Curse of the Gargoyles (Gargoyle Guardian Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

“That’s pure coming-home glow,” Marcus said. Oliver’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and flapped when he nodded vigorously.

“Are you sure, Oliver?”

“Yes. I promise I’ll make sure I balance my magic. You won’t have to worry about me. Unless . . .” His wings wilted against his body. “Unless you don’t want me.”

The barrier around my hope shattered, melting my body’s stiffness. I’d been so determined to make sure Oliver had a life he loved and a place to call home, I’d failed to see he’d already found it. With me.

“I’d be the luckiest person in all of Terra Haven to have you, Oliver.” I blinked back happy tears and knew my grin looked almost as goofy as the gargoyle’s.

“Oliver knows where we live. He’s welcome to come by anytime,” Marcus said.

I ran my fingers across the gargoyle’s glossy forehead, and he closed his eyes in bliss, leaning into my leg. Marcus grabbed my arm when I staggered under Oliver’s weight. I glanced up, and the warmth in his lapis lazuli eyes stole my breath.

“You’re welcome anytime, too,” he added.

He stepped back and flashed me his thousand-dollar smile. I closed my mouth with a click.

“You know, Oliver’s not the only one with a warrior’s spirit. Have you ever considered training to be in the FPD?”

“Me?” Surely he was joking.

“You proved you can think under pressure. You’d be an asset to a team.”

I tried to picture myself working alongside Marcus, dealing with rampaging kludde and malfunctioning magic on a daily basis. I shook my head. “I’m flattered but no. I’ve found my place in life. Healing gargoyles is more than enough for me.”

Marcus nodded. “I thought as much. But if you ever change your mind or you’re ever in my neighborhood, drop by.” He clapped me on the shoulder and said farewell to Oliver. I was pretty sure he also winked at me.

I pivoted to watch him walk away, blushing to my roots when he glanced back and caught me staring.

“Did you miss me?” Oliver asked.

“Every single second. Come on, let’s go home.”

Oliver fell in step beside me, and the imbalance inside me righted.

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with the dormant gargoyles?” he asked.

“Not yet. But we will.”

We climbed the steps of the Victorian side by side, as we’d done dozens of times before, but this time was special. My gargoyle was home to stay.

Thank you for purchasing
Curse of the Gargoyles
. If you enjoyed my novel, or even if you didn’t, please leave a review (
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Secret of the Gargoyles
, the third novel in the trilogy, releases June 22, 2016. Pre-order it today!
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RebeccaChastain.com
. In case you’re curious about her humorous international bestselling urban fantasy series, here’s a peek:

A Fistful of Evil

Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer

Book 1

Madison Fox just learned that her ability to see souls is more than a sight: It’s a weapon for fighting evil. The only problem is she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing. On the positive side, her money problems are over, she’s possibly discovered her purpose in life, and her coworker is smoking hot. On the negative side, evil creatures now actively hunt her, and deadly experiences are becoming the norm. 

Flip ahead to read a sneak peek!
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Praise for
A Fistful of Evil

“I can’t stress enough how much I enjoyed this book. . . . I would recommend it to all urban fantasy fans, especially ones that don’t mind laughing out loud at times.”
(Pure Textuality)
 
“
A Fistful of Evil
 is an enjoyable, quick-paced fantasy novel. It’s fun, it’s different and it makes you think.”
(Nadaness in Motion)

Excerpt:
A Fistful of Evil
Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer

Book 1

1

Don’t Follow Me: I’m Lost, Too

The interview was a catastrophe. It started out fine—better than fine. Kyle, the sales manager for the bumper sticker company Illumination Studios met me in the warm confines of a nearby Starbucks, purchased me a grande green tea, and selected a table in the corner, away from the door and the cold blast of November air every customer brought in with them. Soft music, cappuccino-machine clacks and whirs, and the murmur of conversation created a cocoon of privacy.

I handed Kyle a copy of my résumé, determined to prove myself to be the mandatory employee for the boring junior sales associate position. I wasn’t particularly qualified and I would normally have rather peeled hangnails than perform cold calls—which is what I strongly suspected the position entailed—but four weeks of unemployment, seven failed interviews, and escalating credit card bills proved very strong motivators.

Strong enough for me to ignore the desperate reason I’d applied for the job in the first place.
Never trust your soul-sight,
I told myself for the thousandth time. But my imminent eviction trumped mistrust of my bizarre, mutant vision.

Kyle dropped my résumé to the table without glancing at it. He scrutinized me over the top of his dry cappuccino. Kyle exuded salesman, from his maroon button-up shirt and khaki trousers to his thinning brown hair with its frosted tips. His face was pinched, as if someone had pressed his baby flesh between their hands and pulled, extending his nose and pulling his lips and eyes in tight. He couldn’t have been much older than me, despite the sullen brackets around his mouth and deep grooves between his eyebrows. Maybe his expression fell into disapproving lines naturally.

“How many years’ experience do you have, Madison?” Kyle asked.

“Specifically in the bumper sticker business, none, but I believe my time at Catchall Advertising will—”

“I don’t care about the bumper sticker crap. I care about your experience in the field.”

My weirdo radar, dulled by the overpowering mix of desperation and determination, flickered to life now.

