Interview With a Gargoyle (26 page)

Palmer and Blake slid Melodie’s jeans down her legs, exposing her thighs. Calypso yanked the safety cap off the epinephrine dispenser and jabbed the dull end of it against Melodie’s flesh. Blake heard a faint click as the pen activated, releasing the hidden needle and pumping the rescue drug into her ravaged system.

He waited only the space of one breath before resuming CPR, and after one puff of air through her blue-tinged lips, all hell broke loose.

A brilliant, cold light flared from Melodie’s midsection, and her body went completely rigid in Blake’s arms. The flash blinded him, and the noise of it left his ears ringing. The windows rattled, and something thumped hard against the front door.

“Fremlings—” Calypso muttered. “They’re swarming.”

“Don’t touch it!” Helena’s reverent words drew everyone’s attention. At first Blake had no idea what she was talking about; then he saw it. The Cabochon tumbled onto the floor next to Melodie. The sapphire blue gem glowed with a pulsating inner light. His salvation finally lay within reach, yet all he could think about was the woman he held gasping in his arms.

Gasping.

Melodie’s body trembled now, but at least she was breathing, great desperate gulps of air. He cupped her face and cradled her against him. “It’s okay now, lass. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Back away!” Helena pulled Palmer away from the circle. He scrambled for the discarded hammer, but the two Domaré women jumped him and wrestled it from his grasp.

“You can’t destroy it!” Calypso bodily held Palmer back from retrieving the hammer. “Not now. Let it be.”

“Get Melodie out of the circle, and don’t touch the gem,” Helena instructed Blake. “If you accidentally touch it—”

“I won’t touch it.” Blake scooped Melodie up in his arms. Though still limp, she looked better. Her breathing came in short pants now, and her eyes were mere slits, but her gaze was focused on him, and she seemed coherent. “It’s okay, Melodie. Help’s on the way. You’re going to be okay.”

She croaked his name, and he shushed her. “Don’t worry about me, angel. I’ll be just fine.”

They vacated the kitchen, leaving the Cabochon pulsing and alone in the salt circle.

“What are we going to do about the Fremlings?” Calypso asked. She peered out the living room window.

“The sirens will take care of them.” Palmer swept the curtains aside. The red and blue flash of emergency vehicles illuminated his features as Blake placed Melodie on the couch. “The ambulance scared them away, but they won’t stay gone for long with the Cabochon lying around like that. We need to do something with it.”

The doorbell rang then, and Palmer dashed out of the living room to let the EMTs inside. A moment later, two ambulance attendants and a police officer surged into the room. They crowded around the couch, making it clear by their actions that everyone else should stay back and give them room to work.

Blake caught the odd glance that passed between Helena and Calypso right before the rescue personnel started firing questions at him. He answered them dutifully and squeezed Mel’s still-puffy fingers as they settled her on their portable stretcher and wheeled her toward the front door.

She smiled through the plastic oxygen mask they’d placed over her face, and Blake fell into step behind the entourage.

Calypso stopped him before he crossed the threshold. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the hospital. Melodie shouldn’t be alone.”

“It’s almost dawn.”

Those words halted his forward momentum, but his gaze followed the stretcher down the front stairs. His neighbors had gathered at the curb, watching the EMTs load Melodie into the ambulance and no doubt wondering what he’d done to the poor girl.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen at sunrise, but I know you won’t remain human.”

Blake cursed and stalked back into the living room, where his sullen gaze met Palmer’s.

“I’ll go with her,” the demon hunter said. Blake might have argued, but all things considered, Van Houten was the only logical choice. Blake waved him off. “Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I will.”

“Thank you. And I am sorry about the sucker punch. You saved her life. I owe you for that one.”

“Yeah, you owe me, but not for saving Mel. We’ll talk about it later, when we’re sure she’s okay,” Palmer said before hurrying out the front door.

Exhausted, Blake sank to the bowed couch cushions and lowered his head into his hands.

Now Melodie was out of the equation. He should have been relieved—and he was—but his problem remained. What if the Witches’ Council still refused to break the curse?

A delicate hand rested on his knee, and he glanced up into Helena’s ocean blue eyes. “You care about her, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter. Until the curse is broken, what have I got to offer her or anyone?”

