Page 10

CHARLOTTE

For a small town in the middle of nowhere, Ireland, they make good pizza, so I order again for dinner tonight. I should probably be looking for my groceries, but I’m too spooked to go back down into the kitchen again. Who has a kitchen that’s two floors, anyway? Me, now, I guess.

The doorbell startled me from my thoughts.

“Coming!” I bellow, doing my best to project my voice through the expanse of halls that lie between me and the front entryway.

I scramble from the rumpled pile of blankets I nestled into to work in my sketchbook.

My toe catches on the edge of a rug, and I try not to trip over my feet.

An indignant little squeak rips itself from my chest, but I use the momentum of the near fall to clamber down the hall and find myself in the entryway faster than I expected.

I don’t know if it’s my fluffy socks or the carpet, but I nearly eat the wood of the front doors when I don’t slow down.

My hands slap hard against the unyielding surface, and I fumble for the knob.

Pulling open the door, I thrust out a fistful of crumpled euros, my eyes shut against the glare of my embarrassment.

“Well, that’s a nice tip, dear, but it’s not necessary.”

“Eloise?” I yelp. “I thought you were my pizza.”

She chuckles and gives a light roll of her eyes, handing me back the bills. She gestures into the castle. “May I?”

“Uh, yes, come in.” I scamper out of the way and peek out behind her.

It’s so dark now that the sun has started to set. No streetlights to pollute nature. It’s so fucking weird, and who knows what’s out there?

“I don’t normally make social calls after six in the evening, but there is a bit more about this castle that I haven’t told you as of yet.” She releases a heavy sigh, patting one of the old wooden banisters.

“Oh god, is the castle a giant monster house?” My eyes shoot up to the light fixture that in no way resembles a uvula.

“No, but the attic is full of ’em at the moment.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“The attic?” I swear my voice won’t stop coming out in a demented squeak. The fear has gripped my windpipe and refuses to let go.

Fear of what, exactly? Unknown roommates more so than their probably very monstrous forms.

“Yes, the attic. Those boys don’t know their horns from their tails, I swear.” She titters. “But they want to meet you and work something out. They want their rooms back.”

“They have rooms? They’ve been here the whole dang time I’ve been? They’ve been touching my stuff, haven’t they? Oh my god, am I the one stealing space here? I thought my aunt owned this castle.”

My words are coming out rapid-fire, and I hardly have a chance to draw breath before Eloise raises her hands like she’s trying to approach a startled animal. I knew I wasn’t going crazy. The feeling of something or someone else in the house was too real, and there were too many coincidences.

“There has been a little bit of magic and divine intervention involved, I believe. The woman who left you the castle never actually lived here but used magic to gain the deed. The four men who reside in this house are its sworn protectors and the sworn protectors of humankind. There is nothing to fear from them,” she says slowly, her eyes locked onto my face.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but I feel like I’m being told the Power Rangers are real, along with Santa and Satan.

“So…do I have a place to live for the foreseeable future?”

Do I have to live with monsters?

I hold that burning question in with my breath.

“Yes, of course.” Eloise nods, her expression tightening for a moment before it softens entirely. “These boys just don’t want to have to act like mice in their own home. That is a direct quote from the text I received, and I’m just here to do the introductions.”

“Oh great, lovely, I like ‘not mice,’” I grumble, running my hand through my hair, trying to keep from pulling the strands from the root.

The pain would be a welcome distraction from all the weird bullshit, but the last thing I need is to give myself a bald spot just because of some monstrous men.

“Fantastic. So, let’s go to the sitting room, and I’ll send off a message to Darius. He’s their alpha, the leader of their group.”

The word is out of her mouth, and I snort a laugh in nearly the same instant. Alpha, he’s their alpha, and now all I can wonder is if they have an omega and a nest somewhere. Kennedy has been forcing me to read way too much omegaverse.

Eloise bristles slightly, and I swear strands of her hair whip around in a nonexistent wind before she settles and begins walking through the castle toward the sitting room.

Glancing back at the door, I groan and open it slightly, trying to will the pizza to get here more quickly. I’m no good on an empty stomach, and I’m going to need cheese and carbs to get through this.

