The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (3 page)

Sheldon levels his gaze at me. “You have to know that secrecy is never the answer.”

“You need to trust us, and we need to be able to trust you,” Bernard adds.

“You’re both right, and I’m sorry.” I meet Sheldon’s gaze head-on. “And I have no intention of moving in with Jude if that’s what you’re worried about. This is my home. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good to hear, kiddo,” Sheldon says, breaking into a smile.

I kiss them both, then deliver my bowl and spoon to the sink. My uncles exchange a look as I pass the table. Unease? Fear? Whatever it was, I wasn’t supposed to see it.

Chapter Four

“How long is this supposed to take?” I ask, peeking into the pot of bubbling liquid.
Sulfur
. I wrinkle my nose against the horrible, rotten egg smell. The potion doesn’t look like much, but if it works to vanquish Seamus—the demon who tried to kill me last year for the sake of his grudge against Jude—then I don’t care. Not that I’m in a hurry for him to show up again any time soon.

“It’s your first day of practice and already you’re impatient?” Persephone reaches over the sink and pushes up the window to air out her kitchen. From the look of her blue, green and black paisley top and maroon stretchy pants, you would never know she’s a powerful witch.

Persephone’s trademark frown is in place, but there’s also a twinkle in her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitches. Both fall away when she looks at me.

“Lucy, you can’t race home to watch over your uncles every minute of the day. I’m keeping an eye on them. I can sense if Jude is near, which he isn’t. I will let you know if there’s something you need to worry about.” She arches an eyebrow sharply. “Or are you trying to get out of your lesson? You said you were ready to learn the craft.”

Am I being hypersensitive about Sheldon and Bernard? I don’t trust Jude. Persephone doesn’t get it. He’s been excluded my whole life, and since our bizarre breakfast together, I don’t think his grudge died with Gram and Momma. I think it’s now targeted at my uncles, who he perceives as the latest barrier between him and me. “As long as you promise to help keep an eye on them,” I say, trying to shake my uneasiness.

“Of course.” The lines leave her brow as she turns back to the rows of herbs laid out on her kitchen counter. She hands me a bundle. “Now tell me. Can you identify these?”

The leaves look like a hand with pointy fingers. Five fingers. I remember them from one of Gram’s books, can picture her narrow scrawl in the margins. “Mugwort?”

“Correct.” Persephone smiles and nods her encouragement. “What’s it most commonly used for?”

I nibble my bottom lip for a moment. I absently twirl the bundle between my fingers. Mugwort. Was it used for charm spells? Healing? Memory loss? There are so many herbs…so many uses, and a lot of them are similar. What’s worse is there are ten different herbs that could be used for the same purpose. How am I supposed to memorize them all?

“For protection spells?” My voice raises an octave, giving away my uncertainty.

“It can be, yes,” Persephone says. “However, it’s most commonly used to strengthen divinatory abilities.”

I set the bundle of herbs on the counter with a heavy sigh. I remember it now. Persephone probably thinks I’m slacking off on my studies. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

“You’re distracted,” Persephone says as she pulls the whistling teakettle from the stove. She pours steaming water into two mugs, both of which hold a metal tea infuser. She hands one cup to me, and I study the yellow colored water. “It’s made from dried mugwort.”

I make a face at the bitter smell. “Do you blame me? I own a car I can’t drive that I don’t even want. My uncles are worried I’ll move in with Jude.” I frown, something I’ve been doing a lot lately. “Then there’s this whole vacation thing.”

“Vacation thing?”

“Jude warned me not to go on a trip with my uncles, to talk them out of it. It goes right along with what Marcus said. Jude’s worried my uncles are going to steal me away.”

“I would be careful if I were you, Lucy,” Persephone says, her eyes burning into me. “Jude’s behaving right now. He’s maintaining open lines of communication with Henry and me. Even Aiden has noticed he’s less volatile.”

