4. Gwen

CHAPTER FOUR

GWEN

T he bell above the door jangled as I stumbled into Whispering Relics. My hands shook, coffee sloshing inside my to-go cup. I took another gulp, wincing as the scalding liquid hit my throat.

"Fuck," I hissed, slamming the cup down on the counter.

The red light on the answering machine blinked accusingly. I glared at it, imagining Miriam's shrill voice demanding to know why I hadn't opened the shop. No doubt there would also be a growing pile of email in the shop and my personal inbox, with an increasingly manic use of punctuation as the hours wore on without answer.

I'd deal with those once I could think of an excuse Miriam would buy. ‘Attacked by vampires, abducted by a gargoyle' edged beyond ‘my dog ate my homework' and into calling for medical intervention territory.

She could have Europe. I had bigger fish to fry.

"Sorry, boss," I muttered. My gaze flicked to the security camera in the corner. "Turns out there's magic in the world. Who knew?"

I wove my way to the office, my steps quickening as I neared the desk. The diadem's box sat exactly where I'd left it, innocuous as any other antique. The same plain, worn box could have been the box for a dozen items currently on the shelves.

How it came to Whispering Relics was just one on a list of mysteries I needed to solve.

Sinking into the chair, I pulled out the silver star charm and set it beside the box. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything I'd learned in the past twenty-four hours.

Cecily Thorne. Last of a powerful witch bloodline. Creator of the diadem.

Garrex. Once human, now a gargoyle. Cursed to his stone life by Cecily's very pissed off momma for failing to protect Cecily.

Vampires. Bloodsucking terrors of the night, weakened but not destroyed.

And me. Gwen Fletcher. Possible witch. Definite sleep deprived, over caffeinated mess.

I barked out a laugh, running a hand through my tangled hair. "This is insane."

But I couldn't deny what I'd seen. What I'd felt when I touched the charm, and the diadem before that.

The alleged scent I now carried for interacting with one, if not both.

With trembling fingers, I opened the box and lifted out the diadem. Its weight felt different now. Or maybe that was just my imagination running wild.

"Okay," I breathed, holding the diadem in one hand and the charm in the other. "Here goes nothing."

I brought them closer together, half-expecting lightning to strike or the ground to split open. Instead, there was... nothing.

"Well, that's anticlima?—"

A sharp pain lanced through my skull, stealing my breath. The world tilted sideways, colors blurring into a nauseating kaleidoscope. I tried to set down the artifacts, but my muscles refused to obey.

Lumina... Vinc...

A voice echoed in my mind, feminine and familiar, though I'd never heard it before.

A bright light flashed behind my eyes.

Pain. Long lines of pain dragged down my arms and legs. Pierced me, over and over and over.

The blinding light intensified, white-hot daggers stabbing behind my eyes. I cried out, my grip on the diadem and charm finally loosening. They clattered to the desk as I slumped forward.

Then everything went black.

"Witch."

A new voice fished through the darkness. Rougher. Deeper.

"Witch."

Warmth seeped into my upper arms. Jostled me. I stirred, dragging myself up from the depths of the void.

"Wake up, witch!"

Something shook me again, harder this time. My head throbbed, vision swimming as I tried to focus on the hulking figure looming over me. Garrex's eyes blazed with fury, his massive hands clenched at his sides.

"What the hell were you thinking, witch?" he growled.

I blinked, struggling to piece together what happened. The diadem. The charm. Pain. Darkness.

"Gwen..." My tongue felt thick, words sluggish. "Name's Gwen."

"Typical witch, courting danger like it's a damn suitor." Garrex's voice dripped with disdain. "Coming here alone. Touching magical artifacts you know nothing about."

He grabbed my head between his hands, grumbling as he thumbed one eye open. Massive wings nearly blocked out the overhead light. Even tucked back, the tips brushed against shelves.

"Stop. Stop!" I swatted his arm. He moved back slightly, but only enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body. "I'm fine. I just came here to do some research."

"Research?" He barked a harsh laugh. "You have no training. No idea what you're doing. You're more likely to burn yourself up than do anything useful!"

I swallowed hard, remembering the blinding light and pain when the diadem met charm. Was that an every time occurrence, or just the lucky Gwen special? Hell, if one felt like ice picks digging into my skull, how awful were all four?

Had Cecily burned herself up, trying to bring about her final spell?

I was big enough to admit the gargoyle had a point.

"I needed answers." I wrenched free of his hold, rubbing my arm and glaring through the fog in my head. "Besides, it was daylight."

When I left, at least.

"Daylight!" He scoffed. "You're nothing but an infant in this world. You have no idea the dangers that lurk in broad daylight."

