Chapter 15
Genevieve hung up the phone and stood for a moment in silent reverie. Both women greeted the invitation to dinner with an eagerness that triggered a feeling of premonition. Something had happened. Either that, or both women felt some disturbance in the magic force, or whatever they called what they were sensitive to. Had they heard rumors from some of the other unusual folks who lived in Superstition?
Finn went somewhere whenever he transitioned. She knew he ran with the wolves in the forest, or rather they ran and he flew, but where else did he go?
Probably all over Superstition. He wasn’t breaking the law. Otherwise there’d be rumors or newspaper stories about unusual occurrences in the area. And she had no right to try and control his nocturnal ramblings. She might be his protector during the day when he was the statue, but at night he was a living, breathing creature, and free to wander where he might.
But his rambling worried her. What was to keep him from being killed if someone happened to see him? He would make a priceless trophy for one of the hunters in the area, and there were plenty around. She shuddered just thinking about it.
Too restless and anxious to work on the stone carving, she spent the morning gardening. There was a therapeutic release about ripping out weeds and planting a flat of annuals in their place. By midafternoon she’d done as much yardwork as she had the patience for and settled at the kitchen table to sketch.
Using her photographs of the gargoyle sculpture, she did drawings of the creature, then, using her understanding of human facial anatomy, she carved away at the brow to better suit the deep-set shape of Finn’s eyes and the width of his forehead. She shaped his roughly shorn locks into a natural order that followed the contours of his head. It took little time to shape his ears into more human facsimiles than the pointy Vulcan forms.
Next she studied his elongated jaw. The added length of his teeth had forced the jaw forward and down, exaggerating the lower half of his face. By drawing human teeth in their place, she was able to shorten his jaw and bring his chin up to its normal position.
For long moments she sat back in her seat and studied the finished sketch.
The face was heavily masculine and heartbreakingly handsome. It was a face that would have inspired great interest from the women in his world. Women from any time period.
Her eyes flooded with tears, and she pushed away from the table. Cinead MacLeod could not have done anything more devastating to Finn than to take his looks and turn him into an ugly creature, reviled by humanity, and feared by women.
She’d never wished to be anything more than what she was, but at this moment she wished she had the power to help him.
She wandered outside to the patio, and pulled a chair up beside the stone gargoyle. Butterbean jumped down from front porch and sauntered over in his slow, meandering way. When he leapt into her lap and rubbed against her, she stroked his back while he arched into her touch.
The cat was the first creature to seek Finn out for attention and affection. “You’re a good cat, Butterbean.” She rubbed her cheek against the top of his head and earned a head-butt for her praise.
“I’m going to see if I can convince Miranda and Juliet to break this curse, Finn. But you have to try not to scare them half to death when I introduce you tonight. And you have to wear the sweatpants I bought you.” She liked talking to him this way. He couldn’t argue if he didn’t agree with her. But he could fly off as soon as he changed. “Miranda’s been doing some research about you. We’re going to share our research before I tell them you’re alive. So please don’t go off with your wolves until we’ve talked with Miranda and Juliet.
“They’re concerned about the magic that surrounds you. They may need you to do your best to remember how all this happened. Not why, but how Cinead did it. What he said when he made you into the gargoyle, the spell he used. I know it’s been a long time since it happened…but give it some thought.”
She rose from her seat. “I’m going to order pizza for all of us. It’s like bread with meat, vegetables, tomato sauce and cheese on it. I’ll fix a salad to go with it, and I’ll order yours with extra meat.” She stood, and cuddling Butterbean close, went back into the house.
At eight o’clock Juliet arrived with wine. There was nothing festive in her expression as Genevieve greeted her and led her into the kitchen.
“I’ve been having dreams, Gen.” She set the bottle on the marble island top. “They’re terrible dreams, about a man being beaten and tortured. I believe it’s your gargoyle.”
Before Genevieve could respond, the doorbell rang, and she went to let Miranda in.
“There’s something going on with your gargoyle, Gen. I’m hearing rumors at the college. The other night one of our security guards shot at a large bird, but I don’t think it was a bird. The special”—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“students are all talking about it.”
The two of them joined Juliet in the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’ve got some drawings to show you.” Genevieve strode to the pantry and returned with the rolled-up sketches she’d worked on all morning. She straightened the drawings out on the table and set a salt shaker on one side and the pepper shaker on the other to hold it down. “Is this the man you’re seeing?”
Juliet eyed the sketch she’d done. “In my dreams, his features are distorted because he’s been so badly beaten, but that could be him. In my dreams, he’s covered with blood, and he’s in great pain. I sense he has a head injury. He may have bleeding in his brain. And he was definitely dying.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been having such terrible dreams. I’ve been dreaming too, but it’s because I look at him and see the man he was.”
“What do you mean you look at him?” Miranda asked.
She’d hoped to ease into the announcement. “He’s alive.”
Juliet and Miranda stared at her with identical blank expressions of stunned amazement. Their reaction mirrored exactly how she’d felt since seeing Finn in the flesh that first night.
