Chapter 6
Iran across the campus, far from the library. I ran from all the craziness I’d seen. I ran from Hugo.
WhatI thought I saw wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The world was only that fantastical in books. It didn’t work that way in real life.
WhatI told Hugo was true. I needed to go home and get some decent sleep and get whatever drug or exhaustion that was making me hallucinate hybrid demons who looked like men and statues that came to life and winged creatures flying through the library out of my system. Tomorrow, I’d wake up, maybe a little groggy, maybe a little refreshed, but at least my world would be back to the one I knew.
Althoughmy purse was still in the library, I accessed a key I’d hidden to enter my apartment. OnceI was settled inside my apartment, I tried to relax in the comfort of my home. My place was cozy but filled with things that comforted me—a well-worn sofa with plump pillows, warm blankets draping over the back, candles, and of course—books. Books were stuffed into every nook of the small bookshelf and stacks of them were piled onto the coffee and side tables. I had many types surrounding me, from coffee table books on gardens and photographs around the world to contemporary fiction to history to nonfiction. AlthoughI longed to curl up on the couch under a blanket with a hot cup of tea and a good book, my mind was far too restless for me to even attempt the process of reading.
Instead, I sank onto the couch, leaned forward, and rested my elbows on my knees. WhenI closed my eyes, the images of the men who’d broken into the library, the woman with fearful eyes who’d handed me the book, and the transformation of Hugo from stone to flesh collided in my mind, vying for importance. How was I supposed to unravel them? My head was already going to explode with unanswered questions. I raised my hands to my temples and rubbed, as if my fingers could help calm the chaos within.
ShouldI have called the police? That was yet another question that gnawed at my conscience. Then again, would they even believe me? I wouldn’t have believed my story if I hadn’t seen it. Part of me still had doubts whether it was real. MaybeI’d go to sleep and wake up in the morning realizing it was all just a bad dream. I’d go back to the library and continue as if nothing had happened.
Aftera bowl of tomato soup and some cheese and crackers, I went to bed a couple of hours later. My mind continued to replay the images, so I played a podcast on a sleep timer, hoping it would help break me out of it.
Atsome point, I dozed off, because I woke up with a gasp. I’d been having a nightmare about gargoyles and demons and—fire. I sat upright, panting hard. It took several minutes before I calmed enough to lie down again.
Thattime, when I slept, my dreams took on a different tone. I was alone with Hugo in an unfamiliar room. We each had a glass of red wine, and we were talking, laughing. Our legs were close, nearly touching. Then we moved closer, our faces merely inches apart, our lips a hairsbreadth away…
WhenI woke, the fringes of a delicious dream faded away. HadI dreamed about being with a gargoyle?
Iclimbed out of bed and attempted to push any cobwebs out of my brain. ThenI took a mental and physical assessment of my body. I didn’t feel groggy as if I’d been drugged.
Thenwhat happened last night? It seemed so real. Not like a nightmare or a crazy, vivid dream. But things like that didn’t happen. Gargoyle statues did not come to life.
Whilebrewing coffee, I took a shower and tried to make sense of the situation. For some reason, I must have conjured a bizarre fantasy in my mind. But how or why? And why did it feel so real?
Iexhaled. Despite how insane the idea was, a part of me wished it could have been true. ThatI did have some sort of connection with Hugo that wasn’t just one-sided. ThatI wasn’t a quirky introvert who talked to statues after hours. That the gargoyle who shifted to protect me was real.
AsI washed my hair, I scrubbed it hard, as if that would knock the ridiculous ideas out of my skull. ThenI dressed and made a breakfast of waffles smeared with peanut butter and covered with sliced bananas. That’s what I needed—a good breakfast to start the day right. Stress eating was my go-to when I was overwhelmed, and after the night I’d had, I had a helluva lot of anxiety.
Afterdressing in a light gray sweater and black pants, I exited my apartment to walk the mile or so to work. It was a sunny June morning with some clouds in the distance, but no signs of gargoyles in the sky. What a fantastic vision that had been.
Iwalked by the attached Victorian buildings, mostly gray, with rounded turrets and colorful top levels. The scents from cafes and ethnic restaurants filled my nose. AsI headed closer to the library, colorful murals decorated the sides of buildings.
Thesense of being watched came over me. I turned around. Nobody was there.
Ilet out a nervous laugh. NowI was spooking myself out. Terrific.
Continuingmy walk, I tried to put that sensation out of my mind. But it wouldn’t leave. I swore I was being watched. WasI being paranoid?