“I honed my sales skills while working as a saleswoman at Sundage Cars. My experience there taught me how to connect with people from all walks of life.” Though it hadn’t taught me how to sell a car. In the six months of my employment as a used-car saleswoman, I sold a grand total of zero cars, which is why David Sundage, my cousin-in-law and owner of Sundage Cars, had fired me at the beginning of September. But I wasn’t going to concern Kyle with that minor detail.

Kyle set his cappuccino down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I understand the relevance—”

“What regions have you worked in before this?”

Regions?
“I’ve worked mainly in Roseville since I—”

“With who? Not with Brad or Isabel.” Kyle leaned forward, his dark eyes intense.

Who?
I eased my tea to the table and ran my palms down the sides of my black knee-length skirt, telling myself it was only nerves that were making Kyle seem so volatile.

“Um, most recently with David Sundage,” I said.

“Where are his headquarters?”

Headquarters? What is this, the FBI?
Hadn’t he bothered to read my résumé?

“Down Douglas,” I answered, pointing vaguely west toward Douglas Boulevard and the car lot.

“Before that?”

“Also in Roseville, at Catchall—”

“Look, we can both stop playing this game. I don’t care about what jobs you’ve had to take between IE positions.” Kyle deflated into his chair with a gusty sigh. “To be honest, you’re the only qualified person to apply for the job—my job. I’ve been ready to transfer for months now, so I’m not going to make this interview hard on you. I want you to take this job as much as you want it. I just need to make this interview look good so Brad signs my walking papers, okay?”

I nodded and tried to look like I understood more than the English words he used. I didn’t know what he meant by “IE positions,” and I knew I wasn’t qualified for his sales manager position. I wasn’t even qualified to be a junior sales associate, but who was I to argue? Managers probably didn’t have to make cold calls, which automatically made the job more appealing. Plus, a management position would pay better, and I was pretty sure I could fake it until I got caught up on my bills. By then, I could find a more suitable job. Something more Indiana Jones and less Bridget Jones.

“Okay, let me make this perfectly clear,” Kyle continued. “Which wardens have you worked with?”

“Wardens?” As in prison?

Kyle leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “What’s the largest evil you’ve ever tackled? A wraith? A pissed-off dryad?”

I cast a quick glance around for a candid camera, noting the nearest exit in case I needed to make a run for it. I’d been nervous on interviews before, but never because of a mentally unstable interviewer. Was that why Kyle had insisted we meet away from the company office? Did he even work for Illumination Studios?

I eased my hand through the strap of my purse and slid it onto my shoulder, careful not to make any sudden movements that might spook the deranged man. “I don’t think I’m the right person for the job, after all,” I said, and pushed away from the table.

This is why I never used my soul-sight, never followed its false leads. I shouldn’t have made an exception for this job. To the marrow of my bones, I knew soul-sight was untrustworthy.

“Hang on, Madison,” Kyle said, grabbing my arm as I started to stand. I froze. “You’re definitely the right person for the job. You’re the first enforcer to walk through that door in nearly two weeks.”

“I don’t even know what that means. I’m going to save us both some time and leave now.” I tugged to free my arm.

“Holy crap! You’re a rogue.” Kyle jerked away from me, shaking his hand like I’d given him cooties. Unbalanced, I fell back into my chair.

“That explains your age,” Kyle said, speaking more to himself than me. “And your job history. You haven’t been playing games with me—you really don’t know . . .”

I stood again as he trailed off, and his gaze snapped to focus on my face. “It was nice to meet you,” I said by rote. “Good luck with—”

“One question.” Kyle stood, cutting off my escape. He towered over my five-foot-ten frame by a good eight inches. Despite his wiry build, the odds weren’t in my favor that I could knock him down before he could grab me.

Taking a deep breath, and reminding myself that I was in a safe public place filled with people, I said, “Okay. One more.”

“Did you apply because you thought you could pretend to be qualified for a sales position or because the ad glowed?”

My breath caught. The fact that the job description in the “Help Wanted” section had glowed in soul-sight had been an inexplicable anomaly. Dead, mashed pulp couldn’t glow. It wasn’t alive. It didn’t have a soul. But hearing that Kyle knew about the glow set my arm hairs on end. No one knew about soul-sight except my best friend, and that was only because I’d told her. Soul-sight was my own personal aberration.

Seeing my hesitation, Kyle plowed on.

“Three decades as a rogue has got to be a new record. I’m not sure why you chose to come out of hiding, but I’m not letting you get away now, not when I’m this close”—he pinched his forefinger and thumb together—“to escaping this puny region for some real action.”

“I haven’t been hiding. I think you’re mistaken—”

“Come on. We both know you’re not qualified for a sales position even if it did exist,” Kyle said, flicking my résumé. The crisp white paper skittered off the table to the floor. “But if you could see the glow, you
are
qualified to be an enforcer. Hmm, let’s see, how to explain this to a thirty-year-old rogue?”

“I’m twenty-five,” I corrected softly, wondering why I was still standing there, why I hadn’t stepped around Kyle and walked out the door.

“You have the ability to see the world differently than this ‘real world,’ right? Black and white? Plants and animals glow all pretty and clean. People look like they’re wearing snowy-weather camouflage. Is this ringing any bells?”

There was definitely a ringing in my ears. He’d just described soul-sight. My knees wobbled and I sank disjointedly into my chair.

Kyle sat across from me, shaking his head with amazement. “I can’t believe you’ve maintained a rogue status for so long. I mean, I understand the appeal of not having a boss, but you’re also not on anyone’s payroll. Why not become a real enforcer and get paid for it?”