Chapter 6
Genevieve covered her mouth and nose with the painter’s mask, shoved safety glasses on, turned the exhaust fan up to high, and covered her ears with safety headphones. She braced the weight of the saw and cut into the stone block several times, scoring it. Dust flew despite the powerful fan drawing it out. She stepped away, set the saw down, and took up a large hammer. When she hit the marble, the area broke away cleanly and fell to the floor.
She moved back to the model she’d completed in the past few days, and, using the calipers, measured the area she wanted to transfer, and marked the stone. It was meticulous work. Once the stone was cut away, it couldn’t be put back, so she did everything in her power to minimize mistakes. So far the project was going well. If only she could get a full night’s sleep, she might be moving along at a steadier pace.
She set aside the calipers and pencil after marking the stone, stepping back from the block. Her shoulders ached from the weight of the saw, but more so from the concentrated burst of creativity during the past forty-eight hours.
The non-drying clay cut out the need to fire the model and made work on the stone more immediate. The down side was there would not be a fired sculpture to sell, because she’d reuse the clay for another one. Simon would not like it. He was used to being able to sell the model as well as the finished piece. Well, he was going to have to get over it.
Her snippy mood gave her pause. She needed to stop for the day, take a shower, and perhaps grill some chicken or fish for an early dinner.
She could call Juliet and Amanda. If they weren’t too busy with their boyfriends, they might come over and hang with her for a few hours and enjoy eating dinner.
And perhaps she’d get up the nerve to share some of the things keeping her awake at night. Butterbean’s obsession with the gargoyle being one of them. And maybe once they laid her fears to rest, she might get some sleep.
Two hours later, Genevieve poured three red wines to go with the grilled steaks and baked potatoes. Holding her glass by the bowl, she said, “I also have apple pie from The Dish and ice cream for dessert.” She took a seat across from Juliet.
Juliet sprawled in her chair. One arm hung over the back while she rested most of her weight on one hip, one leg looped around the other. Miranda, her identical twin, sat back in her seat, knees together, and feet squarely on the ground.
The twins were a study in opposites. For all their similarity in looks, their different attitudes, different personalities, different styles of dress, and different body language assured they’d never be mistaken for anything other than individuals.
While they ate, the three of them talked about the new library expansion and the fund-raiser to build the new wing. “I’d love to have the sculpture you just finished to display in the entrance foyer, but she’s nude, and I don’t think the library council would go for her.” Miranda looked regretful. “Is there any hope you might do a sculpture for us? It would be fantastic to have one of your pieces, since you’re a local artist.”
“I’d love to. What exactly are you thinking about?”
“Nothing libraryish, since the nude in your studio is really what I’d have my heart set on.” She gave a sigh. “I suppose we’ll have to go with something introspective that will represent the college and the community.”
“I’ll give it some thought and do some sketches.”
“I’ll present the idea to the library board and see what they think. It would be a feather in our cap. And we might even be able to put in some display cabinets for the art department, so they can show off their work in the library, too.”
“They might want to choose an artist from the college to do the piece, Miranda,” Genevieve suggested, then took a bite of her steak.
“If any of them did the caliber of work you do, I’d say they would, but there isn’t anyone who does sculpture the way you do, Gen.”
Pleasure flushed her cheeks. “Thanks for saying so. I sometimes feel as though I was born to do this one thing, so I pour everything into it.”
Juliet leaned forward in her seat. “You can have something else in your life, Gen. You’ve done nothing but work these past few years.”
Genevieve looked away. “I’m content with things as they are right now. My trip to Scotland was a breather from work, and I got to study some interesting architecture, see several castles, meet some of the local folk, and found him.” She nodded toward the gargoyle crouched under the awning with them.
Genevieve went inside to get dessert. She tucked a bottle of dessert wine beneath her arm and returned with a tray with their pie and fresh wineglasses. After pouring the wine and serving the pie, she sat and propped her feet on one of the table’s metal supports.
Juliet held the wineglass under her nose. Her brows rose, and she turned the glass to sniff the bouquet, and rolled the golden liquid around the bowl. She took a sip, her movements graceful and unhurried.
