Danica.”

The large male’s eyes flared, and a low snarl vibrated through his throat.  “Do not mention that infernal female to me.”

He stomped out of the room, his whole body trembling.  Tristan let out a long breath and quickly righted his stool and returned to the screen, scanning her new message.  How had they ever managed before Danica showed up?

‘If you like the book you should see the movie – it’s terrific.  I watched The Princess Bride so many times when I was a kid I wore out my VHS.’

Tristan quickly searched what this ‘VHS’ meant – he wasn’t entirely sure after he found out, so he decided to avoid using that word.

‘It was your favorite movie?’

‘It still is, though I have not watched it in a while.  I used to watch it with my mom.  Every Friday night we would curl up on the sofa with mugs of cocoa and those big fat marshmallows – I love those.’

‘Why do you not watch it anymore?’

It took her a while to reply, and he wondered if he had managed to offend her inadvertently and what he could do to remedy that.  But finally, a reply popped up.

*

‘My mom has been sick.  She was diagnosed with cancer, and if it’s not her condition making her sick, it’s the treatment.  She has her good days, but mostly she’s tired and doesn’t even want to eat.  We don’t really seem to have much time for things like watching a movie together anymore.’

Gwen wasn’t sure how much she should say, but her mom’s illness wasn’t exactly a secret around town.

‘The situation must be difficult for you.’

‘She’s my mom; it doesn’t matter if it is difficult.’  She’d work seventeen jobs if it meant she could keep her mom.  ‘I have to go.’

‘I hope my questions have not upset you.’

Gwen shook her head as she typed.  Far from it.

‘Not at all.  It’s quite nice to talk to someone about it (figuratively speaking).  Watch the movie.  Trust me.  I better go; I have work tomorrow.’

‘Good night, Guinevere.’

‘Good night, TG.’

‘Tristan.’

Her stomach fluttered.

‘Good night, Tristan.’

She closed her computer before she did anything impulsive like try to continue the conversation and ask him where he lived and whether he had a girlfriend.

“Tristan.”

She said the name aloud, liking the sound of it.  Definitely a guy then.  She snickered in relief.  Their words weren’t flirty, but she kind of felt like they were vaguely flirting.  He could still technically be extremely old – or some kind of pervert – but she doubted it.

Gwen leaned back in her chair, rolling her neck.  She was exhausted, but she was always exhausted.  She could push through it.  She had a few updates for the website, and she needed to do some ironing – Myrna tut-tutted at her five times that day for her rumpled appearance.  Plus, she’d quite like to spend a bit of time with her mother.

“Honey, dinner’s ready.”

Gwen smiled, thrilled that her mother was feeling more like her old self today, and pleased because she knew just making dinner would make her mother feel happy.

She did have work tomorrow and would be working late at the library.  Business as usual, but… she had enjoyed her brief interaction with Tristan.  It elated her in a way that an e-mail exchange probably shouldn’t.  She was already looking forward to talking to him tomorrow.

*

Tristan read her messages over and over, wishing they were longer, craving more.

He did not know why he had decided to tell her his real name.  He just felt like she needed to know, felt like she should at least know one personal thing about him, given that he could not tell her anything else.

He flicked his tail and strode around the room.

Vaguely, he knew this was madness.  This Guinevere could be anyone – but he found himself intrigued by their interactions, wanting more, needing more.

He had no problem conversing with the other humans who were now part of the clan, but they were mates and friends of the mates.  Creating a human friend for himself was something else, something almost special.  Talking to the other humans was not nearly as interesting or satisfying as conversing with Guinevere.

Perhaps this was a dangerous road to go down, but he could no sooner stop himself than he could stop breathing.

Tristan decided to find the movie and watch it over and over until he loved it as much as she did.

*

A few days later

Gwen damn near skipped out of the library.  How long had it been since she was excited about anything?  Her life until a week ago had been nothing but work and worrying about her mother.  Now she had something to look forward to.

She had been chatting with Tristan every night, and their conversations were slowly getting longer, and more personal.  Though, he was very reticent to tell her anything about himself.  That was slightly worrying.  Mostly she was worried that he didn’t trust her.  It did not occur to her that he may have a vicious motive behind their interactions, but there was something he was not divulging.

Perhaps he was married.  Lord, she hoped not.  If he was, he certainly wasn’t the man she had strangely come to care about.

So desperate to get home, she was almost running, which meant that when she saw the familiar face, she absolutely ground to a halt and tripped over her feet, landing on the ground with a thud.

He didn’t rush over to check she was okay, didn’t bother to help her up.  Figures.

Gwen clambered to her feet, wiping her hands and glaring at him.  “What are you doing here?”

Her dad sauntered over to her.  There were no platitudes, no ‘you look well’, or ‘look how you’ve grown’ – he really couldn’t give a shit about her or her mother.

“I’m getting remarried,” he said.

“Congratulations,” she said sourly.

“I need a divorce from your mother and money from the house.”

“What?!”

He gave her a look of impatience.  “The house is in my name – it belongs to me.  I’m not going to be unreasonable, but I need the money from it.  I’m willing to let you and your mother keep half the money.”

“You’re kidding?”

He just stared at her.  He actually thought he was being reasonable.  He dumped them four years ago, took almost all the little money they had left, then without so much as a postcard, he turned up again demanding they sell their home.

She turned away from him and started walking away.  “Leave us alone.”

“I want my money.”

She ignored him and kept walking.  The nerve of the man!  How could he treat them this way?  Why was she even surprised?  He’d certainly shown how little she or her mother meant to him when he upped and left them to deal with her mom’s enormous medical bills.

Gwen all but stomped home.  Her mother was sitting in the living room reading a book.

“Everything okay, honey?”

Gwen paused.  Her mother really did look well, and she didn’t want to do anything to change that.  So instead of venting about her unreasonable pig of a dad, she merely plastered a smile on and said, “Fine, I’ll be in my room.”

“Okay, I made pizza for dinner.”

“You made pizza?”  Gwen couldn’t remember if they had any in their freezer.

“I made it myself – handmade the base and everything,” her mom told her proudly.

“Sounds great.”

Gwen retreated to her room.  Her mom always used to love cooking, and it always put her in a good mood.  Great.  Just as things are looking up, her dad has to turn up and ruin everything.

She fired up her computer and sagged with relief as she found a message waiting for her.

*

‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

After a few moments, a message popped up.

‘I saw my dad in town today.’

Tristan growled, thinking of the male who had abandoned both Guinevere and her mother.

‘What does he want?’

‘A divorce from my mother, and since he owns the house, he wants us to sell it and give him half the proceeds.  He says he is getting remarried and doesn’t want to be unreasonable.  He thinks this is actually him being reasonable!’

Tristan gripped the computer mouse to near breaking point.  How dare this male demand anything of her!

‘How dare he?!  What can you do?’

‘I don’t know.  I’ll have to talk to my mom about it – before he turns up demanding a divorce.  But I’m worried; she’s been a lot better over the past few days, and I don’t want her health to suffer because he’s a total jackass.’

Tristan wished there was something he could do.  But what could he?  He had no idea who Guinevere even was, let alone what he could actually do to help.  He felt so useless.

‘I wish I could be more help.’

‘Just talking to you helps me.’

*

Gwen hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.  Should she ask him if he wanted to meet?

Do it her inner voice told her.

He may not want to.  He may actually live on the other side of the freaking world for all she knew.  Was she ready to take the plunge?

Over the last week his messages had made her happy, so what if he turned out to be a complete jerk in real life and she was totally disappointed?  Was she willing to take that risk?

“Honey, pizza’s ready.”

“Coming, Mom.”

Saved by the pizza.  She quickly told him she had to go and that she would talk to him again tomorrow.

‘As you wish,’ he replied, and she chuckled at the reference to The Princess Bride.

That was close she reflected as she closed her laptop.  She almost went through with it – almost asked him to get together for coffee.  She wanted to, sure, but she just didn’t know whether it was a good idea.  Maybe she’d sleep on it and decide tomorrow.

What was the worst that could happen?

He could be fifty-five, married with six kids and already have two girlfriends on the side.  Yeah, that would be bad.

Okay, what was the best that could happen?

He could be perfect.

*

“What is this?” growled Luc.

Tristan leaped up from the computer as if he were being attacked.  One moment he was engrossed in Guinevere’s words, and the next he was baring his fangs at his leader.

Luc strode into the room, narrowing his eyes at the computer.  “You are using this thing to communicate with someone?”

“It’s called a computer,” murmured Kylie trailing after him. 

“I was,” admitted Tristan.

“How could you be so foolish?” roared Luc.

“Let’s just try and calm down,” said Kylie helplessly.

Luc ignored her.  His eyes flashed, and his wings flared.  “One of our enemies could be using you to give them information about our clan.”

“I have not told her anything about us,” said Tristan, struggling to maintain his own temper.  He did not like the inference that Guinevere would do anything to hurt them.

“That is what Ric said when he was being manipulated by that woman Blackthorne sent, and look how that turned out!”

“It turned out pretty well,” said Kylie.  Luc scowled at her, and she added, “In the end, I mean.  The kidnapping part wasn’t great; I’ll admit that.”

Luc snarled at Tristan.  “You do not use that thing,” he pointed at the computer, “to contact any more humans, do you understand?”

Tristan puffed out his chest.  He would likely get pulverized by Luc, but he was not giving up Guinevere so easily.  Luc’s face darkened even more as Tristan growled, his wings spreading behind him.

“Luc’s right,” said Kylie in a soothing tone.  “We really do have to be careful – we don’t know that it isn’t Blackthorne or one of his people on the other end of that computer.”

“It is not Blackthorne,” rumbled Tristan.

“I hate to say it, but you don’t know that for certain.”

Tristan glared at Luc, feeling an alien sense of fury towards his leader.  He had never disobeyed before.  He had always been a good gargoyle, always followed the rules, always listened to his leader and did as he was told, even when it took him away from the things he wanted – like a potential mate.  But this was different.  He could feel that it was different.  He would not stand to lose Guinevere for anyone.

He bared his fangs and flexed his wings and Luc did the same.  They were readying to fight when Kylie stepped between them, and they immediately halted.  She was human and pregnant – a potent combination.

“Stop it, this instance!” she yelled, disapproval etched into her expression.

She pointed her finger at Luc.  “You, calm down.”  Then swung it round to Tristan.  “You, stop acting like a baby.  We will find out who it is you’ve been contacting and as long as they are not connected to Blackthorne, well, I guess you can keep talking to them.  I mean, it’s a little weird, but, I guess you can.”

The two males glowered at one another.

“And stop that!”

Finally, Luc nodded in agreement to his mate and gave her cheek a quick stroke to show that he was calming down.

“Come and train with us, Tristan.”

Tristan gave a stiff nod of acquiescence.  He did not like it, but Guinevere was finished messaging for the night.  He had nothing else to do.

He knew he should listen to his leader.  Felt it; it was something deep inside him, a need to obey the most dominant gargoyle.  But there was also a need to communicate with Guinevere, and at that moment, he was not sure which was stronger.

*

Gwen smiled as Martha heaved a huge amount of books onto the library counter.  She was in the middle of checking back a few books, but Myrna was so engrossed in her bridal magazine that she didn’t even look up.

Gwen sighed and got up to help Martha.  She was surprised; Martha wasn’t a big reader usually.  She took out an occasional mystery, but usually, the woman seemed to be too busy to get through a book.

“This is very ambitious,” said Gwen.

Myrna tut-tutted from behind her magazine.  She didn’t like it when Gwen made any comments about what books customers picked out.  According to Myrna, there was librarian-customer confidentiality, which meant they shouldn’t discuss what other people were reading and should also keep their opinions to themselves.  Myrna thought very highly of herself and the library.  Though, in this instance, Myrna didn’t even bother to look up from behind her magazine.

Martha smiled her perfect smile.  “I’ve been meaning to take them out for a few days.  They look fascinating.”

As Gwen sifted through the books, she realized she recognized every single title.  She knew them because she’d read them, and because barely a week ago she had recommended them all to Tristan.

