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

  “You have done your duties well. You have served as valiant Stone Sentries and sacrificed your life for the protection of others. You have died noble deaths of warriors. Your watch is over. We will continue your duty. And you will never be forgotten.”

  The other shifters placed their hands over their hearts and echoed the sentiment honoring their fallen comrades.

  Diego took hold of one of the torches and leaned down toward the pyre. He lit the kindling beneath the bodies. Antonio and Milo were positioned so they faced North, while the gargoyles in attendance stood in position to represent North, South, East, and West.

  The standing gargoyles kept their hands on their heart and their heads bowed. While the bodies burned, wisps of white smoke unfurled toward the stars. An ethereal white glow surrounded Antonio and Milo. As the fire was enhanced with gargoyle magic, the cremation only took minutes. What remained was fine white dust. Neither ashes nor gray stone like that of their statue form. Their remains had turned marble-like with a luminescent quality.

  Roman kneeled and gathered a handful of the fine dust. The other gargoyles followed suit. They each walked from their positions to the edge of the rooftop. Each of the Stone Sentries had taken a handful in their left hand.

  “Farewell,” Roman said. “May your winged spirits soar into the next world.”

  The sentries saluted with their right hands over their chests. They scattered the marble dust into the night, sending the fallen on an eternal flight. Roman watched the dust briefly obscure the waning moon before falling like angel dust among the stars. A breeze swept in on the otherwise calm night and claimed the white stone dust in a timeless dance, like snowflakes drifting across the sky.

  The sentries watched until the specks could no longer be seen. Antonio and Milo had become one with the night sky on their eternal flight. Roman took in a deep, mournful breath through tight lungs before dismissing the sentries to their assigned locations.

  As he’d promised, they’d continue their watch and return to duty.

  He checked in with Arto, his second-in-command. Roman had given his Stone Sentries assignments, and many observed from inconspicuous positions while in stone. Arto had proven himself as loyal and capable the night the demons had attacked. Roman could always rely on his deputy and good friend.

  Arto, anything to report? Roman asked through telepathic gargoyle communication.

  No, Commander.

  Where are you?

  I’m still in the Longwood Medical Area, near where Larissa’s friend is recovering.

  At the mention of Larissa, Roman’s new mate, a pang twisted inside him. He’d only met her two nights ago, just before the demon attack. She was a police officer, yet he hadn’t known that. He’d tracked her as he had sensed dark magic and had followed her to investigate. She wasn’t the source of dark magic, but he’d caught her scent—an herbal one that was indicative of a witch. Roman had unfortunately blurted that out, and she hadn’t responded well. She hadn’t known, and it would take time to accept a side of her that had a new label.

  The growing ache from being apart from his mate was unfamiliar. It tugged at him like an echo of a severed limb. Even without the physical presence, it left a strange longing that gnawed inside, a constant reminder of the loss.

  He’d told her he would try to visit her that night if all was calm. He forced himself to push away the yearning for her. Duty required it. Although the gargoyles believed they’d destroyed all the demons or sent them back through the portal to their hellish realm, he wouldn’t disregard any possibilities when it came to immortal beings and dark magic.

  Roman wasn’t leaving anything to chance in protecting the city entrusted to his watch–his first assignment as a commander of a region.

  He couldn’t fail them.

  He wouldn’t fail them.

  Roman added Franco and Vidal to the conversation. He’d assigned them to watch the portal where the demons had slipped through. Although Roman had sealed it with gargoyle magic, he wouldn’t leave it unattended.

  Any activity near the portal?

  Nothing out of the ordinary, Franco replied. Many parts of the Common are still taped off since it’s a crime scene. Investigators have been here day and night. Pedestrians approach, trying to get a closer look, but that’s all.

  The humans would investigate for months. But what would it accomplish? They couldn’t change anything nor prevent what had happened from happening again. Humans were powerless against demons. They needed the gargoyles for protection.

  Roman glanced at the moon as he took in the climate through his supernatural senses. The unsettling red hue from the night of the attack was gone. His sentries reported all was quiet. He had to see Larissa and ensure she was safe.

  He cloaked himself and shifted to gargoyle form before leaping off the roof of the compound and spreading his wings wide. Anticipation heightened his awareness and his pulse soared. The city’s lights danced beneath him. The sultry summer heat caressed his wings. The hum of the night whispered soon.

  Was this what it was like when a gargoyle discovered his mate? He craved her presence. Their separation while they each performed their duties left him longing for her.

  The lights of the city’s buildings gave way to darker streets of residential areas. When he reached Larissa’s neighborhood, he surveilled the area for witnesses. After landing in a nearby park with several trees that offered him cover, he shifted to human form.

  He practically ran to the three-family house where she lived. It was after midnight, and the lights were off in her apartment. She had to be sleeping. Good; she needed the rest. He hated to wake her, but how else would he get in?

  After a minute, there was still no answer.

  He tried again.

  Another minute or two ticked by with no signs of movement. He reached for his phone in his back pocket.

  Shit, it wasn’t there. He’d left it at the compound. As a gargoyle, he rarely had the need for a cell phone. Why bother when he could communicate telepathically?

