Chapter 11 #2
I hesitate, looking from one to the other.
Neither of them seemed to freak out when I had a vision.
Still, I waver between the urge to lie or trust them with the truth.
A lifetime of silence is hard to break. Add in the context of this one, and I’m not sure I’d believe me.
If Raine hadn’t said it first, a lie would be spilling from my lips right now.
Instead, I take a deep breath and choose the truth.
I laugh, but I don’t find it the least bit funny. “She told me about supernaturals and how Greystone is a special city built for them.” I pause. “A Vale.”
“Do you believe her?” Teague asks, his tone low, as if he’s afraid to hear my answer.
“Terrifying as it was to see, my visions are always accurate, and Leif’s vision showed me him as a wolf…
and a man,” I haltingly explain, still uncomfortable with the idea that all these different types of special people exist without humans knowing about them.
Us. If I accept her explanation about witches and seers, it means I’m also a supernatural. “Raine told me he was a wolf shifter.”
Instead of looking relieved, their tension increases. “He is. We assume you’ve never met one, correct?” When I shake my head, he continues. “What do you think?”
“It’s a lot to wrap my head around,” I murmur.
His finger lightly grazes mine. “I’m sorry you had to find out supernaturals were real from a vision. We didn’t know how to tell you, and we didn’t want to scare you into leaving.”
“Kind of like me and my visions,” I reply softly, understanding what it’s like to be different. He tilts his head, and I elaborate. “It’s hard to explain something that exists outside the norm. Is Leif okay?”
Teague snorts. “Don’t worry about Leif. He’s a fucking asshole. When you rejected his son, he took advantage of an old law to stir up trouble. Macklin’s already had a word with him.”
“His son? Alex?” I ask. “He came over because I didn’t shake Alex’s hand?”
Teague’s face settles into a hard expression. “You don’t have to shake anyone’s hand. Do you hear me? I don’t give a fuck who asks. It’s your choice. Not some deranged alpha asshole.”
I flick a glance at Macklin, but he’s staring at the floor. “Are you mad at me?”
Teague snorts. “He’s pissed at Leif.”
“Then why won’t he look at me?” I persist, ignoring the sharp tug in my chest. I need to know if this changes things. “Do you want me to leave?”
Macklin’s head jerks up. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I gasp at the glow coming from his deep blue eyes. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
His gaze drops back to the floor. “It happens when I’m angry. They’ll fade in a bit.”
All kinds of supernaturals. My stomach cramps, and I press a hand to it.
“Are you a shifter too?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I glance from Macklin to Teague. When they don’t answer, my hands begin to shake. Not wanting them to see my response, I bury them in the sheets. I’m absolutely terrified of what they’re going to say.
Teague swallows. “You’ve had a lot of shocks for one night. Why don’t we leave the rest for another time?”
“Raine says I’m a seer. A witch,” I reveal, closely watching his reaction. Nothing. Not a flicker. “Did you know?”
“You smell like a witch,” Macklin admits in a gruff voice. “Your blood.”
Understanding dawns. “Is that why everyone keeps sniffing me?”
He nods. “It’s how some supernaturals identify others. A wolf shifter like Leif smells different from a dragon shifter. Elementals smell like magic. Ga?—”
“Dragons?! There are dragons living here?” My tone rises, and for some stupid reason, I laugh again, but this time, there’s definitely a hysterical edge to it.
“I…” Wait a minute. “Are you dragon shifters?” Macklin’s big. So is Teague. It’s definitely possible. I try to keep the fear from my voice, but based on the filthy word Teague flings at Macklin, I’m not successful.
Teague glides his thumb over my inner wrist, causing my pulse to spike, but not from fear. “We’re not dragons. What we are doesn’t matter, not right now. It’s been a long night. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take the couch, and I promise we’ll talk some more in the morning.”
“Tell me. Please. My imagination is running wild,” I murmur, knowing I won’t sleep a wink tonight. One, because I’ll be obsessing over everything, and two, because the need to sketch Leif’s vision is increasing with every minute that passes.
“Tell her,” Macklin says, his voice gruff. “She deserves to know.”
Teague tightens his grip on my hand, and a hint of uncertainty flashes across his usually confident face. “Macklin and I are gargoyles.”
My brain goes blank. Out of all the things I expected to come out of his mouth, that wasn’t even in the top one hundred. “Gargoyles?” He nods. “Like the statues on top of churches?” He nods again. “But they’re stone. And…scary.” And ugly, which these two incredibly gorgeous men are definitely not.
“Gargoyles were created as a military service to guard sacred places like churches and castles. We went where we were assigned, and for a long time, it worked for everyone. Then the vampire race fractured, and one faction broke off. Vampire gangs started hunting supernaturals for the power in our blood,” Macklin explains, then shrugs.
“Those of us who survived fled to the New World.”
I can see them both in the military. It’s apparent in their protective natures, and in the way they carry themselves, shoulders squared, as if they’re willing to take on any threat. “Do you have magic?” Wait. New World? “How old are you?”
Macklin answers the first question. “We don’t wield magic, but we have the ability to see magic.
Gargoyles are incredibly strong, impervious to illness, and we can resist most spells and potions.
” He pauses while he thinks. “We can camouflage ourselves to some extent, blending into stone. Some of us can fly.” His eyes drift to Teague.
Teague, who had been looking at Macklin, turns his head as if the words cut him to the core, but he shakes it off and adds one additional trait. “We’re immortal.” These last words are almost whispered as if he knows how they’re going to hit.
Immortal. Like forever forever? Are all supernaturals immortal? Am I? These and a thousand other questions pile up in my brain, but I take a deep breath. Teague’s right. I need time to sort through all this.
“And here I thought my visions were something special,” I joke, realizing the one thing I thought made me a freak is nothing compared to them. Or Leif and his wolf shifter family. Clan. Whatever. Or dragons. Or Elementals, whatever they are.
I remember something Raine said. “Is Andros a gargoyle too? Raine told me he came here with you.”
“Unfortunately, no,” a droll voice with a slight French accent replies from the doorway, drawing my gaze. “Gargoyles are noble creatures.”
I stare at the tall, sophisticated man standing there, his rich, caramel-colored brown eyes coolly assessing me.
Wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit and black leather gloves, he’s the epitome of buttoned-up sophistication.
Burnished brown hair, perfectly styled away from his face, sets off the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the disapproving expression in his eyes.
A light beard covers his jawline, but it does nothing to hide the tic in his jaw or his stern, compressed lips.
I slowly pull in a deep breath as I stare in shock at the third man from my visions.
Teague glowers at him. “Thought you wanted to stay away?”
“I do,” he replies cryptically. “Curiosity and all that.” His eyes sweep over me, but this time in a dismissive way. “Not what I expected.”
His tone burns through me, and I tug on my sweater, wishing I could disappear.
Teague growls, and Macklin curses.
Andros turns to leave, then stops. “I’m the scourge of this earth. A vampire.”