Chapter Two
“Genesis. I have a massive favor to ask you.”
I look at Wesley Creighton as he stands before me at the Night Market. Gloria White-Creighton, his wife of less than a year’s vintage, floats beside him.
“We have a favor to ask you,” Gloria corrects. “This weekend, we’ve rented out White Pines for a wedding. She’s the sweetest girl from Albany, and she fell in love with the place.”
“Specifically the photos on the website,” Wesley chimes in.
I frown. I’m sure my dark gray face is wrinkled in confusion.
“Pine Ridge is no stranger to outsiders, and you are a wonderful hostess.” I give a gentlemanly bow to Gloria.
I’ve known her for years, but it was only recently that she’s been able to leave her estate.
As long as Wesley carries her spirit bottle, she can go where she likes—for a day or two, at least. Lately, she’s become one of my best customers.
She buys my little decorative stone trinkets at least once a week.
“Thank you.” Gloria beams at me and jerks her head toward Wesley.
I smother a sigh. I don’t much like the newcomer, but Wesley makes Gloria happy, and he’s giving her a chance to enjoy an afterlife full of music, friendship, and event planning. I manage a smile, making it extra-fangy. “You’re definitely boosting the economy, Wesley.”
“Your engraved love tokens, the smooth stones in the shape of hearts with the Celtic love knots and all of that? Everyone we’ve hosted loves them. They sell out instantly. We want to offer them on the all-inclusive package as favors.”
I suddenly like the too-handsome-for-his-own-good human much better. I don’t need much, but I certainly could use a steadier income. Random sales at the Night Market, foraging, my savings, and living like a gargoyle ought to (with a minimum of frills and furbelows) let me survive.
This might help me build up my investments and make a nest egg—not that there is anyone to share my nest yet.
Female gargoyles are scattered around the world, but I haven’t found an available one on the East Coast in years and years.
But, I haven’t given up hope. I’ll find my mate someday.
I have time. After all, if my Uncle Galatian is any indicator, I’ll be alive and frisky at two thousand.
“I can accommodate that.” I smile. I have no overhead for materials. I shed my stone skin every night at sunset and take the pieces for my sculptures and carvings. The only thing I’ll need is time, and aside from Wednesday night Canasta games, I’m pretty much free.
“We have seven weddings between now and December. Some are fairly small. Some are quite large.”
“So? A few hundred?”
“I think we calculated three thousand.”
“Oh.” I hate betraying any weak emotion like fear, sadness, or surprise. It’s not the warrior’s way. I nod with my lip thin and my voice flat. “By when?”
“Well, if we could get two hundred by the end of this month and five hundred the next, I think that’d work.
” Gloria’s soft voice is factual. “The wedding we have this weekend is pretty small. If you could bring over fifty by Saturday morning, that’d be just smashing!
We have spreadsheets now! They tell us the seating needs and the headcount and everything.
Wesley set it all up.” She kisses his cheek.
I can’t help but stare. It’s like she turns more solid for just a second.
“I can deliver, but it’ll be close. That’s—in two days.” I have the materials, but intricate carving takes hours, and I’m literally unable to move from sunrise to sunset. “I might be getting them there just before dawn, Gloria.”
“Well... If you could sleep on the garden fountain in front of the hedge maze, that’d be incredible.
That’s the other thing we wanted to ask you.
The nice girl from Albany, Melinda Kellan—wants wedding photos in front of the “Gargoyle Fountain.” Gloria’s beautiful face is apprehensive, and her eyes are wide, framed with dark lashes.
I suppose I can see some sort of freakish beauty in humans—at least from the neck up.
“She wants... what?” I blink. “You don’t have a gargoyle fountain.
I would know. Uh. Not to contradict you.
” I bow again, even deeper this time, with my dark wings folded around my shoulders and trailing down my back like a cape.
My smooth, heavy tail curls around one of my long, arching feet and up my calf in a gesture of deference instead of defiance.
Ergh. Damn bloodlines. I can’t help it. Gargoyles have always been the protectors of nobility, bound by ancient laws and oaths. Gloria is the closest thing to a “lady of the manor” that Pine Ridge has.
Wesley holds out his phone. “You drank too much at Georgie and Claire’s wedding this spring, danced until almost dawn, and then leapt on top of the big fountain in the back garden to make another toast.”
My jaw pops open like a barn door in a storm. There I am, in high-res pixels, with my wings spread, body in half crouch as if I’m about to rise, but frozen in stone. I look a little bit like Rodin’s The Thinker. Well, if he’d had some truly magnificent wings.
