

Valor

A Greystone Novel

Book One

by Taylor Longford

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9780983707820

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Valor Copyright 2011 © Taylor Longford

www.taylorlongford.com

Electronic Book Publication June 2011

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Taylor Longford.

Warning: Any unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher's permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The names, characters, places and incidents are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Books in the Greystone Series:

Valor

Dare

Reason

Defiance

Chaos

Victor

# VALOR

A GREYSTONE NOVEL

Book One

by

Taylor Longford

Dedication

For Star

### Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

About the Author

Valor's Prologue

The first thing you should know about gargoyles is that we're incredibly patient. But you might have already guessed that.

Perhaps less obvious is the fact that our hearing is exceptional. Which is probably a good thing when you consider how long we were stuck between those walls in York. Because, even though we couldn't see anything except for the pile of gray stones we were facing, at least we could hear. So we were able to keep up with the times by listening to the various occupants who came and went over the hundreds of years we were trapped in the house built against the old Roman walls.

Finally, you might like to know that gargoyles are territorial by nature. We look after our own and are driven by instinct to protect the home and hearth and the people we consider to be our family and friends. So, it's hardly surprising that when I found myself face-to-face with a girl of approximately my own age for the first time in eight hundred years, my first instinct was to protect her.

Of course, my senses told me a lot about the girl who needed my help since gargoyles can tell if someone is good or bad just by getting close to them. Don't ask me to explain how it works; I can't. But we can sense good and evil just like we can sense cold and heat. As a result, we're quick to make friends and don't waste any time making enemies.

But let me go back to the beginning and explain how we were trapped in the first place. And let me make it clear that it was all Havoc's fault.

It all started on a rare sunny day in thirteenth century England. Due to unfortunate circumstances beyond our control, we were trying to avoid a particularly nasty gang of harpies.

Harpies are as ugly as sin, which is probably being unkind to sin. What could I possibly say about harpies that wouldn't make you hate them the way I do? Okay. They make adequate mothers, tending their young until they fly at the age of five. But it's a wonder they ever have any young, when you take their looks into consideration.

Anyhow, it was late afternoon and they'd run us to ground in front of the old Roman wall. I wanted to take our chances and fight. So did Dare and most of the pack. But Havoc convinced us to make the change—to take on our stone forms—arguing that the harpies couldn't harm us as long as we were solid stone. So with the monsters right on our heels, we ducked inside a small deserted croft so no humans would witness our transformation. And as the afternoon sunlight slanted through the hut's small windows, we used its energy to make the change.

Havoc thought it would be funny as hell to see the harpies' faces when they realized they couldn't have us and couldn't hurt us. He's always had a warped sense of humor.

Unfortunately, harpies have a sense of humor as well.

And when they found us in our stone forms, they thought it would be equally hilarious to imprison us far from the sun's rays. So using large blocks of gray rock, they walled us in while chuckling the whole time, as if it was the best time they'd ever had in their lives. Then the wicked creatures left us there to rot. At least I think that's the term they used. 'Course we weren't going to rot or even erode. Instead we were going to wait for as long as it took the sun to find us again.

We realized we were probably going to be trapped in our stone forms until the walls crumbled down around us but, as I mentioned, gargoyles are patient. We knew one day those walls _would_ crumble. And when the sunlight finally speared through a weathered crack and fell on us, we'd come to life ready to start up where we'd left off. The waiting would suck but, on the upside, we figured there was a good chance the harpy race would die out while we were waiting...and we'd be free to live out our lives in peace.

Needless to say, the croft changed hands many times as the centuries passed. And although we couldn't see anything while we were trapped between the walls, it was clear the original hut experienced many additions and renovations.

While that was going on, the printing press was invented and started churning out books and newspapers. Reading aloud became a relatively common pastime and helped to keep us informed. Eventually, the radio came along, which hugely expanded our knowledge of the world as well as sports. And it didn't seem too long after that that the television moved in to our house, although I think we all preferred the radio. The radio just seemed more articulate.

But by the time the twenty-first century rolled around, we rarely heard mention of harpies anymore, or gargoyles for that matter. We'd occasionally hear vague references to them on the television but they no longer seemed to be a part of everyday life. Instead, they seemed to have been assigned to some hazy past that smacked of myth and legend.

Then the quiet man came. He was probably only quiet because he was alone and had no one to talk to. But it was clear he was doing something to our house. We could hear him stripping away parts of the building. The creaks and cracks echoed through the walls and we assumed the house was going through another renovation.

Fortunately, he left the television on whenever he was home and he was home most of the time, so we were glad to have him. And eventually, he worked his way to the back of the house where he did something none of the previous residents had ever done. He tapped on the stone wall that stood between us and the sun's light.

### MacKenzie

Chapter One

Five days before Halloween, I sat on the hood of my green Jeep Cherokee inside the garage. The doors were open and I looked out on the pine forest that surrounded my home in the foothills outside Denver. The morning was sunny and mild but that wasn't too unusual for October.

We had the day off school and I'd gotten my driver's license exactly one week earlier so I'd made plans to hang out with my friends, Whitney and Mim. That was before the step-Greg called and told me about an important shipment he'd sent to the house. He wanted to be sure there was someone home when the delivery was made. Since my mom had just left for California, it meant I had to hang around.

I didn't like Greg despite his charm and charisma, which he laid on thick for my mother but spread a little more thinly for me. And I didn't approve of his questionable business practices. There were rules and regulations set in place for the removal of antiquities from the UK and Greg didn't appear to follow any of them. My mother didn't seem to realize what was going on; she was too busy with her job.