“They’ll find a way. The witches know the curse has gone on long enough.”

“And what about the Domaré? Will they agree to give up the source of their power?”

“The Domaré won’t have a choice if the witches make a decision. They’re more powerful than we are, but we’re not weak. We’ll find ways of holding our own, even without the Cabochon to help us.”

“I’ll believe in the witches’ power when someone uses it to break the curse. Until then, it’s all just empty promises.” Blake looked away. Staring into Helena’s eyes reminded him of his darkest hours, the times when he was desperate enough to hurt another living soul to save himself. That all-consuming quest for freedom no longer controlled his actions, but the shame of it lingered.

The soft sound of the door closing interrupted his melancholy thoughts. Both he and Helena glanced toward the kitchen. The insistent blue glow of the Cabochon had ceased, and the doorway was dark.

Their eyes met for a moment; then they both bolted across the room. In the kitchen, the circle of salt still lay unbroken, but the white candles, now extinguished, lay on their sides, anchored to the floor by puddles of hardened wax.

Calypso was gone. And so was the Cabochon.

Chapter Twenty-Five

At half-past ten the next morning, Melodie made her way out of the labyrinthine emergency department of Amberville General Hospital. She carried a cup of ice chips, a plastic bag with three sample doses of Prednisone and a prescription for a new epinephrine rescue pen.

She felt pretty good, considering she’d probably been dead for a second or two the night before.

The rumbling in her stomach was honest-to-goodness hunger, and the sleepy feeling that made her glance longingly at the couches in the ER waiting room had to do with the fact that she’d been up all night while an endless stream of nurses and doctors had taken her blood pressure and shined bright penlights into her eyes and down her throat every few minutes.

She needed sleep. She really needed a burger, and most of all she needed Blake.

When Palmer met her in the lobby, she mustered a smile to hide her mild disappointment. He hugged her, and she had to admit, the contact felt good.

He led her to the lobby exit and opened the door, releasing her into the brilliant sunlight. “How are you?”

She blinked and shielded her teary eyes. “A lot better. At least I don’t feel like a balloon with a slow leak anymore.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you. They wouldn’t let me in the ER since I’m not family.”

“That’s okay. Everyone took good care of me.”
Where’s Blake?
Her mind tacked on the last question silently. If Calypso had gotten the witches to break the curse during the night, he’d be here now, wouldn’t he?

“Do you want to stop at the pharmacy before I take you home?” Palmer asked as they headed toward his Jeep. Mel eyed him. He seemed almost too cheerful. Something wasn’t right.

“Or maybe we should get you some food? What would you like? Breakfast, lunch? Both? We could stop at Brunch Palace—”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. Something’s not right. I can tell by your voice.”

He squeaked out a word or two, then cleared his throat and began again in a purposely lower pitch. “My voice is fine. I’m starving. I could go for pancakes. How about you?”

“It’s Blake, isn’t it? What happened?”

“He’s fine.”

“Fine-fine like great-fine or fine like not-dead-but-close fine?”

Palmer squinted at her. “Why would he be dead?”

She growled in exasperation and refused to hop into the passenger seat when he held the door of the Jeep open for her. “You know what I mean. There’s fine as in perfectly normal and then there’s the fine you tell people you are after you’ve just been in a three-car pileup but you don’t have any broken bones.”

He assessed her with a critical stare. “What kinds of drugs did they give you?”

“Palmer!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right. I guess you could call it three-car-pileup fine.”

“The Council wouldn’t break the curse?” Defeat settled in her chest, and tears threatened, but she held Palmer’s gaze.

“They can’t at the moment. Helena called me a little while ago… Calypso…disappeared with the Cabochon. She probably absorbed it. She had to have if she touched it. They don’t know where she went, but Helena has been out looking for her.”

Mel slumped. Her bones seemed rubbery, and vaguely she registered Palmer helping her slide into the bucket seat. “How could she do that to Blake? How could she do that to
me
?”

“I don’t know, Mel. I’m sorry.” Palmer settled into the driver’s seat and placed a hand on her knee. “Once I get you home, I’m going to look for her too. Between Helena and me, we’ll track her down.”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to see Blake. Take me to his place.”

