Chapter 5

 

A thud on the balcony woke Reece with a start. A werewolf? It was almost daybreak. Would a rogue risk being seen after sunrise? Then she saw the outline of wings through the glass doors. She'd fallen asleep on the red leather sofa with her arm crooked under her head. Her shoulder felt stiff. She stretched and yawned as Damian stepped inside.

He stopped when he saw her. "Good morning. Looks like you didn't sleep well."

Did she look that bad? She touched a hand to her hair. She usually kept it in a ponytail, but it was loose now, falling this way and that. "I slept great. I'm never a pretty sight in the morning."

He looked her up and down, taking in her old sweat pants and the oversized T-shirt she wore to bed. "I wouldn't say that." There was something about his gaze—protective and private—that made her blush. She wasn't used to compliments, wasn't good with them. She glanced toward the coffee pot. "It's timed. Ready to go. Want a cup?"

His lips quirked. She'd amused him. How? "What if I bring you one?" he said.

The offer was unexpected. It was generous and thoughtful. Her pulse quickened. As he filled her mug, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

"No, but you probably are." He handed over her morning brew, then went to the kitchen and began tinkering between the refrigerator and stove. She couldn't stand it. She padded over to see what he was doing. He placed strips of bacon in a hot skillet, then plugged in the toaster. "BLT's?"

"My kind of breakfast." Bowls of cereal just didn't cut it. "I don't want to chew while you sit and watch. Will you eat with me?"

"Why not?"

She helped him find mayo and lettuce, then started slicing tomatoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the toaster's shining surface. No make up. Hair falling all over the place. She wasn't going to win any beauty prizes, but Damian didn't seem to notice. They worked in companionable silence. She almost pinched herself. How could she feel so comfortable working shoulder to shoulder with a gargoyle? But everything about him put her at ease.

Over their food, she got brave enough to ask, "What happened to Aurelius? If he doesn't have to age, why is he?"

He expected her question, she could tell. He said, "Gargoyles are linked to mankind. That's why artists created us, to protect people from evil. We're rarely killed in battle, but if we give up hope, get weary of this world, we lose our reason for being here. We grow more and more brittle until we turn back to stone and crumble away."

"And Aurelius is weary?"

"He's struggling with his destiny. Sometimes, good deeds do not go unpunished."

She frowned, shaking her head. "I don't get it."

"Aurelius saved a young boy from a werewolf attack. While Aurelius finished the rogue, the boy ran. He looked for him, but couldn't find him."

"And that's bad?"

"At the next full moon, the boy changed."

Reece remembered the kid from the bus, his struggle when the moonlight hit him, his yell for her to run. "How bad was it? Who did he kill?"

"His mom, his dad, his two little brothers and baby sister. He blamed Aurelius."

"But Aurelius tried to help him."

"Tried. Didn't. Aurelius counts that as a failure."

Reece was silent a minute, thinking about that. "So the boy's in Bay City?"

"We followed him here, then lost him. If we could get him to a pack… But it's probably too late. He's too filled with hate."

"How old is he?" Reece pictured a ten-year-old on the lam, an easy opponent for Aurelius to subdue.

"He let himself age until he reached his mid twenties. He stopped there. The incident's haunted Aurelius for decades, that and all the humans we don't get to in time, the ones we don't save."

Reece pushed away her plate, no longer hungry. Her stomach clenched for Aurelius. She couldn't imagine carrying a burden like that. No wonder his shoulders stooped under the weight. "It wasn't his fault," she said.

"I know that. So does Benito. We're not infallible. But some mistakes take their toll."

"Was the boy hurt or bleeding when he ran?"

"No."

"Then how could Aurelius know?" She hadn't seen any blood on the kid from the restaurant either. It must only take one pinprick, one tiny wound.

Damian carried the plates to the sink to rinse them. "That's not the way Aurelius sees it."

Reece decided to change the subject. "Did you have any luck last night? Did you see anything?"

"We didn't expect to. It's too soon. The rogues will be more cautious for a while." He finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and turned to her. "What's your day like today? Do you have to teach classes?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"Then let's work on controlling your gift."

They spent the next hour training, but no matter how hard Reece tried to gather energy to her, none came. Her hair grew damp and stuck to her forehead. Sweat trickled down her back.

"Plant your feet on the floor. Draw from the wood," Damian repeated for the umpteenth time.

She closed her eyes. She concentrated on the grain of the oak on the pads of her bare feet. She held up her hand and willed energy through her.

Nothing.

The loft felt like a sauna. She went to the French doors and threw them open to let a breeze circulate.

"Visualize your flesh and the floor as one."

Words of wisdom. For someone. Half an hour later, soggy semicircles stained her T-shirt under her breasts. Her armpits smelled rank.

Damian folded his arms over his chest. His voice had an edge to it. "You did this once. You can do it again."

Nothing.