I take the same large leather wingback chair I selected the first time we sat in this room, nestling myself in as deeply as I can to try and disappear, but Eloise simply shakes her head at me.

“They are all fine men, I assure you. I wouldn’t have allowed them to meet you otherwise, but I will warn you they aren’t…typical.”

“Well, duh, they’re monsters,” I blurt.

“I’m a monster too, I suppose.” She crosses her arms slightly over her chest and gives me a look of disappointment that can only be bestowed by a mothering figure.

Damn it.

“I’m sorry, but you said horns and tails and most things in the real world…well, the safe mortal world doesn’t have those things,” I ramble.

“Snakes, lizards—” She begins, holding up her fingers with each example.

“OK, yes, those things exist, but like…they tend to be much smaller than me.”

I shiver and snatch a thick, knitted blanket from a basket beside the chair. I arrange it over my lap, tucking it into the sides of the chair, like sealing myself in will keep the monsters out. I feel like a child trying to pull any sort of imaginary defense from my arsenal to protect myself.

“I’m going to send Darius a message now. He and the others of his nest will join us in a moment,” she says, turning her attention to her cell phone.

“What kind of creature groups in a nest? Are they birds? Werewolves or something?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from bubbling up with my laughter.

I cough, trying to dislodge the urge, but it sticks in the back of my throat.

“You’ll see. I promise everything will be fine.” She reassures me as her fingers fly over the screen for a solid minute before she sets her phone back down in her lap. “All done.” She smiles sweetly, like she’s not about to completely upend my world for the third time in less than a week.

JULIUS

I don’t know what I was expecting to find when we entered the room where the witch waited with Eloise. But I can’t say that finding the newcomer bundled under the blanket I made Darius for Christmas last year was on that particular bingo card. I nearly stumble when I see it draped across her lap.

“Ah, and here they are. Charlotte, these are the gargoyle protectors of the castle and, I suppose, part of the world.”

Eloise is always too modest and far too immodest at the same time.

Sure, we have a duty to protect humankind, but in recent times, that has scaled way down and left me a ton of time to improve my baking, which I’m thankful for.

Though with the revelation that supernatural creatures are living among mortals, I know that things are going to change.

However, this witch, is not the change I expected to see.

“You give us far too much credit, Eloise,” Darius says, sweeping into the room with the grace only he can muster at a time like this, tail and wings tucked behind him primly with his head held high to display his massive horns.

He places a swift kiss on the older witch’s cheek before turning his eyes to Charlotte. The witch sinks deeper into our alpha’s chair with a squeak.

It was decided we would go only seventy-five-percent monster to meet this new witch, as she is new to the world of the supernatural and we didn’t want to give her a heart attack seeing the one-hundred-percent version of us just yet.

This is the form we most naturally take, but it’s still so odd to see the colors of our flesh contrast against that of a mortal being.

Darius is blue, light and powdery and veined with a striking white.

Marcus is yellow, bold and as brash as his personality.

Atlas is all black, shot through with veins of graying white and darker black.

My skin is green like pine needles, with some lighter striations and flecks of black and softer white.

I’m very middling in comparison to the brashness of my nest-mates, and it shows.

“My name is Darius Colbéliard, for lack of a proper surname. I am the leader and alpha of the nest of Colbéliard. These are my nestmates Marcus, Julius, and Atlas,” he says as he points to each of us in turn.

“So nest is just a word you use. A nest of gargoyles?” the witch asks from her half-hidden position under the blanket.

She tugs it up to her neck when Darius begins to move closer. His steps carry him almost to her feet, which she has tucked up in his chair. She buries herself in the blanket Julius made until we can only see her eyes.

“Yes, nest is the right word. Yuh know, for the group of us, that is, one gargoyle or a nest of them, like a murder of crows. Cawww .” Marcus’ words are a rapid-fire mess, punctuated with a terrible imitation of a crow.

I bite back a chuckle at how adorable he can be and give a playful wince.

Darius and Eloise join me in the pained motion.

Atlas trudges in behind our brightly colored marigold nest-mate and punches him in the arm. The flash of Atlas’ dark stone against Marcus adds to the intensity of the blow.

