Under the Bridge (20 page)

“I'm sorry,” Griffin said respectfully. “You
loved him, of course.”

Her throat tightened. “Yeah.” They were
approaching the gates now. It seemed important to make him
understand. “I think it's become a habit, you know? The grief. I've
been searching for a way to...heal, I guess. Last night, I used
you.” She swallowed.

He stopped her. When she wouldn't meet his
eyes, he took her hands. “Jordan Hearst. I do not feel used. Have
you considered that finding a new love is one of the best ways to
heal?”

She jerked her hands back with a gasp. She
wanted to berate him. How dare he? And yet... “I don't love you. I
barely know you.”

“Today, that's true. You don't know what
tomorrow will bring.”

She didn't want to discuss this. She strode
through the gate, still hoping he'd leave her alone. She searched
the ground carefully, glad for the excuse to hide her eyes. She
didn't love him. There was no such thing as love at first
sight.

Of course, there were no such things as
griffins, either.
She ignored that errant little thought,
concentrating on her task. She didn't have time for nonsense.

She didn't know what she expected to find on
the road. In the daylight, it was an ordinary country lane. She
walked over the place where she estimated she'd arrived, looking
for a feeling of otherness, for any sign of what had transported
her last night. There was nothing. The only thing of significance
about it was the proximity to the mansion gates. She glanced at
them and sighed. She had a feeling she knew what Griffin would say.
Annoyed, she ruthlessly began to search the trees at the side of
the road for anything that might trigger a portal home.

Griffin seemed to be searching, too, though
she got the feeling he was more interested in possible danger than
in portals. His head was up, and his nostrils flared as if scenting
the wind. After last night, she couldn't blame him. She even found
she was glad of it.

It was as she searched the ditch that she
felt the growing sensation of danger. She glanced at the woods, as
if she could peer through the trees to see what might be coming.
“Griffin?” she said uncertainly.

He saw the direction she was looking. She
thought she could
see
his hackles rise. He grasped her arm
and began walking her toward the gate. “Quickly now.”

She didn't resent his taking command. She
knew something was wrong, too. A zing ran down her spine, and her
breath came faster. The feeling didn't make sense, but she hadn't
forgotten the banshee. Never mind that she'd never been bothered by
so much as a stray premonition before, Jordan headed for the gates
at a rapid clip. She would have run if Griffin hadn't kept her at a
walk. Something was coming!

He appeared before the house when they were
halfway up the drive. Dark, urbane and unapologetically
other
. Beautiful danger, seductive killer. He stood there
dressed in an old-fashioned, midnight-blue frock coat, white
ruffles spilling from the sleeves and cravat. Long hair, a
burnished black, spilled from under a beaver top hat. Both hands
rested on a polished ebony cane with a silver knob. He studied her
with blue, blue eyes.

“I know you,” she whispered, appalled.
“You're the man who tried to kill me with the car.”

Griffin looked at her sharply. He seemed
coiled, tensed to fight, but he stayed quiet and listened.

The stranger smiled slightly. “A
miscalculation. I've come to pay my...respects.”

“Your respects!” Anger flashed through her
veins, tightening her muscles. She was ready to lash out at him
when another thought occurred. “You know how to take me back!”

His mouth quirked. “There would be no point,
you know. The house would only draw you here.”

She glanced suspiciously at the house behind
him. “It's not alive.”

His smile grew razor sharp. “You haven't been
here long enough to appreciate it. Meanwhile, I hope to further our
acquaintance. I am called Naturu. The pleasure is mine, Jordan
Hearst.” His scintillating smile hinted at the kind of pleasure
he'd like to discuss.

Griffin smiled with white, sharp teeth.
“Don't be so confident, fae. She's spoken for.”

“Am I?” Jordan asked sharply. She turned her
attention back to Naturu. “I'm afraid you'll have to leave. I'm not
usually thrilled to meet a would-be assassin.” She expected him to
protest, or attempt to charm her, but he only inclined his
head.

