“What?” Uncle asks, affecting confusion, but we can all smell the deception.
“Thatass.” Walker says it like an accusation. Honestly, I would bet the floor of the foyer that Uncle hired him less on the basis of his resume and more on the wideness of his ass.
“Uncle.” Reeves and I growl in unison. He’s the son of my mother from the same sire, and we often sound like each other.
Uncle gives us all a sheepish smile, shrugging as he replies. “I didn’t think any of us would mind a change in scenery.”
I move to pinch the bridge of my nose, but Faulkes is so big I can’t reach, so I just pat him and run the tips of my claws up anddown his back to soothe the poor guy. He misses Arcan the most out of all of us; Arcan running away hurt him deeply.
“Uncle, you can’t hire someone solely on the size of their ass. He needs skills! He needs to be able to run this place.” He needs to not ever bend over again.
“Dibs,” Hawthorn says as casually as anything.
“No.” It comes out less like a rebuke and more like a claim, but I’m not going to think about that. “No one is calling dibs on the new butler. He might not even be the new butler tomorrow. We are not keeping a man hired because of the size of his ass.” I shoot Uncle a narrow eyed glare.
Uncle smiles like I’m silly, and I dread the next thing out of his mouth. “He has perfectly good qualifications. I just liked his ass more than the other candidates. I wouldn’t hire someone unqualified for the job, Thoren. You should trust me more.”
“Should I?” I ask, even though I probably do trust him more than I should.
Uncle pouts. “I’m the most trustworthy among us! I am always honest and pure and kind and innocent of any wrong-doing. How could anyone doubt the wonder that is me?”
I wish I could say that he’s exaggerating, but he actually believes the words out of his mouth, and I think we would also mostly agree. He is as much one of the Trustworthy as the rest of us.
“You are wonderful,” Faulkes agrees, kisses my cheek, and gets to his feet. “I’m going to the roof.” He yawns, hiding it behind his hand before heading toward the door.
I stand because a roof nap sounds good, but Hawthorn also stands, looking like he’s about to go harass our new butler, so I resign myself to a full day of training to keep him occupied. “Hawthorn, training room, let’s go.”
Hawthorn gives me a sour look. “C’mon, Thoren; you already beat the shit out of me yesterday!”
I settle my face into a neutral mask. “And I will keep doing it until you learn how to handle the threats that Uncle sends you out to neutralize. I don’t ever want to find you possessed by a shelak ever again.”
I hadn’t told any of our brothers that yet, and a chorus of surprised what-the-fucks follows the announcement accompanied by Hawthorn turning a shade of purple I’ve never seen on an adult gargoyle before. I keep my face neutral, but my heart does a happy little jig at his discomfort.
“Come on,feun. Let’s go,” I urge him.
Hawthorn might be an attention whore and an idiot, but we’re still brothers forged in the fires of adversity, and he perks up when I remind him of that. All of these gargoyles arefeunto me, and I am the same to them, which is why I’m not going to let any of them get away with losing the sharp edges of their training and experience.
In the elevator down to the training room, I touch Hawthorn’s elbow. “Why’re you covered in mud?”
He glances at his stained shirt. “It’s not mud,” he replies with a grim set to his jaw.
My heart turns to stone and stops beating in my chest as I ache at the implication. “Did we—”
“No! No,” he quickly interrupts. “Faulkes and I went to visit the nest earlier, but when we got there, nest Helvidi was hatching. One of the hatchlings was too weak to break out. The nurses were occupied with the other hatchlings and didn’t see the struggle, so I jumped in to help. Thecrevelecollapsed before I got the hatchling out. It was injured but alive.”
I’m torn between gratitude that our nest is safe, and sorrow for the injured infant. They will heal, but hatching injuries are visible and lead to life-long debilitation. The rest of that hatchling’s nestmates will likely reject them, and they’ll end up growing up alone. It’s not a death sentence, but it is a hard life.
“Poor thing,” I sigh. “Hopefully their aunt will make up for the lack until they find their path.”
Hawthorn nods. “She seemed regretful but willing to take up the challenge.”
Very few gargoyles would reject an injured infant, but their nestmates are too young to carry the burden of their pain and usually reject them because of it. “I’m glad.”
I tug on the bond between us, reminding us both of the importance of the bonds gargoyle nestlings hatch with. We’ve had this connection since before we were born, and we’ve strengthened it over time rather than let it go. We’refeunto the end, and we’re both grateful for the connection that keeps us together.
Hawthorn leans into me, I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and we walk out of the elevator directly into the training room together like that. I love this man, and I’m about to kick his ass for the second day in a row because this idiot needs the attention.
I adore my family.
