Chapter 14
“Stay here.” Gilbert’s fangs show as he snarls, going into protective mode. He jerks away, leaving me against the wall. I blink and push off, going after him.
“No, you stay here. I’m a cop, remember. You can’t be—”
Another scream, high-pitched and feminine, reverberates off the house, followed by someone yelling “There’s something on the roof!” and a clamoring of footsteps on the porch.
“Seen,” I finish, knowing it’s too late. Gilbert hasn’t been seen, but someone else has. I grab my gun and throw back the front door. “Hey!” I yell at two running teenagers and jump down the steps. The cobblestone is cold under my bare feet. “Stop before I call the police!”
The girl slows, but her male partner in crime keeps going.
He steals a glance back at me and notices the gun in my hand.
“Faster!” he shouts to the girl, and I roll my eyes.
You can’t outrun bullets, idiot. And he’s running in a straight line down the driveway, which is their only option unless they want to take a chance in the tangle of trees and weeds that line the property.
I’m pretty sure there’s a broken fence in there somewhere, which will definitely slow them down.
Hasan flies overhead, high enough to be just a shadow in the dark. The girl drops down, screaming.
“That thing is back! Jared, stop!”
“She’s right, Jared. You should stop.” I don’t mean to sound as creepy as I do, but it’s working in my favor.
Jared, a red-haired, freckle-faced boy who can’t be any older than fifteen, comes to a stop and slowly turns, raising his arms to the side. He’s holding a camera in one hand.
“Don’t shoot us,” the girl begs. She has long blonde hair and vivid eyes and is way too pretty for Jared. “We didn’t know anyone lived here.”
Hasan stands at the end of the driveway, ready to stop the kids if they start running again, and I can feel the others behind me, ready if I need them.
“What the hell are you doing on my property?” I ask.
The girl’s eyes widen in fear. “We…we…wanted to see—”
“Shut up,” Jared mumbles. “We were looking for our dog.”
“With cameras?”
“Night vision. To try and see him better.”
God, this kid is a pompous ass. “You are still trespassing, and whatever footage you recorded previously will disprove your lost dog story.”
He shrugs. “What are you going to do about it, lady? Arrest us?” He lets out a snort of laughter.
“Actually, I might.” I lower my gun and pull my badge from inside my shirt.
“Shit, Jared!” The girl starts to cry. “My dad’s going to kill me!”
“Tell me what you’re really doing here.” I let go of my badge, chain swinging over my breasts.
I don’t want to press charges against these kids, even though I’m annoyed as fuck right now.
That would take too long. They need to leave, and I’m pretty sure if the threat of being arrested isn’t enough to scare them away for good, having my gargoyles ominously fly overhead a time or two will be.
“What you’re really doing here,” I press, feeling the presence of the gargoyles move in.
“This place is supposed to be haunted,” the girl admits. “I saw the light on but didn’t know anyone moved it. I am so, so sorry.”
“Give me your camera.” I hold out my hand.
“No way. You can’t take it from me. I know my rights.” Jared snubs his nose at me.
“And I know mine.” I flash a fake smile. “I’m going to have to call this in. Trespassing and an attempted break-in.”
“Break-in?”
“You were on my porch in the dark. Pretty suspicious, if you ask me.”
“But we weren’t—we were just looking,” he stammers.
I shrug. “It didn’t look like it to me, and when the cops take your camera and phone for evidence, it’ll be up to the court to decide.”
“Just give her the camera,” the girl says through gritted teeth. “If he gives you the camera, will you let us go?”
“Camera first.” I extend my hand and Jared gives me the camera with a huff.
I delete the three minutes of footage he recorded.
The little shit lied and he wasn’t even recording in night vision.
Everything is dark, blurry, and hard to see.
“I don’t have time to deal with little assholes like you.
I have real work to do. Murderers to catch.
Drug dealers to arrest. Go home to your iPads and Netflix.
” I hand him the camera back. “And if I ever see you put a toe on my property again, I will have you arrested for trespassing, okay?”
“I am so sorry,” the girl says, and tugs on Jared’s sleeve.
“And the house is haunted,” I tell them. “With lots of dangerous, angry spirits who don’t take kindly to strangers.”
“Or gargoyles?” Jared loses a bit of his attitude as his eyes flick behind me. Something spooked them before I got out here. How much of the gargoyles had they seen?
