The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (9 page)

Tap…tap…tap
…

The sound is almost too faint to hear.

Tap…tap…tap…

I jump out of bed, my heart swelling with hope, and fling open my window. Without waiting for Marcus to say a word, I wave him inside. We stand there, face to face.

I speak first. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Marcus asks.

I search my mind for an answer.

Marcus exhales heavily and steps closer to me. “Lucy, you don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you left…”

“And I realized I was being a jerk, so I circled back.” Marcus takes hold of my hands. “This stuff with my parents, it’s got me all messed up. I shouldn’t be freaking out about Dylan. I trust you.”

“Don’t take off like that again,” I tell him, my insides so full of air I can’t expand my lungs and my voice comes out a whisper. “I thought…” It’s not like the world would end without Marcus. Right? My heart squeezes in response.

Marcus sighs. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls me into his arms.

I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat. Am I that transparent? I’ve always been able to hide my feelings. Not with him, apparently.

“It was a fight. That’s all,” Marcus strokes my hair.

The relief is immediate and euphoric. I tug at the collar of his shirt with one hand and pull his face to mine with the other. Our lips meet and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. The idea that I could lose him terrifies me. I kiss him, my desperation igniting something else, a longing deep inside. I groan as Marcus runs his hands along my hips, my back, until they simply clutch me against him.

Our kiss deepens. My fingers run through his hair, down his cheek, to his neck. I recall the night of my birthday when I was blown off the three-flat roof. The night I discovered he had wings. He saved me. He keeps saving me.

Marcus pulls away. “We need to stop.”

My body cries out in protest. “Marcus…no.” I hook my finger through the belt loop on his jeans, preventing him from pulling away further.

“Lucy, I came here to apologize. I said things I didn’t mean. And…” Marcus rakes his fingers through his hair. “I want to do this, but I can’t.”

“You won’t lay down with me?”

His eyes grow wide for just a second. “Uh…no. Bad idea.”

He winds his fingers through mine, raises them to his lips, and kisses my fingertips. “I love you.”

I’ll never get tired of hearing that. “I love you, too, but I really wish you’d stay.”

Marcus presses his lips to my forehead. “Sweet dreams. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

He turns and climbs out the window.

I slump onto my bed. It seemed so easy for him to walk away. My insides continue to churn as I imagine our kiss going further. I envision Marcus lying beside me, his fingers stroking my arm, my hip, giving me shivery goose bumps, before pulling me close.

I grab my pillow and press it to my face, muffling my frustrated groan. I relive our agonizing kiss over and over until I finally fall asleep.

Chapter Twelve

“I decided that instead of having you bury your nose in your Gram’s books and memorize the herbs, you might learn better through practical application.” Persephone slides a white mortar and pestle to the center of her countertop. I remember standing at Gram’s kitchen counter crushing dried herbs.

A cloud passes over Persephone’s face. How many times did she and Gram work together, making potions and casting spells? She must miss Gram as much as I do. Maybe more.

“Today, we’re going to assemble a few satchels,” she says.

“Like the ones Gram used to make and stick in my dresser drawers?” I had assumed they were homemade potpourri.

Persephone nods. “What herbs are you most curious about?”

Contrary to what Persephone thinks, I actually did spend a lot of time over the past week with my face buried in Gram’s herb books. “Just two at the moment. Dandelion and bay leaves.”

“Okay, tell me why.”

I pause, feeling silly all of a sudden. Persephone shows no sign she’s going to laugh at me, so I continue. “Bay leaves to give me extra protection against Seamus.”

Persephone nods thoughtfully. “Good choice. They’re used to rebuff the magic of another supernatural.”

“I figure that since Seamus teamed up with his daughter the last time he’s not going to work alone now or in the future. Marcus said demons follow patterns. My guess is he’ll team up with someone else. He wants us to think he works solo, but he really doesn’t.”

Persephone looks at me in surprise. “I like how you think. Now tell me about the dandelion.”

“I want the second sight.”

She scrunches up her brow as she thinks that over. “For what purpose?”

This time I don’t lower my gaze. This has to do with Marcus, and I don’t care if she thinks it’s crazy. I need to protect him.

“To see if Marcus’s mother’s intentions are good. I don’t know if she’s got Marcus’s best interests in mind or Garret’s, but something doesn’t feel right. Maybe the herbs can help me figure it out.”

“I feel I’m obligated to tell you this. I don’t recommend you stick your nose into Marcus’s family. He can handle this himself.”

“I don’t care,” I tell her without blinking. “I’ve met her—Camille—and I don’t trust her. I think they—she and Garret—are up to something.” I nibble my bottom lip and stare off for a moment, recalling Camille’s sneer when she referenced humans as mundanes. “I don’t believe she came here solely because Marcus’s dad died. It’s more than that. They’re here for a purpose, and I think it’s something big.”

Persephone’s lips twitch into a smile—a small one—and her eyes sparkle with approval. “Well, then, let’s get to work. Your goals are specific, which is helpful. If you practice, strengthen your level of focus, and learn to heighten your awareness, you should have no problem achieving them.”

Wait…seriously? Persephone didn’t laugh or tell me I’m paranoid. My chest swells with pride and I smile, but the smile quickly slips away. That means Persephone has the same fear. She doesn’t trust Camille and Garret, either.

“Go into the pantry and grab the dried dandelion root. I’ll show you how to make tea. Then we’ll move onto bay leaves.”

I do as she instructs, then watch as she dumps bits of dried flowers into the mortar.

“What’s that?”

“Chamomile for the satchels,” she grinds the flowers with the pestle, “for you to tuck away in your apartment. It removes hexes,” she says, her expression grim. “I think you’re right about Seamus. It’s time we prepare for whatever heap of trouble is headed our way.”