Myrna finally appeared from behind the magazine - apparently, the cake section wasn’t any good - and started chatting with Martha.  She let Martha coo over her engagement ring and then gave the woman an appraising look.

“You’re looking well,” said Myrna just a tad resentfully.

It was a tone Gwen heard most women in town use when talking of Martha.  She was lovely and didn’t even flaunt her beauty.  Though, she could be kind of a pain in the ass – Gwen clung to that to make herself feel better when she had her bad days.

Martha wasn’t just looking well.  She had been looking tired for a couple of months, but now, she was radiant.

“Isn’t Valerie marrying your old boyfriend?” asked Myrna, with just the barest hint of a sly tone.

“Yes, good luck to them,” Martha said amiably, with no suggestion that it bothered her in the least.

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“Honestly, I don’t.”

Gwen didn’t blame her.  She’d seen the guy in question – he looked old and lizard-like.

“New man?” teased Myrna.

“Well… maybe.”  She giggled, and her cheeks turned pink.

Gwen’s heart – which had started sinking when she noticed the books – now took on a full plummet.

“He must be something special,” said Myrna, angling for more details.

“Oh, he is.”

“Spill, who is it?”

Martha looked down evasively.  “He’s not local.”

Gwen’s heart must have reached her feet at that moment.  But surely it was just a coincidence?  Wouldn’t Tristan have told her if he had a girlfriend?  But, he hadn’t really told her anything about himself.  Oh lord – he probably was dating Martha.  How could she compare to her?!

When Myrna realized Martha wasn’t about to give her any details about her new paramour, she let her be on her way and returned to her stack of bridal magazines.

Gwen was in an annoyed funk for the rest of the day and spent the day stacking shelves, trying to avoid customers.  As soon as she got home, she would message him and demand to know whether he was dating Martha.  Yes, it sounded desperate and a little pathetic, but she deserved to know… didn’t she?  Maybe all this time he just thought they were friends.  Was she the only one who had detected a flirty tone between them?

As if she wasn’t annoyed enough, she looked up to find her ex-boyfriend, Tom approaching.  He had that supercilious grin on his face that had driven her nuts while they were together.  He always looked like he was enjoying a private joke at everyone else’s expense.

She muttered a hello and tried not to snap at him when he immediately stood in front of the shelf she was trying to stack.

“Hey, babe.”  He flashed her a toothy smile.  One that he seemed to think was sexy.  It was less attractive than a piano.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Just wanted to see how you were doing, babe.”  He tried for sincere, but nope, arrogance reigned supreme in his expression.

“I’m fine, Tom, just busy with my job.”  She put emphasis on the word job.  Tom had tried working in his dad’s bakeries, but after complaints from the female employees, it was decided that Tom was unemployable.  His dad just gave him money to leave him alone.  Tom had two brothers, and since they were both in business school, Tom was off the hook to be successful.

“You look tired, babe.  You know, if we hadn’t broken up…”

“Tom, please stop calling me babe, and unless you want help in the library, please move – I need to get back to work.”

Tom’s mouth turned into an ugly scowl.  He took a step closer to her and Gwen’s expression hardened.

“Bitch,” he hissed before stomping away.

Gwen shook her head and continued with her task.  She was slightly shaken, but nothing she couldn’t get over – and it was nothing compared to what he said when she did break up with him.

At least things couldn’t get worse… or so she thought.  When she arrived home that evening, she found her father waiting outside their house.  When he saw her, he leaped out of his car and strode towards her.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.  The Universe hated her.

“Gwen,” he started.

“Not interested,” she mumbled, holding up a hand.

“You need to talk to your mother about selling the house.”

“There’s no way I’m doing that – we live there.”

Her dad scowled, and she was reminded of Tom.  Jeez, they looked and acted so alike.  Had she really not noticed until now?  Ugh- she’d been dating a substitute for her dad.

“The house is in my name; I have a right to it!”

Gwen gave him a cold look.  “I think you gave away your rights to anything when you packed up and left us when we needed you most.”

“I’m not leaving without my money.  If you don’t want to sell the house, then simply give me the cash value.  Either way suits me.”

“There’s no way we can afford that.”

Her dad waved his hand dismissively.  “I’m sure you’ll work something out.”

Gwen watched with an open jaw as he walked away, got in his car and left.  Yeah, sure!  She’d just break open her piggy bank, and there it would be!

How the hell could he just turn up and demand anything?  No, how are you?  No, I’ve missed you.  No apology for abandoning them.  Bupkis!

She recalled when she was thirteen, and she came home from school to find her dad really had smashed her piggy bank for the few coins it contained.  He had claimed it was to buy a birthday present for her mom, though the only thing he gave her that year was a card.  Yeah, leaving them actually improved his parenting record. 

She stomped into the house.

“Hello, honey.”

“Mom?”  She found her mother pottering around the kitchen.

Her mother’s face creased with concern.  “What’s wrong?  You look upset.”

“I ah, I’m fine.  What about you?”  She had an urge to rush to her mother, to get her to sit down, to stop her from doing whatever she was doing – to coddle her completely.

“I’m feeling a lot better so I thought I’d cook for you.”

“You don’t need to, Mom, I’m perfectly…”

“I know, but I want to help out, and I’m not entirely useless.”

“I didn’t say you were, but…”

“I did some washing and ironing earlier as well.”  She beamed proudly.

“Thanks, but…  Did you bake cupcakes?”

There was a box of brightly decorated confections on the counter.  Mmmm, red velvet – gah!  Gwen put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from drooling all over them.

“No, they’re from Martha.  She stopped by earlier.”

“Humph.”  Gwen wasn’t exactly feeling very cordial towards Devil Hang’s resident bossy goddess.  “What did she want?”

Her mom raised an eyebrow in surprise at her tone.  “Nothing, really.  She comes by every week – you know that.”

“Woman’s a busybody,” said Gwen sulkily.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Gwen hesitated, considering whether she should tell her.  “It’s just been a long day.  Let me help you.”

“Nonsense, go and relax and if I need you, I’ll call you.”

Gwen supposed she did want to check for messages.  She’d been looking forward to it since last night, though that had dimmed after Martha visited the library.

She told herself it didn’t matter even if Tristan was dating Devil’s Hang very own goddess, Gwen would still enjoy messaging him… probably.  She would be disappointed, she wouldn’t deny that, but she’d get over it, right?

Gwen took a deep breath and switched on her computer, quickly checking for messages.  Nada.  Zilch.  No messages.

She slumped back on her bed and tried not to imagine all the things Tristan might be doing at that moment.

*

Tom squinted at the old guy.  For a moment, Tom worried he was Gwen’s new boyfriend, but given the expression on her face – less friendly even than when she talked to him – he guessed not.  Guy did look familiar, though.  The man started walking back to his car, and Gwen stomped into her house.  He wasn’t local but… holy shit!  It was her dad.

Huh.  Been a while since he was around.  Back before he left, Gwen had only been a teenager, and Tom hadn’t paid her any mind – she’d been too young for him.  Even he wasn’t interested before they turned legal.

But she was his now.  He’d been patient, waiting for her to come crawling back and admit she made a mistake, but there had been nothing from her.  No groveling apologies, no begging, and he was tired of waiting.

Tom had dated half the women in this town, and the town over, and not to mention a couple of dozen one-night stands in Portland, and he was ready to settle down.  Gwen was ideal.  He didn’t want a woman who had been with many other men – sluts.  Gwen had only her high school pussy of a boyfriend before him.

She was one of the prettiest girls in town and hadn’t gone to college – so she wasn’t all high and mighty and didn’t think she was better than him.  Plus, she was poor – she depended on him and his money.

She really was perfect.  She just had to be made to see how much she needed him.

*

Tristan glared at the broken computer.  Luc hadn’t actually intended to break it, but he was angry, and his tail had whipped it and… it was unusable until further notice.  In fact, Kylie had used the words ‘broken beyond fricking belief’ while groaning in exasperation.  She said she would purchase a new one for the house, but it would not arrive soon enough.  He needed to contact Guinevere that night before she thought he had forgotten her, or was not interested anymore, or found another male to message.  Grrr!

“Hey, Tristan,” said Martha brightly, sashaying into the room.

Tristan barely glanced at her.

“I brought you the books; I’ll just leave them here.”

He looked up briefly and forced out a, “Thank you.”

“What is this?” growled Drago, making a thunderous entrance as usual.  His huge wings smashed into a bookcase sending many books flying.  Oh well, they were only rare first editions – nothing to worry about.

Tristan inhaled, eyeing the enormous male warily.  Drago was a slave to his temper, and they all were cautious about approaching him.  Tristan may be angry and annoyed, but he hadn’t quite reached suicidal yet.  Irritate Drago at your peril.

But, as Martha looked up at him, her face lit up.  “Drago,” she said in a breathy voice as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks, rather than merely hours.

Drago tried to maintain his glower at Tristan, but as Martha flew into his arms, he was otherwise distracted.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk,” entreated Martha, smiling shyly.

He nodded at Martha and allowed her to lead him away, his suspicious ire forgotten.

Tristan sighed and gathered up the books from the floor.  He actually tried to read one, tried to forget about Guinevere, but he couldn’t.  She would think he had abandoned her, would think he did not wish to converse with her anymore.  It was the furthest thing from the truth.  Talking to her was the only thing he really cared about.  She made him happier than he had been for centuries, or perhaps ever, and he wasn’t about to lose her.

He would find a way.

*

There was no message from Tristan all night, and she checked virtually every five minutes.  She kept saying she had to go to the bathroom, and it got to the point where her mom thought she had a serious ‘bathroom’ problem and was trying to make an appointment for her to see their local doctor, Dr. White.

Gwen checked her e-mail while working at the library as well, but there was still no response from him.  She had put a few messages out there, asking if everything was okay, but still nothing.

She allowed herself a few minutes to stop worrying and despairing over Tristan, and actually started worrying about her other – and some might say more pressing – problem.  Namely, her dad.

What was she supposed to do?  He said he would take money, but they didn’t have any savings.  Everything they had went to her mother’s medical bills and there was no way in hell they were not getting paid – they were priority one.

She didn’t want to bring up the situation with her mom considering how perky she was – this might upset her and affect her recovery.  But Gwen didn’t know what else to do.

Perhaps they could keep the house, but he could easily sue for half the proceeds, and while he may not ultimately get it, they would waste a heck of a lot of money in lawyer fees making sure he didn’t.

The only thing they really had going for them was the darn house – if they had to move and pay rent she wasn’t sure how long they could manage.

And as if her day couldn’t be more miserable, Tom had just walked into the library.  The man probably hadn’t read a thing since three years before he graduated high school, but here he was, strolling to the desk with that stupid high-and-mighty grin on his face.

Hopefully, he was just there to rub it in her face about what an idiot she was for dumping him, or maybe he had a new girlfriend he wanted to gloat about.  She’d take either of those over an attempt to get her back.

If only Myrna hadn’t gone out to lunch with her fiancé, Gwen would have foisted him off on her.

Nope.  Time to suck it up.  It was her fault for dating him in the first place – now she had to be nice to him.

Gwen plastered a smile on her face.  “Hello, Tom.”

The grin widened, and she wondered how she had never noticed how big his head was.  He had played football in high school, but that was a long time ago.  He still worked out sporadically, but his muscles were flabby, and he sported a red-cheeked complexion of someone who drank far too much.

“Hey, babe.”

Ugh.  Babe.  When Joely at the diner called her babe, she was fine with it.  Joely was being affectionate, and Joely often gave them leftovers from the diner.  But when Tom said babe, it made her want to take a three-day shower.  There was just a sleazy quality in the way he said it, and no matter how many times she asked he would not stop calling her babe.

“How can I help you?”  Perhaps by showing him the exit?

He placed his hands on the desk, leaning towards her so far that she nearly gagged on his aftershave.  Someone should tell him that less really is more.  Had it been this bad when they dated?  Her mind wandered as she wondered what aftershave Tristan wore.  She bet he smelled divine.

“I saw your dad in town,” he said with a certain amount of relish.

