Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

MORGAN

A n hour later, the world outside is dark, though the wind still howls around the tower. But in our cozy living room, the fire blazes bright, and our first ever Christmas tree is up, decorated with homemade paper ornaments.

"It's the most perfect tree I've ever seen," I declare, meaning it. "Thank you for doing this for me."

Klaus wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. "You don't think it's too…rustic?"

He motions at the jagged end of the tree stump, where he simply wrenched away the root ball because they didn't have a wood saw in the tower. The move showed me just how powerful Gargoyles really are—he didn't even scrape his palms. But he did get tree sap on his leather pants, which we'll have to fix sometime soon.

"I genuinely like it," I tell him. "We can make homemade ornaments every year. Or keep these in a box so we'll always have the ones we made for our first Christmas together. But maybe it would be better to get a tree from a farm or something. Not sure if uprooting trees every year is sustainable for our forest."

Klaus' expression gentles. " Our forest. I like the sound of that."

I widen my eyes, a brief surge of anxiety flaring up. "Sorry, I didn't mean?—"

"Of course you did. You belong here, Morgan. We are very happy to share our forest with you."

My throat closes up, and I have to swallow twice before speaking. "I've never had a forest before."

"It's yours to explore." He brings me closer to press his lips to my forehead. "As is the tower."

I grab his arm and squeeze, digging my fingernails into his skin. "Does that mean the bat colony is also mine?"

"Yes." Klaus' rumbling laugh fills the living room. "I've never seen anyone as excited about bats before. Are all humans like that?"

I think of Arielle, who shrieked like a banshee the one time I took her bat watching with me, and a very small flock flew right at us when we opened the shutters of an abandoned house on the other side of town.

"Uh, no, that's just me," I admit. "Most people think they're creepy, what with vampires turning into bats and all."

He goggles at me. "What?"

"You know." I motion with my hand. "Count Dracula? He's a book character and he can turn into a bat."

Klaus shakes his head in disbelief. "The things humans cook up. Vampires don't turn into bats, Engel ."

"Wait." I squint up at him. "You're saying there are actual vampires? Like?—"

"Like gargoyles and dragon shifters, yes," he says patiently. "There aren't very many of them left, but one of the witches from Boston who we've worked with is mated to one. Very decent guy. Obsessed with his mate."

I remain quiet as my inner beliefs about this world reorganize themselves again. Vampires and witches, gargoyles and dragons. And kraken, let's not forget about those. What I thought was a local legend turned out to be reality, and I'm not entirely sure I've completely come to terms with that. It seems so improbable—especially since I haven't actually seen any of the other supernatural beings, just Emmerich and Klaus.

I gaze up at Klaus, who's still contemplating the Christmas tree, his heavy, warm arm slung around my shoulders. They are real. So very solid and present. So the rest of what they told me must be true as well.

Following Klaus' gaze to the Christmas tree, I let out a deep breath. I guess I'm up for a steep learning curve. I can't stop the smile that stretches my lips. This is going to be so much fun.

Just then, Emmerich bustles into the room, his wings out and angled so his arms are hidden.

"Don't look," he commands, shuffling sideways, his back to us. "It will spoil the surprise."

I giggle but nudge Klaus so we both turn away from him, then call out, "We're not peeking." Then I realize Klaus is craning his neck to peer over his shoulder, so I grab his horn and tug lightly. "Come on, no cheating."

After some huffing and the sound of scrunching paper, Emmerich finally announces, "I'm ready. You can look now."

Anticipation rises in me as Klaus drops his arm from around my shoulders and turns on his heels. I follow suit—and find myself staring at Emmerich, who is standing next to the Christmas tree, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His wings are open, the ends twitching lightly. He is so excited for this, my heart swells with love for him—he went out of his way to prepare this surprise for me, and I already know I'll adore every moment of it.

"What do you have there?" Klaus points at Emmerich's feet.

I was more focused on three badly wrapped parcels under the tree, but now that Klaus mentioned the bag, I'm curious as well.

Emmerich's grin is wide as he bends down to pick up a large paper shopping bag from a local twenty-four-hour grocery store. I've shopped there before, mostly on the weekends at about ten in the evening, when I needed something chocolatey to get me through the melancholy of living alone so far from my family.

"I brought Christmas food," Emmerich announces. "I hope it will be enough for tonight. The nice lady at the cash desk told me they are open tomorrow as well."

I take the bag from him and huff as it weighs down my arms. It's heavier than anticipated, and it's a wonder that it held out at all, what with all the damp and snow. I carry it over to the dining table and peer inside.

"I hope you like cake," Emmerich says, hovering behind me. "But I got other food as well, just in case."

I take out a cake in a plastic box. It's a small one and says Merry Christmas on top and is decorated with tiny fondant snowmen. It's slightly squished on the side where it must have moved during the flight, but I shake the box lightly, and it doesn't seem too badly damaged.

"This is great," I tell the gargoyle leaning over my shoulder. "I love the decorations."

He beams at me, then motions at the bag. "There's more."

The next thing is a dish with six heavily frosted cinnamon rolls, which Emmerich bought because they apparently smelled good to him. Then there are cookies in the shape of Christmas trees, a bag of mini marshmallows, which reminded him of snow, and—randomly—a box of instant noodles, which he got because it had a Santa printed on it. I pull out a bag of apples —"You liked the apples human Arielle sent to you, Liebchen "—as well as a can of green beans with bacon and maple syrup.