“As I said, I regret the circumstances of our
first meeting. As a token of apology, I came to offer a friendly
warning.” His tone was silky, caressing. “Do not leave this place
alone, Mrs. Hearst. There are more than shadows waiting outside
these gates.”

Griffin's lip curled.

A chill kissed her spine. She remembered the
fear that had made her run back to the house, knew without a doubt
Naturu was right. It didn't make her like him any better, though.
Acidly, she said, “You're too kind.”

He smiled seductively. “I can see I've
overstayed my welcome. Accept my parting gift, then, and think of
me with better favor.” He bowed and disappeared in a swirl of black
smoke.

She glanced around, but he was nowhere in
sight.

Griffin met her gaze with hooded eyes. “He's
gone. For now.” His eyes swept over her, his expression carefully
neutral.

She followed his gaze, blinking in surprise
as she caught sight of her clothes. She was now wearing a blue
cashmere dress over a pale blue, silk under dress. The sleeves and
neckline were liberally adorned with pearls. There were even
matching silk slippers upon her feet. It was beautiful, but....
“Stupid man! Those were my favorite jeans.” She was not inclined to
look with favor on Naturu's gift. He'd tried to kill her!

Sage spoke dryly from the front door. From
his words, he must have witnessed most of the conversation. “Be
grateful he didn't turn
you
into a lowly moth. That one
could have done far worse.” He frowned at the dress. “It suits you
better than Griff's shirt, at any rate.”

Both she and Griffin glowered. Neither one of
them liked Naturu messing with her clothes.

Griff gently took her arm. “We'll have the
seamstress in today. You deserve a choice of clothing.”

She hesitated, glanced back at the gates. Had
she really searched as well as she could have?

Griffin leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“It's not worth the danger. You can search another time.”

She considered and reluctantly allowed him to
escort her inside. He was probably right...for now.

Griffin waited until Jordan was settled in
the parlor with a tea tray before making his offer. He worked up to
it and made a very fine effort.

Jordan was not impressed. “Marriage.” She
grimaced and set down her tea. “There's no reason for that,
Griff.”

He looked at her steadily. “There is the
possibility of a child.”

She sighed and looked around the dusty
parlor. “I think you need a maid more than you need a wife. What
happened to this place?”

“We were away. Our help deserted us.
Unfortunately, it is not easy to find servants who can adapt to our
household. Fae work well, but they were threatened in our absence.
I don't blame them for leaving. About my offer―”

“I'll entertain it, but I need some answers
first. Who is Naturu? You didn't seem surprised by him.”

He clearly disliked the subject change, but
he humored her. “He is the brother of our matriarch. The house, you
know.”

“No, I don't know. What about it?” she asked,
slightly irritated. “There seems to be an unspoken assumption that
I know things. Maybe you'd better back up and give me some history
of this place.”

He thought for a moment. “Very well. It might
help simplify things.

“Many years ago, there was a fae named Hyani.
As a child, she played with the young of a clan of shape-shifters.
Eventually, she came to love a young shifter named Traic.

“Her family did not approve. They forbade her
to be with him. Instead of obeying them, she ran away to be with
her love. By the time their hiding place was discovered, they had
already produced three children. Her parents, while angered, did
not want to discipline their beloved daughter. Not all fae felt the
same way.

“There was war. Traic was killed in battle,
but his friends the gargoyles helped Hyani and the children escape.
They fled to the mortal world, but Hyani could not overcome her
grief. In her despair, she transformed herself into a form that
could shelter her children, but would be unable to suffer the pain
of loss. She became this house.”

Jordan blinked. “She became a
house
?
How is that possible?” She looked around, trying to see a living
being in the walls around her. It looked ordinary enough to her, if
richly appointed and rather dusty.

Griffin shook his head. “After all you've
seen, how can you doubt? Have faith that the house is what remains
of our ancestor.

“It is said that the ladies of the house
sometimes hear her guidance. I wouldn't doubt she had a hand in
bringing you here. It's been a long time since there was a woman
here she could talk to.”