  But, Larissa wasn’t a gargoyle. He’d have to learn to adjust to the nuances in a relationship with someone who was a different species.

  He tried the bell again a couple more times. Nothing.

  Damn it, he wasn’t going to leave without seeing her. He glanced to make sure nobody was looking out their window and slipped behind a bush on her property. After shifting back to gargoyle form, he flew to the back of the house and up to her bedroom window on the third floor. The shade was up, which was odd, yet, he wasn’t complaining. With his vision, he was able to see clearly into her bedroom.

  The bed was made. But, she wasn’t in it.

  Worry wormed through his skull. His heart pounded, hard and harsh against his ribs. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  Where was she?

  More importantly—was she safe?

  Chapter 3

  Larissa woke in an unfamiliar bed wearing a worn white gown with a faded blue pattern. With all the machines and the buzz of activity with nurses and doctors, it didn’t take long to figure out she was in the hospital.

  Shit. What had happened? It was all so blurry. She remembered a blinding headache, but why? Had it been one of her visions?

  When a nurse entered to check on her vitals, Larissa asked, “Why am I here?”

  “Yesterday, you told your coworker you had a headache, and then you passed out.”

  At the station? Fuck. Her gut churned. That didn’t look good, especially after she’d been questioned by the investigator. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I need to get out of here.”

  Where was her phone? Roman was going to try to come by her place last night. She had to call him. Once the nurse left, she found her phone in a bag with her clothes.

  She called Roman. It rang. And rang and rang. He didn’t answer. She left a short message explaining where she was.

  Then she called her sergeant, tapping her thigh as she awaited his answer.

  After ensurin
g she was all right, he said, “We need to talk.”

  *

  An hour later, she left the station. Although she told herself to keep her head high, it sagged. She plodded down the street.

  Snap out of the Charlie Brown walk, and do something productive.

  Like what? Finding Roman would be a start. But, where was he? Most likely doing whatever he did as a head gargoyle shifter guarding this city.

  Larissa slapped her hand over her forehead and let out a harsh laugh. She was seeing a gargoyle shifter. Admitting that to anyone would lead to an invitation for a shitload of psychological screenings. Her sergeant had informed her she needed to take some time off and had to be screened for PTSD before returning to duty.

  Fuck. What a shit show. All the responders would likely have to go through mandatory counseling. She loathed being “shrinked.” If she didn’t talk about something, it was for a reason—not so she could have some counselor drag it out to relive again. She squeezed her hands into fists and then forced herself to relax them. Enough with the investigators and professionals. She’d confide in Roman or Janie, not strangers.

  Janie!

  It all came rushing back to Larissa. Before she’d passed out, she’d seen demons. And, she could have sworn she’d heard Janie calling for her help.

  But, that was crazy. Janie couldn’t communicate in a coma.

  Clearly, you need some fresh air.

  It wasn’t exactly fresh, not with all the cars zipping by. Still, it was summer in the city, with people and activities everywhere. The summer sun shined with a chipper brightness overhead, incongruent with her inner gloom. Maybe the sunlight would pull her out of her funk.

  She hopped onto the trolley and stared out the window. People not directly affected by the attack went on with their day as if it hadn’t happened. That’s what often occurred. Tragedies could cripple, but the farther outside the strike zone, the quicker the comeback.

  When she disembarked, the scent from the nearby restaurants wafted over to her, but she had no appetite. How could she eat now? Her stomach was twisted like licorice, as taut as her muscles.

  After walking a mile, she reached Janie’s hospital. While waiting in line at the visitor’s desk, she spotted Janie’s parents across the lobby. Her heart ached for them. They had to be losing their minds wondering what had happened to Janie. Not that Larissa wanted to explain how she’d found Janie in a hotel room with an incubus.

  The intrusive images flashed in her mind. Glowing eyes. Venom. Hate. Larissa shuddered.

  Ah, that’s probably why she’d had visions of seeing them before she’d passed out. Those vicious fuckers were no joke.

  Once she received her visitor’s pass, Janie’s parents were gone. Ah, well, perhaps that was for the best. She could delay the uncomfortable conversation for a bit longer.

  She hurried up to the wing where Janie rested. A nurse was in the room monitoring the heart machine.

  “Any change?” Larissa asked, hearing the unwarranted hope in her voice.

  The nurse wrote something on her clipboard before pulling her focus to Larissa’s question.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Damn it,” Larissa said. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “I mean, she’s my best friend,” she added. “I hate seeing her this way.”

  “I understand,” the nurse said with a sympathetic look. “It’s difficult to see someone you love like this and not be able to do anything to change it.”

  A coma. Janie was in her early twenties and in a coma. That shouldn’t happen.

  None of it should have happened. Demons shouldn’t have slipped into Boston from whatever motherfucking realm they came from, and they shouldn’t have committed unspeakable acts in their lust for carnage.

  Larissa kept her mouth shut as the nurse jotted more notes. After she left the room, Larissa stared at Janie. She looked so young and so small on the bed. Her blonde hair framed her pale face. With her eyes closed, she looked like a sleeping angel.

