Chapter 9
Are Gargoyles Cuter than Dogs?
Dodger
Harper’s up and alert from the first knock at the door. No, a few seconds before it, actually.
“I’ve seen videos of dogs going crazy when someone comes to the door, but this is overkill,” I say from the hotel bed.
“Shut it,” he responds. Harper stares through the peephole, scrutinizing the visitor on the other side and acting like he’s Secret Service guarding the president and not a broke necromancer.
“Just let me in!” yells the man on the other side.
Harper’s so-called expert looks like a rock star or a petty criminal. Funny how there’s a fine line between those two. I’d met Marlow Maddox before, but I wasn’t expecting him to be the extra help that the detective called in. Hadn’t he tried to arrest the demon once?
I glance at Harper. “This is the expert?”
He sighs. “This is who I know.”
Whatever. The important thing is that Marlow has the most adorable pug with him.
“Can I pet him?” I ask, already climbing to my feet as he comes inside. Harper sighs while he shuts the door, but I ignore him.
The pug wears the tiniest red bow tie I’ve ever seen, and it’s possibly the cutest thing in the universe.
Mastering my powers is all I care about right now, but still, I can’t resist the lure of a cute dog.
If I didn’t have time to appreciate one of the best creatures on Earth, then what even was the point of living?
Marlow chuckles and holds the little dog out to me. “He really doesn’t need a bigger ego but knock yourself out. This is Iggy.”
“Iggy,” I repeat, shooting Marlow a funny look. Do dogs even have egos? He does seem to be preening for my attention, and I’m all too happy to give it to him. “Hello, handsome fellow.”
The tiny black pug in Marlow’s arms has the most adorably squished face with deep wrinkles and bulging eyes that look almost too big for his head.
“You are just too cute. Yes, you are.”
“You’re a dog person?” Harper wonders behind me.
“Who isn’t?”
“Me.” Figures.
“What? You’re too good for dogs just because you’re a big tough wolf?” I guess with an eye roll.
“No, but they’re afraid of us sometimes.”
“Totally get that.” I scratch the pug under his chin, cooing to him, “I wouldn’t like that scary werewolf either.” When I look up to see Harper’s reaction, I’m surprised. “Why are you smiling?”
The smile fades as soon as it’s been pointed out but there’s still a warmth in his voice… a fondness? “At least you can be nice to someone.”
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” I warn and decide to focus on the cute doggie instead of the confusing wolf. “You aren’t nearly as cute as this little guy. Isn’t that right, buddy? Dogs are much better than people. And wolves. And wolves who are also people.”
The pug tilts his head up to his owner. “Dogs sound awesome. Maybe we should get a dog.”
Holy shit, did the dog just talk?
“What the actual—” I choke out. “Did that dog just... talk? Like, with words? English words? Coming out of his dog mouth?”
Marlow bursts out laughing while the pug—which I’m now questioning if it even is a pug—gives what looks suspiciously like an eye roll.
Man, the supernatural world keeps on surprising me. I look to Harper for guidance. “Dogs talk now?”
This time, there’s no smile, but I can tell he’s enjoying my reaction and trying to hide it. “Not typically.”
A thought occurs to me and I need to confirm, “You can hear him too, right?”
“Yes,” he confirms. Good. Being a necromancer is enough without going crazy or hearing talking animals. “But he isn’t a dog.”
“He isn’t?” I look down to the pug. “You aren’t?”
“No, I’m not a dog,” Iggy says primly. “I’m a gargoyle, thank you very much.”
To prove his point, the pug’s body begins to shift.
The black fur hardens into solid rock and tiny wings unfurl from his back.
One appears slightly bent. The red bow tie stays perfectly in place during the transformation.
One horn on his tiny head looks chipped, yet he preens even more in his actual form.
I study the little guy. “Actually, you’re still pretty adorable, just in a different way.” I look at him nervously. “Uh, is it still okay to call you cute?”
Iggy nods nobly. “I’ll allow it.”
“Like I said, ego,” Marlow grumbles. “Going up.” With the warning, he tosses the gargoyle up and the little guy takes off, soaring above our heads.
“The glamor is for Iggy to use in human cities. He’s free to be himself here in Concordia, but he’s gotten so used to being fawned over and getting carried everywhere in his pug form that it’s hard to get him to switch back sometimes. ”
That’s even more adorable, and I have about a million follow up questions. However, Harper clears his throat and chooses this moment to totally ruin the mood. “Almost time for me to leave.” He checks his watch. “Don’t let anyone in while I’m gone. I’ll text when I’m finished.”