The sound of stone hitting stone makes Charlotte jump, and the snarl on Atlas’ face probably doesn’t exactly put her at ease either.

“He’ll be fine, it’s the state of his brain I’m worried about,” Atlas snarks.

His dark eyes are slightly hooded, and in the low light of the sitting room, it’s hard to tell that his eyes even have whites and not just endless darkness.

Seventy-five-percent monster mode means that we get the colors, the wings, the horns, the tails, and killer cheekbones but maintain a slightly human look. Atlas isn’t doing his best to maintain that small percentage of human appearance that would make Charlotte more comfortable.

“Atlas, I’m sorry I took your house. I didn’t know it was your house, but I’ve moved all the way from America, and I kind of can’t go back until I’ve found myself—whatever the hell that means.

My aunt wanted me to discover myself and my family since I guess she knew my parents never talked about it, which is really weird?—”

I barely see the witch take a breath as she talks. Maybe she has some type of double lungs?

“Charlotte, all those finer details are for later. For now, let’s just get introductions settled and?—”

The doorbell cuts off the older witch in her attempt to settle the younger one, who burrows back under the safety of the blanket.

“My pizza!” Charlotte wails, followed by a beast growling from under the blanket.

“Was that your stomach?” Atlas asks with a sneer.

“I haven’t eaten all day, and someone stole all my provisions!” she snaps right back, though in the form of a blanket ghost.

“Stole your provisions?” Darius asks slowly, swinging his eyes to me.

Eloise slowly rises from her chair and edges out of the room, hopefully to get the pizza. I wish I could join her, but instead, I have to deal with this weird situation.

“I enchanted the castle a while ago to put away all the groceries. I get lazy sometimes,” I reply with a shrug, pushing the golden rim of my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

This form has them sliding all over the place without a bit of soft skin to grip. But I keep them on for this interaction even if I don’t really need them. They’re as much a part of me as my wings or my tail.

“So where are my things?” she asks with what I can only assume is a tilt of her head under the blanket.

I curse myself for making it so thick and luxurious. I curse myself for making it at all. From the small glimpses I’ve caught of her, the witch is beautiful, and if I have to have an unexpected roommate, it could be worse. I want to see her again, to drink my fill of her features.

My heart does something it hasn’t done in a very long time. Beating like a racehorse after the starting gun, the silly thing flips. My stomach then follows suit and swoops as Charlotte drops the blanket into her lap and finally looks at all of us.

She is exquisite .

Her figure is full and plenty curvy, highlighted by the soft drape of her sweater.

Dark brown hair and hazel eyes give her soft face that needed depth.

Pink lips more suited for whispering sin than spells complete her incredibly charming girl-next-door air.

I want to ruin her and be ruined by her, but I don’t let my fantasies choke me up.

“In the kitchen, exactly where they should be. Did you get any refrigerated items?” I suddenly feel a great need to please her.

Marcus scampers up beside me and grins, looking between us before settling his eyes on her. I can practically hear the little cartoon hearts popping up around his head. “If anything is missing, we’ll get it for you. Promise, Julius was just trying to help.”

“Um, I got some milk and cheese and a few meat things from the butcher,” she murmurs.

I push my glasses up, my jaw ticking slightly. “My spell isn’t exactly a complex one. Gargoyles don’t have as much magic as witches in that way, but the spell should have put everything in the refrigerator, at least. We can sort things out for the freezer another time.”

“So…I just buy stuff and can leave it around.”

Atlas barks a laugh as I wince.

“I would much prefer not to. The spell is a fail-safe. In the earlier days when we could actually do our intended protecting job?—”

“We will explain more of that later,” Darius adds in quickly.

His expression is stony, but his posture is surprisingly at ease.

“Right, later for the details, but I made it in case we were coming in with something and needed to go right back out. That sort of thing. I like to keep the place clean.”

“Obnoxiously clean. Without a speck of dust on anything,” Atlas says in a way that I know is meant to be mocking but just makes him look like an arsehole.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, folding my arms loosely over my chest.

Charlotte blinks at the lot of us. I can see the gears of her mind whirling, trying to make sense of everything before she leans back and stares at Darius.

“I’m not moving out of the room I’ve picked. It’s mine. I drooled on the pillows.”