Stone Cold Lover (17 page)

“Not a bad point, I guess.” She plucked the envelope from his grasp and reached for a letter opener that lay amid the clutter. “Let’s see what Mr. Onslow thought we ought to know.”

Slitting open the edge, she pulled a thick sheaf of papers from the envelope. They had been folded inward on themselves inside a sheet of standard computer paper, but she could see a mix of materials and sizes, including photocopies, lined notebook pages, and newspaper clippings. Her curiosity stirred.

A thumping sound registered in the distance, and Fil’s head shot up. “Please tell me that was not a car door. Like the car door of the RCMP coming to arrest us for breaking into the house.” She tried peering out the window, but this side of the house gave onto the orchard, not the front yard.

“We broke nothing. The door was open.” Spar’s voice remained as even as ever, but she noticed he had already moved toward the door. “Plus, we were obviously expected. I will explain this to the authorities.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’m still getting ready to get the heck out of here. We can go through all this at home.”

She found herself speaking to thin air and heard the screen door at the front of the house thump closed behind the disappearing gargoyle.

“I’m telling you,” she muttered to herself, refolding the stack of papers and trying to stuff them back into the envelope. “Breaking and entering never turns out well for me.”

The words had barely cleared her teeth when the sound of glass shattering directly behind her ripped a scream from Fil’s throat.

Spinning like a top, she clutched the envelope in front of her like a particularly pathetic shield and watched in horror as a fist the color of mud reached in through the broken window and grabbed at her. She caught a glimpse of the thick, dark arm attached to a muscular shoulder that stooped down to allow a craggy face to peer in through the window. Considering that the set of steps to the front porch put the floor of the house an estimated five feet about ground level, the fact that whatever stood outside trying to get in had to bend down to look inside did not set Fil’s mind at ease.

Yelling Spar’s name, she threw herself backward onto the desk and tried to scramble out of the thing’s reach. Globs of soil seemed to drop from its skin as it swiped at her again, and she realized the entire thing wasn’t just the color of dirt; it looked like it was made out of dirt. In fact, the red, unearthly glow of its eyes appeared to be the only thing that didn’t look like clay, soil, or tiny plant roots that had been ripped violently from the land.

And, oh, ew, was that an earthworm wriggling along its wrist?

Fil heard the ominous crack of the wooden window frame as more glass tinkled to the floor. With a sudden lunge, the creature shoved its arm through the window up to its shoulder and just managed to catch Fil’s ankle in its filthy paw. Frantic, she grabbed on to the edge of the desk, but it felt like a skeleton of iron lurked beneath the crumbling topsoil. The creature pulled, and she screamed, but inevitably she felt her grip slipping until she lost hold of the desk and went flying backward out the window.

The thing managed to get her legs outside and grabbed her other ankle for a more solid grip. Fil jackknifed her body at the hips, trying to keep at least her upper torso in the room. Plastering her chest against the wall beneath the window, she scrambled for something to hold on to. Her fingertips caught the arm of the desk chair and brought it rolling straight at her head. With a curse, she batted it away and sent it crashing into the bookshelves. The only thing left in her reach was the edge of the tasseled rug. Curling her fingers around it, she clung like a barnacle with separation anxiety and tried desperately to kick the thing holding her into next week.

The creature roared its frustration. The sound shook the window frame until Fil felt the vibrations deep in her gut. Poor baby, she thought, not getting to kill her so easily. As far as she was concerned, tall, dark, and dirty could go screw a gopher hole.

When the door to the library crashed back against the wall, Fil nearly wept with relief. Well, until the gargoyle took one look at her and disappeared back the way he’d come.

“Spar!” she screamed. “Get back here, you underprotective son of a bitch! I could use a little help here!”

The monster holding her gave an almighty yank on her ankles, forcing an entirely different scream from her throat. It felt like her hips were about to pop right out of their sockets. Either that, or he’d just about ripped the limbs off completely. Pain combined with the pressure on her abdomen to send a wave of intense nausea crashing through her. Goddamn it, she was not going to vomit again. She’d already met her quota for the week. Hell, for the bloody year.