Anyhow, I was supposed to call him as soon as his shipment arrived, regardless of the hour. I glanced at my watch. Ten a.m. in Colorado made it five p.m. in England. I couldn't help but wish I were in England. If I were, I'd have taken a train to Oxford to see my cousins.

Hooligan had followed me out of the house but wasted no time galloping off into the woods to harass the local rabbit population. Hooligan's my Irish wolfhound. Not that he looks like a wolf; he's not nearly that good looking. Picture a greyhound on steroids having a bad hair day and you'll have a good idea of what Hooli looks like.

Wolfhounds aren't the most handsome breed of dog, just the biggest. They're huge. They're tall and lanky and supposedly can bring down a deer when they want to. Thankfully, Hooligan likes his dinner in a bowl so the deer that visit our three acres come and go in peace.

My mom got Hooli for me two years ago when he was a puppy. He was supposed to protect me when she was out of town on business. I figured he made an adequate guard dog. He liked Mim and Whitney, was wary of most males and hated the neighbor in particular. That made him a good judge of character in my book.

My phone vibrated inside the pocket of my hoodie and I pulled it out. I answered a text from Mim and spent some time browsing through cheap apps for my phone. After downloading the latest free game, I bought a travel app that tracks the location of your phone and shows its position on a map. When I started the app, it displayed a map of the town I live in. A round, red target symbol flashed at the approximate location of my house.

I figured the program would come in handy for the trip to Portland Mim and I were planning when school got out for the summer. Not that I thought we'd actually be allowed to go, but sometimes you just have to plan for the best.

The sound of a chainsaw snarling to life cut into my thoughts and set my teeth on edge. The neighbor had started cutting trees a few weeks ago. At first, my mom and I assumed he was just thinning the forest around his house. My biology teacher, Mr. Kincaid, figured the forest around Pine Grove could do with some serious thinning. But it soon became obvious that the neighbor planned to remove all the trees on his lot. He'd started at his back door and had taken down every single tree that stood between his house and our property line. Then he moved downhill.

A stiff breeze growled through the branches of the lodgepole pines. The forest sounded angry. Or at least damn irritated. I gritted my teeth. If the next-door tree-slayer had wanted a damn lawn, why hadn't he bought a home in the city?

It wasn't the revving of the chainsaw that bothered me; it was the sound of the wood ripping as the trees fell. Not that I'm a tree hugger or anything. Mr. K. is one of my favorite teachers and if he says two out of three trees around my home need to go, I'm good with that. But clear cutting three acres for no apparent reason just seemed like wholesale murder to me.

Feeling edgy, I left my phone on the Jeep's hood and slid to my feet, pacing through the garage doors just in time to see a blue and white delivery van bouncing up the long, steep driveway toward the house. Automatically, I checked to make sure all of my hair was tucked into my blue slouch cap, just in case the driver happened to be cute. Mim knitted the cap for my birthday and I wear it all the time. It's easier than trying to make my hair behave. My hair is red. Dark red and thick. Thankfully, my eyebrows and lashes are darker and tamer. But trying to get a comb through my hair is like trying plow a field of scrub oak.

But I'd wasted my time worrying about my hair because the driver was disappointingly middle aged. And the shorts he was wearing were a bad fashion choice for a man with his knees. Maybe he thought his designer sunglasses balanced the look he had going. Sadly, the glasses fell a bit short of getting the job done.

The driver strolled around the side of his van and opened the rear doors. "No school today?" he asked, his jaw working around a big wad of pink gum.

"Four day weekend," I answered. "We're off Monday as well."

"Must be nice," he grunted. He used a dolly to move a tall wooden crate inside the empty garage bay where my mother normally parks her car. "I gotta get me a job as a teacher."

"The teachers don't get any time off. Friday and Monday are in-service days."

"Then I gotta get me a job as a student," he chuckled as if he found himself extremely entertaining.

"Where are the others?" I asked, eyeing the van's interior through the open doors.

He stopped chewing his gum long enough to ask, "Others?"

"My stepfather told me to expect three crates."

He checked his electronic clipboard and shrugged. "He must have sent them in separate shipments. Maybe the other two will make it tomorrow."

I lifted my chin in a slight nod and signed the clipboard, hoping Greg didn't expect me to wait at home again tomorrow.

"Name?" the driver asked without looking at my signature.

"MacKenzie," I answered. My handwriting wasn't that bad; he could have taken a look and figured it out.

" _Last_ name," he corrected me.

"Campbell."

"Have a nice day," he rattled off mechanically before he returned to the van and steered it back down to the road.

"Thanks, I muttered. And as the dust settled on the gravel driveway, I stood alone with the wooden packing crate, wondering what national treasure Greg had deprived the British of this time. I even walked around it a few times inside the dark garage, looking for a crack or a loose panel that might give me a glimpse of what was inside. But the crate wasn't giving up any secrets. The step-person had done a good job of sealing the wooden box.

At that point, I should have given up and walked away. Greg had told me to call him when the shipment arrived and nothing more. He hadn't said one word about checking the contents. But even though I knew all that, I headed for the giant red tool chest at the far end of the garage.

Technically, the tool chest belonged to my father but he didn't have room for it in his garage in Denver. So after the divorce, he left it behind with us. The thing was massive and almost as tall as me. I love my dad but he tends to overdo everything. He can't do anything small. It always has to be big. Anyhow, I pulled out several drawers before I found what I wanted—a hefty claw-foot hammer. And with my hand wrapped around the red handle, I returned to the crate, determined to find out what was inside.