“Oh.”  She drummed her fingers on the desk.  So what if he had.  She had no idea the two even knew each other.  “And?”

“He told me about the house, and how it’s in his name.”

“Maybe so, but no judge is going to kick us out.”

“Legally, he owns it.”

Gwen’s cheek twitched, irritated that he was bringing it up – it was none of his damn business.  “Well, legally, we’re still his wife and kid – so we deserve to be there.”

“He’s going to sue you for the money, you know.”

“Did you want help finding a book or…”

“You’re going to drown in lawyers’ fees and not be able to pay your mom’s medical bills.”  He looked thrilled about that.

“I don’t really want to talk about this.”

“And I don’t want to see my girl homeless.”  His voice almost turned into a purr.

“I’m not your…”

“I’ll pay your dad, give him the money to go away and make sure he never bothers you again.”

Gwen stared at him, waiting for it.  She wasn’t foolish enough to get excited over his offer.  It would come with a price and one that she definitely was not willing to pay.

“I’ll always take care of my girl.”

“You want to get back together?” she said dryly.  Really?  After he badmouthed her all over town, he really wanted her back?

He leaned an inch closer, and she forced herself not to flinch.  “We should never have broken up – it was a misunderstanding.”

“You wanted me to abandon my mother.”

Tom nodded, giving her almost a hangdog expression – not a sincere one mind.  “That was my mistake.  Your mother can move in with us, I mean, I’m sure she’ll be helpful when we have kids and…”

“Kids?!”

“After we get married, I think we should start trying straight away.”

Gwen gaped at him.  Damn!  He didn’t just want his docile little girlfriend back; he wanted to lock her into marriage and get her to spawn his children!

“Tom, I…”

“Think about it,” he said with a wink, and before she could tell him no, or show him no by vomiting or something, he was gone.  Sauntering out the library like he was walking on freaking sunshine.

Marry that bonehead?!  Was she really willing to go that far to save her house?

Perhaps Tristan could…  No, she really didn’t know anything about him; she couldn’t rely on him.  Though, a message from him wouldn’t go amiss right now.

*

Tristan’s patience was wearing thinner than a tissue.

He was itching to contact Guinevere but had no means to do so.  The computer had not been replaced, and he had not been able to find anything else he could use.  The humans always seemed to be tapping away on phones and tablets, and yet he could not find one when he needed it.

He had already failed to contact her the previous evening.  He would not do so again.  He could almost feel the female slipping away him, and he knew he couldn’t let that happen.

Perhaps Andrew could help; Tristan knew that the male owned his own computer.  Something he called a laptop.  Tristan was sure he could persuade him to lend it for an evening or two.

Tristan strode into the garden, searching for the male.  He found Grey and Cai sparring while Cai’s mate, Ingrede looked on, cheering her mate while holding their youngling Wolfe and patting her rapidly expanding stomach.  It would not be long until she birthed their second youngling.  Another young gargoyle; it was what the clan needed.  Though, with all the human and gargoyle matings, soon there would be more than just Kylie expecting her own half human, half gargoyle offspring.

“Where is Andrew?” he demanded sharply.

Grey roared as he landed a blow on Cai’s right shoulder.  The male stumbled back, growling and throwing his wings in front of him defensively.  Ingrede bared her fangs while Grey smirked.

“What are you doing out here?” sneered Grey.  “Oh that is right – Luc destroyed your human computer.  Finally managed to remember that you are a gargoyle and decided to join us for some sparring?  I am already thrashing this one,” he jutted his chin at Cai.

“By Hades, you are not!” howled Ingrede and Wolfe shook his little fist in agreement.

“I’ll thrash you, too,” finished Grey, ignoring her.

Tristan withheld the eye roll and turned to Ingrede.  “Do you know where he is?  I need to speak to him.”

Ingrede opened her mouth to answer when Grey grasped his shoulder and Tristan reeled, his wings and fists flying in frustration, scoring a direct hit to the surprised Grey.  Tristan sent him head over heels.

Cai bellowed in laughter as Grey got to his feet, blinking in surprise.

“Do not push me,” warned Tristan.  He had just as much training as Grey, and while he may not be as large or strong, he was faster and perfectly capable of fighting.

“No need to overreact,” scowled Grey.

Though he was relieved that Grey seemed too stunned to finish the fight.  Grey would likely annihilate him, and Tristan really didn’t have the time.

Ingrede touched his arm, a small smile playing on her lips.  “Andrew and Maggie are both out of the country.  After they returned from Buenos Aires, they left straight away to go to Alaska.”

Grey continued grumbling under his breath about ‘lucky shots’, but Tristan ignored him and nodded his thanks.

Tristan needed a computer to speak to Guinevere.  If he could not find one at the house, then it was time to go further afield.

*

She debated as to whether it could wait until the next day, but Myrna would be the first one in, and she wouldn’t be pleased.  Gwen had been pushing Myrna enough recently by always being late and rumpled in appearance; she didn’t want to add to the reasons she was a bad employee.

Her stomach growled threateningly.  After Tom’s visit, she didn’t have the stomach to eat – she had thrown out her unappetizing looking sandwich, which had leaked all over her purse anyway.  That was a mistake as she had been in a rush and missed breakfast.  Now, she was pretty much running on empty and starting to feel a little woozy.

But, she dutifully turned on her heels and marched back to town.  Hey, people went on hunger strikes all the time – she’d manage for another hour or two.

*

Tristan took a few moments to wander around the town library.

“So many books,” he murmured wondrously.

In his time, he had found books and scraps of writing wherever he could.  His clan had not been close to humans, and he was never permitted to enjoy any of their libraries.  In his new home, the professor’s library was impressive for a private collection, but this was wonderful.

He recalled Martha a few nights ago talking about the library, and how she was trying to raise money to buy newer computers than they already had and to have an alarm fitted.  It meant at that moment, there was no alarm and there were computers, waiting to be used.  Therefore, ideal for his purpose.

The library had been easy to find.  He had kept to the shadows and managed to pick the lock to the back door. Many gargoyles eschewed skills such as lock picking.  Their clawed fingers were not ideal for the task, and they thought it far too sneaky.  No, the correct gargoyle thing to do was to break down the door and cause as much mayhem and damage as possible.  But Tristan understood the significance of stealth.  It was a concept he had worked hard to teach his old clan before he realized they were un-teachable.

He browsed a few of the titles, frowning at the large selection of paperbacks sporting pictures of females wearing very little and males bearing their chests.  Apparently, this section was called romance.  He picked one at random and flicked through a few pages.  But realizing the need for urgency, he quickly found a computer, already happily turned on.  It was a slower version of the mansion’s computer and fortunately he had no issues in using it.

Tristan found the web page and sent a message to Guinevere, grimacing at the several messages of worry she had sent him.  He apologized for not replying sooner and hoping she was doing well.

He waited impatiently for a response, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.  He didn’t even hear the front door.

*

Gwen made her way through the library in the dark.  She didn’t need lights; she knew the layout like the back of her hand.

She paused as she was approaching the computers.  Something wasn’t right.

“Hello?” she called out.

A figure turned, looming out of the darkness.  It rose to its huge height, and illuminated against the computer screens she could make out wings and horns and…

At that point, she fainted.

*

Now… post kidnapping

“What is going on?” asked Grey approaching, and eyeing Castor and Tristan suspiciously.

Tristan groaned.  Yes, this was just what he needed.

“It appears Tristan has kidnapped a human.”  Castor was not quite as horror-stricken as Tristan assumed he would be.  He actually seemed pretty calm.

“Not on purpose,” hissed Tristan, cradling the small human a little closer as Grey tried to peer at her.  “It just happened.”

Grey nodded, his steel-like eyes turning even harder.  “I see.  You plan to ransom her back to the humans to teach them a lesson.  Ruthless - I fully support it.”

“No!” cried Tristan, glancing down at the still sleeping female.

Grey pursed his lips in thought for a few moments before an idea seemed to strike him like lightening.  “Then this female has done you an injustice, and you plan to punish her.  Despicable – I fully support it.”

“Of course not,” sighed Tristan.

“Then why?”

“It was an accident,” he maintained, though he wasn’t exactly sure how long he could maintain that, and by the looks on Castor and Grey’s faces, they didn’t accept that as an explanation even for a second.

Castor took on a guarded look as his eyes flickered between him and his precious bundle.  She was precious, too.  The moment he saw her he had been struck by her face.  It was perfect, absolutely symmetrical and appealing in a way he couldn’t understand, never mind explain.  Her skin was pale, stark against the black of her hair and the rosiness of her cheeks – indeed they looked like two ripe apples.  He was reminded of the fairy tale Snow White.  She was how he imagined she would look, and she looked very much like the princess from the animated cartoon that Joely’s youngling adored.  If he recalled, she ate a poisoned apple and had to be resuscitated by a prince.  He did so by kissing her – quite unlike the resuscitation method he had read about in a medical journal, but it seemed to do the trick.  Perhaps he should kiss her…  Tristan blushed at his own fanciful ideas.

“I fear this is a result of all your book learning,” droned Grey in an insufferably self-righteous voice.  “This is why I refuse to learn how to read.  Books can be dangerous.”

Only when throwing them, Tristan thought acidly.  He would remember to throw a few at Grey when this was all over.

“Thank you for that, now what on earth should I do with her?”

Grey snorted.  “Have not your books taught you anything?”

“I was talking to Castor.”

“She has seen you?” rumbled the large gargoyle.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly, “that is why she fainted.”

Tristan adjusted her slightly in his arms, and her pale pink lips twitched.  He had not known what else to do.  She saw him.  Hurt a little that it immediately made her faint, but humans were not used to seeing his kind.

She had midnight black lashes that fanned over her cheeks.  Her face was heart shaped and her mouth like a small rosebud.  Her pert nose wrinkled as a lock of her silky black hair fell over her face.  Carefully balancing her, he pushed it away.  He did not like it covering her – he wanted to see her, all of her.

He had thought to ask Gracchus for help, but the male was away somewhere and asking Luc and admitting his stupidity was not an option… yet.  He thought Castor was the next best thing to Gracchus.  Grey was just an unfortunate interloper to the situation.

Castor looked at her thoughtfully.  “Could you return her home, and perhaps she will believe it was nothing more than a dream?”

“I am uncertain where she lives.”

“Then return her to where you found her.”

“Then he should not have taken her in the first place,” said Grey.

“You are not helping!” snapped Tristan.

He probably should have just left her.  It had been dark; she could easily have believed she was mistaken in what she saw.  But he had not wanted to leave her alone, unprotected.  He had looked down at her small form and something stirred inside him.

“We do not know that she would have simply thought it to be a dream.  She could have told anyone and gargoyle hunters might have turned up at our door,” argued Tristan defensively.

Castor let out a low, throaty sound.  “Perhaps we could reason with her not to say anything.”

“We?” huffed Grey.

Tristan narrowed his eyes, wishing the male would take the hint and take himself away, far away – preferably Mongolia.  “I am sure any reasoning you possessed would have her running to the nearest human authority she could find.”

Castor nodded.  “When she wakes up we will try and talk to her, for now, we can put her in the house – out of sight from the others.”

“I will put her in my room – I never use it.”  Each gargoyle had been given a room.  Some of the couples used theirs for, well, coupling, but Tristan barely set foot in his.

Grey let out a mirthless laugh.  “Yes, I’m sure waking up a stranger’s bedroom will not scare her at all – oof!”

That earned him another hit, and this time it was intentional.

*

Gwen awoke to a lot of whispers.  Two deep voices – one of which could certainly be described as surly, and another voice, a softer voice, a gentler voice and one that made her toes curl.

“What exactly will you say to her?”  That was the surly voice.

“I do not know,” replied the gentle voice.

“Do you plan to keep her here against her will?”

“Of course not!”

“She is waking up.”

“Well, obviously!”

“Mom?” she said through a thick mouth and a sense that something was very off.

Her stomach gurgled in a deafening and embarrassing way.  She really should have fished her gross sandwich out of the trash earlier.

