The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (35 page)

“It’s settled then.” Bernard gives me a wink. “It just took Persephone and Henry to help us realize we needed to treat you with a little more freedom. Respect your obligations.”

Persephone and Henry convinced them? Put a spell on them is more like it. Why didn’t Persephone talk to me first? Is there a consequence to using magic like this? I whack my palm against my forehead. The dandelion tea. Did it make Sheldon more susceptible to their spellcasting?

“Grab your medication,” Bernard tells Sheldon, steering him toward the living room. “I’ve got our flight and hotel confirmations.”

Sheldon taps the fridge with his index finger on his way out of the kitchen. “Our itinerary. You can reach us on our cell phones or at the hotel.”

I scan the sheet on the fridge. They decided on Costa Rica after all. I’ll have to hide this information once my uncles leave. I don’t need Garret or any of his team breaking in and finding out my uncles left town.

Could we have reached this point without manipulating their brains? Maybe. But if things go horribly wrong when we try to conjure Lucifer, at least my uncles will be far away and safe.

* * * *

Dylan picks me up an hour later. I fill him in on my uncles’ sudden trip.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “It’s good they’ll be out of the way when things blow up between the demons and the gargoyles.”

And Lucifer. Can’t forget him.

I clear my throat. “Gargoyles? You sound like Jude.”

Dylan’s expression darkens. “There’s no way I’m going to refer to a bunch of killers as protectors.”

The light hits the inch long scar on his throat. It’s the only outward evidence of Dylan’s near death experience. I can only imagine how freaked out he is on the inside. His ordeal last year was bad enough, but now this?

“I’m sorry, Dylan. I know you’re scared and…”

“Let it go. I’m going to work my butt off today and every day until this so-called battle goes down.” Dylan’s eyes narrow as he stares out the windshield. “I’m going to slaughter those freaks.”

“Not every pro…gargoyle is bad. There’s Marcus and Selima.”

Dylan grunts. “You had the pleasure of watching me suck their blood. Good luck getting that out of your head any time soon.”

Silence falls between us, which gives me a chance to think about tonight. Will Lucifer show? Will he be willing to take Jude below ground? According to Aiden, Lucifer will look like a normal man, and not, as I suggested, like one of the creepy monsters from
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
. Will he be happy to see me?

Dylan glances my way for the umpteenth time. I force myself to stop picking my cuticles and instead flip on the radio.

Dylan reaches over and turns it off. “What’s going on?”

“Um…I’m in the mood for music?”

“You still think you can fool me? If something’s going down, tell me.”

I tuck my hands between my legs to keep from picking. “I’m just worried, you know? We’re outnumbered.”

“Funny thing is, I’m not worried.” The curl of his lips turns cruel. “I’m wondering how much it’s going to hurt when I rip off their wings. Or how long they’ll take to bleed out.”

“Stop talking, please.” I turn away and pretend to focus on the scenery whizzing by. Dylan sounds like a monster.

“Don’t tell me you’re squeamish. You saw what they did last night. To me. To Marcus.” Sweat beads on his forehead. “You told me how Garret tried to attack Marcus at the condo. Jude’s a pussycat in comparison. Gargoyles are the monsters here.”

“This isn’t you,” I whisper.

“Don’t pull that sentimental crap with me, Lucy. Life isn’t about hanging out at the mall or going to the movies. Cool cars, short skirts, and touchdowns? That’s not our world anymore.”

“I get that. Trust me. I nearly died last year. I—”

“Stop talking,” Dylan orders.

If everything works tonight, then Jude will be safe. Garret and his army, with no enemy to fight, will leave town—without my boyfriend, hopefully. Then Dylan can go back to being a skirt-chasing football star. I couldn’t stand Dylan the Jerk, but I’ll take him over this new version.

Chapter Forty-Six

Selima and I close the door behind us. I wrinkle my nose. Fresh paint? It smells awful, like a mix of car exhaust fumes and fresh cut grass. I would suggest we keep the door open, so we can all breathe, but summoning a demon is probably best done in secret.

What used to be Gram’s basement storage room now looks like it was taken over by an angsty boy listening to way too much metal. The walls used to be white. Now three of them are the color of steel gray, and one is black. Some of the symbols painted on the walls look familiar, although I don’t recall their meaning. A round wooden table sits in the center of the room, and Aiden pulls up a fifth chair.

He arches an eyebrow at the box in my hand. “A Ouija board?”

“You said I had to bring a spirit board. I didn’t have time to make one, and I found this in the closet with the other board games.” I turn to Selima, my eyebrows raised. “You said this would work.”

She touches my arm. “It’s fine.”

“Like you’re an expert?” Aiden glowers at Selima before moving to light the four black candles set on posts around the room. North, south, east, and west. “Let’s hope it hasn’t been used to conjure in the past. Otherwise, we could have a serious problem on our hands.”

“How serious?” I ask, my voice too high.

“Stop trying to scare her,” Selima scolds him and pulls the Ouija board and planchette from the box, setting them in the center of the table.

“Sit,” Aiden says, taking the chair facing the black wall. He places several sheets of paper facedown on the table in front of him.

Selima and I sit on each side of Aiden. That leaves two chairs empty. “Are we waiting for anyone else?” I ask.

Aiden mentioned that the more supernaturals involved in summoning Lucifer, the higher our chance of success. “It’s all about intention—something you’re familiar with,” he explained the night he originally met with Selima and me. “The more participants, the more able we will be to move a powerful demon through the planes of existence.”

My knees knock under the table.
Are we really going to do this?

I bounce in my chair as the door bursts open. Max and Warrick stalk into the room.

“Are we late?” Max collapses into the chair beside Selima. Warrick nods at me. The wooden chair creaks as he lowers his giant body onto it.