The crate was tall and each side was made up of two square wooden panels. So I grabbed a folding step stool from a hook on the garage wall and started working on the top one, inserting the tapered end of the claw foot beneath the slat of wood and prying away. But I might have put too much energy into the job because the entire square of wood suddenly came loose and got away from me. I yelped as it smacked the garage floor.

Teetering on the step stool, I eyed the contents of the crate, relieved that nothing seemed to be broken. And when I regained my balance, I took a closer look at Greg's treasure. It appeared to be some kind of stone sculpture swathed in several layers of bubble wrap.

Bubble wrap! I could have killed the step-person for transporting it so carelessly. And I didn't even know what it was yet! But whatever it was, it was bound to be valuable or Greg wouldn't have...appropriated it. And, considering how anxious he was about its safe delivery, it was probably something quite a bit more valuable than usual. Hopefully it wasn't anything as important as a winged victory or a venus de milo, nothing that would send the International Police breathing down our necks.

Stretching my arms upward, I tugged the plastic bubble wrap apart along a seam, then reached inside to the next layer and pulled that apart as well. As the shape and form of the statue came into focus, I took a swift step backward, forgetting that I was standing on a stool. And for the next few heartbeats, I did a reasonable impression of a windmill, somehow managing to avoid a total wipe out and glad no one was around to see it.

Once I had my feet firmly back beneath me, I lifted my gaze to the crate again, just to make sure I'd seen what I thought I'd seen. A sharp gasp broke from my lips as I stood and stared.

I was looking at a statue of a young male. From beneath the shadow of a sharply jutting brow, two eyes gazed intently out at me. Several strands of hair fell across his left eye and I couldn't help but marvel at the skill required to chisel the impossibly slender strands out of solid rock. Looking closer, I saw that each eyelash was carved with the same incredible precision—out of the smoothest gray stone I'd ever set eyes on.

If my mom had been there, she could have told me what kind of stone had been used to create the amazing sculpture. She's a geological engineer and she knows her rocks. But it would have been hard to grow up in my home without the occasional geology lesson, and the fine-grained stone looked like a flint or chalcedony to me.

At that point, I'd pulled away enough bubble wrap to expose the statue's upper body. His shoulders were wide and stretched with muscle, his arms cut with a lean strength unlike anything I'd ever seen on any of the jocks at school. It didn't look like the sort of physique that had been developed through long hours in the weight room. Instead, it looked like the sort of raw power that was earned from a hard life full of physical demand. His arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a slight scowl on his face, the intensity of his gaze making me feel like he was watching me.

A shiver traveled down my spine but it wasn't because I was creeped out. It was more like a shiver of excitement, like the way you feel when you know something good is about to happen—like a Christmas morning feeling or a first kiss feeling. Not that I'd ever been kissed but you get what I mean. With a soft snort, I shook off the strange sensation and returned my attention to the job at hand.

It was dark inside the windowless garage, even with the lights on, and I wanted a better look at Greg's stolen treasure, so I put my hip against the crate and tried to angle the open side toward the sun. The box was heavy and it didn't budge much but I got it turned a few inches toward the light.

And after I'd worked more of the bubble wrap away from the statue's shoulders, I could see the beginning of wings spreading out behind him. Apparently, the sculpture was some kind of angel, though probably the avenging sort if his expression was anything to go by. But his wings weren't feathered or shaped like the wings normally associated with angels. Instead they were more like the wings of a bat, with flat spans of thin stone stretched between narrow spines.

He was magnificent, though. And not only as a work of art. I'd thought the yearbook editor, Josh Saxon, was good looking. But Josh had nothing on this guy. I'd never seen a more beautiful creature in my life.

With my finger, I traced a vein that tracked the length of his strong forearm, then I reached up to the delicately carved strands of hair that fell across his face. They were so slender and lifelike that I felt compelled to brush them out of his eyes. Of course, they were made of stone just like the rest of him and when I realized they weren't going to budge in my lifetime, I stepped back with my hands on my hips and raked my gaze over the fabulous sculpture. I didn't know how old it was but I'd have given anything to travel back to the time when guys looked like he did.

"They don't make guys like you anymore," I murmured, and lifted my face to meet his stern gaze.

Hooligan must have heard my voice from the other side of the lot because he suddenly reappeared at the garage doors. For some reason, he took an unexpected interest in the sculpture, lifting his front paws to its shoulders and looking it in the eye before giving a soft bark. I was surprised by his reaction because Hooli's usually pretty dignified. He doesn't like to do anything that makes him look silly.

"Out of the way, boy," I told him, ready to start work on the bottom panel so I could see the rest of the statue hidden in the lower half of the crate. But this time I didn't make much headway; the nails seemed determined to hang on. So I headed back to the tool chest for something a little more substantial. I was pretty sure I'd seen a crowbar in one of the drawers before. Naturally, it was in the last drawer I pulled out, which just happened to be the top one.

Unfortunately, as I reached for the heavy bar of metal, the tool chest tilted toward me. Too late, I realized I shouldn't have pulled out all the drawers; the chest had overbalanced. I tried to back peddle out of harm's way but wasn't fast enough. The chest crashed down on me, taking me to the floor. My head hit the concrete so hard I'm surprised I didn't crack my skull. I was probably only saved from permanent brain damage by the thick wad of hair stuffed into my hat.

