4. Graeme

4

GRAEME

S triding into Ecco's guest room, I take a look at where I'm going to be camping out for the next while.

The space is luxurious and impersonal. A queen-size bed sits at the center of the room, and there's a large window framing the glittering cityscape taking up most of the far wall. A basic gray dresser and bedside table round out the space.

Simple, efficient, exactly what I need for this assignment.

I toss my duffle bag onto the bed, the zipper rasping as I yank it open. And then I freeze.

There, nestled among the pillows like a furry little landmine, is a kitten. Its fur is so white it's practically luminescent, its eyes huge and round and innocent as it blinks up at me.

I stare at it, unmoving.

I don't do pets. They're illogical, unpredictable. Liabilities. But even I have to admit, this tiny scrap of fluff is… objectively adorable.

A soft purr emanates from its throat, and my resolve wavers.

Cautiously, I reach out a hand to stroke its head...

In a flash, the creature morphs. Fur shifts from white to neon green, eyes narrow to slits. Its jaw unhinges, revealing rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth as it lets out a menacing hiss.

I react on instinct, snatching it by the scruff of the neck and holding it at arm's length as it thrashes and spits.

"Little demon," I growl, annoyed at how fast my pulse is racing.

With my free hand, I upend my duffle bag, dumping my clothes unceremoniously onto the floor. I drop the creature inside, zipping it closed on another ear-splitting screech.

"Ms. Waverly!" My voice is sharp as I call out to her. "There's been a threat to your safety. We need to evacuate the apartment immediately."

Ecco appears in the doorway of the guest room, eyes wide, hands fluttering to her throat. Her gaze lands on the violently wiggling duffle bag and the ungodly yowls emanating from inside it.

Instead of fear, her expression changes to one of pure indignation.

"Unhand her, you brute!" She rushes forward, snatching the bag from my hands.

I watch in astonishment as she pulls out the monster, cradling it to her chest. Instantly, it settles, nuzzling into her chest as its fur fades back to pristine white. Ecco strokes a hand down its back, cooing softly.

"That thing is yours?" I demand, eyeing the creature with disbelief and suspicion. "Isn't that a glowkitten? Those are highly regulated—highly dangerous —magical creatures."

"Her name is Minx," Ecco sniffs. "And she's not dangerous. Glowkittens are simply misunderstood. People just fear what they don't understand."

I shake my head, marveling at her naivety. Does this woman have no sense of self-preservation?

"Ms. Waverly, those creatures are walking weapons. If I'm recalling correctly from my training, their teeth can shred steel, and their claws secrete neurotoxin that can drop a full-grown troll in seconds. And you keep one as a pet?"

She meets my gaze, chin lifted in defiance. In her arms, the kitten peers at me, its eyes narrowed in feline contempt.

The two look eerily similar, equal parts adorable and disdainful.

"Minx is my baby. She would never hurt anyone," Ecco insists, her violet eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness that catches me off guard. "Just because something is dangerous under certain circumstances doesn't mean it can't be gentle when handled with care!"

With that, she spins on her heel and marches out of my room, Minx peering over her shoulder to hiss softly in my direction. I run a hand over my face, exasperation washing over me.

Not only is my client willfully turning a blind eye to the dangers lurking right under her nose, but she seems to have no care for her safety. I've guarded princesses with more common sense.

Shaking my head, I turn back to my pile of clothes, scooping them off the floor to refold them. As I do, the muffled sound of Ecco's voice filters through the walls. She seems to be on the phone, discussing… wedding plans?

I frown, focusing my gargoyle senses, my ears straining to pick up the details. A wedding, back in her hometown. Elderberry Falls, I think she called it. And from the sounds of it, it's happening soon.

Perfect. Just perfect.

I finish unpacking and head out to the living room, where I find Ecco just ending her call, a wistful smile on her face.

"Ms. Waverly," I begin, fighting to keep my tone calm and professional despite my annoyance. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're planning to travel soon?"

She nods, her smile fading slightly as if she can sense what I'm about to say.

"My best friend Mariah is getting married in Elderberry Falls next week," she says. "I'm her bridesmaid, I have to be there."

I shake my head, a sense of foreboding settling in my gut. "I don't think you understand the severity of your situation. With this stalker still at large, any travel would be extremely unwise. It's an unnecessary risk."

Ecco's eyes widen, a flush rising in her cheeks. "Unnecessary? This is my best friend's wedding! I'm not going to miss it because of some creep with boundary issues!"

She jabs a finger at my chest, her voice rising with each word.

"You're supposed to be this big, bad bodyguard, right? Well, if you're so worried, then you can just come with me! Problem solved!"