Ihad to be. SoI kept walking, but quickened my steps. I turned onto the campus lawn and hurried down the tree-lined paths. Many people traversed them, which provided some comfort that I wasn’t alone. Their numbers dwindled as I approached the more remote section near the library. Then it looked like I was alone, but the disquieting sensation heightened.
Isearched in a circle and demanded, “Who’s there?”
Afterseveral seconds without a reply, I added, “I know you’re watching me.” Although the idea sounded foolish even in my head, I voiced it. “Is it you, Hugo?”
Movementfrom a building in the distance caught my attention. A massive figure with wings flew toward me and then settled on the ground with a graceful landing, barely making a sound. Horned and winged with a long, curving tail and gray skin, the gargoyle I’d met last night gazed at me from silvery eyes. Hugo straightened and brought his enthralling wings in.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Iexhaled with a heavy whoosh. Seeing him land on the campus grounds last night could scare books off a shelf, but this was different. Seeing him today helped ensure I hadn’t imagined it or was losing my grip on reality. It was more of a—relief?
Howstrange to think that. But the alternative was that it could have been someone else. I pictured the creatures who’d broken into the library and winced.
Toensure I wasn’t hallucinating, I lifted my hand, hesitant, and asked, “CanI touch you?”
Hestraightened his massive body. “You can see me?”
Ijerked backward. “Yes.” What a weird question.
“Oh.” His tail curled around his lower body. “Interesting.”
“Well, you are standing right before me,” I pointed out.
“ButI’m—” He broke off.
“But you’re what?” I prodded.
“I’m cloaked.”
“You’rewhat?” I heard what he’d said, but he wasn’t wearing any sort of cape. What did he mean by that?
“My magic. To shield me from humans when I’m in this form.” He motioned to his body. “And yet, it doesn’t work on you.” Curiosity tinged his tone.
Thatwas yet another mystery, but first, I had to assure myself that I wasn’t hallucinating. I stepped closer and raised a slightly trembling hand before I touched his torso. So hard. WhenI trailed my fingers down his contoured muscles, he inhaled slowly.
“Oh my god,” I uttered. “You’re real, aren’t you?”
“Yes, LittleOne. Very much so.” He cocked his head.
Thenext question nagged at me. “Have you been following me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeated with wide eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“I’m doing my duty to watch over you, Anya. Especially now.”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to believe that. “I don’t need to be protected. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Thelook he shot me indicated he felt differently.
Westared at each other and I shifted with discomfort from one foot to the other. “Now what? You’re going to follow me to the library?”
“Or walk with you, if you’d like.”
IfI’d like to walk beside a gargoyle? That was a question I never thought I’d be asked and didn’t have a clue how to answer.
“Sure.” We walked in silence on the pebbled path through campus, side by side, him towering over me.
Aswe approached the library, I glanced up at the gargoyles perched on the roof, then back down. Were they watching me too?
Thenthe reality of last night slapped me with a vicious smack. “What about the men?” No, not men, exactly. Hugo had explained them as demon hybrids. That felt strange coming out of my mouth, so I just added, “From last night.”
Hugonodded. “They’ve been removed.” He declared it so matter-of-factly, as if talking about the weather and not two supernatural criminals.
Inudged my chin up before I asked, “Are they—dead?”
“One is,” he declared. A statement without emotion.
Icrossed my arms over my chest, my breath coming quicker.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You killed someone to save me.”
“Yes. They attacked you.”
Mystomach churned, and I placed a shaky hand on it.
“Are you okay, LittleOne?”
Adozen emotions ping-ponged inside me, and I grimaced. “I don’t know how to feel about that.” I raised my gaze to meet Hugo’s. “Grateful, yes. Guilty?” I winced. “Perhaps a shard. Someone is dead. CouldI have prevented it?” I shrugged.
Hugoraised his chin, showing more of his sharp jawline. “He attacked you. He could have killed you. Don’t give him a single thought. They both deserve the fate they brought on themselves.”
Itook a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping I could believe that and shake off the weighted sense of responsibility. “What about the other one?”
“He is—” Hugo’s lips curled with distaste. “Recovering, unfortunately.” Then he exhaled. “But at least we may be able to question him.”
“Who’s we?”
Hugostared at me from questioning dark eyes, as if gauging what to tell me.
“Tell me, Hugo,” I demanded. “After everything that happened, I deserve to know what’s going on.”