Miranda took a sip, held it in her mouth, then swallowed. “This is excellent, Gen.” She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table.
“It’s really fine,” Juliet agreed.
“Thanks. I’m not at all a wine connoisseur, but a buyer of one of my commissioned pieces had six bottles of this shipped to Simon for me as a thank-you. I’ve been waiting to share it.”
“So what’s the occasion?” Juliet asked.
Genevieve took a sip and had to pause a moment to savor the flavor and bouquet. “I need to ask you both about something.”
Their expectant looks were so similar, she had to smile. “It’s about my friend from Scotland.” She pointed to the gargoyle crouched close by.
They both rose to look him over, though she’d noticed them doing so earlier.
“Why would you lease something like this?” Miranda asked.
“He called to me. His suffering is so…human.”
“How did you hope to change that?” Juliet asked.
“I know I can’t change it but…” She paused, just realizing what Juliet had said. “He was sitting in a garden, neglected and perched on by birds, squirrels and whatever else found him. And he was so unique… I just wanted to clean him up and offer him a more protected environment.”
Miranda placed a hand over the sculpture’s head but didn’t touch him. She and Juliet exchanged a glance. Juliet did the same, but went further when she walked all the way around him, her palm hovering over his form without making contact. Coming full circle, she stepped close to lay her hand atop his head.
Miranda grabbed her wrist. “Don’t take any chances, Juliet.” With her brows knit in a troubled frown and her mouth taut with worry, Miranda looked every bit as tough as her twin.
It had taken Genevieve a long time to understand and accept what these two sisters could do. After all, this was the twenty-first century, and most people believed magic was only an illusion. “What do you sense about him, Miranda?”
She moistened her lips. “There’s a very old, very dark magic around him. It’s as if he’s encased in it, and it’s very powerful.”
Genevieve’s mouth parted in surprise. Her gaze went to Juliet.
Juliet’s expression said it all, but she added, “She’s right. It’s scary strong.”
If she was saying it was scary… It was serious. Juliet didn’t frighten easily.
“The other night I got the feeling I was being watched. And there were wolves close by. They seem to be coming closer each night, and I’m getting a little spooked. I’ve been keeping Butterbean in with me.”
“How does he react to your friend here?”
“He adores him. He’ll rub against him, perch on his shoulder, and meow for attention. At night he wants me to let him out to visit with the gargoyle. It’s almost as if he thinks the sculpture’s human.”
Miranda knelt to gaze into the gargoyle’s face. The two witches exchanged a look. “He may have been at one time, Gen.”
“You mean someone used him as their inspiration for the statue? If they did, he either had a genetic anomaly at birth, or the artist had a hell of an imagination.”
“I’ve seen some powerful magic since we came out of the box,” Juliet said, speaking of her and her sister’s embrace of their gifts, gifts they had suppressed and hidden for years. “But nothing like this.” She offered her sister a hand up. “There wouldn’t be any reason to infuse a statue with magic unless he has a purpose.”
“What purpose do you think he might have?”
“How old did you say this thing was?”
“It was created in the fourteenth century, so more than six hundred years old.”
“Possibly to protect the community from evil spirits or real attacks,” Miranda suggested.
“How could a statue protect the community?”
She couldn’t really read Miranda’s expression as she said, “I’m not sure he was always a statue, Gen.”
Genevieve’s hand went to her throat. “You mean someone turned a real person into a stone statue?” Her stomach cramped, and an ache settled beneath her breastbone. She read the truth of her guess on the other two women’s faces. “Is there anything we can do?”
Miranda shook her head, setting her brown ponytail to swinging. “We don’t know what kind of magic this is, Gen. We might do more harm than good. And we don’t know why he might have been put in there. What if he was a serial killer or rapist?”
“Which would be a good reason to leave things alone,” Juliet said. “This is dangerous magic, Gen.”
But if he was still alive inside the stone… How horrible it would be to be trapped like that for over six hundred years. Too horrible to contemplate.
Juliet frowned. “You’re very empathic, Gen. Maybe the echo of his suffering is what called to you. But you need to be careful.”
