Authors: Christine Warren
Gross in theory, but highly practical in action.
At least no one would be collecting hair and fiber sample and knocking on Ella’s apartment door. She figured she had enough to worry about.
Making the return trip to Vancouver in broad daylight had not factored into their original plans, and the border continued to present a problem. In the end, they had no choice but to split up. Kees would have to wait for darkness to fly, unless he could find an isolated spot to sneak across on foot. While intellectually Ella knew the Guardian could take care of himself—and her and half the population of BC single-handedly—she knew she wouldn’t really relax until they reunited at her apartment.
Even then, it might take a bottle of tequila and a very long bath.
Somehow, the silence of the lonely return trip bothered her more than Kees’s antisocial silence on the trip down. She must have it bad if sitting next to a surly gargoyle, being pointedly ignored, made her happier than a little bit of solo peace and quiet.
God, she was hopeless.
She was also stiff and sore by the time she returned the rental car and arrived back at her apartment a little after 11
A.M
. A particularly achy butt reminded her that landing on said spot with all her weight and a considerable amount of force, followed by four hours sitting in a car had not added up to her finest moment.
Taking the bath she had fantasized about helped a little, but she decided against the tequila. She wanted her wits about her. Odd how being attacked and threatened with death could change a girl’s priorities like that.
In the end, she whiled away the time with a clever combination of chewing on her knuckles, paging through the books Alan had given her, and checking the clock every five minutes until dusk. Then she checked it every two.
Because she’d been listening so closely—not to say obsessively—she heard the faint metallic squeak from the fire escape when Kees landed. Before it had even stopped, she’d made it off the sofa, across the bedroom, and had her hands on the window sash. She shoved it high and stepped back as Kees eased carefully into the room.
“This window is too small for you. You’re going to end up tearing a wing, or something. I think you should start planning to shift and use the door. You know you’re welcome to.”
Okay, so she was babbling—and inanely, at that—so sue her. She’d had a rough day. Night. Whatever.
Kees didn’t comment, just pulled his tail inside, and then slid the window mostly shut. He looked perfectly normal. No oozing holes or bloody slashes, and nothing on fire, which Ella decided to take as a good sign.
“How was the trip back? Did you have any trouble? Did you run into any more
nocturnis
? What did—?”
He held up a hand. “Everything is fine, but you appear nervous. Has something happened?”
Ella wrapped her arms around her chest. She wanted to wrap them around him, but the risk of being pushed away held her back. “No, it’s been quiet. I just wasn’t sure when you’d be able to cross the border, so I guess I had a hard time relaxing. I’m new at this whole sneaking and running thing.”
And the unrequited love thing, too.
“I encountered no difficulties, but I had to wait until dusk to make my way into Canada. The wasted time annoyed me, but my journey was uneventful.”
She nodded awkwardly. “Good. Good. Um, are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?”
He shrugged and padded through into the kitchen. “I can take care of myself, little human. Do not bother yourself. I have become quite familiar with your kitchen and cooking appliances, remember?”
Ella did. She’d had to teach him to use the microwave and the electric range, but he caught on quickly. Probably because he’d been trying to ignore her by that point, and his lessons to her on magic ate up his daily allotment of acknowledging her presence.
“Right. Okay, then. I’ll just … go back to my book.”
He nodded and turned away to fix himself a snack. Ella suited actions to words, picking up the book she’d been staring at for most of the day and settling into the corner of the sofa. Drawing her legs up, she balanced the book on her knees and focused on the open pages.
She still had no idea what they said.
Her incomprehension had nothing to do with obscure spells being recorded in archaic languages. That would have been too simple. No, the truth was that Ella had no idea what she was reading, because for the last eleven hours, she hadn’t been able to focus enough to decipher a bloody word. And now that the source of her confusion was back, things just seemed worse. Having him in the room played just as much havoc with her concentration as wondering when he’d arrive.
Hopeless. She was utterly hopeless.