"Feel the pulse of the wood …."

"Enough!" She waved him away, frustrated. She had a headache. Her muscles felt stiff. Her stomach growled. She was hungry again.

He stared at her, surprised. "You can't expect this to be easy."

"Easy! It's not coming at all! If you're so damn smart, you do it! If I could draw from anything, don't you think I'd be sparking by now?"

"I'm only trying to help."

"It's not working!" She stalked to the balcony and gulped a breath of cool air. She struggled for patience.

He gave her a minute before asking, "Do you want to quit for the day or try again?"

"Try what?" She bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. Crudity didn't become her. Instead, she fought to be reasonable. "I don't know how I zapped Mercury in my studio. I don't know what I'm doing wrong now."

"Maybe you need a target. Aim at me."

She wouldn't mind zinging him. She concentrated on the feel of the smooth oak beneath her soles. She pictured white, hot energy wiping the encouraging smile right off his handsome face. She held up a palm and got… nothing.

"Screw this!" She rubbed at her temples. "I've had it. I'm done."

Damian lowered his head and charged her.

What the hell was he thinking? He'd bowl her over soon. The giggles began. They spilled out and wouldn't stop.

He screeched to a halt. "What's so funny?"

"You." Either he was hilarious or she was slaphappy, she wasn't sure which.

He raised a dark brow. "I take it I don't scare you?"

"You're here to protect me. No worries there."

He shook his head in defeat. "I'm not the teacher you are. I'm going about this wrong."

He was frustrated, too, she could hear it in his voice. Suddenly, she felt sorry for him. Her laughter died, and she sagged to the floor, sitting Indian style. "Neither of us know how to be a witch," she said. "It's not your fault."

He squatted beside her. Sweat slicked his golden skin. With his wings furled to his back, he looked almost human—if a human ever looked that good. She licked her lips, and he misread her.

"I should have been more thoughtful. I've made you exhausted before you teach at the studio."

"I'll survive." He radiated manliness. Time for a cold shower. She had to get out of the apartment. Either that, or Damian might never respect her again.

"I'll fix you something to eat while you get ready for work." He started to the kitchen.

"No time." She glanced at the clock. "I'll grab something on the way." With his dark hair tousled, he looked younger, more carefree. He was way too tempting.

She could feel his eyes on her as she hurried to her bedroom. Were there girl gargoyles? she wondered. Or were gargoyles so noble, they were like priests, devoted to their jobs?

She washed lustful thoughts from her mind as the shower washed sweat from her body. By the time she left for her studio, her hormones were under control. On the drive to work, though, she wished their practice had paid off. She'd feel safer if she knew how to use her energy better. She didn't think a werewolf would attack her in the daylight, but there was no guarantee, was there?

When she parked in the lot behind her building, her heart gave a tiny blip of joy when she noticed a lone gargoyle perched on a window ledge across the alley. Aurelius sat there, keeping a silent vigil. He must have come before daylight to wait for her. Her spirits lifted. He was determined to keep her safe. If he was active, there was hope for him. Maybe his rogue would attack her, and he could swoop down and carry him away. He could free himself of his heavy burden.

She shook her head. She was spending too much time with gargoyles when she fantasized about seeing a rogue.

She hustled into the studio and, as usual, the dojo soothed her nerves. Thoughts of Damian fled. White balls of energy didn't matter. Her classes demanded concentration. Time went quickly. When her last student left, the sun was gone. Her fears returned.

Street lamps dotted the curbs, but only lit a narrow corridor. A lone spotlight shone on her SUV, parked behind the building. She glanced to see if Aurelius was still on his window ledge. He saw her and gave a small nod. Bless his heart, he was as sweet as Benito and Damian. He knew she was frightened, expecting an attack every time she walked outdoors after sunset.

She hurried to her car, glancing up and down the street. Downright silly, she realized. If there was a werewolf anywhere close, Aurelius would smell it. He'd warn her. She started the car's engine and drove home. When she stopped at a red light, she ducked her head to peer skyward and saw that Aurelius was following her to keep an eye on her.

Before she reached her apartment building, Aurelius landed on a rooftop across the street. Reece slowed the car to a crawl to enter the underground garage. Too many shadows. Too many vehicles for a werewolf to hide behind. She swallowed hard and parked as close to the elevator as she could. Then she ran.

Damian watched as she flew into the apartment and bolted the door. He shook his head. "You realize that a werewolf can rip your SUV to shreds and tear your door off its hinges, don't you?"

She gave him an evil look. "Thanks for that." Any feeling of safety dissolved instantly. "You can be a real pain, do you know that?"

He grinned, caught off guard. "Only trying to keep you alert and ready."

"That might be smart if I knew how to focus my energy, but since I don't have a clue and can only guess what to do if a werewolf knocks on my door, it's not much help."

He looked around the apartment. "At least your little house is made of bricks."