“Another one of your many fine traits,” Aiden mutters under his breath.

Selima narrows her eyes at Aiden, then Max. “This isn’t the place or the time for an argument. Shelve it, boys.”

“Thank you for helping me—us—with this,” I say.

“I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, cupcake.” Max winks at me, a mischievous look in his eye. “If we live through the next week, it’ll be nice to finally be debt-free.”

I glance at Warrick, curious if he knows what Max’s talking about.

“I was asked to help, so I’m here,” his deep voice rumbles up from his barreled chest.

“Let’s get started,” Aiden says. He hands the papers to me facedown. “Pass these around.” He issues a stern look to everyone around the table. “Don’t turn them over until I tell you to. Our intent has to be unified and clear.”

“Are we doing this in English or Latin?” Warrick asks.

“I’ll recite the spell in Latin, while the rest of you read it in English.” Aiden’s hands tremble as he fingers the paper in front of him.

I wonder for the first time if Aiden knows what he’s doing. He’s the one who warned me about catastrophic consequences. Maybe he’s nervous because once Jude finds out Aiden helped me, the two of us will be in big trouble. Or maybe he’s afraid of Lucifer. He’d be a lunatic not to be.

My insides quake. We’re crazy to do this. Totally wacko.
But
I have to do whatever’s necessary to protect Jude.

Aiden pushes the sleeves of his black pullover up to his elbows. He thrusts a finger against the table, his frown touching on every face around the table.

My gaze locks on him. A strange vibration starts in my belly. Nervousness? Or some kind of shared supernatural energy?

“Key factors to keep in mind.” Aiden raises one finger into the air. “Focus. I can’t say this enough. If your concentration falters at any point, we fail. Second.” He jabs two fingers into the air. “The rules: we specify the demon we’re conjuring, then we extend a formal invitation, then we enlist his assistance with taking Jude underground.” His gaze sweeps the table again. “Any questions?”

Questions?
I have a ton. Like…will this work? Will Lucifer be ticked off and blow up the three-flat, killing us all? Is Selima double-crossing me? Is Aiden? Will Jude sense what we’re doing and somehow put a stop to it before we even begin?

I shake my head along with everyone else.
Nope. No questions.

The vibration in my belly spreads, and now my entire body trembles.
Just nerves. Just nerves. Just nerves.

“Take a moment to clear your mind. Close your eyes. Take several deep breaths,” Aiden instructs.

“Meditation? Nice. Maybe we can do yoga next time,” Max chimes in.

“For a guy who wants to be debt-free, you don’t act like it,” Warrick rumbles.

Max slinks low in his chair and pipes down.

Aiden, Selima, and Warrick close their eyes. I follow suit. Hopefully, Max does, too.

I inhale long and slow, then exhale. I repeat, focusing on quieting my thoughts. Right now, nothing else matters.
Protect Jude and the others. Get Garret and his gang out of town.

“In a moment we’re going to flip the sheets of paper over.” Aiden’s voice is relaxed.

My body tenses at his words. A million things could go wrong.

I take another deep breath.
Protect Jude and the others. Get Garret and his gang out of town.

“On the count of three,” Aiden says calmly, “we will flip our pages over. I will read mine aloud in Latin. Lucy will lead you in reading the spell in English.”

We need to get on with it.

“One…two…three. Flip your sheets of paper over,” Aiden instructs.

My heart leaps into my throat and nearly chokes me. I flip my page over as I struggle to maintain deep, even breathing.

The second Aiden’s voice rings out I start reading. The others’ voices fall in line with mine.

“Lucifer, your eminence,

We hereby request your assistance,

To save Jude Morgan, your right hand, and Lucy, your namesake.

Make no mistake, to ignore this request will mean to forsake those important to you.

We respectfully invite your emergence,

Your resurgence.

In order to avoid the demise of those you hold dear,

We ask that you take Jude Morgan and hold him near.”

“Rest two fingers of each hand on the planchette.”

I jerk my head back at the sound of Aiden’s voice. I look around the table, feeling dazed. A strange vibration moves through my veins.
How deep was I?

We all squish our fingers together onto the guiding device in the middle of the Ouija board.

“Now, we wait and see if he will grant us a response,” Aiden says.

We sit like that, our arms poised over the wooden board until our fingers cramp. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades.
Was this a waste of time?
I double my focus, make my intention clear.

Lucifer, please, save him. Save Jude. He’s the only parent I have left. If he means anything to you—and I think he does—don’t allow Garret to kill him. Keep him safe. Take him back with you. Allow him to be your right hand again. Or promote him. Do whatever you want. Just take him. Please.

Nothing.

Okay, so how can I persuade you? I think I get how this works. Whenever Jude gave me something—whether I asked for it or not—I owed him something in return. What will I owe you? I don’t have much, but name it. I’ll give it to you. Just promise that you’ll keep Jude safe as well as everyone else in my life.

Do I have to name them? Is that how this works? Well, here goes: Sheldon, Bernard, Persephone, Henry, Dylan, Ethan, Brandi, and Marcus. And Jude. Should I add Aiden to the list? He’s helping me out, so I might as well. And Selima, too, although I’m still not one hundred percent sure she’s on my side or if she’s serving as a secret agent for her father. Anyway, just name it. Whatever you want from me to keep everyone safe…I’ll give it to you.

The planchette trembles and a collective gasp rings out.

“Don’t force it,” Aiden warns.

I fear my slick fingers will slide off the device, but I don’t dare apply pressure. The plastic apparatus wiggles slightly, then creeps across the board. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I study everyone’s fingers, check to see if their nail beds are red from effort and their fingers stiff from applying pressure. No. They’re all resting gently like mine.