The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (7 page)

Jude is cruel, but every once in a while he surprises me with his understanding.

They each grab one of my arms. I try to push them away, embarrassed. “I can walk.”

The two of them lead me toward the kitchen. I like this room. It’s brighter and prettier than any other room in the house.

An elaborate mural covers the opposite wall. How did I miss that before? It looks like one of those vintage French posters that are so popular. A plump man throws his hands out to his sides as if he’s introducing circus acts to an excited crowd. The whole scene is loaded with rich shades of blues, reds, and yellows. The windowsill, which runs the length of four spotless windows, contains pots filled with basil, oregano, cilantro, rosemary, and thyme. The smells remind me of Gram.

Once I’m settled at the stainless steel topped table, Dylan scoots his chair close to me and sits down. Jude examines me again, as if to be sure I won’t break or keel over. Then he retrieves two casserole pans from the oven. He sets them on top of the stove, then reaches back into the oven and pulls out a baking sheet full of crusty bread. The most amazing smells fill the room. Tomato sauce, basil, oregano, and cheese.

“You cook?” The words are loaded with more surprise than I intended.

Jude smiles wickedly. “Do you think I only spend my days plotting the demise of humanity?”

I blush and duck my head a little because yeah, I really only think of Jude as a killing machine.

Dylan’s mouth falls open as we watch Jude squeeze lemons into a bowl, drizzle in some olive oil, add chopped basil, garlic, salt, and pepper, then whisk the ingredients together. He tosses the homemade dressing onto a large salad, then doles the salads onto small plates and delivers them to the table.

Dylan and I look at each other, baffled. A demon who cooks?

As if reading my mind, Dylan mutters under his breath, “This would make for a great new series on Food Network. Ladies and gentlemen, The Demon Gourmet.”

“It would give Hell’s Kitchen and Cutthroat Kitchen a run for their money.”

We both burst out laughing.

Without pulling his attention away from his plate, Jude adds, “For the record, I would win. Now let’s eat our salads while the lasagna rests.”

Lasagna needs to rest?

I stab the lettuce and a tiny grape tomato. The dressing tastes delicious. The texture and flavor of the lettuce mix are more delicate than what I’m used to. There are garbanzo beans and little slivers of red onion. I try to take another forkful, but my plate is empty. I look up, coming out of my daze and see Jude and Dylan are only half done.

Jude takes my plate to the counter, refills it and returns to the table.

Is he still trying to convince me to move in with him? I thought I made it clear last time I’ll never leave my uncles.

Jude rises from the table to remove the empty salad plates. He returns with larger plates filled with layers of vegetables, noodles, sauce, and cheese oozing all over the plate. Oh, and buttery, garlic bread.

“Yours is vegetarian.” He nods at my plate. A moment later, he plunks down plates of meat lasagna for Dylan and himself.

Jude went to the trouble to make two different meals for us? “Th-thank you. This looks great.”

We eat in silence.
I try to think of something to say, but come up with nothing. Dylan focuses on his plate, ignoring Jude. I stifle a smile when I notice Dylan devouring his food. It’s impossible to hate the meal. Jude’s a great cook.

Suddenly, a chunk of pasta lodges in my throat. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, as if the three of us are one big happy family. We’re not. Dylan and I are here against our will. My family—Sheldon, Bernard, and Marcus—are over at the three-flat.

“So…what’s the plan for today?” I ask Jude stiffly. “Are we going up to the roof?”

Jude takes the cloth napkin from his lap and wipes his mouth. “No. Today we’ll be working out back.”

My insides tingle. “Doing what?”

“You and I are going to work on fireballs.”

“But I already know how to throw them,” I point out. “I want to learn something new.”

“You’re too emotional. You need control. To engage and respond with confidence. Then I will teach you tactics.” Jude turns his attention to Dylan. “And you will work on your fighting skills.”

Dylan leans back in his chair. “What? I don’t get to throw fireballs?”