It’s a big deal for Jude to make an effort with Gram’s two best friends and fellow witches. As far as Marcus’s pseudo brother, Aiden, I don’t put a lot of stock in anything he has to say. He doesn’t like me and the feeling is mutual.

Persephone blows a dark brown curl from her eyes. “I agree that leaving town is a bad idea. See if Sheldon and Bernard will go without you. Tell them the Douglas’s can’t do without you. I will look after you.” She nods at the herbs in my hand. “Now, back to mugwort and its common uses.”

How will I convince my uncles to go on vacation without me? Sheldon’s going to blow a gasket for sure. I pickup the bundle again, turning it over in my hand, holding it to my nose. The scent of mint is unmistakable. Too bad the tea doesn’t smell the same.

I hear Persephone’s irritated sigh, but I can’t make myself care with so much swirling in my brain.

“How about Henry and I cast a spell on them?”

I snap my head up. “Don’t you dare.”

A small smile plays on Persephone’s lips. “You know I wouldn’t, but I see I finally have your attention, young lady,” she chastises. “Besides, if Jude hypnotized them like you said, it’s best not to tinker with their minds right now.”

My heart drops. “What’s wrong with their minds? Does Jude have some sort of control over them now? Can he read their minds, control them somehow?” I lower my voice. “Will they go crazy like Momma?”

Persephone considers me for a moment. “Demons utilize hypnosis for two reasons. To manipulate, but also to get a foothold into someone’s mind.”

I struggle to keep myself from freaking out. “What do you mean by foothold?”

“He can sift through their thoughts.”

“And why would he do that?” My voice is nearly a growl.

“In the event they decide to take you away—which they won’t—he can track them and you.”

Heat races down my arms like a violent spasm. I flex my fingers to ease the white-hot sensation.

“Look at it from Jude’s point of view. He finally has you in his life after sixteen years.”

“Are you defending him?”

“No. I’m trying to enlighten you about a father’s love for his daughter. Jude’s determined never to lose you again.” Her words act like a bucket of cold water, effectively dousing the heat in my arms and hands.

“A father’s love,” I echo. Could it be that simple? Who am I kidding? With a demon for a father, there’s nothing simple about it.

My shoulders slump and I return the herbs to the counter. “It’s not just that.”

“You’re still worried about Dylan?” Persephone asks.

Ever since Jude turned my good friend Dylan into a sort of demon, nothing’s happened. For four months, Dylan had been, well, just plain Dylan. Lately, though, his bouts of temper and his amped up performance in the weight room are clear signs something’s changing. It’s like Dylan’s on steroids, but he swears he’s not.

“Have you talked to Marcus about it?”

I shrug. “I tried. He dismisses my observations and claims Dylan is fine.”

“Keep an eye on him and report back to me any other changes,” Persephone says. She nods toward my cup of tea. “Drink up. We’re going to discuss divination and dream analysis through the use of mugwort tea.”

I blow into the cup of hot liquid as I bring it to my lips. Would it be possible to gain insight into what’s going on with Dylan? “How does divination work? Do I have to focus on a specific situation?”

“For today, just drink the tea and report back to me about your dreams tonight and your thoughts over the next few days.”

I glance over my shoulder as the pot of bubbling liquid on the stove hisses and burps.

“Don’t even think about it. That potion is out of your league as a beginner.”

“Do you think I’ll ever be as powerful as Gram?” It’s a huge relief to voice the doubt that’s been eating at me since I discovered I was a witch. “That I could take her place and join you and Henry? You know, the power of three?”

“I’m certain of it,” she says.

How can she be so sure? I glance at my cup of tea. Is it possible Persephone has seen the future? With a burst of enthusiasm, I gulp down half the mug. With my cheeks full as a chipmunk hoarding nuts, I rush over to the sink and spit the liquid out.

“Hot! Way too hot! And disgusting!” I pant into the sink. I dump the rest of the bitter tea down the drain and fill the cup with cold water. I drink it all in two gulps. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“You know better than to swill a hot beverage.” Persephone frowns at me.