A new roar shattered the silence, and this one Fil recognized. Somewhere outside, a Guardian had morphed into full battle mode.

“About frickin’ time, Rocky.”

All at once the grip on her ankles released and her knee crashed into the clapboard siding hard enough to make her see stars. She yelped and gripped the rug hard while gravity pulled her legs down and threatened to send her the rest of the way out the window.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of outright war, but all she could see was the inside of the library and the underside of Onslow’s desk. She believed in Spar’s ability to protect her, but was the thing that had attacked her hurting him? And what the hell was it, anyway? Somehow she doubted
dirt demon
counted as the technical term.

Her uncomfortable position was not helping Fil’s state of mind. Quickly weighing the pros and cons of her choices, she realized finishing the trip outside would be a heck of a lot easier than attempting to drag her butt back in through the window. She just had to count on Spar to keep the monster distracted while she went out and then hauled ass for cover.

Saying a quick prayer, she released her hold on the rug and pushed off against the floorboards, sending herself backward onto the hard ground. The impact jarred already aching muscles, but she ignored the discomfort. As fast as she could she rolled to her feet and glanced around. Less than twenty feet away, Spar hovered in the air above what she could now see clearly looked like the Incredible Hulk. You know, if a little kid had molded him out of dirt, like a beach-free sand castle.

Dirt Hulk swatted at Spar, but the gargoyle just beat his wings and lifted up out of reach. Darting around, Spar came at the thing from another angle, aiming for its chest. The creature spun and grabbed again, but Fil could see it was slow and clumsy. Strong, yes, she could testify to that, but in reality it was no match for a Guardian.

Spar attacked like a raptor harassing its prey. He would dart in, tear off a chunk of earthy flesh, then retreat too fast for the creature to catch hold of him. The thing began to dance in circles in response to the gargoyle’s constant movement. It was awkward and graceless; she predicted no future for it in music videos. The sight might have been enough to make Fil laugh if the monster hadn’t been trying to kill her five minutes ago.

She tended to hold grudges over things like that.

Hulk circled again until he faced the house once more. Catching sight of Fil, he seemed to forget all about the Guardian currently attempting to kill him and lurched in her direction. Spar bellowed in outrage and dove in for the kill, wrapping his hands around the creature’s lump of a head and ripping it clean off the shoulders.

The thing just kept coming.

Fil blinked and yelped, scrambling backward until she came up hard against the house’s clapboard siding. Even without a head, the creature lumbered unerringly in her direction. Apparently it didn’t need to see her to attack her. It reached out to grab her way too early, so maybe its sense of depth perception had been thrown off at least.

The movement flexed the mass of its chest, and something strange caught her eye. Right where she assumed its breastbone would have been, the clean, well-defined shape of a medallion appeared to have been embedded in the soily flesh. It had some kind of symbol carved into it, but frankly, Fil was too busy looking for an escape route to try to identify it.

She calculated that if she timed it right, she could duck under the creature’s arm when it got close enough to grab her. She’d seen how slowly it moved, and despite her aching, bruised muscles and joints, she figured she was still faster. After she ducked past it, she intended to keep running all the way to the motorcycle. Once on the Tiger, she could keep out of range until Spar dealt with the damned thing.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait.

With a furious roar, the gargoyle landed on the thing’s shoulders. Unable to make a sound without its head, the creature still made its displeasure known by reaching up to grab the Guardian around the waist. Before he could flip his attacker to the ground, Spar grabbed for the strange medallion and tore it from the brute’s chest. Immediately it collapsed to the ground like a mudslide, leaving nothing but a pile of rich, dark soil in its wake.

“Holy shit.” Breathing the words seemed to drain the last of the strength from Fil’s legs, because the moment they passed her lips her knees buckled. She slid down the side of the house to land on her butt beneath the ruined window. “What the hell was that?”

“Golem,” Spar spat, closing his fist and crushing the medallion into dust.