Have you ever tried to get out from under two tons of red tool chest? In case you're wondering, it can't be done. And after like a dozen attempts to free myself, I started to panic. All ten of the open drawers had slammed into me as I fell and I hurt in too many places to count. My ribs were screaming in agony but my main concern was my right ankle. It felt like the bones were going to snap unless I got out from under the weight of the chest. I needed help but I'd left my phone on the hood of my car.

Hooligan licked my face, his troubled whine telling me that I had his full sympathy, for all the good that would do me. Then he turned and barked at the crate that held the statue.

"Don't bark at the damn statue," I moaned. "Get the phone, Hooligan."

He looked at me and tilted his head inquiringly.

"The phone Hooligan! It's on my car."

He turned and barked at the crate again.

Clearly, Hooligan didn't have much potential as a rescue dog. I lay there panting, trapped against the chilly concrete, trying to come up with a plan. I figured Mim might eventually wonder why I wasn't answering her calls and text messages, but she didn't have a car so she couldn't just run over to check on me. My mother wouldn't be home for ten days, but she'd probably send somebody to the house when she couldn't reach me on the phone later tonight. I just hoped she'd try Whitney or Mim first, before she called the police because the incident would probably be reported in the local newspaper. And everyone at school reads the "police calls" column when they want a good laugh.

The prospect was just too horrifying to even think about.

Although it hurt to breathe, I wasn't going to suffocate before help arrived—but by the time it did, my ankle might be broken. And when the sun went down, the temperatures would drop so hypothermia wasn't out of the question despite the fact that we were having a mild October. Of course, I might be able to count on Hooligan to stay close and keep me warm. On the other hand, if he got hungry he might be forced to eat me.

With another troubled whine, he licked my face and wagged his tail.

Okay, I was overreacting. Hooligan wasn't going to eat me.

Other than the tree-slayer next door, the nearest neighbor was about four acres away and wasn't likely to hear my screams for help. Of course, the tree-slayer would probably hear me if I waited for a pause in the chain sawing, but the thought of having to deal with him made my skin crawl.

Trying for calm, I looked around. The tools had fallen from the chest and were scattered across the concrete floor of the garage, the crowbar just out of reach. It was a fairly long piece of metal. If I could jam it between the floor and the tool chest...

I strained my hand toward the crowbar and tried to get my fingers around it but had no luck. Then I found the claw foot hammer beside my shoulder and tried to use it to drag the crowbar closer. But even with the hammer, I couldn't reach the curved end of the crowbar and all I managed to do was slide the straight end around on the floor.

With a groan, I stopped struggling and tried to decide what to do next. And when the distant snarl of the chainsaw puttered to a stop, I knew it was my best chance to call for help. Still, I hesitated, tears of pain and frustration wetting my eyelashes.

Hooligan lifted his huge head and barked again, then gave up his vigil at my side and loped off toward the front of the garage.

"Where are you going?" I cried, feeling suddenly deserted even though I figured he was probably going to look for help. But I knew he wouldn't go to the neighbor, who he disliked almost as intensely as I did. And I couldn't wait too much longer for my dog to find someone else.

So I lay on the cold concrete with my hand wrapped around the hammer's red handle and prayed for help and hesitated a little longer. But if I was going to get my neighbor's attention, I had to do it before he started his chainsaw again. So eventually, I took a deep breath and got ready to shout. Fortunately for me, rescue came before I had a chance to call out.

"Hang on," growled a young male voice. "I've got you."

A large hand caught the upper edge of the tool chest. Then the chest was back on its wheels, bouncing a little as it traveled a few feet and slammed into the wall. Then strong hands were gripping my waist and lifting me to my feet. But I couldn't see my rescuer's face because my knitted hat had slipped over my eyes as he'd swept me from the floor. Reaching up, I shoved the hat back...and looked up into astonishingly blue eyes filled with concern.

Chapter Two

"Are you hurt?" the stranger demanded. Despite the low note in his voice, he didn't appear to be much older than me, his accent an odd mixture I couldn't quite place. He almost sounded like a German from Scandinavia speaking with a British accent.

His hands slid down the sides of my arms as if he was checking for broken bones. Hooligan stood at his side watching him, his tail wagging in silent approval, his canine expression almost adoring. Which was bizarre, because Hooligan didn't normally take to guys right away.

A bright, electric blue tattoo stretched up the side of his neck, the design a combination of curved and straight lines—a symbol of some sort, almost like a letter from some ancient alphabet. His wide jaw tapered down to my favorite kind of square chin, his flawless mouth set in a serious expression, his nose a perfect straight line. His thick black hair fell almost to his shoulders and his eyes were intensely blue in his darkly tanned face. They seemed to smolder with emotion as his gaze burned down at me.

My head hurt. My ribs ached. My arms and legs were bruised and sore and my ankle could barely take my weight. But more significantly, the best looking guy in the entire rocky mountain region had miraculously turned up to answer my prayers. "Who _are_ you?" I breathed. "And where did you come from?"

My rescuer took a step backward and I got a better look at him.

A black leather vest wrapped his upper body, ending at his waist in front and dipping a little lower in the back. Ridged spines crossed the front of his vest while, on the back, the ridges formed a pattern that swirled from between his shoulder blades and flared downward.