“You’re leaving?” I ask, watching him walk toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“Meeting with Rowan, remember?”
“What?” I forget all about the ‘expert’ and his ‘pug’ and rush toward him. “You’re really going to meet him?”
“He’s my boss and he arranged a meeting. Not going would only make him suspicious,” he reasons, using his no-nonsense cop voice.
“But he’s the bad guy.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says flatly.
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t we invite Rowan over here for a sleepover? We’ll get a cot, eat popcorn, and watch movies, maybe even play a friendly game of ‘Are You Out of Your Fucking Mind?’“
“Don’t know how to play that one,” he retorts dryly.
“Harper.” I don’t like this one bit. He’s not even listening to me. Then again, it’s hard to force out the words I really want to say: I’m worried about you, you idiot. Would they even make a difference? Harper has his mind made up. Sure enough…
“Rowan’s fishing for information about your untimely demise but won’t want to reveal his personal interests in your case.
He has no idea I suspect him. The faster we settle things, the quicker he’ll be on his way.
” He opens the door and is already slipping out when he turns back to give me one last look. “I’ll be back soon.”
Then he’s gone. Even if he’s right and Rowan is still going to act like he’s not the bad guy, there has to be another way. Harper’s protecting me. But who’s protecting him?
Fine Line Between Crazy and Genius
Dodger
Ethan Harper’s going to be the death of me. As a necromancer, maybe I can resurrect myself once that infuriating wolf does me in. He’s out there on his own while the rest of us are stuck waiting in the hotel.
“Argh!” The guitar strings squawk off-key as my fingers slip, and I shove the instrument away with a huff.
“Is that tune giving you trouble?” Marlow asks from his sprawled position across most of my bed, leaving me perched on a tiny corner. He doesn’t even seem ashamed of taking up all the room.
“Yeah, something like that,” I mutter.
“Or perhaps it’s not the music that’s getting under your skin?”
Bingo. “Nope,” I reply quickly. “It’s definitely the song. And this out-of-tune guitar.”
Definitely anything but Harper and how I’m worried about him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” the demon hogging my bed ventures cautiously.
“No.”
“Good,” Marlow replies. “I’d do my best and all, but emotions aren’t exactly my forte.”
Mine either.
I rake a hand through my hair, needing a moment to get myself together. Even though I keep telling myself the last thing I need is a werewolf mate, I’d hate if he were suddenly gone.
I pick up my guitar again, determined to stop thinking of the wolf. “Any requests?”
Iggy perks up but Marlow holds up a hand first. “Yeah, I’ve got one.”
“Lay it on me.”
“What’s really going on with you and Harper?”
Off-key notes fill the air. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Aren’t you supposed to be training me or something?”
“We’ll get to it,” he promises. “I’d rather pry first.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, cut it out.”
“Do you like each other or something?” he wonders casually, but when I chance a glance his way he waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously.
“No!”
“Come on, you can tell me.”
“We barely even know each other,” I point out.
He waves a hand. “We’re both deviants with ‘dark powers.’ You saved my ass from being stuck in the void between planes of existence. I was accused of killing you. Those are bonding experiences. Give me the dirt.”
“There’s nothing happening. No dirt. You’re seeing things.”
“Fine, whatever. You don’t have to tell me. I already figured it out anyway.” Marlow looks entirely too proud of himself as he declares, “Harper’s your mate.”
The guitar slips from my hands and hits the floor. Sorry, guitar. I whip my head toward the demon lounging on my bed. “Oh my god, how did you know?”
He laughs and whoops with delight. “What, seriously? I’m amazing.”
“You said you knew!”
“I was joking.” He shrugs. “But it’s not that weird. I’ve been there before when I got thrown in jail for killing you.”
I wince. “Sorry about that by the way.”
“Eh, it happens. It led me to this gorgeous, sanctimonious wolf who was way too good for me. Remind you of anyone?”
“No,” I lie. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“While I hate to prescribe some kind of order to a universe where reality TV and the turducken exist, maybe sometimes things do work out the way they’re supposed to.
If you never faked your death and ran here, I never would have followed you and met Wynn, so all in all, the murder charge was totally worth it. ”
Huh. Having a freakin’ fated mate does imply some cosmic force in the universe is looking out for us supernatural folk. But then again, what was the force smoking if it sicced Asher Rowan on me just so I could meet Harper?
Can’t say I’m totally convinced about everything happening for a reason. But it’s kind of nice having someone in the loop about the strange turn my life has taken. Maybe I could tell him the whole truth, the rest of the story I’m afraid to tell Harper.