“She is hungry, go fetch her some food.”

“Why should I?” groused the surly one.

“Just do it!”

There were grumbling noises that sounded strangely like thunder before some thumping sounds indicated that somebody large was leaving.

Was it the TV?  What was happening?  The bed she was on felt a lot more comfortable than her usual lumpy mattress.

“What happened?” she mumbled.

She opened her eyes, trying to focus on the face staring at her.  The first thing she saw were his kind eyes, large brown eyes filled with concern and haloed with short dark lashes.

Instinctively, she smiled.  “Hey.”

“Hello,” replied the owner of the eyes.  He was the one with the nice voice; the one that warmed her stomach and had her as satisfied as a mug of cocoa and marshmallows on a cold winter day.

His blue face crinkled into a smile and she thought how unusually pretty he was.  Her eyes wandered over his features.  Over his Romanesque nose, the two horns protruding from the top of his head and his pointed ears.  None of this seemed particularly odd to her until she glanced over his shoulder, past his wings, and saw the other guy.  This one wasn’t quite so warm and inviting.  Just the look of him made her eyes widen and gave a sharp kick to her senses.  She was in a strange room with two men who had wings, tails and freaking horns!

What happened at the library jolted back to her memory, and she looked around her in a panic, searching for an exit.

“Try not to be alarmed,” said the male in front of her, and as she focused on him, she started to calm.  Then the other one snorted, and sense returned once again, and Gwen immediately started screaming.

“Keep her quiet!” snarled the other male.

“Please, calm down,” murmured the first one, holding out his clawed blue hands.

Oh, hell no!  She didn’t care how chocolatey his voice was, or how pretty his eyes.  Gwen reached out and grabbed the nearest object – a lamp – and threw it at him.  She scrambled off the side of the bed as he ably caught it and sighed.

“Relax, female,” said the other male in an even voice, carefully approaching her.

“Do not hurt her,” growled the first male, replacing the lamp.

Gwen snatched hold of a vase and threw it at the second one.  There was no satisfying crunch as he caught it too.  Were they acrobats or something?!

She pelted past him, through the door, crashing into a third creature that appeared to be carrying soup.  It went all over him, the thick brown liquid smearing over his red-skinned chest.

“Arthur’s sword!” he bellowed.

“What is happening?” called a familiar voice.

“Martha, come back!” snarled an irritated male’s voice.

But as Gwen tried to make a run for it, she found herself facing a worried looking Martha wearing nothing but a set of lacy and extremely skimpy red underwear.

“Martha?!” she shrieked in shock.

Part of her was clinging to the thought that maybe this was a dream – but why would she dream about Martha in her underwear?  Well, maybe that one time…

Martha gently held her shoulders, her worried face peering down at her.  But just as Gwen was prepared to stop panicking, another of the huge beasts arrived behind Martha, glowering at Gwen and he was…

“Holy cow!”

Completely naked, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination – and there was no way her imagination could dream up anything like that!

Martha groaned.  “Drago, please put something on.  You’re scaring her.”

Gwen heard the pounding of feet behind her as she pointedly avoided looking anywhere near the huge male.

“What on earth is happening?” asked Martha, looking around at all of them.

“Ah…” started the male still carrying the soup bowl – even though the soup was all over him.  He stopped and stared at Martha.  But his eyes didn’t get very far.

“Stop looking at my mate!” howled the giant naked one.

He had the soupy creature by the throat and started slamming him against the wall.

“Help!” the male rasped.

Martha and the second male ran to his aid.  Martha took the big one’s arm - or at least hung from it.

“Please Drago, don’t.”

“Just remain calm, we are not going to hurt you,” said the one with kind eyes as he tried to approach an open-mouthed Gwen.

Well, they weren’t hurting Martha, so maybe everything would be…

“Let him down, you big buffoon!”

Gwen whipped around to see a young woman with a shaved head, glowering at the male Martha called Drago.  Her hands suddenly lit up with fire, and everyone shouted, “No.”

“Martha!” snarled Drago, covering her with his wings.

Gwen was body slammed as kind eyes covered her with his wings.

“Tristan!” called Martha struggling under the weight of Drago, “is she okay?”

“Tristan!” exclaimed Gwen, looking into those damn eyes.  “I’m Guinevere!”

Then she fainted again.

*

Guinevere.  He had no idea it was her!

He’d found her lovely, but he couldn’t have guessed it was also the female he had enjoyed conversing with.  She was lovelier than he could have imagined.  He did not look at humans and find them either attractive or unattractive – he wasn’t sure what was supposed to be beautiful in humans, but she appealed to him in a way none other ever had… and he had made her faint twice, not to mention the kidnapping part and having her almost toasted by on overzealous Danica.

The only thing really injured from Danica’s outburst was an antique painting of a young shepherd boy rounding up sheep.  It was pretty hideous to begin with, so none of them thought it would be missed.  Drago was slightly singed, but he didn’t seem to notice much.

“No, no, no!” growled Castor to Grey and Danica.  “We are not killing anyone!”

Tristan snarled at the three of them while Martha threw them a panicky look.  Drago grunted reassuringly.  At least Drago would keep them under control.  Martha apparently knew his Guinevere – she wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, and so by extension neither would Drago.

But the way Tristan was feeling at that moment, he felt like he would fight anyone and destroy anything that tried to hurt her, or even touch her, or perhaps even look at her in a funny way.

It was perhaps fortunate that the house was so empty.  Annis and Brom were at their human mates’ homes and the other gargoyles out hunting.  He believed Luc had taken Kylie somewhere for a little alone time – something that was in short supply around there he thought sourly.  While Martha’s father had decided to tag along with the hunt – he made a good companion for Leo, an elderly gargoyle who had difficulty keeping up with his younger brothers and sisters.

Guinevere started stirring.  Her sculpted mouth puckered and her forehead creased.

“Gwen,” exclaimed Martha, squeezing her arm.

“Is the big one wearing clothes?” whispered Guinevere.  “I’m not opening my eyes until I’m sure he is.”

Martha sighed, a little in relief.  “He is, I promise.”  She sent her mate a reproachful look, but he just snorted.

“Martha is too,” put in Danica, “so you don’t have to worry about tripping over Grey’s big, fat, floppy, wet tongue!”

She glared at Grey who was torn between snarling at her and protecting himself from the stirring Drago.  “I was not looking at her!”

“You were drooling,” grouched Danica, folding her arms and clearly pouting.

Tristan ignored them.  “Guinevere?”

Those long eyelashes fluttered, and chocolate brown eyes immediately sought him.

“Tristan?”

“Guinevere?!”

“Tristan?!”

“What is happening?” murmured Castor to Danica.  “Is this normal for a human female?”

“You’re asking her?” sneered Grey.

There was a muffled ‘ow’ and a slight smell of singed flesh, but Tristan didn’t take his eyes from Guinevere.

She seemed to be at a loss, and her eyes continuously roamed over his body.  He wondered if she was disappointed - as if he was somehow lacking.  As if she wished he were human.

Her stomach let out a loud rumble, and her expression passed from confused to abashed.

“How long since you last ate?” asked Martha just a tad censoriously.

Guinevere shrugged.  “I’ve kind of been busy today, what with one thing and another.”

Her eyes finally left him and moved onto the other gargoyles, before landing on Drago and quickly moving back to Tristan.

“Grey, please bring her something to eat,” said Martha.

“I already did,” he complained, “and she threw it on me, and I do not take orders from you, female.”

Drago rose to his feet slowly, his wild gaze finding Grey.  The male watched him uncertainly.

“Oh, I’ll go!” grumbled Danica, “since it’s such a big deal.”

“I did not say I would not,” argued Grey as the two of them bickered all the way to the kitchen.

“I will make sure they do not burn the whole house down,” sighed Castor trailing after them.

Martha looked between Tristan and Guinevere for a couple of beats before she went over to Drago and took his hand.  “I need your help with something in… another room.”

“What?” he asked curiously.

Martha smiled.  “Does it matter?”

His lips twitched, and he eagerly pulled her with him as he virtually ran out of there, leaving the two of them alone.  Tristan’s wings twitched.

“What are… ah, I mean, what…”

“I am a gargoyle.”

*

A gargoyle?

She’d seen gargoyles in movies and on TV, and the stone ones on buildings, but none had ever looked quite so human.  Obviously, he wasn’t human but…

“What were you doing in the library at night?”

“I was trying to send you a message,” he admitted a tad bashfully.

“How come you stopped?  I was worried you…” were too busy to contact me because you were canoodling with Martha.  She let the sentence hang in the air

“My chief found out that I had made contact with you and forbade me from doing so again.  He fears the exposure of our kind.”

“But you didn’t listen?”

“I did not wish for you to believe I had abandoned you.”

Gwen flushed as she realized she had confided quite a few personal details with him.  Would she have done so had she known he was a gargoyle?  Honestly, she had no idea.  She wasn’t entirely sure she believed he existed now and she was looking right at him!  Perhaps she should touch him to make sure he really was real.

“Why were you in the library?” he asked.

“I work there, and I went back to turn off all the computers.”

He pursed his lips in disapproval.  “Hmmm, it is not safe for you to be out alone at night.”

“Tell me about it; there are gargoyles lurking everywhere.”

She giggled nervously, and Tristan smiled slightly.  A voice in the back of her head told her over and over this wasn’t possible – that he couldn’t possibly be real, and yet, he was.  The voice also told her she should be terrified of him – or at least mildly worried.  Yet, she wasn’t.

“No wonder you didn’t want to talk about yourself.”

Tristan chuckled lowly.  The sound was rich, and tingle inducing.  “It is hard to explain to a human that you are a creature they never knew even existed.”

“Yes, I can honestly say I never saw it coming.”

She looked at him over and over, and despite her initial shock, she wasn’t scared of him.  He was… Tristan.  The same Tristan she had been talking to.  Okay, so he didn’t look anything like she was expecting, but it was still him, and intrinsically she felt safe with him.

“I am sorry I kidnapped you,” he said, not quite able to meet her eyes.  “I did not wish to leave you alone.”

“It’s, ah, okay.”

She’d never expected to be told sorry for being kidnapped – what was the correct response?  Lots of strange new experiences today.

Gwen bit her lip.  “I should really be getting home.”  Her mom was probably wondering where she was.

“After you eat,” he said with a slightly bossy edge.

“Sure.”  Her stomach gave a wobble of agreement.

“About what you have seen here…”

“I… I won’t say a word to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You believe me, right?  You’re not going to keep me here?”

“No, I would not do that.  I do trust you.”

That elated her more than it probably should.

*

Martha offered to drive her home, and Gwen eagerly accepted.  She didn’t really trust her legs to get her there at that moment.

Neither Drago nor Tristan had been particularly pleased to see the two of them leave.  Drago had to be distracted by the unfortunate Grey while Martha slipped out the door.  Tristan had merely looked at Gwen uncertainly as she left.  He did not say anything, but he must have been wondering whether they would continue their… what would anyone call it?  Their relationship?  Or was that too strong of a word for what they had?

Honestly, she didn’t know where they went from there.  She was still trying to process everything.  Gargoyles!  Actual freaking gargoyles existed.  Not to mention…

“That girl, Danica…” started Gwen.

Martha pressed her lips together.  “We’d rather you didn’t mention her to anyone.  A lot of people want to use her for her abilities.”

“So she really can start fires with her mind?”

Martha nodded, and Gwen let out a breath, slumping into her car seat.  Either the world was a lot crazier than she thought, or this was one very long, detailed hallucination brought on by exhaustion.

Her mind kept wandering back to Tristan.  Of all the scenarios she was expecting for her online friend, a gargoyle definitely wasn’t one of them.  She had thought they were flirting, but that couldn’t be true given what he was… could it?  Martha had certainly seemed enamored by the large gargoyle.

Gwen slanted a look at the tall blonde, remembering how she had looked in that skimpy underwear, and feeling mightily relieved that at least she wasn’t dating Tristan.  As far as Gwen knew, Tristan was available.  But still a gargoyle.  But should that make a difference?