On his legs he wore a pair of long, loose shorts made of what looked like heavy wool. Yes, wool. Some of the guys at school still wore long shorts but I'd never seen a pair made of wool. A broad strap of leather held his shorts around his hips and from this rough belt hung two cords. A small pouch dangled from one cord while a sheathed knife hung from the other. But this costume wasn't the most unusual thing about his appearance. What was really bizarre were his bare feet. We were having a mild October but it wasn't that warm!

"My name's Valor," he answered. His hair fell over his face as he cut a glance toward the open garage doors. When he lifted a hand to move the dark strands away from his eyes, I noticed that the four knuckles on the back of his hand were exceptionally thick and square. "I'm...from England."

My gaze fixed first on his feet then on his unusual shorts. "Are you staying with someone around here?"

"Yes," he answered tentatively. His eyes followed my gaze to his legs and feet. "And they're having a costume party to celebrate..."

"Halloween?" I suggested. It was the Friday before Halloween so there were sure to be some weekend parties, though I hadn't heard of any. But I was only a sophomore so it's not like I'd have been invited to any of the junior or senior parties.

"That's right," he confirmed, watching me closely. He was probably afraid I'd think he'd escaped from an insane asylum in that getup.

"And...what are you supposed to be, exactly?"

"A Celtic warrior?" he suggested as he lifted his hands away from his sides.

I tilted my head and gave him an appraising once over. "Don't you need a sword to be a warrior?"

"A sword would be nice," he agreed. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Unfortunately, steel is expensive and I had to settle for a knife. But I do have a fine yew bow to complete my...ensemble."

I started to laugh. It just bubbled out. It wasn't anything he'd said. I was just so relieved that I'd been rescued without involving the local emergency services...or the next-door neighbor.

"But you're hurt," he insisted, a troubled frown marring his perfect features as he looked around the garage. "May I take you somewhere to sit down?"

I stared at him, amazed by his perfect manners, not to mention his perfect grammar. I was gobsmacked, as my British cousins would say. With my free hand, I tugged at my knitted hat and made sure my hair was covered. At that point, I was wishing I'd worn my new chinos and my favorite blue top instead of the baggy jeans and loose brown turtleneck I'd pulled on that morning. But how was I to know I'd run into a hot guy in my garage when I'd dressed?

"Just let me get my cell phone," I told him and turned toward the front of the garage. But before I could take a wobbly step toward the Jeep, Hooligan cantered off, retrieved my phone and delivered it—covered in a thin coat of wolfhound slobber.

"Oh, Hooli," I muttered. I breathed a sigh of annoyance as I wiped the flat glass surface on my jeans. "You need to work on your timing, boy."

With a low laugh, Valor reached out to ruffle the fur on Hooligan's head. As he grinned, I couldn't help notice that there was something about his mouth that was...different. Something slightly savage. It almost looked as if he had more than his fair share of teeth. It wasn't unattractive. In fact, it was quite stunning in a wild and untamed sort of way, like something out of a graphic novel with a good looking mutant hero.

With my phone back in the pocket of my hoodie, I smiled at Valor and nodded toward the doorway at the far end of the garage. He took my elbow and steered me into the house, which was just as well since my ankle wasn't exactly one hundred percent. I have to admit I was pretty charmed by the caring gesture. I took my time limping to the house, enjoying the warmth of his touch, which seemed to spread from my elbow throughout my entire body.

The landline was ringing as we stepped into the mudroom and I hobbled into the kitchen to answer it. It was Greg, calling from England and asking about his shipment. When I told him only one crate had arrived, he seemed anxious about the other two until he tracked the packages online and assured himself they'd arrive tomorrow.

Without incriminating myself, I mentioned that the wooden crate was a little dinged up. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. It was obvious the box had been opened and Greg would know it whenever he came back home to claim his stolen goods. Keeping that in mind, I asked, "Should I open the crate and check inside?"

"No," he barked. Then, as if realizing how abrupt he sounded, he said more calmly, "I'll have your mother check the crates when she gets home."

"Okay," I answered. I figured I could make that work—as long as there was an explanation for why the box had been opened by the time Greg returned to Colorado.

"In the meantime, don't mention any of this to anyone."

"Any of what?" I asked just to rile him. As far as Greg knew, I had no idea what was inside the crate.

"Just...don't talk to anyone," he insisted.

"Okay," I repeated. I glanced around the kitchen and into the dining room, assuring myself that the place was reasonably neat and wishing we had nicer furniture. We don't have anything fancy. My mother isn't much of a decorator. Her job is relatively demanding and she doesn't have much time for that sort of thing. But she likes tapestry, green upholstery, dark brown leather and pine so it all kinda works in a woodsy sort of way that suits a home in the mountains.

I shifted my gaze to Valor who had settled on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. He was watching me intently, as if he was trying to memorize my every move. I tugged at my hat self-consciously, and tried to smile again. I couldn't help but feel flustered by the way his gaze followed me. It was strange for someone that attractive to pay any attention to me at all. Not that I'm bad looking. I'm perfectly presentable, really. But I think my hair puts a lot of guys off.

"That was my stepfather," I told him after I hung up the phone.

"You don't like him very much," he stated in a quiet voice.

"Um," I hedged brilliantly. Valor was pretty perceptive and I wasn't expecting that from a guy. I didn't know what to say. I hate to lie. On the other hand, I don't like to say mean things about people. I've been on the other end of that stick often enough so I try not to go there. I rubbed my bruised elbow and made a face, wondering how to explain my lack of enthusiasm for my stepfather.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. His gaze followed my hand on my elbow. "That...box was heavy."