“Mrs. Y is here,” Jordan pointed out.

He smiled. “Mrs. Y is extraordinary, but she
is not family.” Before she could comment on that, he went on,
“Hyani's children were of mixed blood and inherited long life,
something that infuriated the fae, who were jealous of the gifts.
They did not want to see mortals rival them in any way. There has
been strife between the two races ever since, though the fae are
careful never to attack Hyani in any way that would raise the ire
of her family, for fae children are rare, and she is still beloved
of her parents.

“Her brother is not as reserved. Although he
seems to care for his sister and is thought to commune with her
still, he considers her children to be freaks. We've suspected that
he works with her enemies. The attempt on your life seems to
confirm it. I think he knew you were someone of interest to Hyani,
a possible successor. She has been known to match-make before, very
successfully. He would not like to see another mated pair.” He
smiled. “He was right to be afraid.”

Jordan tried not to squirm. “You don't know
that's what's going on.”

“It seems logical. Which brings me back to
the point. Will you marry me, Jordan?”

Jordan tapped her back teeth together. “I've
not given up on going home, you know. If the house could bring me
here, she could send me back. All I have to do is convince
her.”

“Luck with that,” he said, not in the least
upset. “She's not known to change her mind. I'm interested to know
how you would plan to raise a griffin child alone, by the way. They
tend to be headstrong. She would need guidance.”

“What makes you think it would be a she?”

He smiled. “Most first children tend to be,
in honor of their grandmother. I would be pleased with a boy or a
girl. I would enjoy being a father.”

She didn't appreciate him being so nice. It
made him harder to deal with. “You don't know that I'm pregnant. In
light of that and the fact that we hardly know each other, I think
marriage is fairly premature. You don't even know that we'll
suit.”

“Hm.” He stared thoughtfully at the mantel.
“A valid point. I propose a courtship period, then. What say you to
a month? Surely that would be long enough to give you an idea of my
character.”

Jordan didn't recall specifically agreeing to
his request. He somehow managed to make it seem as if she had. He
even went so far as to formally introduce her as his fiancée to his
brothers at lunch. When she called him on it later, he said, “I'm
the confident sort.”

She took it mean that he was arrogant beyond
measure.

Servants began to appear at the house over
the next few hours. Jordan couldn't pinpoint exactly what was odd
about them, though Griffin informed her they were the fae who had
formerly served in the house. Noses were too big on some, fingers
too long on others, as if they couldn't quite master the nuances of
the human form. Seeing them cleaning industriously made her wonder,
though. “How long were you gone, Griffin? A couple of months?”

He shrugged. “Oh, fifty years or so. They get
touchy if you're gone for a while, and we've been home only a
matter of days. Now that we're here, Mrs. Y has set about coaxing
them home.”

She stared at his face. Considering he didn't
look older than thirty, that seemed amazing. It was not something
she felt comfortable asking about just then, however. There was
something more pressing she wanted to know. “Tell me about the
gargoyles.”

He looked thoughtful. “I could show you
instead. You seem brave enough to handle it.” He smiled, but it
slowly faded. He looked at her seriously. “There are other things
you should know, too.”

She looked at him warily. “Like what?”

He glanced at the windows, perhaps tracking
the path of the sun. “Samhain, Sage and I are shape-shifters. It's
part of who we are. We need to spend part of each day in our
natural forms, or we suffer.”

“Suffer how?” She pictured agonies of the
damned, men screaming in pain.

“It's melancholy at first. We become moody
and withdraw, go off our feed. If left for a very long while, some
shifters become suicidal. You could give us the best things in
life, and we still could not cope with the grief. We need to be
ourselves.”

“Oh. I see.” His explanation made sense.

He watched her carefully. “Good. You'll
understand then, when I tell you that we chose the night to be our
animal forms. We are nocturnal by nature, and it keeps our
neighbors from noticing. Since it's also the time when the
gargoyles awaken, it is most convenient. It's also why we eat
dinner just after sunset. Gargoyles wake hungry.”