Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

The water in the bathroom sink turned on and off. I strolled down the hall and leaned in to watch him.

He turned the water on, watched it drain down the sink, turned it off. The pipe gurgled. He clacked at it, and turned the water on again. Turned it off. Pipes gurgled. He clacked at the pipes and turned the water back on, childlike and content.

I should call the restaurant. Tell them their statue was messing around with my plumbing.

Sweet hells. I pressed my fingers against my eyes. They’d have me committed.

What I needed was coffee. Then I’d be able to think.

“Don’t break anything,” I said to Pet Rock Extreme.

In the kitchen, I found the note Nola had left for me on the coffeepot.

It said she and Stotts were working on the Cody case and not to wait up for her. The little smiley face made me think it was more than just a business appointment.

Well, good for her. Maybe one of us could have a normal date with a normal person and not have to come home to overzealous architecture messing up the place.

I started the coffee, putting a little extra grounds in, because I had a feeling I was going to need it. While the coffee brewed, I put the stacked coffee cups back in the cupboard, closed all the doors, and made myself busy cleaning.

When the coffee was done and the already clean kitchen even cleaner, I poured myself a cup and took it out into the living room.

The gargoyle was there, standing very still in the corner of the room. He had piled the curtains and vines on his head. They were still attached to the curtain rods, so it just looked like he’d stepped into a waterfall of fabric. I guess it looked a little like the waterfall stuff at the restaurant, though he had been crouched beneath a bush when I found him. Who knew? Maybe gargoyles liked being half hidden by falling water.

Or cheap curtains.

I picked the cushions off the floor and put them back on the couch. Then sat down.

“What am I going to do with you?” I asked. “Do you have a name? Fido? Rock? Quasimodo? Stone?”

He tipped his head and cooed.

“You like that? Stone?”

He clacked, walked toward me, the curtains stretching out behind him, over his thick shoulders, catching on the arc of his wings, then down his broad back and haunches, flowing away to pool against the wall. He stopped next to the couch, sniffed at me again, then lowered himself at my feet like a huge coffee table. He rested his head on his crossed arms and stared, unblinkingly, straight ahead.

He didn’t close his eyes, and he didn’t move. I put the toe of my boot against his side, and he didn’t seem to mind.

I drank coffee, while the gargoyle sat there like a gargoyle.

Gargoyles are not real. If I remembered the stories right, gargoyles were alive at night, and sunlight turned them back to stone every day.

Well, Stone was already made out of rock. I didn’t know how much more stone he could get. Maybe the sun made it so he couldn’t move. Put him to sleep or something.

I’d only ever seen Stone at night, at the restaurant and now. Maybe he lost all his magical locomotion once dawn rolled around. Maybe that’s why the restaurant had him chained down in the first place; otherwise he would have wandered off and messed with their sprinklers or something.

And if he did turn into a statue-an unmoving statue-in the morning, it might be easier to get him back out to the restaurant that way.

Except they were going to think I stole him.

Hells, I had money. I had my dad’s whole company. I could buy the statue from them. Tell them it was a misunderstanding and throw enough money at them until they saw it my way. I’d seen my father use that tactic more than once.

Speaking of which, I needed to call Violet about our dinner plans.

I stepped over Stone, who watched me cross the room but did not follow.

I picked up the phone-a landline and therefore less inclined to die on me-and dialed Violet.

“Beckstrom residence,” a man, Kevin, said.

“Hi, Kevin. This is Allie. Is Violet available?”

“Let me check. Just a second.” He put me on hold and I got the soft strains of one of Bach’s symphonies. My dad had a thing for Bach, and it sounded like Violet didn’t mind keeping it on the system.

“Hi, Allie. How are you?”

It still surprised me how young she sounded. It shouldn’t surprise me, since she was younger than me by a couple years, but I still couldn’t understand why she would like my father. And she obviously liked him enough to get pregnant.

My dad, who had been silent since I’d sat with Zayvion at the bar, stirred in my mind, and I did the mental equivalent of shoving my fingers in my ears and humming while I worked very hard not to think about Violet’s pregnancy.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said before the pause became too long. “Yourself?”

She sighed. “Tired, which is to be expected, I guess, with how. .”

Please don’t say

pregnant

, please don’t say

pregnant, I la-la-la’d.

“. . things have been going,” she said. “But well.”

“Good. Say, listen, I know we were going to have dinner tonight, but I’m beat. Would you mind if we push it out an hour and maybe just make it coffee and dessert?”

“Sure. Do you just want to come over here?”

My dad’s condo? “I’d rather not.”

“Do you want me to come over there?” she asked.

My heartbeat elevated and it wasn’t me doing it. The sound of Violet’s voice was agitating my dad. He’d pushed me pretty hard back at Maeve’s. I wasn’t up to fighting him again so soon. And I didn’t know what he would do if he got control of my body, of my voice.

Stone stood and padded over to me. He growled like gravel being crushed. His head tipped up, and those round eyes were staring at me like I might be something worth eating.

Hells.

I pushed on the fluttering behind my eyes, trying to get my dad to settle down. Stone’s ears flattened and he showed me some teeth.

My dad went still and Stone’s ears pricked back up, but his fangs were still showing.

“Uh, no,” I said. “Place is a mess. How about we just meet somewhere close to you? Maybe Tchaikovsky Coffeehouse?”

“Perfect. I’ve been craving chocolate. See you there in a couple hours.”

“Okay. Bye.” I couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. “Easy, boy,” I said to Stone. “It’s just me.”

He inhaled, a long, chest-filling draw of air, as if he were scenting me. Or scenting something in me. Like my father. Wouldn’t that be great? A gargoyle who could sense the undead.

Well, since he wasn’t exactly all alive himself, maybe that made some sense. He blew the air out through his nose, then tipped his head to the side and raised his pointed batlike ears and pointed batlike wings. No more teeth. He looked happy again.

Crap. “Remind me to never piss you off, big guy. You ready to leave?” I walked into the bedroom and he followed like a big stone puppy behind me.

“Ready to go? Wanna leave?” I opened the window and pointed at it. “There you go. This is the way out. All those buildings out there. Or, if you don’t like buildings, you can head to Forest Park. That place is so big, they’d never find you in there. Just think of it: you could start up some big-foot sightings.”

He trotted over, quiet for something that weighed enough to make my floorboards creak. He stuck his chin on the windowsill, his bat ears two triangular peaks.

“That’s right,” I said. “There’s your city, boy. Go get it!”

Stone clacked like a big, dumb bag of marbles, pulled his chin off the sill, and reached up to the window. He very carefully closed it, making sure the curtain did not catch in it.