That box _was_ heavy, yet he'd lifted it with one hand and thrown it half way across the garage to rescue me. I winced at the memory, thinking I must have looked like an idiot, crushed like a bug beneath the tool chest. Valor must have realized that pulling out all the drawers was _not_ a smart move on my part.

"I was looking for a tool when the chest fell on me," I explained haltingly. "I needed the crowbar to open the crate in the garage."

He hesitated before commenting. When he finally spoke, he seemed to choose his words carefully. He didn't mention the tool chest; instead he asked about the crate. "The crate that your stepfather asked about?"

"That's right," I answered, more than happy to change the subject and not too worried about the promise I'd made to Greg. After all, Valor had overheard my conversation with the step-person. So, technically it was too late to include him in my vow of silence.

"And he's the one who shipped the crates here, to...America?"

"Yes."

"And there are...more crates on the way, then?" he asked. His tone seemed deliberately casual.

I stopped rubbing my elbow and frowned. It seemed like a strange question. But not as strange as the next one.

"Are you...married?" he asked. He tilted his head and locked his steady gaze on mine in a way that made my pulse skitter like spilled M&M's.

"No!" I insisted on a soft burst of laughter. "Exactly how old do you think I am?"

"Any boyfriends?" he continued without answering my question. One of his dark eyebrows teased upward.

"Not recently," I muttered evasively. My last boyfriend had been Kyle Bailey in the sixth grade. But Valor didn't need to know that.

A satisfied smile crept into his mouth and glinted in his eyes.

"Whereabouts in England are you from?" I asked, flustered by his questions about my love life. "My mother's entire family is from the UK and I've been there several times."

"York," he replied. He scratched Hooli's head after he padded into the room and thrust his huge skull beneath Valor's hand.

"Really? That's where the step-person is right now. It's a beautiful city."

"It's nice here too," he said without removing his gaze from my face.

Under the intensity of his look, I felt my cheeks flush with color. I figured he was just flirting—outrageously—but still...

I cleared my throat self-consciously and said, "Hooligan doesn't usually take to strangers right away. I'm surprised he's made friends with you so quickly."

"He's just a good judge of character," Valor murmured, rubbing Hooligan's ears through his fingers. "Aren't you, old boy?"

"Thanks for rescuing me," I continued. I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. "My mother's out of town and I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't..."

"You're welcome," he said, like it was no big deal.

"How long are you here for?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. I probably looked disappointed with his response because he added, "Quite a while, most like."

So I offered him lunch and he insisted on helping though you'd have thought he'd never seen the inside of a fridge before. He couldn't find the mayonnaise or the lettuce or even the cheese, but I wasn't about to complain when I had a majorly hot guy in my kitchen who was obviously trying to make sure I didn't use my ankle any more than I had to.

We carried our sandwiches into the living room and watched some BBC America while we ate. He seemed both familiar with the programming and absolutely captivated by it. I offered to loan him my phone if he needed to call his friends and tell them where he was but he said nobody would miss him before nightfall.

I could have listened to his rough, lilting voice all day. His accent was way cool, although he didn't sound like any of my cousins in England. Unfortunately, he didn't talk much. It almost seemed like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. And when he did talk, the words he used were an odd combination of modern terms mixed with old words that I'd only ever seen printed in books.

Valor finished his ham and cheese sandwich and acted as if he'd never had a better meal, which I found very gratifying though I suspected he was exaggerating just to be nice.

"You're welcome," I told him as I collected our plates and headed toward the kitchen. Half way across the living room, a sharp pain shot up my leg and my ankle suddenly gave out. A soft cry escaped my lips as I stumbled and shifted my weight to my other foot.

"You're hurt," Valor immediately insisted, his voice tight with concern. He vaulted over the back of the couch and strode toward me, catching up to me as I limped into the kitchen and lowered the dishes into the sink.

Before I could tell him I was okay, he picked me up and carried me back to the living room. It was a short trip but it took me by surprise. If I'd twisted my ankle at school, one of the guys might have gotten out his phone and called for help. If the situation was dire, he might have even let me lean on his arm on the way to the nurse's office. But nobody would have picked me up—into his arms. I couldn't believe how strong he was. Not that I'm heavy or anything but he carried me as if I was a sack of feathers. And I am _not_ a sack of feathers.

In the living room, he carefully lowered me back down onto the couch then knelt in front of me and checked my ankle, his fingers gently exploring the joint. "It's swollen," he murmured. "You mustn't walk on it any more today."

"But I need to clean up the mess I made in the garage," I protested. "The tools are all over the floor and I left that crate open. I should close it up."

"You're not moving," he informed me in a firm tone. His commanding blue gaze searched my face. "After I get you settled, I'll clean up the...garage and take care of the crate before I leave."

I had to promise not to move before he would go outside to take care of the garage. And he brought me a pillow as well as the tartan quilt from my bed upstairs before he left. Then he was gone longer than I expected but checked back with me before he took off for the afternoon.

I moved my legs toward the back of the couch so he could sit with me.

"How's your ankle?" he asked. His expression was serious as he looked down at my face.

"It was a close thing. But I think we can rule out amputation for now."

"That's good," he said with a soft, low chuckle. "You don't think you need to see a...healer?"

"You mean a doctor?" I asked, surprised by his choice of words.

"Yes, a doctor," he confirmed quickly. "That's what I meant."

"No," I assured him. "I'm good. I don't think my foot's gonna fall off or anything drastic like that."

