33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Andy
I frowned as I read through my notes. Try as I might, I was still coming up with zilch. I had no idea how to stabilize the pocket world we were hiding in and make it more permanent. Dyre said it was impossible, that no matter what we did, our only true options were to either stay here until the pocket world imploded and hurled us out into the space between realms… or take our asses to another realm—one where there was a war brewing. I knew he was right. But I kept worrying at the problem like a half-starved dog with a bone.
And yes, I was self-aware enough to know that I was using it as a distraction from other things. Things I didn't want to think about. Like how, try as I might to resist, all roads seemed to lead to me eventually joining up with the crazy rebels, not only putting my neck on the line, but risking the lives of the new family I had only just begun to build in the process.
“I did just what you said,” Zhong murmured, his deep gravelly voice pulling me out of my downward spiral. He was standing a few feet away, by the bookshelves, frowning at the open pages of The Kitchen Witch's Guide to Gardening . “But I'm not sure it worked.”
I shoved my notes aside, guiltily glad for yet another way to distract myself from my thoughts of doom and gloom as I turned toward the gargoyle. “Your magic isn't ever going to be the same as a witch's magic,” I reminded him gently. “Just because you didn't see big results right away, that doesn't mean the spell didn't work.”
I went to him and laid a hand on one big bicep, drawing his attention away from the book he was glaring daggers at. “You're not a failure, Zhong. Our magics just work differently. The fact that you are a gargoyle and can cast spells like this at all is a huge accomplishment. It's a big step outside your usual talents.” I shook my head. “But look at it this way, dude. I could never connect to this house and sense all the currents of each bit of stone and timber as if they were living, breathing things, the way you can. I can't turn my skin to stone and become impervious to harm. I can't draw power from protecting the people who dwell in my domain.”
I shrugged, feeling like one of those silly positivity posters humans seemed to love so much. “We all have our own unique strengths. Don't beat yourself up if you can't master everything. ” I looked up at him and winked. “I mean, you are perfect and all, but you've gotta let the rest of us excel at something now and then.”
He sighed, then shook his head, his frown easing into a wry acceptance. “I'm sorry master. I… just want to feel useful. I thought if I could master these gardening spells, I'd be better at feeding everyone, and--”
I reached up and clapped a hand over his mouth, giving him a threatening look. “Stop. Everything you do is already enough, you big, sweet, idiot. I'll teach you magic all you want. But it's not so you can be more useful.” I removed my hand from his mouth and made a gagging gesture at the thought of valuing people by what they could do for me. “You know damned well that's not why I keep you around.”
He chuckled, finally. “I know.” A huge sigh. “It's just… hardwired into me, I suppose.”
I grinned up at him. “Come on,” I said, setting his book aside and taking his big hand in mine. “We both need to get out of this workroom. Show me your plants and I'll see how you did.”
He bent and planted a soft kiss on my forehead, making me melt. Zhong was such an addictive combination of solid strength and patient love. I could sink into his arms and never leave. But, sadly, I couldn't use cuddling and sex to escape all the time. And I really did want to see how his spells were coming along. It was a fascinating experiment, trying to teach magic to someone who wasn't a witch. And Zhong really did have a knack for it that most of his kind didn't possess, especially when it came to spells that enhanced or contributed to his own innate home and protection-based magic.
Stepping back, I led the big gray hottie to the stairs. As we descended, I quizzed him on the elements of a strong spell. Drawing on his inner reserves, connecting to the resources around him, intent, focus and concentration.
It seemed he had done well in most of those areas, but as we reached the ground floor and headed out into the courtyard, he scratched the back of his head and looked away as if embarrassed. “I'm not sure my concentration was as good as it could have been,” he admitted.
I arched my brows at him in amusement as he led me to the little patch of earth where he'd planted his vegetables. “Oh?”
He shrugged, resettling his wings. “River came out while I was casting the spell on the last of the plants.”
I chuckled. “Ah. I don't blame you one bit. He can be distracting.” He was probably asking Zhong a million questions about how his magic worked, or what recipes he'd use the vegetables for, or his favorite kind of rock or something. The word “curious” didn't even begin to describe his unquenchable thirst for knowledge of every sort. It was oddly endearing.
Zhong gave me a wry look that confirmed my suspicions. Then he gestured at the baby plants. I crouched down and ran a hand over them, reaching out my magical senses to feel for his growth spell.
I grinned when I felt what I was looking for. A soft, gentle hum of gargoyle magic. “You did great,” I told him honestly. “It's not as strong as a witch's spell, but… maybe that's even better. This way the plants will get a gentle boost along the way, rather than burning themselves up in one big burst of growth.”
He gave me a hesitant smile. “Really?”
“Yep. Really. I told you, Zhong. Just because your spells are different, doesn't mean they aren't just as good.”
He nodded as I stood. “Thank you master.”
I gave him the side eye. He knew that I'd gone from hating that title to it reminding me of some kind of kinky dominance play. “Watch it,” I warned in a mock growl. But then again, if this was his endgame—to lure me out to the courtyard for sexy fun time, I was all for it.
