“But you’re a woman.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I retort, defenses automatically going up. I fought tooth and nail to get to where I am today in a male-dominated field. “Times have changed. Women are equal to men.” I let out a breath, bringing my defenses down. “A lot has changed over the years.”
“Has fucking changed?” Thomas asks, giving me that same crooked grin. “It’s been so long since I lay with a woman, even before the curse.”
“A thousand years and you’re still thinking with your cock,” Gilbert mutters under his breath, shaking his head.
“That’ll never change.”
“I don’t think fucking has changed. The concept is still the same, right? Though people are more open about their sexuality now,” I start, then shake my head. “So not the point, either.”
A glow comes from the living room, and I turn to see Hasan standing back from a fire. His eyes meet mine in the dark.
“Come,” he beckons. “Warm yourself.”
“Follow me,” I tell the others, and walk to the fire. I sit near the hearth, holding out my ice-cold hands. I give myself a minute to get the heat back into my fingers before drilling the gargoyles again. I rake my long brunette hair over my shoulder, hoping it will dry quickly. Wet hair on my back always makes me cold.
Jacques pulls a blanket off the couch, shaking off the dust. His eyes meet mine again for a fleeting moment as he hands it to me. There’s no denying the longing in his eyes as he again looks upon me as if he knows me.
“Thanks.” I take the blanket and drape it around my shoulders. My eyes go over the four men in front of me. “So you’re gargoyles.”
“Yes,” Jacques answers.
I stand, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Okay, then. I’m going to go home and never come back. Because this cannot be happening.”
“It is happening.” Jacques steps in front of me, blocking me in against the fireplace. “It’s happening because of you.”
"Back off,” I order, and his body moves back on its own accord. “I already told you, I have no idea what’s going on, and right now…right now I want to go home.”
“Wait,” Jacques calls. “If you woke us, maybe you’re the one.”
“The one?”
“The one to break the curse.”
4
The fire cracks and pops behind me, casting long shadows throughout the grand living room. Wind blows against the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the rain continues to come down in sheets.
“I don’t know a thing about curses,” I say slowly. “Not how to cast one and not how to break one.” There is hope in Thomas’s and Gilbert’s eyes as they gaze upon me. Hasan remains stoic, staring into the fire behind me.
“Are you sure about that?” Jacques’s lips pull back as he speaks, showing off his fangs. He doesn’t believe me, and to be honest, I wouldn’t either if I were him. All evidence points to me being the one to awaken them.
“Yes. I told you, I didn’t do anything to wake you.”
Jacques holds out his hand, eyes falling shut. “I can feel it inside you.”
“Feel what?”
“Magic.”
I shake my head. “Magic isn’t real.”
Thomas gives me a cocky grin. “Neither are gargoyles, right?”
“This is so fucked up,” I mutter, and run my finger along the barrel of my gun, needing to remind myself who I am. Stick to the facts. I’m not crazy.
I’m a detective. A damn good one. I’ve taken on case after case and proved magic is never the culprit because magic is not real.