Genevieve scooted her chair closer to the small kitchen table and folded her hands on the lace-edged tablecloth. She waited until Miranda took a seat to continue. “He’s alive, but only at night. As soon as it’s daylight, he reverts to stone.”
Juliet’s toffee colored eyes widened. “You didn’t just dream this?”
“Don’t you mean hallucinate? No. I talk to him, Juliet. We eat dinner together. He has a gravelly brogue, thick as Scottish granite, and you have to listen carefully until you get used to the rhythm of his speech. And he’s completely oblivious to his nudity. I suppose being naked for an eternity has that affect. I’ve given him pants to wear. And he’s scary ugly. But he’s so…human. And has better manners than most of the guys I’ve dated.”
“Dear Goddess,” Miranda breathed.
“He’s been trapped in the form of the monster for six hundred and sixty-three years. He said if the curse can’t be broken—” Every time she thought about it, emotion choked her. “—he wants you to help him die.”
Miranda shook her head. “We can’t do that, Gen.” The two sisters glanced at each other, their expressions conveying something she couldn’t read.
“Whatever you put out there comes back threefold,” Juliet explained. “To take a life…” She shook her head.
“He didn’t say he wanted you to kill him. He said he wants to be allowed to die.” She drew a deep breath. “We have to convince him there’s hope. He’s been alone all this time. I mean how many creatures like him could there be? And how horrible would it be to be totally alone for more than six hundred years?”
Juliet got up and opened the wine bottle. Familiar with Genevieve’s house, she went to the correct cabinet, returned with wineglasses, and poured each one of them a glass. “It would be beyond agonizing. And there are probably no others like him. This was the work of only one witch, not a group.” The bottle shook ever so slightly as she set it down. “The magic around him is very distinctive, and very old. Since the witch who created this spell is dead, it will be doubly hard to break.”
“Did you find out what he could have done to be turned into the sculpture? Miranda asked.
“That’s a story I think Finn needs to tell you himself. But I have some information Jonathan Brown emailed me from the auction house about Ian Ciar, the MacLeod laird who owned him at the beginning. I also have some information about a young boy who befriended Finn during the Second World War.” She rose and went into the living room to get the paperwork from the desk.
When she returned with it Juliet said, “Finn?”
“Yes, that’s his name. Finlay MacLeod.” She hadn’t realized what a relief it was to share all of this. She raked her fingers through her hair, then dropped her hands. “Part of the time I’ve been stuck in this fog of ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ and the rest of the time, it’s been ‘This can’t be true.’”
“Welcome to our daily lives,” Juliet said with a dry laugh. She seemed to be calming a little, though she continued to clench and unclench her hands. “What you’re asking us to do, Gen… It could be dangerous—for him, and for us. This is a very old and evil magic. It may have some built-in protections that could boomerang back to us.”
She couldn’t ask her friend to risk her life on Finn’s behalf. “I understand. And if you can’t help him…” She shook her head. “I’ll make him as comfortable here as I can. I’ll continue to try and improve the quality of his life. Clothing, food, shelter, that kind of thing, during the times he’s a living creature.”
Miranda leaned forward to touch her arm. “You realize the commitment you’re taking on? This is a magical being. There could be repercussions.”
“What else do you recommend I do, Miranda?”
“Send him back to Scotland.”
He’d be alone again. She couldn’t do that to him. She shook her head. “He isn’t my possession. I can’t force him to do anything. He’s a sentient being. I can talk to him and ask what he wants to do. But I can’t and won’t make decisions for him.”
“But he could be dangerous. And the magic around him could be as well,” Miranda pressed. “That may be why he was sold. His current…guardian may have decided he was too dangerous to keep.”
“Or just too much of a burden,” Juliet added. She shook back her long hair in an impatient gesture. “Look, we can debate this all day, but until we talk to him, we don’t know enough about the magic behind his transformation to make a decision.”
The coil of tension across Genevieve’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. Leave it to Juliet to take the bull by the horns. “So you’re open to talking to him?”
The two sisters exchanged a look.
Juliet leaned forward. “I don’t want Chase to know about this until we have more information. He’d be more inclined to put a bullet in him than strike up a conversation. He’d look at it as preserving the public safety. He’s already somewhat freaked out about some of the other folks he’s discovered living here.”
Genevieve paused wrap her mind around that statement. They had suggested something similar the other night. So there were more than werewolves? Shit!
But she felt compelled to come to Finn’s defense. “Had he been preying on humans, Juliet, I believe we’d have heard about it. In this day and age of true crime, forensics, and police shows, news of any kind of strange animal attacks would be broadcast on every station. Even from Scotland.”
“I agree.” Miranda jumped into the conversation. “But what if he’s been picking off the homeless or something? Those people disappear without notice all the time.”
“He doesn’t eat people, Miranda. He runs with the wolves in the area, and hunts small game and fish with them. He’s spent his whole life hiding. Otherwise, someone would have captured him and turned him into a circus exhibit, or tried to kill him.”
The two exchanged another look.
“Just meet him. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”