Enticed by the Gargoyle: Stone Sentries 2 (Boston) Read online

  Enticed by the Gargoyle

  Stone Sentries 2 (Boston)

  Lisa Carlisle

  Enticed by the Gargoyle

  Copyright © 2018 by Lisa Carlisle

  Edited by Chris Allen-Riley

  Cover by J.M. Rising Horse Creations

  *

  The right of Lisa Carlisle to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please do so through your retailer’s “lend” function. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at lisacarlislebooks.com, facebook.com/lisacarlisleauthor, or @lisacbooks.

  Created with Vellum

  Enticed by the Gargoyle

  Stone Sentries #2 (Boston)

  Lisa Carlisle

  Are the demons truly gone?

  The gargoyles remain on watch.

  And her friend is trapped in an incubus-induced coma.

  Larissa, a Boston police officer, encountered the red-winged monsters during their rampage. The chaotic aftermath prevents rest any time soon. And a question remains unanswered—how was she able to combat demons using nothing but her hands?

  Her new lover, Roman, a gargoyle shifter, believes it’s because she’s she’s a witch. Ridiculous, right? She’s a cop, like her dad. But, normal cops don’t shoot bolts of energy at demons…

  When she glimpses another supernatural threat, Larissa struggles with the vision. Is it her imagination tormenting her? Or worse—another premonition?

  Continue Larissa and Roman’s action-packed romance in part two of the Stone Sentries trilogy.

  Other Books by Lisa Carlisle

  Underground Encounters series

  Steamy paranormal romances set in a underground goth club that attracts vampires, witches, shifters, and gargoyles.

  Smolder

  Fire

  Ignite

  Burn

  Heat

  Blaze

  Combust

  *

  Chateau Seductions

  An art colony on a remote New England island lures creative types—and supernatural characters. Steamy paranormal romances.

  Darkness Rising

  Dark Velvet

  Dark Muse

  Dark Stranger

  Dark Pursuit

  *

  Underground Encounters series

  Gargoyle shifters, wolf shifters, and tree witches have divided the Isle of Stone after a great battle 25 years ago. One risk changes it all…

  Knights of Stone: Mason

  Knights of Stone: Lachlan

  Knights of Stone: Bryce

  Seth: a wolf shifter romance in the series

  Knights of Stone: Calum

  Stone Cursed (a Zodiac Shifters paranormal romance)

  Knights of Stone: Gavin (coming soon)

  *

  Stone Sentries

  Meet your perfect match the night of the super moon — or your perfect match for the night. A cop teams up with a gargoyle shifter when demons attack Boston.

  Tempted by the Gargoyle

  Enticed by the Gargoyle

  Captivated by the Gargoyle (coming soon)

  *

  Night Eagle Operations

  A paranormal romantic suspense novel

  When Darkness Whispers

  *

  Vampire Blood Courtesans

  A multiple author shared world series.

  Pursued: Mia

  *

  Berkano Vampire Collection

  A multiple author shared World Series.

  Immortal Resistance (Division 3)

  *

  Visit LisaCarlisleBooks.com to learn more!

  Don’t miss any new releases, giveaways, specials, or freebies! Join the VIP list and download a free read today!

  www.lisacarlislebooks.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Larissa studied the investigator’s demeanor after she’d repeated her statement.

  Would he believe her? Could he? What had happened during the eclipse was so fantastical, it was more suited for the big screen than a police report.

  “Creatures fought in the air?” The middle-aged detective with receding, gray hair, from internal affairs leaned back in the chair as he assessed her from the opposite side of the table.

  Inhaling deeply, she mentally counted to three as she exhaled, drumming agitated fingers on her thigh. How many times would she have to repeat what had happened?

  As many as it took. She was a police officer. She knew the drill. She’d been in this room at the police station countless times before. It had never seemed this small. So hot. So devoid of fresh air.

  And, she was the one usually asking questions.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” she replied, keeping her voice at a steady level. “But, I wasn’t the only one who saw them. I’m sure the other witnesses described the attack.”

  “Let’s stick to what you think you saw that night.”

  What she thought she saw? Not a good sign.

  Had the lights always been so bright in this room? It was one of the smaller ones with nothing more than a table and four chairs. Her body burned under the fluorescent glare, like she was under a heat lamp.

  She was under heat, all right.

  Her leg twitched beneath the table. She forced herself to stop. “I told you. I saw what everyone else did–creatures I’d never seen before. They were fighting.”

  He raised his brows. “In the sky?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “We tried to stop them. People were being attacked in the dome. We did what we could to save them.” Her pitch rose, her voice sharp and defensive.