Zhong chuckled and joined me as I walked around the courtyard, checking on my own growth and productivity spells. With the weaker soil and the general lack of inherent life in this created world of mine, growing food for us all was a full-time job that required a hefty dose of magic. Thankfully between my witch magic and Niamh's fae skills—and now Zhong's contributions—we were able to harvest things much more often than usual.
Still, one day the nutrients in the soil would run out, and the magic that sustained us here was not as potent as the magic in the real world… we'd run out of food. Food. Insulin. Magic. If the pocket world didn't collapse, we'd die of starvation or some other lack. Just another reminder of what I already knew—we couldn't stay here forever.
Once again, Zhong saved me from my downward spiral of worry.
“What do you think of him?” he asked in a very nonchalant tone of voice.
I stopped poking at a bean plant and straightened to look at him, realizing I had missed half the conversation. “Who?”
He smiled patiently at my absentminded reply. “River. What do you think of him?”
Oh. Fair question, I supposed. Our newest houseguest was still a bit of an enigma, and of course Zhong, with his caring, nurturing personality, would want to know where the other man fit in with the rest of us.
“Um,” I said intelligently. Then I went and plopped down on the living bench Niamh had shaped with her magic and a couple of ornamental flowering trees, and stared up at the gargoyle. “Honestly? I have no idea. And now I feel like shit because I haven't really given it much thought.”
He gave me a wry look and sank down beside me. “I think that's a problem,” he murmured. “He chose to stay here with us. But he's… not like a lot of our other family members. He's still an outsider, but I don't think he wants to be. Not like the way Aahil needs space, or Dyre is happy to spend time alone, or Niamh is used to being independent, or Hasumi gets lost in their own world… I think he's more like me, maybe? Or Ambrose?” his words slowed to a halt, and I glanced at him to find him staring at his hands.
Zhong was great at asserting himself when there was danger, a real life-or-death threat to me or the others he had come to care for. But generally speaking, he didn't speak up, didn't disagree or voice strong opinions. Unless he was looking out for someone.
What did I think of River? “He's interesting,” I said honestly. “I love how he's fascinated by absolutely everything around him, and he's not afraid to ask stupid questions. He also seems really comfortable speaking his mind—like when he told us all off for being cowards when we wouldn't join the rebels. But he's content to say his piece and let you make up your own mind. He doesn't seem like someone who holds a grudge or gets all pissy. Unlike some other people I know.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “No.”
I studied his face for a moment, then grinned as I spoke, watching for a reaction. “And he's hot as hell, in case you hadn't noticed.”
Zhong's cheeks turned slightly pink, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “I noticed.”
I laughed. “Is that what this is all about? You want to fuck the cat? Zhong, you don't need my permission to be attracted to people.”
He shook his head and straightened, finally meeting my eyes. Faint amusement colored his expression as he spoke. “I didn't exactly think you'd mind. But I'm not asking to court the man. I just… wanted to know your opinion. Do you really think he's a spy? Should we be keeping him at arm's length? Or…”
I raised my brows at him. “Or…?”
He sighed, looking resigned, probably expecting my laughter. “Can we keep him, master? Please?”
I couldn't help it. I did laugh. But only because he was so fucking adorable. “He's not actually a cat, you know? Not some domesticated animal you can make into a pet,” I teased.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don't tease. I'm serious. He's lonely, and I… I like him.”
I sighed, forcing myself to be serious. “No, I don't really believe he's a spy or anything. I honestly don't know what the hell he'd gain by staying here with us, if that were the case. He could tell the enemy we're hiding in a pocket world. But that still doesn't do much to help them find us. And if he was here to murder us in our sleep, he'd have done it by now.” I pressed my lips together for a moment as I thought about how to put it. “I think he's just… weird. Like the rest of us. So, in that respect, he fits in just fine.”
Zhong chuckled. “We all have our strengths, I belive that is what you told me earlier.”
I shook my head and leaned into his side, nudging him with my shoulder. “I'll try to get to know him better. I've had so much on my mind that I've kind of just… ignored him and let him do his own thing. But I know the others probably haven't gone out of their way to welcome him into our weird little circle. Thanks for reminding me.”
He slipped a big arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “I think he's one of us,” he said softly. “Or… that he could be? It seems like he's looking for something. But I don't think even he knows what that is. Maybe… maybe it's us.”
It sounded so damned cheesy. But I knew what he meant. I think every single person in this household had been searching for the same thing. Had been in that same situation not so long ago—that feeling of something missing, though you had no idea what it was.
“You're such a softie,” I muttered, slapping his chest weakly. “Stop making me cry.”
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Yes, master.”
What would I do without Zhong's strong, quiet, insightful presence in my life? In my case, I hadn't even known something was missing, until I found it and the pieces slotted perfectly into the gaping hole in my heart.
I breathed deep and let myself relax into the moment of peace. Which, of course, was the exact moment that peace was shattered.
The wards screamed warning as something powerful broke through our protections, making the bubble of magic around the pocket world ripple ominously.
“Oleander Lovell,” a booming voice shouted into the silence, as a blinding golden light flared. “We've found you!” A shimmering portal appeared in the courtyard, and several massive, glowing figures stepped out, all carrying flaming swords.
Well, fuck.