“I understand why you don’t want to get involved. But I’m going to contact Jonathan, the man who sold me the sculpture, and see if he knows its history. Or if there’s any way to trace the history of the piece.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Miranda said. “You need to understand what you’ve brought into you home. The magic alone could be dangerous.”
A shiver worked its way up her spine. “Dangerous in what way?”
“I don’t know, Gen. But dark magic is by nature dangerous. It’s created by someone whose magic comes from evil, and their soul pays the price.”
Genevieve rubbed her forearms. “Just knowing there’s something like that in the world—much less in my backyard—is creepy as hell.”
“It is for us as well.”
She’d never seen Juliet so serious.
The need to put some distance between them and the statue drove her to return to her seat. The sisters joined her. “What about him would cause the wolves to hang around?”
The women exchanged a look again. Juliet spoke, “If they’re more than wolves, they could be drawn to his magic.”
“What do you mean ‘more than wolves?’”
“We’re not the only gifted beings who live here, Gen.”
She stared at Juliet. Werewolves? Really? When she realized her mouth was hanging open, she closed it. “Wow. I thought they were just made-up stories or myths bred by scary movies or books,” she managed after a moment’s pause to catch her breath. “They wouldn’t hurt anyone, would they?”
“No. It would call too much attention to their presence here in Superstition. But it’s likely they’re either drawn to something here, or are keeping watch over it.”
Genevieve raked her fingers through her ponytail as she scanned the open area around her house for any sign of the wolves. “So our friend has made them nervous, too.”
“Or they’re curious about him,” Miranda offered.
“Do you know any of them?”
“I have several as students, but I’m not at liberty to identify them. It would be a serious breach of trust. It would be dangerous for people to know about them. Humans have a tendency to kill what they don’t understand.”
Genevieve glanced in the direction of the statue and nodded. “I understand. I was just wondering…if you could ask around, perhaps find out why they’re drawn to him. And…”
“And?” Miranda encouraged.
“If any of them would be willing to sit for me.”
Juliet laughed. “Only you would bounce from being shocked to learn of their existence one moment and ready to ask one of them to pose for you the next.”
“I’m always on the lookout for models. Simon sold Reclining Woman to a fashion design company in New York, and they said any time you want a job, you can fly up and they’ll put you to work.”
Juliet went from teasing to wary in a heartbeat. “They don’t know who I am, do they?”
“No! I wouldn’t do that to you, Juliet. But both of you could be models. They’d probably go crazy over twins.”
Miranda spoke up. “No, thank you. I’m content in my job and with my Caleb.” She glowed every time she mentioned him.
“I’m content with Chase, but still looking for a different job,” Juliet admitted. “Since we both work at night, the bar is still the most convenient source of employment. But I’d like a job where I don’t have to dress like a stripper. I’m taking business classes online during the day to get my degree, since I’ve served too many of the students at the college to feel comfortable in a classroom with them.”
Despite all her strengths, talents, and beauty, Juliet still had moments of uncertainty because of tragic events from her past. “You may end up managing the bar instead of serving at it,” Genevieve rushed to say.
“It would be great to be on the floor in charge instead of behind the bar being hit on.”
The conversation continued as they carried the dishes into the house. As the twins got ready to leave, Juliet to go to work and Miranda to go home to Caleb, Genevieve began to wonder what else she might have missed in their community, and if there were precautions she needed to take with the statue.
“Any last-minute suggestions about you-know-who?”
The two shook their heads.
Juliet added, “I’ve been thinking about it…you’ve scrubbed him down, and nothing has rubbed off on you. So I think it’s okay. I also think if he was a danger, Butterbean wouldn’t be so enamored with him. Animals are usually more sensitive to metaphysical things than we are. Besides, he’s stone. What harm can he do?”
She watched the sisters drive down her winding gravel driveway to the main road, and then turned to follow Butterbean as he jumped off the porch onto the patio. He leapt upon the statue’s base and meowed plaintively. She blinked to clear her vision, then rushed to the patio. The base of the statue was intact, but the gargoyle was gone.
A six-hundred-year-old sculpture didn’t just get up and walk away.
Her insurance company was going to have a fit.