  The investigator glanced at his clipboard and then pinned her with his gaze. “Which weapon did you use?”

  Her heart rate sped up like she’d drank a double espresso. Not this again. “Nothing.”

  She squirmed in the chair and then reprimanded herself since her uncomfortable body language would trigger his wariness. Even though she was telling the truth.

  “Nothing?”

  “I didn’t have a weapon on me.”

&nbs
p; “But, you fired something.”

  “Not a weapon. Like I said before, I think it was some type of energy.”

  An eyebrow twitched on his otherwise impassive face. “From your hands?”

  She shifted in the uncomfortable chair. “Yes.”

  “And how did that work exactly?”

  “I don’t know–a reaction to stress, I suppose.” Her palms felt clammy. She resisted wiping them on her police uniform. With the way the questioning was going, she wouldn’t add any fodder for her skewering.

  How could she explain what had happened? She didn’t understand it herself. She didn’t want to admit her differences after a lifetime of trying to be normal, but her façade was crumbling under the scrutiny.

  “It was chaotic that night, people were screaming in anguish.” Her voice was edged with the desperation of the encounter. “I wanted to stop the perpetrators hurting them.”

  Yes, perps, not demons. She had to use jargon he’d understand since he didn’t seem to be buying the creatures fighting in the air bit.

  The investigator wrote some things down on the paper on his clipboard. She tried to read it upside-down, but couldn’t from the distance.

  “Look, I know it sounds delusional, but it’s not,” she added. “It’s not drugs or anything like that. I’m not on anything. Anyone else who was there will tell you the same thing.” It was a fucked-up night with some fucked-up creatures doing some fucked-up things.

  “And now your friend is in a coma?” the investigator asked.

  Her muscles tensed at the sudden reference to Janie. “Yes.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Larissa’s heartbeat fired like she was at the shooting range. She measured all her words before saying them aloud. “One of those–things–got to her.”

  She wouldn’t dare repeat that it was an incubus. With the way these questions had been lobbed at her for two days, she sensed her superiors were scrutinizing her role in the battle far too closely. Her leg trembled. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  The demons were gone. The gargoyles were protecting the city. And hopefully, many of the people who’d been attacked by the demons would recover.

  Including Janie.

  That motherfucking incubus.

  Larissa clenched her hands under the table. She would blast it to bits of demon confetti if she could. Luckily, that bastard had disintegrated into ashes on the sidewalk and was hopefully rotting in a special type of hell reserved for demons.

  The investigator’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller and pursed his lips. Without raising his eyes to her, he said, “We’ll be in touch.”

  She returned to her desk at the police station. The sounds of phones ringing surrounded her; they’d had far more calls than usual, even for a Monday. Had it only been two nights since the demons had attacked? She could swear she’d aged two decades.

  She picked up her abandoned coffee, which had now turned cold. The scent mocked her, tempting her to take a sip, but if she did, she’d spit out the stale mire. She usually drank it as hot as possible and didn’t get why anyone would drink iced coffee. Before she could move a step to refill it, one of the officers on her shift stopped by her desk.

  “More of the same?” McGuire asked.

  Larissa had filled him in on the events of the night. Whether he believed her, who knew? It was the talk all over the station, all over the city, for that matter.

  “You know how it goes.”

  “Have you watched the news? It’s all they’re talking about.”

  “Hell, no.” She’d had enough of the incessant media inquiries and didn’t want to see what they’d spun. No doubt they would have enough fodder to speculate for months.

  “The conspiracy theorists are getting off like they’ve brought a tray of oysters to an orgy. You should read some of their stories.”

  Larissa grunted. “No. I definitely don’t want to see any of that crap.”

  McGuire laughed. “That’s it exactly—crap.”

  She sighed. “And yet, the truth is likely far stranger.”

  “Sure sounds like it.” He raised his chin. “Hang in there.”

  A twinge of muted pain twisted in Larissa’s skull. She put the mug on her desk and placed her hands on her temples.

  “You okay?” McGuire asked.

  “It must be a stress headache,” she said.

  “You’re pale. You want me to get you some ibuprofen?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute, and it will pass.”

  After McGuire walked away, Larissa focused on how to move beyond the pain. God, it better be a stress headache and not one of her premonitions. A headache might just be a headache. It could be brought on by stress, dehydration, or lack of sleep.

  She grabbed her water bottle and drank half of it. That had to be it. She was overreacting–being hypervigilant after the attack and stressed out from yet another interrogation, this time from a hotshot who knew dick about what they’d encountered.