Sighing, she let her head thump against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She had to find a way to get over these feelings for Kees. Not only did they have no future, but if she slipped and let him know what he meant to her, it would only make him angrier. Colder. As it was, the only time he voluntarily got anywhere near her was when their working together required it. Otherwise, he went out of his way to avoid her.
Ella could take a hint, and she did have some pride left. She would find a way to get over this. She had no other choice.
Surprise had her eyelids popping open when she felt the sofa cushions sink beside her. Kees settled on the other end of the seat with a huge sandwich on a plate in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Placing his dish on the coffee table, he raised the drink to his lips, pointing it at her book on the way.
“What are you reading?”
Ella blinked. Had Kees just spoken to her? Voluntarily? She wanted to pinch herself, just to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination.
“Uh, me?” she squeaked, and then fought back the urge to smack herself. Who else would he be talking to? He knew the people on the TV screen weren’t actually in the room, and she didn’t even have the set on in the first place.
“Um, it’s one of the books Alan loaned me. Gave me, I guess.” She stroked her hand over the paper and tilted her head into her shoulders. “I feel guilty that he’s gone, like I should have done more. Somehow knowing he died in the house when we made it out … I don’t know. It kinda makes me feel like I stole these. Like I shouldn’t have taken them.”
Kees swallowed a mouthful of sandwich. “No. He wanted you to have them. That’s why he gave them to you. You would have returned them if circumstances were different, but keeping them doesn’t shame you. It honors him.”
She peered at him suspiciously. “You really think so?”
“I do. Alan Parsons was a Warden. Part of his duty was to pass his knowledge on to others, for the good of the Guild and the good of humanity. You should have the books. You may need them now more than ever.”
“I guess.”
“Do not guess. Know. Alan died honorably, but his death is on the hands of the
nocturnis,
not yours.”
He waited until she nodded before returning to his meal.
Ella sat silently while he finished his sandwich and settled back with his beer. If it weren’t for the wings folded behind his shoulders and the tail wrapped around his lower leg, he’d look like a pretty normal guy enjoying a brew at the end of a long day. You know, almost.
The silence between them tonight felt easier somehow, less tense, less full of unspoken words and hurt and anger. Ella wondered if it had to do with having worked together against the enemy—a kind of battlefield camaraderie—or if the spell Alan had cast was responsible. Either way, she had no reason to complain. Comfortable silence beat armed détente with a baseball bat, but it might take some getting used to.
Hey, she’d gotten used to his unprecedented ability to sit in front of a television without turning it on, not to mention the fact that he could watch a program all the way through and without a remote control in his hand, but these things took time.
Sighing, Ella looked back down at the book while Kees sat and sipped his beer. Weren’t they just the picture of an old married couple? Minus the TV, the remote, and the species barrier, of course.
Maybe that little exchange had been the olive branch she’d been waiting for. She just had to decide if it was enough.
This time, the words on the page cooperated and aligned themselves into neat lines made up of phrases and sentences. Interesting ones, too. Hallelujah.
The page Ella had randomly opened to appeared to describe a spell that would detect the presence of deceptive magic. Not knowing such a thing existed, Ella read on and learned that while certain magics could be seen by viewing them with the mage’s eye—the trick Ella had learned that allowed her to see the broken wards at Gregory’s and the Dark magic that swirled around the
nocturnis
back in the woods outside Seattle, there were ways to hide magic from that sort of generalized perusal.
For instance, the mage who had authored this book mentioned that some
nocturnis,
particularly those used to recruit new servants for the darkness or who infiltrated and corrupted mundane organizations, would cast spells that could make another mage overlook that they even possessed magic, let alone its type or intent. The mage’s eye would not see through those spells. Instead a suspicious mage would have to focus his own magic and speak an unmasking spell. That definitely sounded useful.