  A lump formed in her throat, and Larissa swallowed it back. Although a damn incubus had done this to Janie, depleting her energy, Larissa couldn’t help but feel responsible. They’d been out together Saturday night, for the first time since the bombings that had torn into Janie’s legs. After months of rehab, Janie had wanted to dance. And she had. Too bad she’d met someone that night who’d almost killed her.

  Why didn’t I know something was different about him? Why couldn’t I tell something was off? I should have been able to warn her.

  Nothing had been right that night. The demons had clouded people’s judgment with dark magic.

  Larissa stared at Janie in the hospital bed. “Did you reach out to me Janie? Or, am I imagining things?”

  No response.

  Larissa sat with Janie and took her hand. Her skin was cold, so Larissa gently rubbed her unresponsive fingers to share some warmth. The sound of the machines monitoring Janie’s vital signs echoed with reassuring pings.

  She’d survived.

  “You might get sick of seeing me here,” Larissa said. “I’ve been put on leave.” After a pause, she added, “Since you’re not going to answer me, I’ll guess what you would say: ‘Good, Larissa. You work too much. You need a break. You need to act like you’re twenty-something and not think the burden of saving the world is on you.’”

  Larissa brightened, thinking she was close to what Janie would say “I hope you wake up soon. Whatever I can do to help, you know I’ll do it.”

  “You’ve always been there for her,” a man’s voice said from the hospital doorway.

  Larissa turned toward the door. Her father stood there in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, his usual attire since retiring from the police force after thirty years. His hair was slightly longer than he typically wore it, perhaps only a half-inch more of his salt-and-pepper hair, but it gave him a more relaxed appearance than his usual no-nonsense vibe.

  “Dad.” She rose and rushed over to him, pausing a second before giving him a hug.

  He gave her awkward back pats at first before returning the hug. They weren’t touchy-feely types, but the circumstances were severe.

  After Larissa and her father pulled apart, he cleared his throat. “How is she?”

  “No change.”

  “Horrible.” He shook his head. “I heard what happened. Well, I heard one version. Your name came up–often. I’m glad you’re okay, but jeez, Larissa, what happened that night?” He stared at her.

  He likely had several eyes and ears on the force who would keep him informed–especially when it came to his daughter in a threatening situation. So much had happened in the last few days, not the least of which included demons and gargoyles clashing over Boston Common.

  She snorted. “Funny, Dad,” she said. “I should ask you the same thing.”

  He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Some twisted shit happened the other night. Demons flew in from some portal and attacked people. Gargoyles guarding the city came to defend them.”

  She studied him to see how he’d react, but his expression didn’t reveal anything.

  “I ended up being pulled into this altercation, and did things that I never thought were possible.”

  That time, he blanched. “What did you do?”

  Shot freaking electric beams out of my hands, for one thing.

  She fought to keep the snark out of her voice. It wouldn’t help her get the info she wanted from this conversation. “I was able to project energy from my fingertips to defend myself and others.” She didn’t specify that it was an incubus trying to get her to do God knows what because even if he’d been on the force for thirty years, he was still her father, and she was his only child. It would disturb the shit out of him.

  “Oh.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  His expression tensed, and a muscle twitched in his jawline. “I’m not sure what to say about that.”

 
“I find it odd that when I mentioned beings I didn’t know existed, like gargoyles and demons, you didn’t react, but when I mentioned what I did that night, you turned white. You know more than you’re letting on. I’m different. I know this, and you do, too. But why? Is it something with mom?”

  He glanced at the floor to his left and covered his mouth. When he pulled his gaze to her face, he dropped his hand. “Yes.”

  Larissa inhaled sharply. Although she’d expected this answer, hearing him admit it shook something within her. It was like he’d pulled an integral brick from a fortification she’d erected to protect herself. Her entire life she’d been trying to be normal, something she could never truly accomplish. By removing that piece, her façade threatened to crumble. If those walls crashed down, she’d be exposed as a freak and shunned for being different. She felt like a kid again, worried about the other kids whispering that she was weird.

  You’re an adult now. You can handle this.

  She raised her chin. “Tell me about it.”

  Her dad flashed a glance at Janie. “You sure you want to have this conversation in front of her? We don’t know if she can hear or not.”

  Larissa’s gaze drifted to Janie, lying there without any indication she had any connection to the outside world. Janie had stood by her since they’d been kids; she’d been the only one to accept Larissa and her weird quirks, like seeming to sense things before they’d happened.

  Larissa returned her gaze to her father. “If there’s anyone whom I trust enough to hear this, it’s Janie.”

  Her dad rubbed his eyes. “I’d prefer it to be just the two of us. Let’s get a cup of coffee or something.”

  He was stalling. She wanted to demand, “Just say it. Rip it off like it’s a damn bandage.” Pushing him wouldn’t convince him to talk, though. “Fine.”

  Minutes later, which stretched on like a decade, Larissa sat across from him in a corner of the cafeteria away from others. Each had a cup of coffee and muffin.