Shocked, Fill heard a piercing shriek and watched as a cloud of sickly green mist shot into the air above them. It writhed for a moment, and she swore she could see the image of a familiar face in the vapor.

“Oh, my God! Did you see that?”

Spar watched as the mist dissipated and the scream faded to an echo and died. “Who was it?”

“It looked like the Hierophant. That’s who I saw in my vision, anyway.”

Spar simply growled and reached for her hand. “Come. We will collect the envelope and leave this place. You need to be home where I can defend you properly.”

Without waiting for a reply, he hauled her to her feet and began dragging her around to the front of the house.

“Wait a second,” she protested, pulling back. “What just happened? Where did that mist come from, and why did it form an image of the Hierophant? Spar, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

He ignored her attempts to slow him down, but at least he answered her questions. “The golem is a creature made of earth and animated by the power of its creator. It has no mind, no will of its own, but it makes for a relentless and unquestioning servant. The medallion on its chest contained the magic that gave it life, and when I destroyed it, you saw the essence of the
nocturnis
who made it returning to his body.”

Fil followed him into the library and scooped up the envelope where she’d dropped it when the golem attacked. “Then the Hierophant made the golem and sent it after me. That’s why when it saw me, it stopped fighting you and came after me again.”

Spar grunted and herded her back toward the door. “Yes.”

“Crap.”

Pausing to shift back to his human form, Spar opened the door and glanced down at her. “You appear uninjured, but I may have missed something. If you are unable to make the drive back to Montreal, I can fly us, but we would have to leave the motorcycle here, and we would have to wait for darkness. I prefer to leave now, but I will not risk your health.”

Fil felt herself soften and reached up to touch his face. “I’m okay,” she reassured him. “I got yanked on and thrown around some, so I’m probably covered in bruises, but nothing serious.”

“You are certain?”

His dark eyes blazed down at her, their inner fire clearly overwhelming his ability to contain it. She could read his worry in the tense set of his features and remembered the way he had claimed her the night before. She knew he felt responsible for her safety, but the uncomfortable feeling began to take hold that he might mean that “mine” business just a touch too literally.

Taking a step back, she dropped her hand and forced a casual smile. “I’m good. Promise. But heading home sounds like a really good idea. We still need to go over this stuff from Onslow, remember? I’d prefer to do that somewhere we can be pretty sure we’re not going to be attacked again.”

Spar’s jaw tightened. He stopped her before she could lead the way into the yard and scanned the area for threats before allowing her to step outside.

“When you think of a place like that, be certain to inform me,” he grumbled. “Maybe we could visit.”

Chapter Twelve

Spar stood watch at the window of Felicity’s apartment and brooded. Despite her protestations, he could detect the hesitation in her movements that spoke of pain. She might not have bloody wounds or broken bones this time, but he did not like the idea of her being in the slightest discomfort. Immediately upon reaching her home, he had snatched the envelope out of her hand and sent her to the bathroom. A warm soak in a hot tub should ease some of her aches, and the time apart provided him time to think.

He could feel her pulling away, or at least making the attempt. He had noticed it immediately after the golem attack, but he had written it off to the shock of yet another attempt on her life in just a few short days. The ride back on her motorcycle had afforded him no opportunity to comfort her, aside from holding her in his arms, but even then she had held herself stiffly in his embrace. She kept trying to create distance between them, and Spar would not allow that to happen.

He had known from the beginning that he reacted to Felicity in a way he had experienced with no other woman, no other
person,
in all his long life. That alone fascinated him, but once he had touched her intimately, he had begun to suspect that something greater than mere attraction might be at work.

He had believed the stories to be only that—stories. He’d heard the tales of the first Guardians, as all of his kind had. History, after all, was one of the Light’s greatest teachers.

When the first Guardians had been summoned by the Guild to battle the seven demons, they had awed the world with their terrible might. For days and weeks they had battled until finally the Seven were ripped apart and cast out of the mortal realm to their abysmal prisons. Duty fulfilled, the Guardians had slept until once again the Darkness stirred and the Wardens summoned them to their task.