Ugh!  Thank heavens it was her day off tomorrow.  She could sleep all day long and mope over the situation to her heart’s content.

*

It was pretty late by the time she made it home.  Surprisingly, her mom was still up and reading a book.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, honey, did you have a good time tonight?”

Martha didn’t want her to worry and had called her mom to say they were hanging out.  Apparently, her mom believed that without question.  Either her mom was incredibly trusting, or Martha was an excellent liar - probably a little of both.  It also made her wonder how long Martha had been lying to cover up dating a gargoyle.  Well, however long, she certainly looked happy.

“Sure,” she muttered as she realized her mom was waiting for a reply.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She smiled, though she looked a little pale and Gwen’s protectiveness kicked in.

“Are you okay?  You look pale.”

“I’m fine; don’t worry.  Tilly from next door came round, and we watched The Bachelor.  If anything, I’m just emotionally drained because he picked all the girls that were completely wrong for him.”

Gwen chuckled, shaking her head.  “I thought you hated that show.”

Her mom had never been keen on TV.  She had only picked up her soap opera habit in the last few years when her illness meant that she didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

Her mom shrugged.  “Tilly loves it, and Tilly’s enthusiasm can be infectious.”

Gwen yawned.  “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Good night, honey.”

“Night mom.”

As she lay in bed that night, she reflected on the truly odd day she had, but the one thing that kept coming back to her was Tristan’s face, with his warm smile and kind eyes.

*

He regretted not eliciting a promise from her that he would see her again, but in truth, he had been fearful of her answer.  He cursed his reticence now.  Surely it was better to know she hated him now than to wonder about it for days and possibly weeks.  But she was shocked by the gargoyles’ existence, and even more shocked to learn she had been communicating with one.  He needed to give her time.  Once the truth sank in, she was more likely to give him a favorable answer.

At least she had not been too horrified by his appearance.  In his time he had known humans who had looked upon his kind with hatred, who had thought them demonic and beastly.

In fact, she had even smiled at him, and if he was not mistaken, there was wonder in her eyes when she first caught sight of him.  Was it too much to hope that she could see past what he was to the person she already knew?  Could she see him as something more than a monster?

*

Gwen slept until the afternoon, her dreams peppered with flying creatures and one in particular who smiled at her, giving her some very funny feelings.

She would have lounged for longer were it not for the unbearably loud arguing from outside her door.  At first, she told herself it was just the TV, but as she regained consciousness, she realized one of the loud voices belonged to her mom, and the other, her dad.

Gwen rolled out of bed, landing on one of the many piles of clothes currently decorating her bedroom floor and pulled on her robe.  She stumbled into the living room to find her mom shouting at her dad.

“I want a divorce and the money I am owed from my house!” yelled her dad.

“You can have your damn divorce, but you will get money out of me over my dead body!”

“Don’t tempt me,” he hissed, his face twisting into an ugly expression.

“Get out, or I’m calling the cops.”

“I won’t wait forever,” he said, and while the words were not threatening, the tone certainly was.  He raked a contemptuous look over both Gwen and her mom and marched out the house.

“Mom?”

Her mother looked more agitated than the time Gwen microwaved her Barbie doll.  She was only five, and she had dropped the doll in a puddle and wanted to dry her off quickly.  It started a fire, destroyed the microwave and melted Barbie.  Her mom blamed her dad who hadn’t been watching Gwen.  No, he’d gone to the store to buy some beers and left Gwen to her own devices.  The Barbie was replaced, though Gwen’s aversion to microwaves persisted to that day.

“You knew he was back?”

“Well, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gwen toyed with the sash of her robe, feeling guilty and foolish.  “I didn’t want to upset you.”

Rather than anger, her mother’s face creased in sadness.  “Oh, honey, I’m your mother – let me do the worrying.”

“But, what are we going to do?”

“I’d be glad to give him a divorce,” scoffed her mom.  “But I’m not letting him walk away with my house.  I’m going to talk to Tilly; her cousin is a receptionist at a law firm.  I’ll get us some advice.”

Gwen felt her stomach turn to stone as she thought of Tom’s offer.  “Mom, Tom said that…”

“I don’t care what that man has to say about anything,” she interrupted waspishly.

She blinked at her mother’s sudden, fiery tone.  “But don’t you…”

“Honey, I didn’t like to say anything while you were dating, but that man was not and is not good enough for you.  I don’t want you going back to him just because you’re worried about money.

“I’m your mother, and I appreciate and feel completely guilty about everything you do for me, but this is my fault – I should have filed for divorce when he left, I should have sorted out the house.  Let me do the worrying for once.  Now, you’ve had a long week – why don’t you bring your quilt out and when I get back from next door we’ll watch our favorite film – it feels like ages since we did that.”

Gwen beamed, feeling infinitely happier.  “I’d love that.  I’m going to get some toaster waffles.”

“Get me some too and don’t forget the cocoa.”

*

Gwen made it through the door to her bedroom and let out an eep as she found a gargoyle struggling through her bedroom window.

“Hello,” he said slightly awkwardly.

“Gwen?” called her mom.

“I’m fine, just stubbed my toe, night!” she blurted as she quickly shut her door.

Gwen hovered next to the struggling gargoyle and Tristan grimaced.

“I believe my wings are stuck.”

“Ah, okay, let me just…”

The next few minutes were filled with awkward maneuvers and wings slapping in faces as they tried to dislodge him.

“What on earth possessed you?  Look, just hold still while I… no, don’t move… wait a second… umph…”

“What if I move like this…”

“No, don’t – agh!”

Finally, Tristan slumped into the bedroom, scattering her piles of clothing and old magazines she had yet to tidy.  Gwen’s chest heaved as if she had run a marathon.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize,” he rumbled in a low voice.

“That’s it?” she asked, mildly disappointed and she didn’t know why.  “All that effort of fitting you into the room for that?”

His tail flicked as if he was nervous, but his expression remained peaceable.  “I was not sure whether you would respond to a message – if I managed to find a computer.  My leader is,” he winced, “displeased with me, to say the least.”

“You told him I’m not going to say anything, right?”

Uneasiness coursed through her.  She had visions of a male even bigger than Drago coming to her room at night, red eyes blazing as he dragged her out of bed and… that was as far as that imagining went.  She didn’t dare allow it any further.  The other gargoyles did worry her, and she did not feel like she would want to be left alone with one.  Except for Tristan.  They were alone right now, and she didn’t feel scared.  Nope, that definitely was not the emotion that sprang forth.

“I have assured him you can be trusted, as did Martha and Kylie.”

“You say that but when we were sending each other messages you didn’t trust me enough… wait, did you just say Kylie?!  Kylie?!  Kylie as in Bea’s niece, Kylie?”

She’d known about Martha, but Kylie was a surprise – maybe even more so than Martha.

“Ah, right, we did not mention Kylie last night.”  He forced a nervous chuckle.

“Who else in town knows?”

“Ah, perhaps I should not say.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, the only person I really confided in recently…”

“Was me,” he groaned.

“Yes.”

“You are disappointed,” he stated, his wings ruffling lightly behind him.

“N… no.”

“You are.  Because I am a gargoyle.  I wished to tell you that I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of myself.  I am sure you were expecting something quite different to me.”

Gwen would not deny that.  Even in her wildest dreams, she would not have expected a gargoyle.

“It’s fine, I mean, it’s incredible – but I… I just think I’m going to miss sending you messages.”

“I want you to know that I do consider us to be friends, even if you have no wish to see me again.”

Gwen wasn’t sure what to say.  Tristan seemed almost disappointed, but he nodded and just started towards the window.

“Please tell me we’re not going through that again?” she asked him in horror.

“How else…”

“My mom will go to bed soon, and when she does, I’ll let you out the back door.”

Tristan nodded reluctantly.

“In the meantime…”

“Just wait here.”  She glanced around her messy room and wished that she had taken a couple of minutes to tidy it earlier.  Or maybe a few hours and a leaf blower.

Gwen pushed a mound of clothes off her beanbag chair, quickly pocketing the bra that had been on top and gestured towards it.

Tristan carefully sat down in it, his huge form settling uneasily.  He shifted and fidgeted.  Gwen bit her lip to stop herself from giggling at the concentration on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Humph.  How has your day been?”

“Pretty good.”  She hesitated.

“What is it?”

“My dad showed up.”  She wasn’t sure she should still be sharing with him, though she longed to.

“What did he want?” he asked, his voice taking on a razor-sharp edge.

“He asked my mom for a divorce and told her he wanted money.”

“Hmmm.  How did she take it?”

“Actually pretty well, I was so worried about her – but she seems okay, and she says I need to stop worrying about her.  I don’t think I can stop.”

“You worry because you care.”

“Exactly, I can’t help it.”

Gwen slumped onto the bed and smiled at him.  “You know, now that your big secret’s out, you can talk to me about the things that are bothering you – you don’t just have to listen to the annoying things I have to say.”

His eyes virtually twinkled.  “You are never annoying.”

“But you can talk to me, too, you know.  I mean, we’re kind of stuck here until my mom falls asleep.”  She paused for a few beats before adding, “I am a little disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth in the first place.”

A shadow of remorse crossed his features.  “It is hard to explain to humans who are not even aware we ever existed, who thought King Arthur was just a legend…”

“Wait, he was real?”

Tristan grimaced.  “My mouth does not seem to be able to control itself around you.”

Gwen shuffled along the bed, moving closer to him.  Her eyes traveled over the expanse of wings and muscled chest.  No wonder he was called a gargoyle, he did look like he had been carved out of stone.  He was absolutely flawless.

“I’d like to know more about you.”

“I…”  His wings rippled, and he let out a small sigh.  “Very well.  It is a long story.”

“I’ll go grab us some soda and cupcakes – the cupcakes are courtesy of Martha, so you know they’ll be perfect.”

Tristan smiled, and she quickly jumped off the bed.

“Don’t move,” she said.  She was curious, but she also didn’t want him to leave.  His presence was… reassuring.

“I promise.”

She nodded and hurried just in case.

*

“Wow!”  Gwen pressed a hand to her mouth.

He had told her everything about the gargoyle history, everything up until they started communicating.  He could not stop himself.  Once he opened his mouth, that was it - he was off!  But there was something about this female, something so trustworthy and she had a quality that made him want to bare his very soul to her.

“It’s like a medieval soap opera.  So this Ophelia is still out there somewhere?”

“Indeed,” he muttered.

It amazed them all that she avoided detection, but she had been awakened for longer than them – she was good at avoiding exposure apparently.

“What about Twenty-Six?  Do you have any idea where she comes from?  Is Ophelia coming back?  And Martha is actually psychic?”

“Yes.”  That was something he did have an answer for.

“Wow – I thought she was a regular Stepford wife.”

Tristan blinked at her.

“Oh, ah, it’s a book, and they made a couple of films.  It’s kind of creepy, but good if you like creepy.”

“I believe I prefer amusing.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling.

They had drunk a bottle of soda – he enjoyed the way the bubbles felt – and eaten ten cupcakes between them.  Though he was responsible for seven of those.

Gwen peered at the clock.  “Holy crap, it’s after midnight – I’ve gotta get to bed – I’ve got work in the morning.”

“I am sorry, I have kept you from sleeping.”

“I… I’m not,” she stammered.  “I really enjoyed… ah…”

She was blushing fiercely, and as appealing as he found it, he did not want for her to be uncomfortable.

“I have very much enjoyed talking to you.”

It was even better than through the messages.  He could see the way her pretty face widened in wonder, scrunched in anger and the way her lovely lips opened in shock.  A thousand emotions seemed to pass over her face in a matter of seconds, and she was a joy to behold.

He snagged one of her hands, and she held her breath as he held it, squeezing it carefully.

“Perhaps I may come back tomorrow night?”

“Umm, okay.  Mostly because it’s hilarious watching you trying to get through my window.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow and chuckled.  “Indeed.”

She squeezed his hand in return and led him out of the house.

*

“Who likes short shorts?” sang Gwen, shaking her booty just a little too suggestively for the library.