I clench my jaw, a muscle ticking in my cheek. The thought of leaving the city, of venturing into unknown territory with an unpredictable client and a dangerous stalker in the mix...it goes against every protocol.

But as I meet Ecco's challenging glare, I know I'm fighting a losing battle. This woman's stubbornness could rival a gargoyle's.

"Fine," I grit out, already dreading the complications this trip will bring. "But we do it my way. No exceptions."

She beams at me, her anger evaporating as quickly as it appeared. "Deal! Oh, this is going to be so much fun! You'll love Elderberry Falls, it's the most magical place on earth!"

Somehow, I highly doubt that.

Ecco cocks her head, her eyebrows stitching together in a way that I try very hard not to find cute. "Wait—you had wings. Where did they go?"

She must not know much about gargoyle powers. "I can hide them with my magic," I explain. "I usually keep them concealed. They can be inconvenient in crowded places, and while humans can always tell that I'm not one of them, it's much easier to blend in if they can't see the wings."

"So why did you have them out this morning?" she asks.

"I like for new clients to see them. To know that I have the ability to use them to help with protection if necessary. But unless there's an emergency, I usually only have them out when I have my shirt off."

Ecco's eyes rake down my torso and then guiltily dart back up to mine, as if she wasn't just clearly imagining me shirtless.

"Well," she says, starting to flush. "Let's hope I never see them again, then."

She turns quickly back to her room, Minx trotting at her heels, and I can't help but feel a spark of… something.

Intrigue, perhaps. Or maybe just a masochistic sort of curiosity.

Two days later, I'm standing to the side of a dimly lit studio's set, my eyes scanning the gathered audience with practiced vigilance. It's been a long forty-eight hours of shadowing Ecco, of trailing her to studio sessions and meetings, of enduring her relentlessly bubbly chatter and seemingly endless supply of energy.

Her every quirk and mannerism has begun to grate on my nerves. The way she insists on stopping to speak with every fan, her complete lack of spatial awareness, her tendency to get lost in her own creative world at the most inconvenient times...

I'm at my wit's end.

Now, as Ecco takes the stage for a taped performance on some late-night talk show, I find myself grudgingly interested. I've heard a few clips of her music while surveilling her meetings, but I haven't actually seen her perform live yet.

The audience hushes as the first notes ring out, Ecco's silhouette illuminated by a single spotlight.

And then, she begins to sing.

Her voice washes over the room, ethereal and haunting. There's a magnetic quality to her presence, an authenticity that shines through every soaring note and soulful lyric.

Against my will, something stirs in my soul. A flicker of understanding, of appreciation for the rare talent I'm witnessing.

I shake it off, annoyed at my own unprofessional lapse. I can't afford to let my guard down for even a moment.

And then, it happens.

In the middle of a verse, Ecco falters. It's subtle, just a slight hitch in her breath, a widening of her eyes.

To my hypervigilant gaze, it's like a beacon.

I follow her line of sight, scanning the audience, searching for the source of her distress. At first, I see nothing out of place. But then, I spot a ripple in the sea of faces. A disturbance near the back of the set—something magical.

I catch a glimpse of a figure, pale and distorted, features obscured by a dark hood. It's only a fleeting impression, there and gone in an instant, but I know with bone-deep certainty.

The stalker.

My instincts take over, my body moving on pure reflex. I'm across the room in seconds, shoving through the oblivious crowd, my eyes locked on the spot where the figure vanished.

"Move!" I growl, not bothering with niceties.

A burly man wearing a "Siren's Call" branded t-shirt shoots me an offended glare, but something in my expression quickly convinces him to step aside.

I reach the back wall, my heart pounding, my fists clenched. But there's nothing. No sign of the hooded figure, no trace that they were ever there at all. I sniff deeply, trying to use my gargoyle power of heightened scent to clock the being's smell so I can track them.

There's not even a scent to trace.

It's like they were never here at all.

"Damn it!" I curse under my breath, frustration filling me.

I force myself to take a breath, to center myself. I can't let this setback rattle me, not when the stalker could still be lurking somewhere on the premises.

I turn back to the stage, where Ecco is gamely pushing through to the end of her song despite the whispers that erupted in the audience at my disturbance. Her smile is now just slightly off kilter, which sends a pang through me.

I've failed her.

My mind races, calculating, strategizing. The game has changed. The threat is no longer theoretical, but viscerally real. And I'll be ready next time. No matter the cost, I won't let this maniac anywhere near Ecco again.

I play back the look of fear in her eyes, the fierce protectiveness that surged through my veins. I tell myself that it's about my professional pride and duty.

She's my client, nothing more.

And nobody gets to harm my clients. Just let that stalker try their luck again.

This gargoyle will be waiting, and heaven help anyone who dares to cross me.