Chapter Thirteen
The exhaustion hit me in waves, slow at first, then all at once like a dam breaking.
My limbs felt heavier than they should, and a heavy fog dulled the sharp edges of my thoughts. The conversation with Keegan had drained me more than I wanted to admit. The push and pull of duty, responsibility, and love all tangled together in a knot I couldn't seem to loosen.
I needed sleep.
I stood with effort, giving Frank a pat on his wrinkled head before dragging myself toward the stairs leading to the loft. The small space above the main floor had quickly become my sanctuary, warm and safe, tucked away from the rest of the world. As I climbed the steps, the cottage creaked softly, the sound familiar, almost comforting.
I barely made it to the bed before collapsing onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against my skin, and the moment my head hit the pillow, fatigue clung to me like the coziest, most inescapable squeeze. My muscles relaxed, my mind softened, and I let go for the first time in what felt like weeks.
I should have done this hours ago, I thought as my eyes already fluttered shut.
But just as sleep began to pull me under, a sharp and unexpected sound snapped me back into awareness.
Voices.
Arguing.
On the roof.
I frowned and pushed myself up onto my elbows.
The muffled voices drifted through the ceiling, too distorted to make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable.
Agitated.
Urgent.
Maybe even a little frantic.
With everything I’d been through around here, I rubbed my eyes and wondered if I was imagining things or if my overtired brain was playing tricks on me.
But then, a heavier thump followed by a low, gravelly grumble confirmed that I wasn’t hallucinating.
I knew that grumble.
Karvey.
I groaned, throwing an arm over my face.
“What now?” I muttered into the darkness.
The arguing didn’t stop.
If anything, the sound grew more intense, with voices overlapping and cutting each other off in rapid succession.
One of the other gargoyles, one of the new ones, let out a sharp bark of laughter—more of a scoff, really—and then there was another solid thud. It sounded like someone had stomped or slammed something in frustration.
Hopefully, they weren’t playing gargoyle bowling.
I sighed heavily and rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling as if I could glare them into silence.
Of course they’d decide now, right now, to hold some rooftop debate.
For a fleeting moment, I considered ignoring it, burying myself in the blankets, and letting the gargoyles sort out their drama independently.
But something about how they spoke—their urgency, the tension in their voices—kept me from fully sinking back into sleep.
Because what if it were serious?
With a groan, I threw off the blankets and sat up.
Whatever was happening up there, it wouldn’t stop on its own.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, rubbed my face with both hands, and pushed myself up.
Why am I like this?
I could have ignored it and let the stone-statue loudmouths handle their business, but no. Instead, I was about to go out in the freezing cold in the middle of the night to referee a gargoyle squabble.
Grabbing my thickest robe off the hook, I wrapped it around myself and tied it snugly before trudging down the steps.
I saw Frank wide awake, sitting near the door like a loaf of bread with legs and a smug preparedness.
I stopped in my tracks, crossing my arms.
“Oh, now you’re interested in things?”
Frank snorted in agreement.
“So you do wake up for emergencies. Or just when it involves gossip?”
Frank’s jowls quivered slightly as he gave a soft, disapproving grunt, shifting his weight from one stubby paw to another.
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he laughed.
I bent down to pull on my boots and grabbed my thick knit cap from the hook near the door, yanking it over my head.
The gloves came next. If I were to entertain whatever nonsense was happening on my roof, I would at least have warm fingers while doing it.
I glanced back at Frank as I zipped up my coat.
“Well? You coming, or are you just here for the commentary?”
Frank gave me a slow blink, then waddled forward, nudging my leg with his squished-up face.
“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, turning the doorknob. “Let’s get this over with.”
When I stepped outside, the wind slapped me across the face like it had been waiting for me to be dumb enough to come into the cold.
The icy air stung my cheeks instantly, stealing my breath from my lungs.
“Oh, nope , ” I wheezed, pulling my robe tighter. “Bad idea. This was a bad idea.”
Frank gave a snort that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
I shot him a glare. “You’re covered in a built-in sweater. You don’t get to have an opinion.”
Still shivering, I tilted my head back and looked toward the roof, my breath coming out in foggy puffs.
And then I frowned.
Five gargoyles, including Karvey, were perched near the chimney, locked in a silent, stone-faced standoff. Their wings were partially spread, and their carved faces set in deep scowls.
It was like a gargoyle version of a soap opera.
I shook my head. “I’m going to need context before intervening in this mess.”
The arguing continued in hushed, gravelly tones.
I sighed.
“And an addition of layers.”
I dashed back inside with Frank and slammed the door against the icy wind as I shivered violently, my teeth clicking together in protest.
“Nope. No way. I refuse to freeze to death because of rooftop drama,” I muttered, stomping toward the closet.
Frank, who had been dutifully following at my heels, gave me a look that was both unimpressed and slightly amused. It was as if he were saying, You made this choice, lady.
I pulled out my enormous puffer coat, a monstrosity of quilted insulation, and yanked it over my bathrobe.
“This is a look, ” I muttered, zipping it to my chin. I glanced at Frank and sighed dramatically. “Good thing Keegan can’t see me now.”
I swore the corner of Frank’s jowly mouth almost quirked into a bulldog smirk if I ever saw one.
