5. Garrex

CHAPTER FIVE

GARREX

T he night air whipped past as I landed in the quiet, moonlit courtyard, wings snapping shut. Gwen's warmth seeped through my frame, her vanilla and parchment scent filling my nose. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to bury my face in her hair.

"Well, that beats dealing with traffic," Gwen quipped, her voice light but edged with nerves.

I set her down reluctantly, already missing her soft curves pressed against my chest. The kiss still lingered, haunting my thoughts. I needed to regain control, keep my distance. She was too new, too raw, and I was far too tempted by her.

Mate.

A wave of possessiveness crashed through my soul, leaving behind an echo of the word and a certainty I couldn't shake. I hadn't lied about the bond between witch and her sworn shield. There had been changes since the curse turned my clan to stone. The problem was there'd only been a handful who... felt as I felt.

Instinct didn't give a fuck about sample size or propriety. Instinct wanted the witch naked under me, moaning for my cock, begging for my fangs to pierce her neck.

As if I were some bloodsucking fiend myself.

I ground my teeth and fought the urge to snatch Gwen back into my arms and fly far from however many vampires lurked in this city. But she needed to learn and understand the power flowing through her veins. Power that could save or damn us all.

I'd already failed Cecily through my selfishness. I couldn't condemn another witch with my desires.

"Stay close," I growled, scanning the shadows. I trusted Ivy kept her wards active, but the diadem and Gwen's awakening magic had already drawn out the unholy creatures. I didn't want to take any chances.

And... there. Not on Ivy's roof, but on a neighboring ledge, Sulien perched and watched over the Lockwood house and occult shop. I dipped my chin in greeting, but the old bastard didn't even twitch a wing in acknowledgment.

He wasn't the only remnant of the clan who would love nothing more than to see me cracked and crumbled as thoroughly as any dusted vampire.

Unaware, Gwen rolled her eyes, but stepped closer. "You're not exactly incognito, you know. Giant stone man with wings? Real subtle."

I snorted and moved toward the back entrance. The Arcane Nook loomed before us, its weathered Victorian facade etched with faint symbols of protection. I reached for the handle and paused, glancing back to where she stood in the middle of the courtyard. The moonlight cast her in an ethereal glow, haloing her dark hair.

She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Thought we were meeting someone, not breaking and entering."

The lock clicked open at my touch. "She's expecting us."

We stepped into the shop's backroom, a cluttered space filled with arcane artifacts and the heavy scent of herbs. Ivy's voice drifted from the front, saccharine-sweet as she bid farewell to a customer. The bell above the door chimed, and silence fell.

"Ivy?" I called out, keeping Gwen slightly behind me.

A pause, then the clip of heels on hardwood. Ivy swanned through the heavy curtains blocking the parlor from the shop, her golden gown glimmering in the dim light. Blonde curls tumbled loose over her shoulders, and she grinned at the sight of me.

"Garrex, darling," she purred, the beads on her green shawl clicking as she threw her arms wide. "It's been far too long."

I stiffened as she brushed my cheeks with airy kisses, her perfume cloying and sharp. From the corner of my eye, I caught the subtle tightening of Gwen's jaw. A flicker of... was that possessiveness? The instinctive part of me growled in satisfaction, even as I tried to squash the feeling.

"Ivy," I nodded, stepping back. "This is Gwen. She needs to understand her heritage."

Ivy's eyes widened, a flash of something—greed?—crossing her features before she smoothed her expression. She extended a manicured hand. "Ivy Lockwood, darling. A pleasure to meet you."

"Ivy's a long-time ally," I explained to Gwen, my voice low.

Ivy barked out a laugh. "Is that what you call three generations of cooperation, you old fossil?" She winked at Gwen. "Don't let his brooding bother you. Garrex here's been keeping witches safe since before your great-grandmother was in diapers. He's as cranky as he is cracky."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small quirk of my lips. Ivy's charm was as potent as her magic.

"Come," Ivy beckoned, leading us deeper into her home. "I just read someone's tea leaves. I'll pour you a cup. We have much to discuss."

We followed her into the parlor, the air heavy with incense and magic. Gwen's eyes darted around, taking in the walls and shelves packed with oddities and artwork.

I kept my senses alert. Ivy might be an ally, but centuries of guarding had taught me to never let my guard down completely. The scent of sandalwood and something darker—blood?—tickled my nose.

"Welcome to my humble abode, dear," Ivy said with a flourish. She settled into her favorite chair, a gaudy velvet monstrosity that had seen better days. The witch's fingers danced over the teapot, steam curling lazily into the air. "I take it our brooding friend here has filled you in on... everything?"

Gwen crossed her arms. "Depends on your definition of ‘everything.' Vampires exist. I'm apparently some long-lost witch, and Rocky here's my... protector?"

