“Dad!”
Larissa protested.
“Well it’s true.”
Any parent could embarrass their kids during the teenage years, but only a true virtuoso could embarrass them into their twenties and beyond.
She opened her mouth to force out some sort of retort – what, she didn’t know – but her dad’s focus wasn’t on her. He was looking to the left of her, where a picture of Lauren Miller hung on the wall, frozen forever in the prime of her life.
Guilt, thick and familiar, churned through her body and soured every cell it enveloped. Even after all these years her father’s love for her mother was undimmed. It was the stuff of fairy tales, but because of her the fairy tale was cut short.
Her, and the Great Collision.
And now she was going to stir up bad memories, talk about things they avoided in this house. Gods knew she didn’t want to hurt Dad, but she couldn’t think of who else to talk to.
Larissa kept her head down and mouth full for the rest of the meal, letting the brothers talk to Dad. The meal was winding down; spoons clanked against flatware and a good portion of the side dishes were gone. It was now or never to start asking questions.
She wiped her damp palms against the leg of her jeans and started. “Dad, do you know what would happen if the city was ever attacked?”
Her father paused in bringing the cornbread to his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Attacked. Like by a group of wizards, or some magical creature, or whatever.”
Jack waved his spoon in the air, dismissing the possibility without words. “We’ve got wards to protect us.”
If only you knew the folly of that statement
. “But what if the wards failed?”
“They wouldn’t. Believe me, we go through a lot every year to get them renewed.”
Had she really this complacent that she never thought to think beyond these answers before? Why did it take getting attacked herself to ask these questions? A five-year old wouldn’t accept these types of simplistic answers, but she had, all of her life. “Isn’t there a back-up plan of any kind?”
The lines bracketing Jack’s mouth went from charming to hardened as his lips thinned. “Baby girl, what’s this about?”
Her father’s tone roughened, taking on that edge that said to anyone who knew Jack Miller they should back off.
Dad hated talking about anything to do with the New Realms, and Larissa hated to bring this up to him. In any other situation, she’d be shutting her mouth right now.
But the wards had failed, and there was a secret group of protectors of the city. Would this info be a surprise to Dad, or was withholding this information another of the ways Jack Miller protected his family, most specifically her? Larissa’s hands went up in supplication and she continued. “I’m curious. I got asked in class today about it and I realized I had no idea what the answer was. I figured it was something I should probably know.”
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. The wards have held for over twenty years. They’re not going to fail.”
Her father dug into his chili, his signal that this discussion was at an end. Larissa rubbed the back of her neck. “Are there any exceptions to who can get past the wards or when?”
The spoon dropped from Jack’s hand, a loud
clank
resounding through the room, and the tension from the brothers was now palpable as they looked between her and Dad. “Larissa Joy, where is this coming from?”
His anger kindled a similar blaze in her. She wasn’t being unfair in her questions, and he needed to stop treating her like she was eight. “I’m asking reasonable questions and you aren’t giving me any answers. Wards are magical barriers. So what happens if the wizard who set them is incompetent, or has been blackmailed or bought off? And magic is dispelled all the time. But you sit there and act like none of these are a possibility, that I shouldn’t concern myself over it.”
Her dad gripped the edge of the table with one hand, the knuckles white. “It’s several wizards casting several layers of spells that takes months out of every year to renew and strengthen. It’s not someone showing up and waving a wand. And in my house I’ll be shown respect, young lady.”
“Then don’t treat my questions as annoyances. You’re the chief of police, Dad. You need to have some back-up plans in place, unless you want to find yourself in the middle of another disaster and have more people die…” Her voice trailed off as her brain caught up to her words. “Dad, I’m sorry.”
Jack Miller took a deep breath. He pushed himself away from the table and stood. He was every day his age at this moment, older than Larissa had ever seen him. Without a word he left the dining room.
Awkward silence hung over the table for a beat of time, then by wordless agreement Gary, Steven, and Christopher got up and left to follow Dad, leaving her alone with Michael.
Michael’s eyes were narrowed on her, the deep brown burning with laser intensity. “Michael-”
“What was that about, Ris?”
The words hit her ear, but the vibration was wrong, unexpected. This wasn’t Michael chiding her about upsetting Dad, at least not completely. Michael was in cop-mode, and he was
never
in cop-mode with her.
Does he know about Friday?
Her fingers went icy.
No. He can’t. Dad doesn’t know
.
Because if Dad knew, he would have been on her doorstep dragging her out of the apartment. No way around that. Dad didn’t know, and he was the guy in charge.
So why was Michael in front of her looking at her as he would a suspect at the station?
It wasn’t until right now when the half-formed thought of telling Michael was discarded that she realized she was even thinking of it. She deflected. “I went a little far, Michael, but I’m teaching the Great Collision and it came up and it’s a valid point. The question stuck with me.”
“Are you sure that’s it? Anything else bothering you?”
His eyes didn’t lose their laser focus, and she really needed to leave and think things through. “I’m,” she licked her lips, buying herself a few moments. “I’m sorry I upset Dad. I think I need to go home. Things have somehow derailed, and me leaving is a good idea.”
He placed his hands on the table, readying himself to get up. “I’ll drive you.”
She placed her hand over his, stopping him. “That’s silly, Michael. My car is here, I haven’t drunk any alcohol. A little fresh air and I’ll be fine.”
Michael looked dubious but didn’t stop her as she grabbed up her coat and bag. She opened the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “Tell Dad I’ll give him a call tomorrow and I love him.” Without waiting for his answer, she went outside.
This was more complicated by the minute. Dad didn’t know anything but Michael might? Impossible.
Impossible.
Just as impossible as a gargoyle protector.
Just as impossible as zombies coming after her.
