I think I laid it on a little too thick there. Oh well. Maybe scaring the shit out of him will finally keep him away. I don’t really want to arrest him and have any sort of paper trail leading anyone to the house and the guys. And I really do understand. If he wasn’t such a pain in the ass, I might admire the kid’s drive to uncover the truth.
The house shudders the way it does when the back door is opened and shut. A moment later the porch lights go out. Jared just about jumps out of his skin and peers through the curtained living room window. We’re in a room at the front of the house, right off the foyer.
“I really am sorry,” he says, voice wavering. “I didn’t mean to piss you off and make you go all ragey.”
I cross my arms. “Stop playing victim.” A car turns into the driveway. “Does your dad know?”
“Know what?”
“That you think the gargoyles are real.”
He looks away. “No.”
Nodding, I step away from Jared and move to the front door, wanting to get Richard inside as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have time to stop and look for the gargoyles. Or lack thereof.
He’s almost to the steps when I open the door, too flustered to notice anything. Thomas and Gilbert have taken their spots again, wings drawn up around them to hide their human features. They’re as still as stone, and if you didn’t know any better, it would be all too easy to pass them by in the dark and assume they are statues.
“I am so sorry and so embarrassed,” Richard says as soon as he’s in the house. Gilbert lowers his wings, looks over his shoulder at me, and winks. Keeping my face neutral, I shut the door behind us and motion to the living room.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He rounds on Jared. “Trespassing? Trying to get pictures of her?” He runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Do you want to be labeled a sex offender for the rest of your life?”
“Dad,” Jared starts. “I wasn’t taking pictures of her!”
“Then what in the hell were you—we’ll talk about this at home. Did you tell Detective Bisset you’re sorry?” Richard shakes his head.
“Yes, I did. And I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” I say.
“Get up,” Richard orders Jared. “You have no idea how lucky you are she didn’t press charges or arrest you herself.”
I walk them to the door, mind made up about that stupid picnic. There’s no way in hell I’m going. My hand lands on the doorknob and I mentally reach out, seeing if the guys are still on the porch. They are, and I feel them before I see them.
“No!” Jared recoils. “No, no, no! They weren’t there a minute ago!”
Richard grabs Jared’s arm and gives him a swift jerk. “Not this again.”
“I’m not crazy, Dad!”
“In the car. Now,” Richard says through gritted teeth, making me feel bad for the kid. He’s not crazy, but what the fuck is anyone supposed to believe? Gargoyles don’t come to life and move around. Magic isn’t real. Anyone who says otherwise is crazy.
I believed it.
And now I’m living it.
Fuck, this sucks. Jared is an arrogant prick but he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a crazy person. He doesn’t need to be taken to therapy and prescribed drugs for a condition he doesn’t have.
Because magic is real. These gargoyles are actually men. And monsters do exist.
I don’t have time for this, and my brain is already fried. The only thing I need to worry about when it comes to Jared is keeping him the hell away from my house and yard.
* * *
I should have madethe circle bigger. Crowding in the salt circle I made on the living room floor, I inhale deeply, trying to draw energy in around me. I’m sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, holding out my hands. Thomas links his fingers through mine and meets my gaze.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” I push my shoulders back, thinking I should have put my hair up into a bun or something. There are white candles along the salt line, bringing in positive energy. Or so the grimoire said. After going over the notes I made this morning with Jac, we decided a generic curse-breaking spell would be the best to try first. The spell works by banishing negative energy, which is used to send and create curses.