“So gross. And I think I have blisters running down my throat.”

“Let’s call it a day,” Persephone announces, wiping her hands on her maroon pants. She wraps the herbs in damp paper towels and stores them in the vegetable crisper. “Spend more time with your books, Lucy. I need you to step up your commitment. We’ll meet again next weekend.”

I’m about to mention finals and how much studying I need to do, but I don’t want her to think I’m making excuses. Besides, my mouth and throat are on fire. Persephone’s right. I was distracted. Lesson learned. I need to pay attention. “Okay.”

As I descend the stairs, I can’t help but wonder if Persephone was wrong when she said I was destined to be a great witch like Gram. I have the gene and the powers transferred from Gram’s raven, Lola, but does that really guarantee anything? So far most of the powers I’ve displayed are the evil kind I inherited from Jude.

My foot hits the bottom stair at the same time someone knocks on the front door. My body stiffens. With everything that happened last year, the foyer door now stays locked and doorbells have been installed on the exterior of the three-flat building for each apartment. Maybe the doorbells aren’t working?

I cross the foyer and peek out the peephole. Can’t be too careful given that Seamus is out there, and once he figures out I’m alive, he’ll hightail it back here to finish me off.

But it’s not Seamus. I open the door and stand face-to-face with a woman with long wavy hair, the color of which is hard to describe. Maybe it had been brown once. Based on the red and golden streaks running through it, the deep golden skin, and the freckles decorating the bridge of her nose and cheeks, she spends a lot of time in the sun. Deep crinkly lines form at the corners of her eyes and mouth when she smiles at me. I have a difficult time tearing my attention from her eyes, which are a startling deep blue.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

Her lips curl in a lopsided way. Something about it is familiar.

“I sure hope so. I’m looking for Gabriel Turner.”

Chapter Five

Gabriel. She called him Gabriel.

“Are…are you Marcus’s
mother
?” I take a step backward and stumble. I grab the doorknob and jerk upright, saving myself from an embarrassing fall. She must think I’m a total klutz. Marcus hasn’t said much about his mother. Just that she’s the only person in the world who called him Gabriel and she left when he was very young.

“He goes by his middle name now?” Her forehead creases like an accordion. She cranes her neck to look inside the foyer. “He lives here, doesn’t he?”

Marcus’s mother?
Is this a surprise visit? Or have Marcus and his mother been in touch? Would he keep something that huge a secret from me? “Is he expecting you?” I ask.

If her eyes were weapons, I’d be a pile of dust on the foyer floor. “No,” she says icily. “Is that a problem?”

It would be rude to slam the door in her face. Should I lie and tell her Marcus doesn’t live here? Again, bad idea. Marcus may actually want to see her.

“No.” I open the door wide. “Apartment two, second floor.”

She maneuvers around me, plants one foot on the bottom stair, and pauses.

“He’s not home, but Aiden, his…roommate, will let you in. You can wait for him.”

“Thank you,” she says over her shoulder.

Her steps are slow as she makes her way to the second floor. Maybe I should walk her up and wait with her. I mean, she is my boyfriend’s mother. I should probably try to make a good impression or something. Then I think about trying to make small talk with this stranger and Aiden. I chicken out and text Marcus instead.

My fingers shake, and I have to retype my brief message twice.

What time will you be home?

I pace the foyer. Back and forth. Back and forth. What else did Marcus tell me about his mother? Nothing. I had pretty much assumed she was dead. Is he still mad at her? Or does he never talk about her because he no longer cares?

I jump when my phone vibrates against the palm of my hand.

Half hour. Why? What’s up?

Marcus is always on edge, worried Seamus will come for me. I drum my fingers on the banister while I figure out how to word my message. Is it my place to tell him his mom showed up? Or should I let her surprise him? I try to put myself in his shoes. Would I want to be surprised by a parent who bailed on me? Nope.