But hey, she was in a good mood, the sun was shining, and she could not get that damn song out of her head.

Old Mr. Pearson looked like he was about to have heart palpitations – he was clutching his chest – so she decided to tone down the ass wiggling.  Myrna had frowned at her, but given that a cheerful mood was pretty rare for Gwen, she had been loath to say anything to deter her.

Course, it didn’t last long, in fact, it evaporated the moment Tom cornered her in the science and nature section.

“You look happy,” he said, in a slightly accusing tone.

He folded two beefy arms over his rapidly expanding chest and glared at her.  Yeah, because she dumped him she had no right to be happy - she should have been miserable and pining away for him.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, knowing why he was there but hoping he would get the subtle hint to sling his hook.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

“Tom, I…”

He took a step closer to her, and she resisted the urge to step back.  Stand your ground she told herself firmly.

“We’re not getting back together,” she said in what she hoped was a steely voice.  “Ever,” she added for good measure.

Tom snorted, his naturally red face taking on a purple hue.  “What other choice do you have?”

“My mom and I…”

“Will be homeless, babe.  I offer to help, and you throw it back in my face?  You ought to be thankful that someone like me would even look at a girl like you.  Who the fuck do you think you are treating me this way?”

He unfolded his arms and took another step toward her, his large body looming over her slight frame.  Mr. Pearson started taking an interest as Tom’s voice started rising.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, limping over to them, relying heavily on his cane.

“Fuck off!” snarled Tom.

“You need to leave,” said Gwen.

She had to put up with his temper tantrums when they were a couple, but those days were way over.

Tom looked like he was about to explode, but he took in Gwen’s resolute expression, Mr Pearson’s scowl and the very anxious Myrna who was scuttling over, and he merely huffed the word ‘bitch’ at her and stalked away.

Mr. Pearson muttered a few choice words about how that would have been different if he were forty years younger, but Gwen was just glad he was gone.  What on earth had she ever been thinking dating him?  Nothing was worth spending time with him.  She thought of Tristan, and how easy it was to talk to him.  She couldn’t imagine him being angry with her or calling her a bitch.

If people saw Tristan and Tom together, they would consider Tristan to be the monster.  They couldn’t be more wrong.

*

“Shhh, not so loud, my mother will hear!”

Though, in truth, it was Gwen’s laughter ringing out the loudest.  Tristan was telling her about how Grey had managed to get his arm stuck down a toilet.  Seriously, he had to smash the toilet to get out.  After he had stopped laughing, Luc had not been pleased.

Though, his leader had been strangely restrained when it came to Tristan’s ‘chewing out’ as Danica put it.  No doubt because of Kylie.  Well, he deferred to her before, but now that she was pregnant, Tristan doubted he would do anything that would upset her.

“This is very good pizza,” he said, taking another slice.

“Yeah, my mom kind of went mad the other night and made loads – they’re in our freezer.  I think she went overboard because she was feeling good.”  Gwen cast her eyes downward.  “It’s so nice that she’s feeling more like her old self.”

His tail curled around her ankle and she looked up at him in surprise, before smiling.

He was actually sitting on her bed this time, as hilarious as she found putting a gargoyle in a beanbag chair, she decided it was safer for him on the bed.

“I am pleased for both of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you heard anything from your father?” he asked carefully.

It was a sticky subject, and he did not want her to lose her good mood, but he wanted to know.  This male was causing her pain, and it made him angry, and he wanted to stop him… though he was not sure how he could.  But he wanted to.

Gwen shook her head.  “I asked my mom earlier if he had been by again and she said no.  I don’t think she wants to worry me though, so I’m not sure if she would tell me.”

“As you did to her.”

“True,” she murmured.

Gwen blushed and looked away.  “You’re really easy to talk to, but I kind of think it was easier to think up something to say when you weren’t looking at me

“Then I shall look away.”  He diligently stared at the ceiling.  “Please, talk away.”

Gwen giggled and cupped his jaw, dragging his attention back to her.  As he looked at her, she sobered, and her breath hitched slightly.

Tristan raised a hand and slowly traced the line of her jaw with a clawed finger.  “If you wish for me to stop, all you have to do is say.”

*

Uncertainly flickered over her face and Tristan worried he had pushed her too far, that he had misread the signs.

Female gargoyles were so much easier – they usually just demanded what they wanted and growled loudly when they didn’t get it.  With human females, it was like a dance – complicated and there were so many ways in which he could put a foot wrong.  Plus, gargoyles were not known for their fine dancing.

“Okay.”

He held his breath, though his heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest.  “Okay, you wish for me to stop?”

Her cheeks reddened even more.  “No, just acknowledging what you said.”

“So you wish for me to continue?” he asked slowly, uncertainly.

Gwen rolled her eyes.  “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

His lips quirked.  “As you wish.”

*

She pushed her lips to his, and he cupped her head.  His lips were warmer and softer than she was expecting.  She licked at them, and he opened for her.  She giggled into his mouth as she touched his sharpened teeth.  But her humor turned to pleasure as the kiss deepened, as he hungrily explored her mouth, almost urgently.

Gwen pressed closer to him, her hands settling on his shoulders, her fingers gliding over his silky skin and hard muscles.  He moaned, and his other arm slipped around her waist.

They would have stayed entwined for longer, had it not been for that pesky little thing called the need to breathe.  Reluctantly, Gwen pulled away – Tristan growled slightly as she did.  Clearly, he wanted to continue.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she took in every detail on his face.  He was not so dissimilar from a human.  His skin just happened to be blue, and his eyes were brighter and unnatural.  But he wasn’t ugly, not in the slightest.  Quite the opposite.

“Wow.”

“Is it always like that?” he asked, his eyes alight with wonder as a clawed finger traced her jaw.

“Not in my experience,” she murmured.  That was the truth.  She didn’t exactly have a ton of experience, but her high school boyfriend thought that moving his tongue around like a washing machine was the way to go, and Tom didn’t kiss often.  He couldn’t see the point; he didn’t find kissing satisfying.  Not on his mouth anyway.  But then he’d never been kissed like this.  Nor ever would – she doubted Tristan was his type.

“It was my first kiss,” admitted the gargoyle.

“Really?!” she blurted, a little shocked.

“Gargoyles do not tend to kiss,” he murmured, frowning slightly.

“I’d never have guessed,” she replied quickly, bringing the smile back to his face.  “But perhaps we ought to do a little more kissing - for practice, I mean.”

“You are very selfless.”

“I know,” she sighed.

*

Tom virtually leaped out from behind the history section.  Gwen let out a squeak and then glared at the male.  The words, ‘what are you doing, you bloody great oaf,’ dancing on her tongue.  Thankfully, he started yelling before she could let them out – while she would enjoy insulting him, it would just make him angrier.

“Are you seeing someone else?” he demanded furiously.

“That’s none of your business,” said Gwen, trying to remain calm, while making sure there were plenty of witnesses around.

Tom had never been violent with her, and she hadn’t heard of him ever being violent with his previous girlfriends.  But, the nickname ‘mad dog’ had been spawned when he played high school football, and people didn’t get that nickname without reason.

“What about me?” he shouted.

“What about you?” she sighed.

For a moment, she thought he was going to explode in rage.  But it passed, and he seemed to travel through incandescent rage and land on bitterness.  His face, which had rapidly been turning purple, returned to its normal pink.

“Is he going to take care of you when you’re homeless?”

“I’m not going to be homeless.”

Tom’s mouth bunched and she thought he was going to say something else, or at least call her a bitch again, but he merely scowled and left.

Gwen leaned against the bookshelf.  She really had to stop Tom from coming into the library.  These little library rendezvous’ were getting just a bit tiresome.  But, then she thought of Tristan, and her smile returned.

*

Bitch!  Thought Tom loudly.  She was cheating on him.  She was actually cheating on him!

How fucking dare she?  Who does she think she is?  He deigned to be with her, to help her out, and this is how she repaid him?!

Well, this was it.  This was the last straw.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the hotel phone number.  Impatiently grumbling until he was connected.

“Well?” snapped the voice on the other end.

“She said no,” admitted Tom, gruffly.

Gwen’s dad let out a sound between a huff and a groan.  “Always was a stubborn girl, never likes to give in over anything.”

“I will make her give in,” muttered Tom.  They were going to be together – she just couldn’t see it yet.

“How will you do that?” asked the older man apprehensively.

“Do you care how you get your money?”

“Well, not really, I mean, ah, I don’t want to resort to violence…”

“Just leave it to me, I’ll get them out that house and you’ll get your money.”  And he would get Gwen.

*

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” asked Gwen, just a tad censoriously while watching her mother getting ready to go to work.

Her mother tinkled with laughter.  “Of course, George says he’s happy for the help tonight.  Apparently, he’s needed at wedding HQ.”

“Ah yes, Myrna told me all about it – sounds like the wedding of the century.”  They’d probably be paying for it for the next century given Myrna’s wish list.  Mermaid ice sculptures and swan ring bearers were just the start.

“Well, I don’t blame her – her first wedding was a quick affair at a courthouse.  She wants something big this time.”

“Well, earlier she was talking about swans and a fairytale theme.”

“Oh, my!  Which fairytale?”

“All of them – kind of a mishmash.”

“Well, each to their own, I suppose.  Mine was at the courthouse as well; I always hoped I’d get remarried one day, though I suppose I can have the wedding I want when you get married, and you can have the wedding you want when your daughter gets married.”

Gwen frowned.  “Mom, I may never get married.”

Her mother waved a dismissive hand.  “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Do gargoyles marry?  Gwen hastily changed the subject to stop that thought from getting any further.

“What did Tilly say about the divorce thing?”

“Her cousin’s away on a month-long cruise at the moment, but I spoke to Martha…”

“Queen Martha,” murmured Gwen, only a little tartly.

Her mother ignored her.  “Her stepfather is a lawyer, and she’s going to find me a good divorce attorney.”

“An expensive one?” asked Gwen uneasily.

“No, Martha said she would find us one who will do it pro bono – her mother has a lot of connections.  If you think Martha can be bossy, then clearly you’ve never met her mother.  Martha’s bossiness is merely in its infancy.”

“I thought you didn’t like charity.”

Her mother gave her a sad look.  “I don’t, honey, but I’m not too stubborn to accept kindness from a friend.  Martha thinks with an aggressive enough attorney; we’ll get the house.  I mean, it’s not like we’re asking for back alimony or child support – it’s the least he can do.  Especially since for about three years before he left he was unemployed, and I was paying the mortgage.  I'm not unreasonable.”

Gwen smiled.  Unknowingly, she was echoing her father’s words.  Though, this time the phrase rang true.

“Anyway, I have to get to work.”

“Call me if you feel sick,” ordered Gwen, worrying about her already.

“I’ll be fine,” she chuckled, “but thank you, honey.  I didn’t make you anything for dinner…”

“I can manage.”

She sighed.  “I know, honey.  You’ve had to.”

They hugged, her mother giving her a stronger squeeze than she had in years and they parted.

Gwen felt a lot happier and started rooting around the cupboards.  Since her mother wasn’t going to be there, she would make Tristan something to eat.

She was supposed to be working late at the library but had given her late shift to Frances.  She was in her seventies and worked part time when she felt like it.  She felt like working late tonight, and Gwen wasn’t going to argue.  Not when she had Tristan’s visit to look forward to.

They could enjoy a meal together.  Almost like a real date.

She giggled, but yeah, it was almost like a real date.  She remembered his kisses and yeah, they were really something.

Well, being with a gargoyle wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.  Martha and Kylie were doing it, and judging by the way she found Martha and her gargoyle, Drago the other night, there didn’t seem to be any physical reason a gargoyle and a human couldn’t be together.

Tristan did make her happy.  Maybe she was feeling overly optimistic, but why not a gargoyle?

*

“Thanks.”

Gwen really hadn’t been sure what to feed him.  There was no handy ‘cooking for gargoyles’ cookbook available, but he certainly seemed to enjoy the pasta.  So much so he didn’t let cutlery get in his way and just went Godzilla on the bowl.  Not that she particularly minded, she was just glad that she had made four times the usual amount than she would have if her dinner companion had been human.