He dragged his hand back through his hair, the black locks snagging on his thick fingers. "Would it be alright if I came by tomorrow?"

I tried to act casual though I was smiling all over inside. "What time?"

"Morning."

"I'm not doing much tomorrow morning, if you want to stop by."

"Right, then." He got to his feet and stood beside the couch for a while like he didn't really want to leave. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. "Promise me you'll stay off your feet," he insisted sternly.

"I promise," I answered solemnly. "Cross my heart."

His lips parted in a slight grin and his teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. "Good bye, MacKenzie."

I liked the sound of my name on his lips. "Good bye, Valor."

I waited until I heard the front door close then limped over to bolt the lock. Wrapped in a warm glow, I returned to the couch. After checking my phone, I answered some text messages then called my mother in California to check in for the evening. It wasn't until I was in my pajamas and brushing my teeth later that night that I realized I hadn't introduced myself to Valor.

So how did he know my name was MacKenzie?

Chapter Three

Before I fell asleep, I decided Valor must be staying with a family who knew me. The houses are spaced pretty far apart where I live so we don't know too many of our neighbors but there were at least five kids I knew in the surrounding area; they were on my bus route. In fact, Josh Saxon lived right around the corner...about a quarter-mile away. In addition, I babysat for two families nearby.

I figured someone must have mentioned my name to Valor, though I couldn't imagine why. But if he'd gone for a walk in the open space park that borders our property on one side, somebody might have warned him he might run into Hooligan when he reached the cliffs at the west end of the trail. And they might have mentioned my name in connection with my impressively large dog.

My ankle felt a lot better in the morning and I could walk with only a slight limp. The rest of me was a mass of purple bruises but I could cover them easily enough with pants and long sleeves. I put a little more care into dressing than I had the day before and wore my new bone chinos with my pale blue pullover.

I spent quite a bit of time in front of the bathroom mirror. I fought with my hair for a while, tied it back, pinned it up then gave up and pulled on my knitted hat. Too nervous to eat, I skipped breakfast and rushed my eye makeup then headed out to the garage with Hooligan, who loped away into the woods as soon as I opened the garage doors.

"Don't kill anything," I yelled at Hooli, not that I believed he would. Even though he looked lanky, Hooligan was a well-fed dog. He wasn't any more likely to kill a rabbit than a deer and, although the breed can be protective of their owners they're exceptionally gentle around children. It's almost as if they know how big and strong they are.

The day was cool but pleasant. The sun hung low in the sky and streamed through the trees into the garage as I turned toward the wooden crate. I wanted another look at the stone sculpture before Valor got there. When I'd first seen it yesterday, I thought I was looking at the most beautiful guy I'd ever seen. But today I was certain the statue couldn't be as handsome as Valor. I just needed to get another look to prove my theory.

The top panel came off the crate easily this time, the nails loose in the holes. Humming the last tune I'd listened to that morning, I propped the flat square of wood against the garage wall and turned back to the tall packing box.

But the box was empty. The statue was missing.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I reached inside the crate and felt through the bubble wrap, which only confirmed the bad news.

It wasn't there.

My pulse thundered in my ears with a dull, roaring sound and I pressed a hand against my stomach, feeling sick. Although it was the last thing on earth I wanted to believe, I couldn't help but suspect Valor.

I should have known his apparent interest in me was too good to be true.

Panic stricken, I reviewed the signs I'd overlooked yesterday. Valor had shown up right after the crate was delivered. He'd only asked me if I had a boyfriend to make sure that no guy was going to show up and interfere with his plans to steal the statue. Then he'd offered to clean the garage and close up the crate for me while insisting I stay inside. He must have used the opportunity to move the statue out of the garage. After he left for the afternoon, it would have been easy to drag the sculpture downhill to the road and load it up on a truck.

It looked like he didn't care about me _or_ my ankle. It was the statue he wanted! I felt like an idiot for being taken in by him. Greg had tried to tell me the contents of the crate were valuable but I hadn't listened. Now the fabulous sculpture was missing.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

Because when Valor had followed me into the house yesterday, he'd overheard my conversation with Greg and he knew another shipment was scheduled for delivery today. When the other two sculptures arrived, he'd probably want them too. To top it all off, I'd brainlessly volunteered the information that my mother was out of town. He knew I was alone.

I needed to call the police. Actually, I needed to get inside the house first, then call the police. But before I had a chance to do either of those things, I heard Valor's voice behind me.

"How's your ankle this morning?"

I almost jumped out of my chinos.

I spun to face Valor then backed away from him. Strangely, he wore the exact same costume as the day before, bare feet and all. He stood with one shoulder propped against the side of the open garage door. And my Irish wolfhound was right beside him, wagging his tail cheerfully. It looked as if Hooligan had run into Valor on the driveway and it was clear my dog thought he'd brought me a great prize.

Tears of betrayal stung my eyes when I thought how easily we'd both been fooled. "Exactly who are you?" I demanded. "And what have you done with the statue that was in this crate?"

"Statue?" he hedged while Hooligan sat down and gave me an uncertain look.

"Don't try to act innocent, Valor—assuming that's really your name. I want to know what you've done with the damn statue!"

He looked at the crate and sighed as he returned his gaze to me. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice the box was empty until the others got here."

The others? I didn't know if he was talking about the other crates or if he meant he had a bunch of accomplices lined up to help him steal the rest of the statues. I hoped he was talking about the crates because the alternative was just too scary to handle. "The other statues? You plan to steal them too? How did you even know about the shipment in the first place?"