  But, if it was leading to a vision…

  In the past, acute headaches often meant something bad was coming—only she couldn’t always read what it was. To sense something ominous and be unable to prevent it tormented her.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe…

  Right. She had to breathe through the pain to get past it. She couldn’t deal with her visions at the police station. Especially, not after being questioned by the investigator, who was still there. It wouldn’t look good for her to appear rattled by his questions.

  She inhaled, counted to three, and then exhaled.

  Where was Roman? He had a way of calming her and would know what to do. But, as commander of the Stone Sentries, the gargoyle protectors who watched over Boston, he was also preoccupied with the aftermath of the demon attack.

  He’d said he’d try to come to her place tonight. God, she hoped so. He was one of the few people whom she could confide in about her visions. And, she missed him.

  The pain in her head intensified. She panted. Her vest felt too tight, as if she’d swelled up under those damn lights. And it was so hot, she started sweating.

  Focus on something.

  She stared at a figure of a weeping angel on her desk, one that Janie had given her. It was from Doctor Who and had “Don’t Blink” printed at its base. As if she could control any of her physical responses, right now. Simply breathing had turned laborious.

  The muted ache in her head turned up as if someone had twisted a crank to a level reading “throbbing.”

  You can’t lose it here. Ignore it. She couldn’t function through the pain, not at that intensity. Voices around her called her name, only they sounded like they were underwater.

  Images of demons flickered in her mind. Their blood-red wings flapped in the night sky. Their eerie eyes glowed with malevolence.

  No. It had to be a flashback. The demons were gone. She’d helped send them back to their realm.

  Help me. It was Janie’s voice.

  “How?” Larissa called out.

  No answer. Of course not. This wasn’t real. It was in her head.

  Wasn’t it?

  She clutched the edge of her desk, bracing herself against the pain. The stark lines of the police station curved as a dark haze clouded her vision.

  “Janie?” Her whisper came out a soft plea.

  Shit. She was going to pass out. She lost her grip on her desk as she fell.

  Chapter 2

  When midnight fell, Roman met with three gargoyle shifters he’d pulled off watch for a ceremony for the fallen. He couldn’t risk having all the Stone Sentries in attendance—not so soon after the demon attack. Still, Antonio and Milo deserved a solemn goodbye, albeit a short one.

  He and three of his sentries—Diego, Manny, and Erik—gathered around their fallen comrades on the rooftop of their compound. The tower view in the Seaport District gave them a vantage point of the city.

  Roman ran his fingers through the a
ir to ensure the gargoyle magic was present, preventing the sentries from being observed by the prying eyes of human technology. Gargoyles could cloak themselves to be invisible. Only rare humans would be able to discern them in the night sky.

  Or a special woman, like Larissa.

  He tore his gaze from the young fallen gargoyles to glance at the waning moon. It loomed under wisps of clouds, as though covered by a shroud—not red and ominous like it had been during the Supermoon two nights prior. A night when he had sensed impending danger while the rest of the city had chalked it up to a night filled with passion. Unfortunately, he had been right–yet, in a way, so had they. He’d met Larissa. But, many lives had been lost that night, including these two young shifters.

  Tension had kept his muscles taut since then, as hard as if he was in stone form. Perhaps, it was the battle leaving a lingering sense of imminent danger. Hadn’t it been like that at other times? After being involved in an altercation, it took time to turn off the heightened awareness. With the loss of two team members, they had fewer sentries to guard the city against threats, which might have exacerbated his unease. Whatever the sensation was or however it had been brought on, he wouldn’t ignore it.

  The council in Paris had informed him that they would send two sentries to replace the two who had perished—a numbers game that didn’t account for the loss of life. He would ensure that the fallen had a proper sendoff.

  He addressed the sentries at the ceremony. “Although Antonio and Milo deserve all in attendance to honor our sacrifice, our duty commands that we keep watch over the city.”

  Roman stepped closer to the two shifters laid out on a pyre. Four torches stood at each corner, casting flickering shadows across the still gargoyles. The play of light projected a strange illusion of animation on them, and Roman blinked to make sure they hadn’t moved.

  Wishful thinking, perhaps. Hoping they weren’t truly gone.

  But, their deaths were final, inflicted by a demon’s dark hands.

  Roman bowed his head before he addressed them. From a young age, he’d heard the traditional ceremonial farewell for other sentries who had died in battle but had never been the one to deliver the solemn words. His role as commander included leading those who served under him, and ultimately, feeling responsible for their fate.