* * * *

After an hour of standing on the packed train, my feet hurt. It’s another thirty minutes on the bus before I trudge up to the three-flat. I can hardly wait to get my driver’s license. The thing is I need to get my behind-the-wheel time in first with Marcus or Bernard. Every time Sheldon takes me out for a lesson, he spends half the time harping on me about vacation. It will be summer before I’m able to drive myself anywhere.

In the meantime, Katie’s all for taking Dylan up on his offer to carpool to school. On days like today, I like the idea, too, but I don’t think Marcus would.

“Lucy, can you hold up a moment?”

I hold the foyer door open as Camille jogs up the sidewalk. She looks elegant in a khaki skirt and a navy sleeveless button-down top. Her long hair falls loose around her shoulders.

“It’s good to see you again.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

I sense she doesn’t like me much, like I’m the competition and Marcus is the prize. It’s okay because I don’t like her much, either. The nagging feeling is back, too. I ignored it the day Marcus and I met with her in his apartment. I know part of it is jealousy, but there’s more to it. It’s the feeling that Camille and Garret are going to cause trouble for Marcus.

I smile sweetly at her. “You, too, Mrs…Turner?”

“Call me Camille.”

I nod.

“When we first met, I assumed you were simply Gabriel—Marcus’s—neighbor. But Marcus tells me it’s something more, and it’s serious.”

I stand a little taller. “It is serious.”

“Well, then, I would like to invite you to dinner on Friday. Garret, Marcus’s father, will be there as well.”

I can’t believe I’m being invited to meet Garret. I assumed Marcus’s parents would insist this be private, a family matter. Maybe now I can get a sense of what they’re up to.

“That’s very nice of you,” I tell her. “I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” She smiles that smile again.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment.

“I’d like to see my son now.”

My cheeks flush hot, and I scoot out of her way. “Of course. Sorry. I’ll see you on Friday.”

Camille climbs the stairs, then knocks on Marcus’s door. The door opens and I glimpse a sliver of Marcus’s profile.

“Hello, Marcus,” Camille says. “Can we talk?”

I wonder if he’ll take her to the roof, to our spot. I wonder if she’s been in his room and if she’s seen the posters on his walls. Has Marcus played any of his favorite CDs for her? Does she even know who the Arctic Monkeys or Elvis Costello are? Death Cab for Cutie? Will Marcus spend the whole evening with her and forget about me?

I take a deep breath and roll out my shoulders.
Chill out, Lucy.
It’s his mom, not another girl. I turn and enter my apartment, nearly colliding with Sheldon.

“There’re leftovers in the fridge, kiddo. Persephone stopped down looking for you.”

After spending half a day with Persephone yesterday, what does she want with me now?

“Where are you going?” I’m surprised to see him decked out in a suit.

“The play at Steppenwolf. You forgot?”

Bernard rushes into the room, adjusting the knot on his tie. “Don’t wait up for us.”

Sheldon tips his head toward the foyer. “Who was that woman? The one you were just talking to?”

“Were you watching through the peephole?” Bernard accuses with a laugh.

Sheldon’s cheeks turn red. “I heard voices.”

There’s no sense lying to them. It’s bad enough I kept Jude a secret. “Marcus’s mother.”

They look at each other, raised eyebrows on both their faces. Bernard glances at his watch and nudges Sheldon. “Clearly, there’s a story there,” Bernard says. “But we’re running late.”

I hug them both on their way out the door. Once they’re gone, I change into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I reheat leftover stuffed peppers, following it up with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and a handful of pecans. Once I’m totally stuffed and the kitchen is clean, I make a cup of dandelion tea and take it to the living room.

Steam rises from the teacup. I drum my fingers against the coffee table as I wait for it to cool a little. How does this work? Persephone didn’t say. Will my dreams contain visions? Deliver clues? Or maybe Uncle Zack will visit me again once I’m asleep and tell me what to do. Wishful thinking. I stifle a yawn and rub my eyes.

As I raise the cup to blow on the hot liquid, the smell assaults my senses. Dirt and mushrooms.
So gross!
What if I add some sugar or mix it with a tea that actually tastes good? No. I can’t risk messing this up. I’ve got to figure out what Camille’s up to.
Maybe she just wants a life with her son?
Maybe. And if that’s all it is…

My lids droop.
So tired.
Maybe I’ll just curl up on the couch, shut my eyes for a few minutes while the tea cools. Then I’ll shut off my sense of smell and chug it down.

* * * *

Sunshine teases me awake. Birds chirp, chirp, chirp. A lawn mower roars to life. Only Mr. Hauri would mow his lawn this early on a school day. Fabric tickles my nose. I rub the smooth cottony fabric between my finger and thumb. A sheet. Compliments of my uncles? I stretch, big and lazy and slide off the couch. I raise my nose to the air and sniff as I head to the kitchen. No coffee yet? That’s strange. A peak at the Golden Gate Bridge wall clock shows ten to six.

“Oh, good, you’re up.” Bernard rushes into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee maker. “What do you want for breakfast?”

I show him the box of cereal in my hand. That’s when I notice the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He lets loose an exaggerated yawn then shakes his head as if to clear cobwebs from his brain. “You could say that. What kind of tea were you drinking last night?”

The baby hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Chamomile, I think. Why?”

Bernard pulls a mug from the cabinet. “Sheldon finished it off for you. Then he tossed and turned all night, muttering the craziest things in his sleep. Bad dreams. You should avoid that kind in the future.”

“I will, thanks. Is Sheldon okay?”

“He’s fine. Just tired.”

I don’t want nightmares. Life is hard enough as it is. I’ll have to figure out another way to see what Marcus’s mother is up to.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Friday comes around, I’m a nervous wreck. I’m nearly in tears as I try on the fourth outfit and model it for Bernard and Sheldon.