Modeus strokes my back gently, and I sink a little deeper into his embrace. If I didn’t have them, I would probably be falling apart, or maybe I would have given up the club just so I wouldn’t be faced with this loss all the time.
When I’ve caught my breath, I finally pull back from Modeus. He looks down at me, and I can still see the lingering alarm in his tightened features. “I’m good,” I promise. My voice is still nasally, but I don’t feel like I need to hold my breath to keep the tears at bay. “Thank you for walking my bike back here.”And for holding me together.I don’t say the last part, even though I should.
Egan nudges my back, as if to remind me he’s with me too, though I could never forget.
“You too. I sure don’t want to lug him around.” I motion to the gargoyle over his shoulder. “We should get him home. He needs to connect with the church and build a new foundation.”
Egan watches me closely for a long moment before he jerks his chin up, giving me the go-ahead as if he’s waiting for me. Modeus releases me when I shift away and head straight for my bike. The rumble of the engine is another reminder of Harlow. The man loved motorcycles almost as much as he loved flying, but this memory doesn’t hurt as badly, it’s more a reminder that I will always have a piece of him with me.
Once I throw my leg over my bike, I scoot forward more than I normally would and hook my thumb behind me. “Put him back here. No, you are not going to carry him,” I tell Egan before he can silently argue with me. “Loop his arms over my shoulders, I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall off.”
My rear shocks would whine if they weren’t oiled so well, but my tire does flatten a little. “Damn, what the fuck does he eat?” I gripe, but it gives me something else to think about than my little breakdown.
“Rocks,” Modeus supplies hesitantly, as if he’s not sure if the joke is too soon. I give him a droll stare, but my lips do curl unwillingly. It was kind of witty.
“Don’t run him over if he falls off the back,” I warn, pulling his arm up high over my shoulder, and it makes me lean forward in a way that is not at all comfortable. Good thing we don’t live too far from the clubhouse.
“Let me take him.” Modeus steps forward after I get Cyrus adjusted, and I glare at him.
“You think he would fit better with you?” My incredulous tone says it all.
“He can ride like the shifter did.”
“The shifter’s fingers were worn down to nubs,” I remind him.
“He would heal,” Modeus mumbles. “It’s better than you crashing to keep his fat ass from falling off.”
“First, he’s not fat.” I try to look back, but he is pretty large. Modeus gives me a deadpan stare, which I choose to ignore. “And second, I’m not going to crash.”
“You better not, or I’m going to wake him up with my foot shoved up hisbig fat ass.”
“Are you ready, Egan?” I look around my sassy demon to see my fallen.
Egan tilts his head to the side and lifts one arm, gesturing for me to go. Steadying my bike is tough, since I have to work hard to keep Cyrus’ weight from shifting around. Once I’m traveling fast enough to pick my feet up, it’s much easier. Every turn is a little dicey, but we manage to make it home without crashing or losing any body parts.
When I stop in my rear drive, I heave him off my back, and he drops to the gravel like a dead man. I feel guilty, but the urgency in my stomach is building, making me rush to get him inside.
Thankfully, his skin is still soft and supple, which means he isn’t turning to stone, so I know he’ll be all right, even if he does have a few scrapes and a headache to show for the trouble.
Egan lands next to me, allowing his eyes to roam over my body as I hike my leg over my bike. I unlock the garage, leaving Cyrus, who’s still unconscious, on the ground. “Can one of you haul him up to the attic?” I shove the door open and turn. Egan is already gathering the gargoyle and heaving him over his shoulder.
“I’ve got your ride. Take him inside,” Modeus says, using his feet to duck walk his bike through the door.
Egan trails into the house after me. The most direct way to the attic is through a small hidden door that used to be at the back of the sanctuary, but now it’s just my open living space. I push on the wood, and the door springs forward, opening without the need for a handle.
I turn to face Egan. “I’ll take his feet, that will be easier.”
My fallen ducks his head, looking into the dim hall. The stairs are steep and narrow, making it hard to navigate with a body tossed over your shoulder. Egan heaves Cyrus off to the side, and his body hits the floor with a thud. I wince. He may wake up with more than a few scrapes. My outraged, “Hey!” comes out way too late. “Don’t toss him around.”
Egan looks at me with reproach, and I hear my own voice mock,you did.
Instead of arguing, I reach for Cyrus’ ankles and pull them up to my sides. Egan crouches low and shoves his hands into the gargoyle’s armpits before hoisting him up so his head and neck are cradled against his bare chest. Cyrus’ head lolls to the side a bit. If he would have stayed in his true form much longer, it might have been hard to get him to switch back.
I walk backward up the stairs, leaving Egan to hold much of the large man’s weight, but I know he can handle it. Hell, I could do it on my own if I really needed to. The backs of his calves might’ve had some bruising, but we’re quick healers.
Once we reach the top floor, I’m careful to lower Cyrus’ feet to the ground. Egan takes the same care while placing him on the spotless wooden floor. The church left boxes of old equipment up here, but I hauled all of that out to the trash when I moved in years ago.
The exposed wooden beams connect the entire building, allowing the wooden floors to act as a conduit. I slept up here for the first week after I moved in, developing my bond with the structure. Being here still feels rejuvenating, and though my connection to the church no longer requires me to visit the room, I often do anyway.