I winced at ‘Rocky,' but felt the stroke over her eyes at ‘protector'.

"Oh, I like this one." Ivy smirked, bouncing a knowing look between us. "It's a symbiotic relationship, really. We provide the magic, they provide the rock-hard muscle."

"Charming," I muttered.

Ivy shot me a wink. "Oh, don't pout, darling. You know I adore your... assets."

Gwen's shoulders tightened, and she turned her back to the room. Her scent sharpened like needles in my nostrils, but she only bent to drum her fingers on the edge of a shelf.

Ivy's eyebrows climbed high as she sipped her tea.

Gwen wandered to the opposite side of the parlor, drawn to seemingly random objects. A tarnished silver mirror. A collection of sea glass. An ancient dagger tipped with a shining ruby. Gwen's fingers twitched, reaching out before she caught herself.

Magic recognized magic. Even if she didn't understand it yet.

Ivy noticed, too. "Are you interested in antiques, Gwen dear?"

Gwen hesitated, then ran her hand the length of the blade, fingers hovering just above the surface. "It's like there's something... alive in some of these objects."

"Alive," Ivy echoed, her smile turning brittle. "Yes, I suppose that's accurate. You really found yourself a lost lamb, didn't you, Garrex?"

Gwen's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're drawn to those objects because they resonate with your magic," Ivy explained. Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup. "They're wells of power. Repositories where witches have stored their magic, drop by precious drop."

The bitterness in her voice set my teeth on edge. I'd known Ivy for decades, watched her claw her way to a semblance of magical prowess. But there was always an undercurrent of resentment and a hunger for more.

I clenched my jaw, memories of Cecily's sacrifice flooding back. The night I'd failed her. Failed them all.

Ivy clapped her hands, the sound shattering the tension. "Oh, this is my favorite part. Hm, let's see, there's... a gold bangle to your left, Gwen. Grab that and have a seat, then we'll get started."

Gwen glanced at me, wariness edging out curiosity. I nodded.

She plucked the bangle from where it rested on a bed of silk and took a seat across from Ivy. My chest tightened at the sight of the familiar tableau. Teacher instructing, young witch eager to embrace her power.

Centuries and centuries of death that inevitably followed.

Lambs for the slaughter.

"Breathe," Ivy murmured, and I found myself joining in. "Take the air deep into your lungs. Feel the weight of the bangle in your hands."

I watched, my muscles tense, as Gwen followed Ivy's instructions. Her brows shot together in concentration, her lips parting slightly as she inhaled deeply.

"Now, this part is unique for everyone, but the goal is to open yourself to your inner power." Ivy's voice dropped to a soothing cadence. "Some imagine a stream of water growing stronger and stronger, until they are caught in the flood. Others open with the blooming of a flower."

"What do you picture?" Gwen asked, her gaze trained on the bangle.

Ivy's lips twitched. For a moment, I thought she'd stay silent. "Myself," she answered finally, "in a mirror. It's a little like reaching through something that's there and shouldn't be, or should be and isn't. I need to snatch control and hang on tight."

Gwen hesitated, casting a doubtful glance between Ivy and the bangle. Whatever she wrestled with lost the struggle, and she dragged down another deep breath and closed her eyes.

I fought the need to move, to protect. This wasn't a battle I could fight for her. Gwen had to find her own path to her power.

I saw the moment it happened, the shift in Gwen's demeanor. Her hands ceased trembling, her face relaxing into a strange sort of calm. Her breath caught, then quickened, and the air itself seemed to pause.

"That's it," Ivy breathed. Her smile turned triumphant. "Let it flow through you and into the bangle."

Gwen's hand tightened around the bangle, her knuckles turning white. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and for a moment, I feared she would lose control.

Then, with a soft gasp, Gwen's eyes fluttered open. The bangle in her palm glowed with a gentle, pulsing light. "I did it!"

But it wasn't the bangle that stole my breath. Gwen's smile rivaled the sun, her eyes bright with wonder as they lifted to mine.

Mate.

"Well done, my dear. You're a natural. Strong, too." Ivy clapped her hands, her eyes gleaming. "You'll be a powerful witch once you've mastered your craft."

Gwen flushed at the praise, her fingers curling around the bangle.

Fierce pride and possessiveness rushed through me, nearly staggering in its intensity. I didn't fight it. Didn't want to. Every fiber of my being focused on the rise and fall of her chest, the flush of exertion coloring her cheeks.

I didn't want a bond of siblings or friends. I wanted the images conjured in my mind of how she might look flushed with pleasure, writhing beneath me, crying out my name as I?—

I cut off the thought with a silent snarl. What the hell was I thinking? I was a gargoyle. A grotesque. The one who'd failed the witches and left them scraping for power like beggars fighting over crumbs. She'd be insane to want someone—some thing —like me.