“Have you accidentally hurled any fireballs? Have you felt uncontrollable heat in your fingers, your hands?”

“No.”

“Then mortal fighting skills will have to do for now,” Jude says, smirking.

Dylan rolls his eyes but follows Jude and me out the back door.

The term
yard
doesn’t do it justice. The grassy expanse that runs the length of Jude’s property line is the size of St. Aquinas’s football field. It has fewer trees than the front; although, they’re still the giant, knotted kind, resembling petrified ogres. Chirping birds draw my attention to the treetops. Common sparrows. Common is good.

An all-too-familiar voice calls out, “You rookie demons ready to get dirty?”

Aiden.
Why is he here?
Aiden helped save me, and he’s a good pseudo brother to Marcus, but I don’t trust him.

The feeling is mutual, and he greets me with an unfriendly smile. “This should be fun.”

I narrow my eyes at him then call out to Jude, “Please tell me I get to throw fireballs at Aiden.”

Jude turns to Dylan, ignoring my sarcasm. “Aiden will be your sparring partner.”

“Lucky you,” I say to Dylan.

I watch Aiden lead Dylan to the opposite end of the yard. If he hurts Dylan, I’ll turn him to burnt toast.

“Ow!” I slap my hand to my face to smother the burning spark Jude shot at me. “Hey!”

“Do I have your attention?” Jude asks.

I rub at the sting. “You know, a normal father would just yell at me. Not try to burn my face off.”

“We are not normal. Conjure a fireball.”

My mouth falls open. I’ve never been asked to create a fireball on command.
This is cool!

Across the yard, I hear bodies slam together. I flinch. The urge to turn and check on Dylan is strong, but Jude’s expression stops me.

“A fireball, Lucy. Now.”

I focus my mental energy on Aiden. If anyone can inspire my anger, it’s him. What if he hurts Dylan? My muscles quiver as heat flushes through my body. I hold up my palm.
Nothing
. Bodies slam behind me. Dylan swears at Aiden.

Need something more
. I close my eyes and focus on a memory. Dylan in a hospital bed barely alive after Jude awakened his powers.

My fingertips start to tingle. Then my palms. I wiggle my fingers as the sensation runs back and forth, back and forth, growing stronger. I hear a low hum, and the current moves along my arms, to my palms, up each of my fingers and back again. I recall Marcus in his stone form on Jude’s roof the night of the homecoming dance. Angry tears burn behind my closed eyelids.

“You want him, there he is,” Jude said dryly. “Take him. Just know that he will never be human again.”

Why not? My eyes darted from Jude to the gargoyle and back again. He was stone before, and it wasn’t permanent then. What did Jude do to him?

“Turn him back!” I cried, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. Every nerve ending in my body screamed.

“Better take him soon, Lucy.” Jude leveled his dark glare at me. “I would hate to see what would happen if someone knocked him off the roof. My guess is he would shatter into a million pieces.”

I gasp as fury rips through me. On instinct, I extend one arm in front of my body. I open my eyes, startled by the fireball balancing on my right palm.

Jude suppresses a grin. “You want to throw that at me, don’t you?”

I purse my lips and focus on the fireball, trying to gain control over my anger, but it’s too strong now.

“You nearly destroyed Marcus.” I glare at him. “And you tortured Dylan.”

Jude’s eyes darken. “The gargoyle is not worthy of your concern. As for Dylan, what I did was necessary to trigger his powers.”

I shake my head, my body trembling with anger. The fireball glows yellow and red in my palm. Jude is only ten feet away.

“I begged you to turn Marcus back, but you wouldn’t. It wasn’t until
you
needed him that you changed him. Why?”

The fingertips on my left hand tingle. Then my palm. I welcome the fiery sensation. I roll it over my palm, bounce it from one hand to the other. I pull at the flame with my fingertips until it separates.

I raise my left hand. Now two fireballs burn.