“He didn’t want me to do that. He doesn’t want you to see him while he’s—”

“Palmer, if you don’t take me back to Blake’s house, I’ll pixie dust you until you don’t remember your own name.” She pinned him with a glare that she hoped left no room for argument. The Melodie-demon might be gone, but she could still conjure a solid death stare if she had to.

He sighed and drove her to Blake’s. When they pulled up in front of the house, she gave him a quick kiss on his bruised cheek, and he winced. “Call me if you find her,” she said as she climbed out onto the sidewalk. “Try the rail yard. That’s where I’d go if I was a demon.”

“Uh…sure. Will you be okay? I mean, things looked pretty bad last night. Are you sure you should be alone?”

She smiled and waved her baggie of drugs at him. “I’ll be fine, and I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Blake.”

Palmer muttered something before he pulled away, but Mel didn’t quite catch his comment. She waited until he turned the corner, then hurried up the stairs.

Panic seized her when she realized she didn’t have a key, but disappointment at the thought of having to leave Blake alone all day morphed into another emotion entirely when the front door swung open and Helena stepped out onto the porch.

“Melodie! I’m so glad you’re all right. I’ve never seen an allergic reaction before. I had no idea they could be so bad.”

Mel stared at the Domaré woman, rendered speechless by a tumult of thoughts she probably had no right to think. Had Palmer lied about her being out looking for Calypso? How long had she remained with Blake after the ambulance took Mel away?

“Where is he?” She tried to keep her tone neutral and failed. The question sounded like an accusation, and Helena was clearly perceptive enough to take it that way.

She glanced over her shoulder into the house. “Upstairs. In his bedroom. He’s…he transformed back to stone at sunrise.”

In his bedroom. And why would he be in his bedroom? The words never reached Mel’s lips, which compressed tight over her clenched teeth.

“Melodie, I know that look.”

“Oh?” Her brows shot up, tightening the still slightly swollen skin of her forehead. She probably looked awful with sweaty hospital-bed head, blotchy cheeks and cotton balls taped over the IV marks on the backs of her hands. Meanwhile Helena looked fresh as some exotic tropical flower, as though she’d had a satisfying night’s sleep…or something.

“You don’t have to be jealous of me.”

“Oh?”

“I never had anything real with Blake. I was just a means to an end for him. He’d traced the Cabochon to the Domaré clans, and I was assigned by my family to run some interference. Once he discovered what I was, he turned on the charm and, stupid me, I fell for it and for him. How could I not?” She gave a fluttery laugh. “Those eyes? My God. And that hint of an accent can make a woman’s clothes fall right off.”

Mel swallowed hard but said nothing. She was too busy listening to the message hidden in Helena’s words.

“He made me feel human. You know, a lot of us want that. Being a demon, or even half demon in this world isn’t easy. All the hiding, all the secrets, it gets to you after a while. I hope you can forgive Calypso for not telling you. Most people don’t believe us, and those who do…well, they usually run screaming in the other direction. Blake didn’t.”

Mel tried to muster a response, but Helena pressed on.

“He reached out to me, and we shared…our fears. He told me how lonely he was and how terrible his existence had become, and I told him how isolated I felt in a world that would never accept me for who I was. Domaré men are a bit domineering. Marriages are more like contracts, and love isn’t usually an issue. Like Calypso, I dreamed of something a little more than what my family dictated, so I began to think life with a gargoyle might be an improvement over what I had to look forward to.”

“Calypso was married. Twice. To Angelo.”

“He’s Domaré. That’s why they were divorced twice. She doesn’t really love him as much as she’s bonded to him. They fight all the time, but she can’t really break free of his hold over her. I didn’t want a life like that, so Blake seemed…perfect. When I found out all he really wanted was for me to lead him to the demon underworld so he could track down the Domaré queen, it hurt.” The odd lilt in Helena’s voice might have been to hide the depth of her emotion, or it might have been a challenge.

“Are you warning me to be careful?”

“What? No! Blake really cares about you. He was devastated last night when he thought he would lose you. He only
glanced
at the Cabochon while you were…dead. Besides, you were together before you absorbed it, right?”