Turning the page, Ella found something even more useful—an absorption spell. At first, the name made her think of sponges and water retention, but she kept reading and discovered that this particular bit of magic built on the defensive skills she had already learned and turned them into a combination of offense and defense. The casting mage could create an energy shield that not only protected from a magical attack, but actually absorbed the energy of the incoming spell and then sent it back to the original caster. Sort of like what Ella had accidentally done in the woods. Only because the magic in this spell became encapsulated in the magic of the intended target, it could actually damage the person it rebounded on.
She liked the justice inherent in that technique. It harmed an enemy no more and no less than he had intended to harm you. It was almost elegant.
Ella read the words, mouthing them silently as she committed the information to memory. She had expected the spell thing to be a lot more complicated than this—frankincense and tingles again—but she was learning quickly that the key to the magic practiced by the Wardens was its intent. What a Warden intended to create, he created; what he intended to affect, he affected.
She,
Ella reminded herself. Enough with the male-centrism. She would be a Warden one of these days, and she was very definitely not male. Down with the patriarchy, and all that crap. Time for the Guild to wake up and smell the twenty-first century.
Provided any of them were still alive.
“Oh, that reminds me.” Ella looked up from her book and leaned over to snag a piece of paper from the coffee table. “I looked up Fil’s phone number earlier. First time I’ve ever gotten a use for those alumni directories the university keeps sending me. Anyway, if you still want me to, I can call her in the morning. That sound okay?”
Kees nodded, and Ella realized he hadn’t turned to look at her when she spoke. He hadn’t needed to. His gaze had already been trained on her.
“That would be helpful,” he murmured, and even low and soft, his voice retained the quality of gravel and dark molasses. “Before I woke, I would not have expected to rely on a female art restorer I had never met with no talent for magic to help me bring together my Guild and my brethren. But then again, before now, I would not have expected a human woman to have called me from my sleep, nor that she would be so clever and so talented.”
Ella shivered, his words sliding over her skin like the memory of his callused fingers. Her head spun, confusion and longing butting heads and struggling for control of her mind and heart. If she didn’t know better, if he hadn’t spent the past week and more trying to convince her of his indifference toward her, Ella would have thought that the gargoyle was trying to seduce her.
Ha! Even if he wanted to, it would be a wasted effort. In spite of her hurt and anger and fear, Ella knew that all he had to do was crook a finger, and she would go to him, the consequences be damned.
In the end, she’d be the one in hell, but for another taste of him, she might be willing to risk it.
With shaking hands, Ella closed her book and clasped the heavy volume against her chest. Maybe it would keep her heart from pounding straight through her rib cage.
She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She had no words. As much as she wanted him, she still couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. She’d been burned badly, so this time the fire would have to come to her.
It did. Slowly, deliberately, Kees set aside his empty bottle and wrapped a huge clawed hand around her ankle. With a gentle tug he pulled her leg out straight and tugged her slowly toward him across the cushions.
The sight of his dark, gray-toned skin and heavy, lethal talons neither frightened nor disgusted her. They belonged to Kees, and in a very quiet, very secret corner of herself, Ella admitted that she did as well. Whether he wanted her or not, she was his.
While she studied the contrast between his gargoyle’s hand and her pale human skin, she saw his flesh shimmer and his human hand appeared instead. The flash of disappointment surprised her, but her gaze flew up to his.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered. “I told you before, your natural form doesn’t frighten me. It doesn’t disgust me. It doesn’t bother me. It’s just you.”
He flashed her a slow smile that made her stomach turn somersaults, and her thighs clench like a pair of Vise-Grips. “I like the way this me fits against you.”
He tugged again, pulling her close enough to grab her hips and haul her into his lap, the book dropping to the rug with a muffled thump. Her heart jumped and her pussy clenched as he arranged her the way her wanted her, spreading her thighs with his until her knees hugged his hips, and wrapping her arms around his neck in a loose embrace. Then, he pulled her flush against him so that she could feel the heat of his erection pressing her core through the layers of their clothes, and her nipples poked against his chest in firm, eager points.