"Very funny." Who knew? Her gargoyle had a sense of humor. She glanced pointedly at the dark skies. "Aren't you supposed to be flapping somewhere by now? You have a job to do, don't you?" His wing was completely healed. He could probably do loopy loops if he wanted to.

"Someone's a little testy tonight." He looked out the French doors. "It's nice to see Aurelius out and about again. He's taken a real liking to you."

"It's mutual. He's nice."

"I said guardians were good, not nice." He stepped out onto the balcony. "If anything happens, Aurelius will be here to help you."

She had a smart-aleck answer at the ready, but the stakes were too high. What if he had to save someone tonight? What if his wing was ripped and gnawed on again? She'd feel guilty for taunting him. Instead, she crossed the room and hugged him. What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn't a cuddly person by nature. "Take care. And good luck, even though you don't need it."

He looked as surprised by her gesture as she was. "A little luck wouldn't hurt, I guess." He hesitated.

"Get out of here." She waved him away. Who knew how she'd embarrass herself next?

"The hug was nice while it lasted." He was mocking her. That, she felt comfortable with.

"Just go!" Reece stepped out of the way while his wings unfurled. She watched him fly out of sight, barely visible in the dark sky. Then she went inside and, regardless of what he'd said, locked the doors. At least she'd hear a werewolf crash through them if one came for her. Could werewolves climb? Not thirteen floors.

Restless, she went to the refrigerator. Holding it open, she gazed inside. Nothing tempted her. She hadn't stopped for food on the way home. How would that work? Would she order an extra burger for Aurelius? She ended up heating a can of black bean soup. She ate it out of the pan while she paced the apartment. It felt too empty, too quiet. She decided to practice her talents. Maybe she could concentrate better with no distractions. But it was pointless. By ten, she sat down with a bowl of ice cream and turned on the TV. By eleven, the bowl was empty and she was asleep.

Something woke her at three. She flipped off the TV and strained to hear. Something tapped on the doors that led to the balcony. How stupid could she be? She'd locked them. Damian must have come back and couldn't get in.

Moonlight beamed through the glass. The dining room's ladder back chairs were thrown in relief, and the half-wall of the kitchen made a black hole of shadows in the center of the room. She edged around its countertops and peeked out at the balcony.

An owl stared in at her. Its round, yellow eyes studied her, unblinking. Something long and thin shimmered in its beak. The owl dropped it and hopped onto the wrought iron railing. It sat there, waiting for her to take the gift.

Was this a trick? A necklace coiled on the balcony floor. Reece hesitated. When Benito had talked to her about magic talents, he'd used the word others. What others were there? Anything that could turn into an owl? Something that could shift again and be dangerous? The hairs on her arms stood on end. She rubbed her hands up and down them to calm herself.

The owl looked at the necklace, then at her. She swallowed the fear that lumped in her throat. She opened the door a crack to reach out a hand. As soon as she touched the necklace, the owl spread its wings. It flew away. Reece pulled the thin, silver chain inside and locked the door.

A gem dangled from the silver strand. Its pale surface shimmered in her palm. She walked to a lamp to see better. A moonstone gleamed up at her, as if lit from within, lovely and mysterious.

Who'd sent it? No Were. They hated silver. She slid the chain over her head. When the gem nestled in place, near the blood red tattoo by her heart, power rushed through her.

She waved her hand, and wind circled the perimeter of the loft. She turned her hand, palm up. The floor buckled beneath her. She turned it, palm down. The wooden planks settled in place. Trembling, she clamped her hands behind her back.

The moon called her. Reece walked out onto the balcony. She raised her face to its beams. They bathed her in their cool light—silver beams, like her silver chain. The pale, white orb reminded her of the pale, white moonstone. And she knew. She touched her necklace. Energy hummed through her. The moon's ebb and flow were now a part of her life.

She raised her hands before her. They were the same, but different. She was a witch now. The thought didn't frighten her.

A cab slowed at the street corner. Its back door opened and closed. Reece watched a lone woman step from the taxi and hurry into the apartment building across the street. She raised her eyes to the rooftop and saw a still figure huddled there. Aurelius. He flew to the balcony, landing beside her. His eyes rested on the necklace. "Now you'll be safe."

"It'll help me, I can tell." She felt safer, more confident, but she wouldn't tell him that. She wanted him out and about, not in the nest, smothering himself in guilt.

He was only half-listening. "If you don't need me, I'll fly to assist Damian and Benito. They've spotted a rogue. They're following it."

The words popped out before she could stop them. "Your rogue?"

"I can hope. But if you don't mind…."

"Go. I'm fine. And good luck."

"Luck's a blessing," he said, surprising her. "Good intentions aren't always enough."

She watched him fly away and willed that the rogue would be the young boy he'd saved, the young boy he'd hopefully be able to save a second time—from his grief and rage and need for vengeance. It would bless them both.