Jude ignores my question. “Better. Still too emotional, but you’re starting to exhibit some ability to conjure.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Aiden roars behind me.

I spin around. Aiden’s got Dylan face down on the ground, his arms pinned behind his back. Like a gunshot, I take off. I reach them in seconds and hurl the fireballs at Aiden, one after the other. He jumps off Dylan, effectively dodging both of my attacks. Dylan climbs to his feet, red-faced.

“What’s your problem?” Dylan shoves Aiden.

Aiden steps toward Dylan, stops halfway, and looks at Jude as if called. Can Jude speak telepathically to Aiden, too? Aiden jabs Dylan in the chest with his finger. “The next time you try to remove my arm from its socket, I will tear you to pieces.”

I tug Dylan by the arm in an attempt to break their killer eye contact. “What happened?”

Dylan’s whole body twitches. His skin is hot to the touch.

“He attacked me,” Dylan snarls. He lunges toward Aiden and I jump between them.

“Dylan, you can sit out the rest of the session. You’re not ready to learn what Aiden has to teach you,” Jude calls out.

“That’s a load of crap!” Dylan yells.

“Lucy, we’re not done with your session. Turn around. Your next target has just arrived,” Jude says.

Dylan and I whip around as a large white-tailed deer enters the yard. It’s a buck with eight points on its antlers. His reddish-brown coat twitches.

A block of ice settles in my stomach. I peer over my shoulder at Jude. “You expect me to kill it?”

He glances at his watch. “Today, Lucy.”

How does killing a cute, furry animal help me train to kill demons?

“Lucy! Take it down or I will, just enough to maim it, so Dylan can snap its neck.”

“What is it with people always telling me what to do?” My insides grow hotter; my heart beats faster. “If it’s not Persephone, my uncles, or Marcus, it’s
you
!”

“Exactly.”

I meet Dylan’s gaze. The anger on his face mirrors my own.

He feels what I feel.

Dylan’s irises turn black. Similar to Jude’s but without menace. He holds his hand out to me. Power he wants to share with me. I grasp his hand. An energy, invisible and strong, moves between us. It’s like drinking ten Mountain Dews, but better. An adrenaline rush courses through my veins. Is this what Dylan felt when he played basketball with his friends? The power stokes me. I feel…unstoppable.

Jude and Aiden argue, but I pay no attention. Dylan squeezes my hand, and another surge of energy courses through me. My heartbeat pulses through my body. I close my eyes as the throbbing sensation grows stronger. The sudden urge…the
need
to get rid of all this energy, this anger, takes over.

My eyes fly open. I want to
destroy
something. A hot, electrical current zips up and down my arms. I hold up my hand, palm side up. I grin at the large fireball resting there.

It’s the biggest fireball I’ve ever made
. I beam at Dylan.

“What are you going to do with it?” he asks.

Need to get rid of all this energy.

Take down the deer, Lucy.

I look around. Jude’s eyes burn into mine.

Get out of my head!
I tell him.

I hurl the fireball at one of the ogre-like trees across the football field yard. It’s enough to startle the deer, who takes off, its tail raised in alarm. One word repeats in my brain as I focus on the tree.
Burn…Burn…Burn
. It takes a moment before I realize Dylan and I are chanting the words in unison. The knotted limbs snap and sizzle as they’re engulfed in flames. I can’t blink. I can’t turn away. I’m enthralled by the blaze of red, orange, and yellow. The heat soothes me.

“Beautiful,” Dylan whispers. I simply nod. There’s no better word to describe it.

Fingers snap in front of my eyes, jolting me. Jude waves his hand through the air, and the fire is extinguished. Smoke swirls up from the charred branches. Dylan releases my hand. The happiness and warmth are gone. My body suddenly feels like it’s filled with lead. I sag against the weight of it.

“You’re out of control. Both of you.” Jude stares us down, his voice sharp as steel. “I asked you to do one thing. One thing. And you disobeyed me.”