“I’m sorry I destroyed your chair.”

He looked so guilty that Gwen couldn’t help but smile.

“My fault for trying to fit you into the chair.”

Memo to self – gargoyle tails and wings were not meant for ordinary kitchen chairs.  He had tried, but his tail had destroyed it and highlighted how shabby their furniture really was.

Gwen passed him dessert.

“What do you call this?” he asked eyeing it with suspicion.

“That’s just an ice cream sandwich – the cheapest the grocery store sells, but coincidently, the most delicious.  We kind of ran out of cupcakes.”

Tristan took a big bite, and his face screwed up in pain.

Gwen winced.  “Ooh, brain freeze.”  She wondered whether this was his first time having ice cream – given his reaction she would guess so.

“My head feels as if it is about to explode!” he growled, just a little dramatically as his wings fluttered, threatening to destroy another piece of furniture.

He clutched his head and Gwen perched on his lap holding his hands, planting a kiss on his forehead.  She was torn between soothing him and bursting into laughter.  She’d never known anyone have quite such an intense reaction to ice cream.

Eventually, he stopped worrying about his head and focused on the fact that she was on his lap.  He smiled, his hands snaking around her as he chuckled, mildly embarrassed.

“First time with ice cream, champ?”

“Indeed it was.  I do not think I like eating anything that cold.”

Gwen placed her hands on his chest, his muscles rippling beneath her touch.  She wondered whether he didn’t bother with a shirt because it was hard to take it on and off with his wings.  Whatever the reason, it would be a shame to cover up these muscles.  He really did look like he had been carved.  Every inch of him was perfection.  It didn’t seem strange to her that she was thinking along those lines.

“We’re getting through a few firsts.”

“I think I like kissing best,” he murmured.

“Hmmm, me too.”

His arms tightened around her, and she leaned in for a kiss, only pausing as someone banged on her back door.

Tristan stiffened, his eyes flashing.  “Your mother?”

Gwen shook her head.  “Doesn’t usually bang on her own door, and I know she took her keys.”

The bang sounded again, a little more insistently.

“You go hide in my room, and I’ll get rid of them,” she said.

Tristan grunted in displeasure, but as she pushed away from him, he did as she asked.

“Just,” he sighed, “call me if you need me.”

Gwen frowned.  “Why would I?  It’s probably just my neighbor.”

“You should always be careful,” he declared as he carefully maneuvered his wings through the small kitchen.  “You know my kind has enemies.”

Her stomach gave a small lurch.  Could she be in danger because of Tristan?  He left before she could reply to that and quickly opened her door to her impatient visitor.  Unsurprisingly, it was her neighbor - Tilly.

“Hey sweetie,” trilled the bubbly Tilly.  “Sorry for all the banging but I’m in a rush – I’ve got a date waiting for me, but I wanted to drop off this pie I made for you and your mom.  It’s cranberry and walnut spice.  This is my first batch.  Best eaten the day it’s made.”

Tilly thrust a still warm, spicy scented pie in her direction and Gwen took it lest Tilly drop it.

“Thank you; it smells delicious.”  She wasn’t particularly surprised – Tilly was both a fanatic and fantastic baker.  She had a small baking blog that Gwen put a link to on the town website – she also included one or two of Tilly’s recipes on there too.  Tilly was always trying new recipes and testing them out on Gwen and her mother.  As generous as everyone else in town had been over the years, Gwen maintained they probably would have starved without Tilly’s calorific contributions.

“My pleasure, sweetie.  I’ll pop by to see what you think tomorrow.  You have a good evening.”

Tilly all but ran away, only wobbling slightly on what appeared to be four-inch heels.

“You too,” called Gwen after her.

She turned to find Tristan watching her.

“Your neighbor?  She is very… pink.”

Gwen nodded and placed the pie on the counter.  Tilly loved the color pink sure enough.  “She dropped off a pie.  You can have a slice if you want.  You’ll probably like it better than the ice cream.”

“I startled you when I said we had enemies.”

Gwen looked at him.  “No, I…”

“I did, I saw it on your face.”

“I suppose I just hadn’t realized that…”

“That your association with me may be dangerous.  It might be,” he admitted.  “The people who wish to hurt us are vicious.  You could get hurt in the crossfire, or worse someone like Ophelia may come after you.  I cannot deny it is a risk.  It is too much to ask of you.”

Her stomach clenched.  She knew that tone – that was the breaking-up tone.  No, no, she didn’t want that.  “Tristan…”

“You have your life and your mother to consider.  Being with me could be dangerous, and there would be many limitations to our relationship.”

She could feel him slipping away from her, could feel him retreating, could sense both his anger and his despair at the situation.

“Please, Tristan, I just need time to think – this is all so sudden.”

There was another knock at the door, and he growled in exasperation.

“Probably Tilly again, just go back in my room – we need to talk.  Promise me you won’t go anywhere?”

Tristan reached out a hand to her and quickly dropped it as the door almost shook with the resumed banging.  “I promise.”

He retreated, and she took a moment to breathe deeply, wishing for once that Tilly wasn’t quite so friendly or kind.  Every instinct she had told her she didn’t want him to go, but… it was just a lot to process.

The door handle started moving before she got to it and she frowned.  That actually wasn’t like Tilly.

She yanked the door open to find a startled Tom on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

Seriously – where she worked and now where she lived.  Was the dumbass stalking her?!

“I live here,” she hissed, looking him up and down.  He was covered head to toe in black and lugging a large sports holdall.

“You’re supposed to be at work,” he said in a quieter voice, glancing around him.

“I switched shifts… it doesn’t matter.”  Gwen folded her arms.  “What are you doing here?”

His eyes darted back and forth.  “I came to talk to you.”

“But you just said you didn’t think I would be here.”

Tom licked his lips and pushed past her, forcing her back into the house.  He pulled the holdall higher on his shoulder, something like glass clinked inside.

“What are you doing?”

He looked around.  “Your mother’s at work, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied slowly.  The alarm bells that started when she first saw him were now blaring at her to get away from this creep.

“You can still say yes,” he blurted.

“What?”

“We can still be together.  I’ll take care of you.”

He looked almost desperate, but Gwen was unmoved.

“I’m sorry, Tom, I don’t want that.”

His face turned ugly, and he snatched her arm, squeezing it hard.  “You found someone else with more money to use and dump.”

Her heart beat furiously, but Gwen managed to keep her temper.  “We broke up because I found out how cruel you could be, and that clearly hasn’t changed.  Now, let go of me.”

“You bitch!  Did you think I would just let you use me?  Let you take my money.  I should at least get my money's worth.”

“No, Tom!”

The two of them started struggling, pushing and pulling at one another.  Gwen dug her nails into his arm, but he barely seemed to notice.

“Let her go,” said a dangerously deep voice.

Tom’s jaw dropped, and while he didn’t completely let go of Gwen, she managed to turn and see Tristan glowering at him.  Gone were the kind eyes and smile of the gargoyle she had come to care for.  His wings were spread, making him look huge while his muscles trembled as he squared his shoulders.  He looked like he was readying for battle, and he looked magnificent.

“What the fuck is that thing?” cried Tom.

“He’s not a thing,” snapped Gwen.

Tom looked at her in horror.  “Don’t tell me…”

Gwen scowled at him.

“You and that thing are… no, you can’t be!”  Tom looked like he was turning green.

“It’s none of your damn business what we do.”

He looked like he was going to be sick.

“Let.  Her.  Go,” snarled Tristan, his words were punctuated by the flick of his tail.

Tom released her, hauling her towards Tristan, who eagerly caught her.

“Are you honestly telling me you prefer this ugly fucking thing to me?”

“In every way possible!” screamed Gwen.  “Get out of my house!”

“Then you’ll get what you deserve!”

Tom ran out of there and she started really freaking out.

“Oh my god, he saw you!  What do we do?  What do we…”

Gwen’s panic attack was cut short as something hurled through the window.  They froze for a moment, not comprehending what it was.

“Fire!” roared Tristan, dragging Gwen into his arms and surrounding her with his wings.  She clamped onto his body, closing her eyes tightly.

Gwen heard another window smash.  Tom was throwing lit bottles of alcohol into her house – he was trying to burn them alive!

The fire alarm was beeping like crazy.  Tristan, clutching her tightly, roared and ran through the house, careening into her bedroom and leaping through her window.  When he finally stopped moving, he had to peel her off his body.

“Please, let me see that you are not hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she breathed while trying to force her legs not to collapse from under her.  She almost wished she hadn’t opened her eyes.  “Tristan, your wings, you’re on fire!”

*

A couple days later

“Mom, please, don’t – I’m fine.”

“Let me fuss over you for once.”

Gwen had spent one night in hospital after the fire.  Given that she had been in the house when the fire started, the doctors were surprised she had not inhaled more smoke, but they were happy to let her go home.  They had no idea she had been cocooned by a gargoyle.

Not that she had a home anymore.  Nope, their very flammable house went up in flames, along with all their stuff.

Her mom rearranged her pillows again.

“Seriously,” said Gwen impatiently, “they’re as fluffed as they’ll ever be.”

Her mom bit her lip.  “I can stay home.”

“Please, just let’s try and be as normal as possible, mom.”

Not that living in Martha’s house was very normal.  The house was so prim and perfect and floral that Gwen was afraid to touch anything.  But Martha insisted they stay with her.  She told them that she was spending most of her time with her boyfriend anyway – she gave Gwen a furtive wink at that point – that she would barely notice they were there.  Clearly, Martha had never seen the catastrophe zone that was Gwen’s bedroom – she had a knack for turning the tidiest of places into disaster areas.  Tilly and a few others had offered their spare rooms, but Martha had two spare bedrooms and pretty much just took over and moved them in.  Though, there wasn’t much to move.  They didn’t have anything.  They were wearing donated clothes – mostly Martha’s, which, given that Martha was nearly six foot and curvy, did not help Gwen’s self-esteem.

Chris, the police chief told them they might be able to salvage a few things, but the house was a little unstable at that moment, so they would have to wait for an all clear from a fire investigator – when he or she got the chance to come by.  Apparently it was a low priority.

Tom crashed his car while speeding away from the house.  He sped into a tree, and his car caught fire and actually exploded.  He died in a fire.  Ironic, considering he tried to kill her that way.

After getting her statement, Chris looked for her dad – he believed that Tom had intentionally been there to set fire to the house, and he wanted to find out whether her dad knew he was going to do it.  But he had already left town – hopefully, this time for good.  If he ever got in contact, her mom would let Chris know.  If the man had any sense whatsoever, he’d stay away for good.

The house was insured, so at least they would get some money – eventually.  For now, they would have to rely on help.  No change there.  But Martha insisted she didn’t want rent from them, even though her mother insisted they would be paying something. 

Gwen called out goodbye when her mom finally left and waited until the door shut and kicked away the piles of blankets her mother insisted she have.

It had only been two days since the fire, but they had seemed interminable.  After they got out the house, Tristan had beat out the fire on his wings and then beat a reluctant retreat when they heard sirens coming.  He hadn’t wanted to go, and she hadn’t wanted him to either – fearing how injured he really was – but him being discovered would throw up a whole heap of other problems.  So, with barely even a goodbye, he had flown into the night, his wings still smoldering.

Gwen had been itching to see him, and desperate for any crumbs of information she could gather from Martha.  Unfortunately, her mother hadn’t wanted to leave her side, and she hadn’t been able to get Martha alone to speak candidly about the gargoyle.  But she was seeing Tristan tonight – even if she had to walk all the freaking way up to the mansion.

Gwen looked up just as something big dropped into Martha’s back garden.  She caught the movement through the window.

“Tristan,” she murmured, flying out the back door.

It was lucky he had such good reflexes because she didn’t give him a second to even stand up straight as she launched herself at him.  He easily caught her, not even stumbling under the extra weight in the least.  If she hadn’t been so relieved, she might have reconsidered before hurling herself into his arms.  He had been injured the last time she saw him, after all.  Though, truly, he looked none the worse for wear.  He was even smiling.