“Don’t even,” I warned, pointing a gloved finger at him. “I’m going out there to handle the gargoyle crisis, and you are staying inside where it’s warm.”
Frank blinked slowly, clearly unfazed.
I knelt and ruffled the loose folds of his face.
“I’ll keep you posted,” I said, standing back up and marching toward the door.
I yanked the door open and stepped outside—the wind bit at the exposed parts of my face. My puffer coat crinkled noisily as I stomped through the snow toward the yard, my breath puffed out in white clouds.
On the roof, Karvey raised his arms dramatically toward the sky. His stone wings slightly unfurled while his fellow gargoyles stood stiffly behind him. Their expressions were locked in various degrees of stony frustration.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, what exactly is happening here?”
Karvey spun around, looking startled. “Oh. It’s you. ”
“Nice to see you too,” I said dryly, rubbing my arms for heat. “Want to tell me why you’re holding some kind of gargoyle bowling league on my roof in the dead of night?”
Karvey sighed a long, gravelly sigh and gestured toward the three new gargoyles. “There’s been… a disagreement.”
I arched a brow. “Disagreement?”
One of the new gargoyles—shorter, with an impressive set of three curved horns—stepped forward, crossing his thick stone arms.
“We should be stationed at the front of the house, not the back.”
“Believe , ” the other one, the lankier gargoyle with a chipped wing, echoed with a nod.
I pressed my lips together, suppressing the urge to laugh at how serious they were.
“Okay,” I said, looking between them. “Why?”
The horned gargoyle puffed out his chest. “We must oversee the main entrance. A home’s threshold is the first point of attack.”
Karvey exhaled through his nose, clearly exasperated. “And I have told them multiple times that the biggest threat is from behind the house.”
The lankier gargoyle scoffed. “Tradition says—”
“Tradition didn’t help when the attack happened a few weeks ago,” Karvey snapped. “I was here. I saw it. I fought it.”
The three newcomers looked uncertain for the first time as the two OGs stared at them.
I stepped in before Karvey could burst a vein—if gargoyles even had veins.
“Look,” I said, folding my arms, “I think this is more about gargoyle hierarchy than actual strategy, right?”
All five gargoyles turned to look at me with vague expressions.
I smirked.
“Come on. Be honest. You guys have a ranking system, don’t you?”
Karvey let out a begrudging harrumph and crossed his arms.
The triple-horned gargoyle hesitated before sighing. “Well. Yes . ”
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought. And I get it. You don’t want to be stationed in what feels like a less important position. But,” I gestured toward Karvey, “he was here when the last attack happened. And all of the action was from the back. That’s probably why he’s assigning you there.”
The lankier gargoyle opened his mouth but then shut it again, thinking.
“He knows how important it is to have your talents guarding that area,” I continued. “Otherwise, why would he put you there? You’re clearly skilled. He’s putting you where you’re needed most, not just where tradition dictates.”
Karvey looked at me.
The other three gargoyles exchanged glances before looking back at Karvey and the other original gargoyle, who always refused to acknowledge me.
Not that I was holding a grudge.
The gargoyle with three horns let out a long sigh. “You did fight in the battle.”
The lankier gargoyle nodded. “And you are older than us.”
Karvey straightened a little.
“And you do have more experience,” the squatty gargoyle admitted.
Karvey’s expression shifted slightly, but I could see the relief behind his rigid stance. He looked at me for a long moment, and in that silent exchange, I knew he was grateful.
I gave him a small, knowing nod.
The lankier gargoyle sighed and rolled his shoulders, his wings settling. “Fine. We’ll watch the back.”
The squatty gargoyle grunted. “But if an attack happens from the front—”
“Then you can tell me I told you so,” Karvey grumbled.
I let out a breath, grinning. “Great. Crisis averted. Can I go back inside before turning into a human icicle?”
Karvey smirked. “Yes. We’re done here.”
“Oh, and one more thing. What are all your names?”
The lankier one straightened his narrow, stone shoulders. “I’m Flanky, the short one is Squatty, and the one with three horns is Horny.”
My eyes widened as I kept in a giggle, realizing I’d just turned into my twelve-year-old self.
Karvey shot me a warning to stifle my laughs.
“Good to meet you, Flanky, Squatty, and Horny.”
They wandered off, and I eyeballed Karvey and the other gargoyle who’d been here since the beginning and always pretended I didn’t exist.
“Karvey, why won’t your companion ever look at me or talk with me like you or the others.”
“She despises humans.”
I chuckled. “Okay, good to know.”
I turned and started toward the door, but before I stepped inside, I glanced back one last time. “What’s her name?”
Karvey had turned to the other gargoyles, still discussing strategy, but he shot me a look that said everything without saying anything.
Thanks for having my back.
“Her name is Trinity.”
I nodded once before slipping back inside, shutting out the cold and the chaos.
It wasn’t exactly the night I had planned, but at least I could go to bed knowing my gargoyle security detail was in place.
Shaking my head, I returned to the loft, collapsed under the covers, and dreamed of starting my day at Stonewick Tea and Sundries.I knew it was time to get back to work at one of my favorite places, whether Stella truly needed my help or not.
Because one thing I knew for sure, I needed hers.