Just as impossible as necromancers waiting for the chance to grab her again.
Instead of taking her usual back alley shortcut home, Larissa kept to the well-travelled streets.
Once again, Terak was on the roof of the opposite building and watched the little human through her glass doors. This time though she was aware of him, or aware someone was watching her. She kept pacing to the window, looking out, going back into her home, only to repeat the process moments later.
After several revolutions of this, her head snapped up and her spine straightened, as though she had come to a decision. She again began to move toward the windows, but this time instead of stopping there she continued to the glass doors that led to her balcony and opened them. Stepping out onto the balcony she waved her arms in wide arcs through the air.
He neither saw nor sensed any threat to her. Uncertainty kept him still, a sensation unknown to him before she entered his life.
After several moments of waving she brought her arms down and around herself, hugging her body against the cold. Her lips tightened, and she went back inside.
She could not wish his company, could she? She fought hard against any guards, so why would she seek him out?
But she kept looking out the window, her attention never leaving the balcony for more than a few minutes.
Standing, he snapped his wings in preparation, leaping in the air and gliding the short distance to her.
She heard his landing. Within moments she scrambled from her inner rooms toward the balcony door. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “It’s you.”
Did she not wish to see him again? They had parted on as pleasant of terms as possible considering the circumstances of their initial meeting. His shoulders went back as he braced himself. “Does this upset you?”
“Oh.” She shook her head, the action appearing more as a way to clear her mind than a motion of the negative. “I’m sorry, that sounded so rude. I didn’t mean anything by that. I wasn’t expecting you though.”
“Why is this?”
She motioned with her hand up and down his body. “You are the leader. I never expected you would be on guard duty.”
Her words were intelligent, as under any other circumstances he would not be. Still, best she not know that. “A leader who views himself above any task is setting a poor example for his people.”
The nod she gave was little more than humoring him, if the flattened twist of her mouth was honest in revealing her true thoughts. Still, she did not question him any further, and that was the outcome he desired. She asked instead, “Does this mean I’m going to see you often?”
Yes
, but she did not need to know the truth at this time. “In the beginning only a handful of warriors will watch you as I search for information. I will be among them.”
“Oh,” she muttered, though he doubted she meant the word to be audible. She licked her lips, a nervous gesture. She looked around her apartment for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like something to drink or eat? I mean, I don’t know what gargoyles eat…”
The words trailed off and she was studying him again, her eyes stopping and lingering on the expanse of his chest, bare as his kind rarely wore shirts. The hint of a blush swept her cheeks, the color of springtime roses, which suited her pale hair and sky eyes.
“Water would be fine. As long as the glass is not delicate, I will be able to use it.”
Relief washed over her features as her gaze met his again. “Not a problem. Please sit.”
She motioned to the lone couch and walked into the adjoining kitchen area. Her apartment was small enough that the kitchen was readily visible from the living area, her graceful movements as she went about her duties always in his view.
She brought the water, handing it to him. After drinking a sip, he put the cup down. “Your hospitality is gracious, so please forgive me when I ask if there was a reason you invited me in?”
Chagrin danced across her features before a smile crossed her lips. He easily saw her as a little girl, caught in her naughtiness by her father but trying to charm him from giving any deserved punishment. “I wanted to talk. I needed to ask some more questions.”
“I am always willing to answer your questions, but I feel uneasy here. I am more effective as a guardian if I observe you from afar. I am more aware of the surrounding areas and can prevent anyone from getting near you.”
Larissa took the seat across from him, drinking from her own water glass before answering. “And here I thought bodyguards always wanted to be closer to the people they were protecting.”
He never had, not until her. “Gargoyles are not used to anyone wanting them near.”
The wind howled past the glass, creating a haunting backdrop to their conversation. He missed the play of firelight over her skin. She was a creature of light. Sunlight or firelight, it did not matter. She should be bathed in radiance.
Her eyes were direct on his, proof that his memory was correct and he hadn’t been imagining how bright and clear and true the blue was. “I still don’t think I need a babysitter, but I’d prefer that whenever possible, you are close to me. It feels too weird to know someone is out there watching me when I can’t see them.” Her eyes flicked over his frame and before they shied from him they deepened in color to reflect a twilight sky. “But only you. No offense to anyone else.”
Strange, his throat was tight. He swallowed before speaking. “If that is your wish, I will do so when possible.”
She nodded, her fingers tangling themselves together as she lost herself to her own thoughts for long moments. Then she let out a chuckle, the sound resigned humor. “Can my life get any stranger?”
No answer was needed, and she rose to pace the length of her living area.
Movement seemed to calm her. Both at the keep and now here in her own home, her movements started frantic, mellowing as her body burned the negative emotion from her.
Once she reached calm, she turned her attention back to him. “A member of the Guild came to my school today. Well, I should say two of them. The redheaded woman I saw Friday night and a little Japanese woman.”
“Yes,” he said.
“My dad,” she took a deep breath, uncertainty coating her words. “I don’t think my dad knows about them.”
“He may not. Or he might not know the extent of their influence. They would not bother him over the daily dealings of crime in this city. That is not their concern. Their concern is the battle with the necromancers.”
“But my dad is chief of police. He’s not some bumbling civilian – his whole life is dedicated to protecting this city. How could he not know that there are these people with all these powers waiting in the shadows?” Her voice was rising in volume and her fingers wound together, almost violent in how they twisted around themselves.
He stood, taking her hands in his. He eased them apart, massaging the soft digits. “What exactly upsets you so?”
She turned her head away, not meeting his gaze. “I’ve been thrust into some new dimension where up is down and everything I’ve given complete faith to is worthless. I’ve blindly trusted my dad and the system, and it’s all a lie. Right now, whether I’m being targeted or not seems almost immaterial.”