"So, these... wells. They're how witches practice magic now?" Gwen's voice pulled me from my self-loathing. She turned the bangle over in her hands, wonder still clear in her eyes.

A shadow passed over Ivy's face. "It's a pale imitation, but necessary. Objects like these are rare, and those with a large capacity are jealously guarded."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "In fact, there's an auction coming up next week. Rumor has it there's a particularly potent well hidden among the lots."

Gwen's eyes lit up with interest, and my stomach clenched. I knew that look. It was the same one Cecily wore before she did something reckless.

"Now, before you go?—"

"Go?" Gwen whipped around to Ivy.

"Oh dear," Ivy tsked. "I should have warned you. Magic is like any muscle, and you just ran your first marathon. You'll be feeling woozy right about... now."

Gwen swayed in her seat. I steadied her with a hand at her elbow, savoring the warmth of her skin against mine.

"Garrex, be a dear and get one tucked in tight, will you?" Ivy rose gracefully. As soon as Gwen wobbled to her feet, the witch stepped forward to cup Gwen's face in her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"A little protection spell," she said with a wink. "As your abilities grow, you'll be able to mask yourself from vampires and other nasties. But until then, this will have to do."

I nodded curtly, already steering Gwen towards the door. The sooner we got out of here, the better.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, Gwen leaned into me, her warmth seeping through my skin. I tightened my arm around her, fighting the urge to nuzzle her hair.

"You okay?" I asked, voice gruff.

Gwen nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. Just... a lot to take in."

I knew the feeling all too well.

I watched Sulien's unmoving form on his rooftop perch. The weight of centuries pressed down on my shoulders with his unblinking glare. I spread my wings, ready to take Gwen back to the safety of Undercroft Haven.

"Wait," Gwen's voice stopped me. "Can we... can we go look at the bridge for a bit?"

I tensed, scanning the shadows. "It's not safe."

"I'm invisible, remember?" She tapped her forehead where Ivy kissed her. Her tired smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just for a little while. Please?"

Something in her voice tugged at me. The wonder of a newly awakened witch, perhaps. Or simply the desire to give her this small moment of normalcy when she'd never lead a normal life again. Either way, I found myself nodding.

"Hold tight," I grumbled, scooping her into my arms.

The wind rushed past as I launched into the air. Great, creaking sweeps of my wings carried up high over the city. Gwen's scent wrapped around me, mixed with a hint of wildflowers from Ivy's touch. I tried to focus on our surroundings, on potential threats, but my mind kept drifting to the feel of Gwen pressed against me and the memory of her lips.

We landed on a secluded part of the trail overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. The moonlight danced on the water, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the view. To pretend I was just a man showing a beautiful woman the sights of his city.

"I think we should go to the auction," Gwen said suddenly, her eyes fixed on the distant bridge.

The peaceful moment shattered, and my jaw clenched. "Absolutely not."

She whirled on me, hiding the tremor in her frame by wrapping her arms around her middle. "If we're supposed to find the charms for the diadem, wells seem like a good place to start, right?"

"You're untrained," I growled, frustration building. "It's not?—"

"Because I'm an infant in your world?" she snapped, echoing my earlier words.

"Because you're untrained ," I repeated, emphasizing the word. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "There's a difference. You will be a witch your entire life. There's no need to rush headlong into danger."

"Ivy said magic is like exercise," Gwen argued, wandering closer to some thick plants on the embankment. "So I might as well start working out."

The back of my neck prickled with awareness. Something was wrong. The air felt... off.

Then I saw them. Rotted hands emerging from the dirt, reaching for Gwen. The tattered remains of clothing spoke of an age long past. This was no fledgling vampire—this vampire had been in the ground for a long while.

Time slowed to a crawl. I watched, horror-struck, as the vampire's hands clamped around Gwen's ankles.

Gwen's scream pierced the night as she toppled to the ground. A blinding flash erupted from her palms, and the vampire hissed, clawing at its eyes.

My paralysis broke. I lunged forward, ripping the creature off Gwen. My claws tore through desiccated flesh, reducing the vampire to dust.

Gwen lay on the ground, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock. I grabbed her up into my arms. The scent of her fear mixed with the lingering stench of vampire, stoking the protective fire in my gut.

No protests. No questions. No clever remarks. Just the dark swirl of terror and the iron clamp of her arms around my neck.

Mine.

I tightened my hold on Gwen, trying to push away the guilt gnawing at my insides. I'd let my guard down, indulged her curiosity, and nearly gotten her killed.

Just like Cecily.

"We're leaving," I growled, wings unfurling. "We'll finish this discussion somewhere I know you'll be safe."