It had been awkward for an hour after that until I gathered the courage to ask to see all of her vines.
Turns out she had six of them that extended from her back, sort of like spider legs.
“Care to grab a pint with us at the pub to celebrate your first day?” Dallan asked, bringing me back to the present.
I wanted to, but one look over his shoulder at Ambrose’s angry expression told me that it was probably too soon for that.
I’d only seen him once throughout the day when Effie had gone to the bathroom and he’d muttered something about how the whole place stank of humans now. So he was definitely someone I wanted to avoid.
“Not tonight,” I murmured, unsure of whether or not my refusal would offend them.
But the man just shrugged, the tentacles on his face curling in as he looked down at Effie. “And you?”
“You go have fun, but not too much fun. We still need to finish getting the ink supply for the month.” Her vines seemed to be extra active as they pushed him in the direction of the shop door.
“Good job today, Daphne, you’re officially in my top five of all-time receptionists,” Dallan called over his shoulder.
“You’ve only had four since we started the shop,” Effie pointed out with a snort. “Now, good night.”
With that she shut the door firmly behind him, leaving the two of us alone.
“Sorry about that. They’re going to try and get you to go out for drinks as much as possible. I swear, Dallan probably has whiskey running through his veins at this point,” Effie said as she rejoined me behind the counter. She’d been in the middle of showing me how to close everything down when the artists had come out to the front.
“They don’t mind that I didn’t go, right?” My nerves were completely frazzled after a day of learning how everything worked. I was hoping that I hadn’t just screwed up some kind of team bonding ritual or something.
Effie shook her head. “No, not even a little bit. They’ll use any excuse to go out for a drink after work. If you want me to stop them from asking you, just let me know.”
“No, it’s okay,” I hurried to reassure her. “I don’t mind.”
We lapsed into silence as Effie fiddled with her tablet, going through the closing checklist.
My thoughts drifted, once again back to Cash, the silent gargoyle. He’d come up to the front a couple of times to ask Effie questions and each time his silver eyes had fallen briefly on me before he looked away almost immediately. He didn’t say anything to me and I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of me.
At least the rest of the guys made it obvious where they fell.
“Hey, Effie?” I asked, finally breaking the silence as my biggest curiosity about the gargoyle finally getting the better of me.
“Hmm?” Effie replied, not really paying attention to me as she stared at her screen.
I nibbled nervously on my lower lip, unsure of how to phrase my question. “Why doesn’t Cash have wings? I’m not super familiar with gargoyles… but aren’t wings kinda their thing?”
The tablet pen in Effie’s fingers froze and her green eyes met mine. “You don’t…? No, of course you wouldn’t know.”
“Know what?”
Effie set down the tablet and turned in her chair so that she was fully facing me. “You should never bring up what I’m about to tell you to Cash. He’s one of the most patient guys I’ve ever met, but this is a sore spot for him, understand?”
I nodded, swallowing heavily.
“Cash is something called a Wingless. Wingless are gargoyles that have been banished from their clans for one reason or another. Their clan leader rips the wings off of their backs so that no other clan will take them in. It’s the ultimate punishment.” Effie’s normally jovial voice was grave as she spoke.
My stomach twisted at the imagery that her words conjured up, nausea rising up in my throat at the idea of how much that must have hurt. “That’sawful.”
“It is. He had no one really before he met Dallan, and I’ve known him for almost fifty years, so we’re pretty overprotective. Just… don’t bring it up with him unless he brings it up with you, okay?” Effie ran a hand through her mint-green locks, making them stand up in all directions.
“I won’t,” I promised, making a mental note to do some research on gargoyles once I got the chance. Then my brain seemed to catch up with the rest of the conversation, namely the forty years that Effie had known Cash. “Wait, how old are you, Effie?”
I thought she was the same age as I was. Everything about her exuded the kind of youthfulness people in their twenties seemed to have in buckets.