"By all means, enlighten me," I shot back, anger rising to match his.

"Vampires aren't the only threat. Human servants, black magic practitioners, demons—they can all operate in the daylight, and they won't do you the favor of showing their fangs before they gut you." He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration etched in every line of his face. "You're making my job infinitely more difficult with this recklessness."

"Aw, you really do care," I drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Of course I care," he snapped. "You are a rarity in this world, Gwen. The potential you possess—You're a treasure to be guarded and protected."

I pushed myself to my feet. The room swam, but I forced myself to stay upright. "And you, specifically, are my sworn shield? Or do I get a say in all that?"

Surprise flickered across his face, followed by a hint of admiration. "I'd wondered how much you read when I woke to find the book out and you gone."

"I found it while you were... indisposed." I ducked my eyes, guilt creeping heat up my neck at the pointed comment.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Indisposed. That's one way to put it."

I risked a glance at him. His face was serious once more, but he inclined his head, accepting the apology without saying the words.

"The bond between a witch and her guardian is... complex," Garrex said softly. "It's a lifetime commitment, traditionally."

"Traditionally?"

He hesitated, a shadow passing over his features. "Aspects... changed when my clan was cursed. But the essence remains."

I filed that tidbit away for later examination. A ceremony was mentioned, but I imagine a human's lifespan looked slightly different from a stone beast. "And what does this bond look like, exactly?"

Garrex's eyes roamed my face, as if searching for something. "It varies. Often, it's like siblings or close companions."

I raised an eyebrow, silently inviting him to continue.

"But... sometimes it's more. Emotions, attraction..." His dark eyes smoldered, pinning me in place. "A bond of the flesh."

The temperature in the small office suddenly seemed stifling. The air between us crackled with tension. I swallowed hard, a million questions swirling in my head. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry.

His eyes tracked the movement, and his wings twitched.

"We don't have to be enemies," Garrex said, the roughness in his tone shooting straight between my thighs. "I'll take you anywhere you want to go, keep you safe from all threats. There's much to learn about the world that has been lost to time."

"You just don't want to be left standing on a rooftop, bored out of your mind, waiting for the next infant in need of rescue."

"That too."

An unexpected laugh burst from my lips, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut.

Garrex quirked an eyebrow. "Do that again."

"Do what again?" I hedged, catching my lower lip between my teeth.

"Laugh." He reached up slowly and stroked the side of my face. "It's... beautiful."

I wondered how often he heard a genuine sound of joy. The Thorne book told of so much war and death. To be promoted to head witch honcho, the Warden of the Veiled Grove, seemed like a death sentence with such quick turnover. And then adding in however long he'd spent in his cursed state?

Only one cell done up like a bedroom didn't allude to others in his cave. Maybe they'd all cracked under the weight of their long years.

Sympathy welled up inside of me and I leaned into his touch.

Heat flared beneath his fingertips, and I caught a groan in my throat, greedy for more. He slid his hand around to cup my head, bringing us closer. My pulse raced, but I didn't pull away. I should, I told myself. We were strangers, and he was a?—

My thoughts disintegrated as he dipped his head. His lips ghosted over mine, giving me space to end this if I wanted.

But I didn't. Magic, madness, I didn't know which. Didn't care. He'd saved me, given me more adventure in a single day than I'd had in my entire life. Maybe my brain was still addled from the brush with death, but I wanted to see how this story ended.

I tipped my chin up, and his mouth claimed mine, branding me with a scorching kiss that swept away any thoughts of resistance. His tongue parted my lips, hot and demanding. I met him, stroke for stroke, wanting to taste him and melt into him and forget the rest of the world even existed.

One large hand tangled in my hair while the other palmed my ass. Heat radiated from his touch, setting me on fire everywhere we made contact. The kiss grew more frantic, the promise of pleasure teasing at the edges. I moaned as his teeth nipped my lower lip, desire coiling in my belly.

He broke away to trail kisses down my neck, blazing a path to my shoulder. His tongue darted out, tracing my collarbone. The light caress sent a jolt through me. My nails dug into his biceps, a ragged gasp escaping my lips.

Garrex jerked back, breaking our connection. The abrupt loss of heat left me feeling cold and strangely exposed.

I traced my tingling lips, dazed and aching for more. Holy hell. I'd kissed a gargoyle. An actual, honest-to-god gargoyle. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream or throw myself at him again.

Garrex's face was a mask of careful composure, but I caught the slight twitch of his jaw, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. His wings rustled, folding tighter against his back.

He cleared his throat, his voice rougher than usual. "Come. There's someone you need to meet."