“You’re okay, I’ve been worried sick,” she gushed, rubbing her cheek against his.

Tristan carried her into the house.  “I am fine.”

“You were on fire!”

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her.  “Being part dragon has its advantages.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Tristan settled onto the couch with Gwen straddling his lap.  She made a half-hearted attempt to move to her own seat, but his arms tightened around her, and she snuggled into his chest.

“What for?” he asked softly as his claws lightly traced patterns over her back.

“You were worried you were putting me in danger and trying to be all noble about it and my dick of an ex-boyfriend tried to kill us!”

“That is not your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”  For all of her sins where Tom was concerned, she really didn’t consider that being burned alive was in any way justified.  Though, it did shock her enough to realize she didn’t want to lose Tristan.  “But it’s not your fault that people want to harm you either.”

Tristan growled.  “I do not want to put you in danger.”

“I was in danger anyway without your help.  My point is, I don’t want to miss out on being with you just because I’m afraid.  I care about you, a lot. I have ever since we ‘met’ online.”

He was so different to the kind of man she had found attractive before, but she didn’t consider it wrong or unnatural.  No, being with him just seemed right.  Sure, she was shocked that he wasn’t… well, human, but he was still the person she most wanted to be with in the world.

Tristan placed a finger under her chin, raising her gaze to his.  “I believe I care for you as well.”

“You believe?” she spluttered, startling him slightly.

He shifted beneath her, and his tail flickered.  “I, ah, yes, uh…”

“Tristan, you were on fire!” she said slowly, “and you were more worried about whether I was injured or not.  I’m really in no doubt as to whether you care about me or not.”

He looked almost sheepish as he smiled at her.  “I could argue that your body is weaker than mine, and that was the cause of my concern, but...”

“Yeah, that ship has sailed.”

He smiled and shook his head.  “Gargoyles usually do not concern themselves with love or feelings, or manners even.”

“Another first for you then?”

He nodded, and her heart swelled.  “Perhaps we could date,” she suggested.

“I have never dated before.  I believe I would like that.”

They kissed, and it was soft, slow and sweet and perfect in every way.  They pulled apart, and Tristan’s expression turned momentarily stony.

“At least that male can no longer harm you.”

“You know what happened to him?”  Perhaps Martha had told him.

“Chris told me.”

It took her a moment to join the dots on that one.  “Wait, you know Chris?”  The town chief of police knew about the gargoyles?

Tristan winced.  “Ah… yes.”

“Why am I just hearing this now?”

“I may not have divulged how many humans are actually mated to my gargoyle brothers and sisters.”

“Chris is mated to a gargoyle?!”

*

A few days later

Luc huffed as he watched Gwen and Tristan canoodling.  “This is why you wished for me to go easy on him?”

Kylie gave him a smug smile.  “Yep.”

“You thought he might have found his mate?”

“I had inside information.”  Kylie tapped her nose, but under his withering glare she finally admitted, “Martha had a dream about the two of them.”

“You could have told me,” he complained.

“I could have,” she agreed with maddening sweetness.  “She’s a nice girl, the two of them suit each other – other than the obvious differences, they’re very alike.”

Luc watched the two of them for a few moments, both pleased and irritated by this new development.

“You think similarities are important?”

“No, I mean look at us – you’re quick to temper and aggressive, and I’m just perfect in every way.  We’re very different.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“Mmmm hmmm.”  She snuggled against him, and Luc tightened his arm around her, enjoying the flush of her soft body pressing against his.  Even if he did not agree with that, he wasn’t foolish enough to disagree with his pregnant mate.  His eyes wandered over his clan mates.

“My gargoyles appear to be just wandering down into town and dragging females back here to be their mates.”  While he was all for his gargoyles mating, he was a little concerned over some of their methods of finding females.

Kylie traced a finger over his chest.  “Well, not all gargoyles can wait for a woman to come along and kiss them awake.”

“Then they do not know what they are missing,” he said with feeling, remembering that moment with fondness.

“Which movie are we watching?” demanded Danica, glaring at all the various couples.  Her mood had not seemed to abate any since they first brought her home.  Indeed, seeing others happy around her only seemed to incite more hostility.  That was a concern – he had, after all, mated a female who was not in the least fireproof.  One who was now pregnant with his youngling.  He tried to keep Kylie as far away from her as he could at all times.

“The Princess Bride?” suggested Gwen.

“Ugh.  It’s a kid’s movie.”

“It is for all ages,” argued Tristan.

“I still like watching kids movies,” put in Brenda.

“Oh, I used to love Beauty and the Beast,” added Martha.

“Nobody here is surprised to hear that,” said Twenty-Six dryly.

The argument blazed until Luc growled at them all to shut up, then he asked Kylie what she wanted to watch, and that was the end of it.

If anyone wanted to complain, they could do so quietly.

Kylie glanced over at Tristan and Gwen and smiled.  They would make each other happy, she was sure.  She snuggled into her mate and enjoyed the movie.

*

Three weeks later

Tristan swung his little mate around.

She giggled until her face started turning green, and he put her down.

“Ugh, it’s worse than the teacup ride,” she groaned.

Tristan placed his hands on her waist and waited for her to steady.  He rubbed his cheek against her head and smelled her hair, inhaling her beautiful scent.  Has I really only been hours since they parted?  It was too long.  He had never given sleep much thought until he started ‘dating’ Gwen.  It was just a necessity, but now it was something that took him away from her, and every moment was mind-numbing.

Looking slightly pinker, Gwen beamed up at him and stood on her tiptoes for a quick kiss before leading him into the house.

“I have wonderful news,” she gushed, almost bouncing on the spot.

“As do I,” he beamed.

“My mom’s cancer is in remission – no more treatment!” she squealed excitedly.

“That is wonderful, my beloved.”

He pulled her into another hug and started to twirl her but quickly thought better of it.  She may be sick, and there was a distinct possibility of broken furniture – given his wingspan.

He had never seen her so elated, and it was thrilling to behold.  He knew how she worried for her mother, and in turn that made him worried and angry that he could in no way help her or remedy the situation.  But he was overjoyed by this news and delighted at the glow his mate emitted.  She was always lovely, but happiness now radiated from every inch of her exquisite body.

“What’s your news?” she asked, her smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Ah, it pales in comparison to yours,” he admitted.

“Tell me,” she urged, nothing dimming her mood.

Tristan shrugged his wings.  “It is merely that I am named fourth in the clan.”  It was nothing compared to the wellbeing of his beloved’s mother, but the hierarchy in clans was always considered important.  In his old clan, brothers and sisters fought each other half to death to move up the ranks.  It wasn’t nearly that cutthroat in his new clan, though he would definitely have to make sure he watched his back around Ryia.  The female had already given him some devious looks, and he would not put anything past her.

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed.  “What does that mean?”

He gave her a tender, patient smile.  “It means that in rank in the clan, I am fourth, after Luc, Gracchus, and Castor.”

Gwen nodded solemnly.  “So we only have to get rid of those three before the clan’s all yours?  Kidding!”

He was almost shocked at her suggestion, but thankfully – as she had started doing with all her jokes – she started added ‘kidding’ at the end.  Slowly, he was becoming the master of human humor.

“Very amusing,” he murmured, stroking her back.

He was delighted.  Luc wanted him as his chief tactician as well.  Although the clan was small, the position of fourth was very desirous.  Grey was certainly annoyed by it – an unexpected bonus.  But, he was surprised at how little Brom or Ric and particularly Cai cared; but then, they were more interested in their mates than the clan hierarchy.  As for Drago… who knew what that male was ever thinking.  It was a clan unlike anything he had seen before, perhaps due to human influence, and that wasn’t a bad thing at all.

Gwen kissed him again, this time more insistently.  His member swelled, pressing against his stomach.  He tried to pull away from her, but she would not let him.

They were, as Gwen would say, ‘a couple,’ but they had not coupled.  He had not pursued the issue and was waiting for her to bring it up.  From listening to Luc, he understood that human females required much wooing before that happened.  He was content about that… well, not content exactly.  Obviously, he wanted her with every fiber of his being, but he would not push her to do something she was not ready to do.  Though after all their kissing and affectionate embraces, he was certainly in possession of a pair of very big ‘blue balls’ – as Maggie would put it.

“Please,” he growled against her mouth, fearing what her continued attention would do to him.

Gwen pulled back and gave him a searching look.  For a moment, he worried he had offended her.

“I love you,” she said in a soft voice.

Tristan grinned – all sharp teeth and smugness.  “As do I.”

Gwen flushed in pleasure and took his hand, leading him into the living room.  She ran her hands up and down his chest, her fingers lingering as she reached his loincloth.  His whole body trembled, his wings quivering as he growled lightly.  She was shy to say it, but he knew what this meant.

“Are you sure?” he asked.  “I do not mind waiting…”  A bare-faced lie, but he would wait an eternity for her.  He really hoped it would not be an eternity.

“I’m very sure,” she replied sweetly.  “I love you, and I want to be with you.  Isn’t that what you want?”

“More than anything,” he breathed.

He bent his head and kissed her, a brief brush of the lips before he moved on to her cheeks and her neck.  His claws found her shirt and clasped at the hem.  In between kisses, he pulled it over her head, his lips barely leaving hers.  Her vest top followed, and thankfully she was not wearing a bra.  He had it on good authority that they were fiendishly difficult items of clothing to work.

No, her lovely breasts were unfettered and taunting in their beauty.  He took a moment to stare at them, to cup them in his hands, trying to memorize every, peachy inch before he moved on to her jeans.

Gwen undressed him while he undressed her.  Admittedly, he was wearing less clothing.  She unbuckled his belt, letting his garment drop.  The mewl of satisfaction she let out as she saw him sent his desire soaring.

Finally freeing her from her clothing, he laid her down on the couch, covering her body with his.  Her angelic form was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Gwen wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he moaned at the softness of her skin rubbing against his.

“You are lovely beyond compare,” he crooned.  “You light up my whole life…”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she cooed, beaming up at him.

“As you wish,” he murmured.

As his lips found hers, he pressed inside her, taking his mate, making her his, now and forever.

*

To all intents and purposes, Martha’s house was Gwen’s home now.

Martha barely spent any time at home at all.  She slept at the mansion, had her meals up there and only seemed to return for her mail – which Gwen sometimes brought to her anyway.  Having gotten to know Drago a little better, Gwen figured he preferred it that way.  Though, there had been a little difference of opinion between Drago and Martha’s cat, Timber.  Which was why Timber was back in his home with Gwen and her mother happily taking care of him.  Timber lapped up all the extra attention, particularly when Martha went crazy over cuddling him whenever she came home.

Gwen snuggled against Tristan, who wrapped his wings around her and growled in satisfaction.

Her mom was at work – late night opening for tourists.  Bea had hired her to manage her antique store entirely.  Her mom had been shocked by the offer, but Gwen knew it was because Bea and the gargoyles now considered both her and her mother as part of their clan and wanted to provide for them – even if her mother had no idea it was happening.  Plus, given that Bea was rarely around at that time, she did need help.

Plus, there was even talk of Gwen going to community college.  It would be part time, but she was still excited for it.  She was considering some kind of web design class.

Tristan clucked his tongue in disapproval at the TV.  “This Martinez fellow is not honorable.”

Gwen giggled.  Yep, she had him hooked on her favorite soap opera.

He snarled vehemently as Martinez started seducing Elena, trying to lure her away from her sick husband.  In fact, he seemed to be even more into the show than her.  Well, shared interests always helped.

There were niggles in their relationship.  They couldn’t do the normal dating thing, so they had to manage with dates at home, at night, out of sight.  Not that it was much of a chore.  She knew she would have to tell her mother about Tristan eventually.  But her mother had already been through a lot and eventually seemed a long way off at that moment.

“I’m glad you kidnapped me,” she murmured, never imagining having to say those words before.

His tail wrapped around her ankle and he placed a kiss on her mouth.

“So am I,” he chuckled.

 

The end… until next time