At that, I arch my eyebrow at him. "Do gargoyles like green beans?"

He frowns at me. "No, but the lady said humans like to eat them for Christmas dinner. She said they might go nicely with the steak I bought." He reaches into the bag and brings out a large bag of meat, several packages all neatly vacuum-sealed. "She asked me if I had anywhere to cook the meat, and I said of course, we have a fireplace."

I pull my lips in and swallow the bubble of laughter trying to escape me. "That was nice of her. Um, Emmerich? What exactly did you say to her?"

He shrugs. "I saw the meat in the fridge, so I got some for Klaus and me. Then I thought that maybe you would like some, as well, but I didn't know if you liked to eat just meat for the main course or not."

"I don't," I tell him. "That was good thinking."

Klaus raises his eyebrows at me and looks like he might say something, so I nudge him with my foot and shake my head subtly. This isn't the moment to educate Emmerich on human interactions.

"Yes, I wanted everything to be perfect." Emmerich smiles again. "So I asked the lady what humans usually eat with meat, and that's how we got to the beans. Oh, and the potatoes. There has to be a bag somewhere…"

He roots through the bottom of the bag and pulls out a plastic bag of potatoes, his expression triumphant.

"Perfect," I tell him. I take the bag of potatoes from him, then wrap him in a big hug. "Thank you for thinking of me. We'll have a Christmas feast tonight."

I don't say that I will do the grocery shopping from now on—or at least accompany him to avoid raising anyone's suspicions. I wonder what the cashier thought about the strange man who wandered into the shop on Christmas Day, asking such questions. But then, knowing Emmerich, he was likely very polite about it all and made her day.

"Do you want to see the presents now?" he asks.

I release his waist. "I do, but I was wondering…"

He raises his eyebrows at me, the corners of his lips tipping up. "You want to see the bats now?"

I return his smile. "How did you know?"

Klaus swoops in and kisses my cheek, then nudges me toward my snow boots at the door. "You've only mentioned them about half a dozen times."

I open my mouth to protest, then close it again because…he's right. I did do that—and they're not annoyed. Instead, they're leaving the cozy warmth of the living room and heading out into the cold with me just so I can look at some hibernating critters.

If this isn't love, I don't know what is .

I grin at them and quickly push my feet into my boots, forgoing socks for the moment. We climb the staircase together, and I try to contain my excitement, but it's just too cool , having a whole bat colony right here. I leap onto the roof, my boots sinking into the snow, and look around for access to the attic.

But Emmerich shakes his head and pulls me back into the stairwell, then shows me a smaller door, its hinges rusty and covered in cobwebs.

"We don't disturb them often," he murmurs. "We only come here every once in a while to clean out their droppings."

I bounce on the balls of my feet. "I'm ready."

Emmerich opens the unlocked door, pulling it wide for me. The musty smell of animals, poop, and dust hits my senses, and I rub my nose to prevent myself from sneezing. The last thing I want to do is scare the poor hibernating bats and have them fly at me in a confused rush.

It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the low light, with only a sliver coming in through the door from the stairwell. I search the darkness above me for the familiar shapes—and then I notice the first cluster, several plum-sized shadows hanging quietly from a beam.

" Oh ." I shuffle closer, taking care not to trip over the boards or step into piles of droppings. "There you are."

As my vision improves, I see more and more of the bats, some hanging out in the open, their brown wings wrapped tightly around their small bodies. But most have chosen narrower hiding places, perching between walls and roofbeams, or behind old boards and unused window shutters.

"Such a cozy place for you," I croon, lifting myself on my tiptoes to study a cluster of maybe forty bats. They twitch lightly from time to time, proof that they're alive and breathing. Come spring, this place will be buzzing with activity, especially at night, and I can't wait to experience that.

I turn on my heels to find Klaus and Emmerich standing at the entrance to the attic, waiting for me. They didn't enter the attic, probably because it's narrow, and they'd disturb the bats with their loud footsteps.

The enormity of this situation hits me then. My massive gargoyles, protecting a whole colony of these small creatures… They could have chased them out, closed up the attic by attaching wire mesh to the vents and windows, and prevented them from returning. Instead, they clean out their dung, keep the attic well ventilated, and leave them to roost in peace.

Tears well in my eyes, and I wipe my palms quickly over my cheeks to wipe them away. Then I tiptoe out of the attic and close the door behind me.

"What's wrong?" Klaus frowns down at me. "Did the bats upset you?"

I let out a wet laugh, shaking my head. "No, they're perfect. I think they're Myotis lucifugus , little brown bats. Big brown bats are actually more common in Maine, but these guys are too small to be them."

Emmerich cups my cheek with his large palm and swipes his thumb under my eye. "Why are you crying, then?"

I let out a shuddering sigh. "Because you two are the best. I don't ever want to leave here." I let myself show them all the happiness bubbling inside my chest. "And before you claim I'm only doing this for the bats, I want to say that for once, they have nothing to do with this. It's all you."

"Thank you," Emmerich says, his voice solemn. "You are the best, too."

Klaus' gray eyes glimmer in the low light. "We've been waiting a long time for a mate, Morgan. And every single day of that wait was worth it—for you."