I can’t stop shivering. I pull my arms around my body, keeping my finger near the trigger on my gun just in case. Hasan moves through the foyer, going into the two-story living room and right to the fireplace.
“Where is the wood?” he asks, accented voice echoing through the large house.
“I don’t know.” I turn in his direction.
“How can you not know where the wood is?”
“This isn’t my house,” I explain. “Well, I guess it is now. I don’t live here. I’ve never even been here until today.” As soon as the words leave my lips, something clicks into place.
I’ve never set foot inside the house until today.
The gargoyles awoke for the first time in centuries.
You don’t have to be a detective to make the connection, only I don’t know what two things I’m connecting. How could I have anything to do with this? I’ve spent my entire career proving magic and the occult doesn’t exist. I’ve never taken on a case where I failed to provide logic and reason behind the crimes.
Until ten minutes ago, I would have bet my life on the fact that magic wasn’t real. I swallow hard and get hit with a wave of dizziness.
Magic still isn’t real. It can’t be. I turn back around and look at the three men in the foyer. Water drips from their wings.
Wings.
Hasan picks up what’s probably a valuable antique chair and snaps it like a twig, tossing the pieces into the fireplace.
“I’ve gone crazy.” I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself the gargoyles will be gone when I open them. They’re not. “I’ve cracked. They warned me this could happen. Said I compartmentalized too well, didn’t process the full extent of how fucked up people can be.”
“Acelina,” Jacques starts.
“Ace,” I interrupt. “Call me Ace.”
He gives me a curt nod, not trying at all to hide the indignation he’s feeling. I get the feeling he’s not interrupted often, and definitely not by a woman. “It can be a lot to take in. I myself remember the shock of being cursed.”
“Cursed? So now curses are real, too?” I let out a breath. “I need a drink. And I don’t drink.”
Gilbert comes forward, smirking. “We didn’t believe it either. But the sooner you accept this, the sooner we can figure this out.”
I hold up my hand. “Wait…Templar Knights are from a thousand years ago. How are you even speaking English?”
The smirk vanishes from Gilbert’s face. “A thousand years?”
“Give or take a few hundred.”
He turns to his brother, looking more human than ever. “We’ve been asleep for a thousand years,” he says quietly in disbelief.
Thomas’s blue eyes glisten for a moment, then he grins. “I knew there was a reason you looked like shit, brother.”
“You don’t look much better. You have moss in your hair and you reek like rat piss, though I can’t say that’s much different than before,” Gilbert counters.
Thomas brings a clawed hand to his head, brushing out moss and a few wet leaves. “Don’t be jealous. You know how—”
“Enough,” Jacques says, silencing the two immediately. He rounds on me, eyes narrowing. “Who are you?” he practically hisses. The venom in his voice sends a chill down my spine. Behind the anger, I can see his fear. He’s just as clueless as I am, which freaks me out even more.
Someone is supposed to have answers, and it sure isn’t me.
“I already told you. My name is Acelina Bisset. I’m a detective on the city police force. This house belonged to my Great Aunt Mary and I’ve never been inside until today.”
“Detective?”
“I solve crimes. Hunt bad guys. And I always win.” I push my shoulders back, trying to look as dignified as I can in this crushed velvet ’90s slip dress.