“What are you talking about?”
“There were four gargoyles on the house. I’ve seen them before.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting to trespassing previously?”
“I took my sister door to door selling Girl Scout cookies. Is that against the law, too?”
“Depends on the mood the judge is in,” I admit.
“I had the gargoyles removed to be restored.” I say the first thing that comes to mind.
It’s an expensive lie, but not a terrible one.
“Now, unless you want to find out how competent minors can be tried as adults, I suggest you leave.” I look down the driveway, wishing I could see in the dark like the gargoyles. “How did you get here?”
“I live up the street, about half a mile away. We walked.”
I let out a sigh. “You shouldn’t do that. Walking around a rural road at night isn’t safe for adults, let alone a couple kids. The world is unforgiving. I’m a homicide detective, and I’d hate to stumble upon your bodies in the ditch.”
The wind blows dry branches overhead, and the distant flapping of wings can barely be heard over the rustle of the trees. Both kids startle, looking around with fear in their eyes.
Good.
Shivering, I watch them hurry down the driveway.
“Should we follow them?” Thomas asks from the shadows. He and Gilbert are only yards away.
“Yeah, but only to make sure they get home okay.”
“You’re worried about their safety?” Gilbert gives me a look. “After they came onto your property, poking around, looking for us?”
“They’re just kids. Annoying, entitled kids, but kids.
And I’m actually not surprised this place is rumored to be haunted.
I doubt they’re the first to come poking around, either, and probably won’t be the last. I need a fence.
” I rub the goosebumps on my arms and head back into the house to grab my shit.
I’m not leaving until those kids are back inside their house.
If they saw me take off down the road right after they left, they might think they’d rattled me.
And because I meant what I said about the night being dangerous. Though with Thomas and Gilbert keeping watch, I have no doubt they’ll make it home safely. I brush dirt from my socks and take a seat on the couch in the front living room.
The front door opens, and I know it’s Jacques before I can see him. Each gargoyle has a different energy about them, and I’m starting to be able to tell each one apart.
Maybe there is some magic in me after all.
“You look tired, Ace.” Jacques’s voice is low. “Maybe you should stay home tonight.”
“This isn’t my home,” I blurt.
“Do you want it to be?”
“I don’t know.” I’m resisting this place. I’m resisting what could very well be my destiny. I’m resisting them.
Relying on people, getting close and opening myself up emotionally always ends one way, and it’s never good. Once the curse is broken, what’s stopping the guys from leaving?
“It’s not mine either,” he says softly, and his words surprise me.
“What do you consider home?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know anymore. Though, if my years of travel have taught me anything, it’s that home isn’t always a place.”
I give him a small smile. “People still say that, even after a thousand years. There’s a difference between a house and a home, and if I’m honest…it’s been a long time since I felt like I had a home too.”
He doesn’t have to say it for me to know we’re both longing for a place to lay down roots and call our own.
“I literally have nothing to wear.”
I sort through my clothes one more time, looking for anything remotely sexy.
Thinking back, I cannot recall the last time I tried to dress up for anyone, actually.
And I’m well aware how pathetic that is.
I haven’t had a boyfriend in three years, and, until tonight, it had been over a year since I had sex with something other than rubber and plastic.
I have a lot of workout clothes, a decent number of jeans, and just enough professional wear to look presentable for meetings and conferences. The few “going out” clothes I had were dated and I donated them to Goodwill last Christmas.
The curling iron I plugged in starts to smell hot, reminding me of how little time I have. I grab a black silky camisole and put it on. It’s something I wear under a blouse, and it’s too loose-fitting to work. It looks like an undergarment and not in the sexy way.
I fiddle with the straps on my pushup bra, propping the girls up as much as possible.
Finally, I settle on tight jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt that shows off a decent amount of cleavage, and the only pair of heels that I own.
Then I quickly curl my hair and put on makeup before I head out the door, nerves growing the closer I get to the bar.
With my gun, badge, and phone in my purse, I swallow my pounding heart and get out of the car.
Unable to find parking out front, I’m parked a block down.
People mill in and out of the bar, most dressed to fit the Gothic theme.
The bouncer stands just inside the door, checking IDs.
He doesn’t smell like sulfur, his eyes are brown, and I don’t see any evidence of fangs.