“You were kneeling there, getting ready to take off when the sun hit, and...” Gloria trails off with a nervous smile. “You did make a stunning backdrop. We didn’t even think twice about posting it on the website until this lady, Melinda Kellan, mentioned it.”
“So... you want me to climb back up on your fountain?” I raise one eyebrow slowly.
“It’s an afternoon wedding in the summer! Moonrise isn’t until quite late. You’ll be asleep.
“What am I supposed to do if she and her groom take until midnight to get out to the garden? Stay kneeling down in the fountain’s spray for six hours?”
“You’d do that? Oh, you’re an angel!” Gloria claps her hands with glee.
I think she missed my sarcasm on purpose, but she is my only steady customer and the most generous soul I’ve ever met.
I cave. “Angel? No. Although some have mistaken both of us for that—and for quite the opposite.” My eyes glow, burning bright white. It makes me look demonic, especially when I pair it with a look of unholy menace.
Is it bad that I love how fast Wesley backs up and shoves his phone into his pocket?
Not so for Gloria. She floats closer, “I’ll make it up to you.
An exclusive contract with the White Pines Estate for all the stoneware we sell in the gift shop?
Genesis Stoneware all over our website. On the tables at the weddings— people are taking home the vases as centerpieces.
They say they’ve never seen stone like it. ”
“I’m not surprised.” I look at my wares with pride—the stone is sleek and gray, but yet it has a radiant iridescence, sort of like mother of pearl, opal, and abalone were all mixed together.
The grain is incredibly smooth—as smooth as skin.
“It is incredibly rare. Very few people have ever seen gargoyle skin.”
Wesley looks a little sick.
Bonus points.
Gloria gushes. “It’s so smooth with such beautiful glimmers in it. Everyone wonders how you make it look so beautiful. Please? A contract for one Sleeping Beauty photo-op?”
“Others will want it, too.”
“So, it’s a modeling career.”
I flare my wings out. “Well...” Gargoyles don’t need to sell little vases at little stalls in little marketplaces! We shouldn’t be making party favors for fancy weddings. We are fierce. Mighty. Guardians of kings. Higher than man, stronger than beasts. Creatures of stone and air.
“I’ll do it this time—and then you can tell people that the statue got damaged in a storm and buy yourself a fake one. I’ll carve it for you—for a price.”
“Wonderful! Oh, you’re an absolute darling!” Gloria squeals.
“We’ll slip you a bottle of bubbly.” Wesley winks. “If Georgie’s wedding is anything to go by, you’ll enjoy that!”
Bubbly. Weddings.
Why me?
WHEN I GET HOME, THERE’S so much to do. I carefully sift through the chunks of stone I’ve saved. I need one big piece, preferably from the chest region, to save for Kelyn’s heartstone.
In gargoyle unions, couples exchange vows written on their own skin, or skin from someone they consider a clan elder. I should be flattered that Kelyn asked me to prepare this for her. It’s an incredible honor, usually reserved for clan patriarchs and matriarchs.
She must miss me. Been years since I’ve been home.
Home in Pine Ridge is a brick building way out on River Road that looks “deliberately dilapidated” on the outside.
Inside, it’s simple but modern (well, for the eighties, maybe).
There is a stove, a fridge, and an oven.
There are toilets, sinks, and tubs. Running water, power, and WiFi.
I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but why would I need it?
The second floor is my ‘studio’ and where I sleep, right under a wide skylight lined with abandoned sparrow nests. When I fly home, I pause on the roof, unlatch the skylight, (throw an old bird’s nest over my shoulder) and drop straight into my studio.
Right now, I sit in my studio and count out smooth, thick pieces of stone.
When I have about fifty, I start using my talons and carving tools to polish them into roughly hewn hearts. Next, I’ll take etching tools to make knots and braids on the stones. Lastly, I flip them over and write “Love.”
I know that’s what Gloria wants because everyone raved about them at Georgie and Claire’s wedding.
One of the stone shards snaps under my talons, leaving a broken heart at my feet.
“Ain’t that symbolic?” I snarl and flick the broken pieces away with my tail.
I feel like such a phony.
I hadn’t meant to drink so much at Georgie’s wedding.
But seriously. Everyone in the magical community of Pine Ridge is partnering up, and I guess...
I felt bitter. Bitter and petty. Drinking numbed those thoughts and let me concentrate on the joy I genuinely felt for my old friend, Georgie Fenclan, a half-Orc and possibly the only male I know more stubborn and grumpy than me.
Until Claire came along. Then, my old friend turned into a lovestruck, slavering slave to his desires.