He smiled as if he wasn't a lying thief, as though everything was going to be fine when I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I wasn't just angry. I was hurt and humiliated and just plain devastated. He wasn't a nice person at all. He probably thought I was a pathetic joke, because I had fallen for his flirting and his pretending to care about my ankle.

"It's hard to explain, MacKenzie."

"And how do you know my name?" I yelled. I'm not normally much of a crier but I was so upset I had to press my lips together to stop my chin from trembling. I didn't want to appear helpless or weak—or hurt—in front of him.

"Actually, that might help me with my explanation," he mused without removing his gaze from my face.

So far he wasn't explaining anything and I was starting to feel like I should be more worried. But even though I was angry and upset, I wasn't afraid he would harm me—which was probably a mistake. I figured a smart person would have been scared witless, especially since my guard dog had apparently changed sides.

I glared at Hooligan. Why was my big, huge dog that was supposed to protect me, still sitting at Valor's side like they were best friends? I took another step backward toward the door that led to the house and called, "Come, Hooligan."

Hooligan looked at me then up at Valor.

Valor straightened. His expression was resigned as he said, "Go to MacKenzie, Hooligan."

Obediently, Hooligan stood and padded toward me.

Great! My guard dog was taking orders from the bad guy. "I'm calling the police," I threatened, locking my fingers in Hooli's collar as soon as he reached my side.

"That won't be necessary, MacKenzie. I can explain everything."

I desperately wanted there to be an explanation. His tone was so calm and his expression so sincere that I was tempted to listen to him. But I figured he was just pulling the same crap he'd pulled yesterday. And I was determined I wouldn't be fooled again.

"But first, why don't you tell me about this missing statue," he suggested.

"What do you mean?" I snapped.

"Describe the statue to me, lass."

Lass? Who used that word anymore, other than senior citizens in Scotland and Ireland? I decided he was just trying to keep me off balance. I tucked Hooligan behind me so he couldn't desert to the other side and I planted my fists on my hips. "You must have seen the statue last night when you closed the crate."

"Aye, I saw it. It was a...male."

"Yes, it was a male," I spat. "He was tall with shoulder-length hair."

"Like mine?" he asked evenly.

I stared at his hair for a split second but refused to be distracted. "And his arms were crossed over his chest."

"Like this?" he queried, and folded his arms in front of him.

"Yes," I answered angrily. As if he didn't know! "And he was made of gray stone."

Valor nodded solemnly.

"And he had wings!"

Valor uncrossed his arms and took a step backward, into the sun. As his hands dropped to his sides, the leather vest that wrapped the front of his body lifted away from his chest. The two sides of the vest rose above each of his shoulders and tilted gracefully backward. And with a snap of sound like the wind filling a boat's sails, the black leather expanded into two huge wings.

My knees went jelloid as I leaned sideways and gripped the heavy workbench that stood against the garage wall. "But he was made of stone," I claimed in a faint voice.

"Like this?" he asked, just before he changed. The warm coloring of his skin, the intense blue of his eyes and his ink-black hair all shifted to pale gray.

"This isn't possible," I whispered as I stared at the scowling statue of Valor.

The color returned to his skin in a warm rush as he changed back to living flesh and blood. He sent a wry smile in my direction. "I heard you give your name to man who brought me here. That's how I knew your name was MacKenzie."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. I wasn't sure I wasn't dreaming! And I was so stunned I didn't have enough sense to be afraid. But more than anything, I was so relieved Valor wasn't a lying thief or a bad guy. "What on earth are you?" I croaked when I found my voice again.

"Have you never seen a gargoyle before?" he asked as his lips curved into a sharp smile.

Yeah, I'd seen gargoyles before, and not only in pictures. I'd seen them carved into stone buildings in England when I'd visited my cousins over there. There were a _ton_ of them in Oxford. "But gargoyles are ugly," I insisted as I grasped at any argument that might dispute his claim.

"You think I'm ugly?" he asked, one of his dark eyebrows tilting upward.

"No, I don't," I answered as I searched his features for any hint of imperfection. "That's the problem. I've seen gargoyles before and they're ugly."

"You've seen gargoyles?" he asked as his eyes narrowed in interest. "I assumed they had all died out. Are there any who live around here?"

"Live?" I was having a hard time keeping up. "Died out?"

"In my time there were several thousand gargoyles living on the island you call Great Britain."

At that point, I was so rocked by everything I'd seen and heard that I couldn't grab onto a complete thought. "Your time? You have a _time_?" I lifted my hands behind my head and leaned back to look at the rafters in the garage. I took a deep, steadying breath. "Okay," I said, without looking at him. "When _was_ your time, exactly?"

"I'm not sure of the year by your calendar," he answered. "But I'm fairly certain it was at least eight hundred years ago."

Chapter Four

Eight hundred years! That would have made it the thirteenth century! And if Valor was telling the truth, it meant he'd been knocking around with Vikings and knights and feudal lords who lived in castles...with moats! It meant that he'd been around during the crusades. That was hard to believe...though not much harder than the fact that he was a gargoyle. On the other hand, it helped to explain the messed up mixture of words he used.

I'd like to think I hid my internal freaking-out from Valor and he didn't notice how rattled I was by his claims. "I've never seen a live gargoyle," I said, taking another deep breath and going for calm nonchalance. "At least not until today. Just stone carvings. But they were definitely all ugly." I knew I was rambling but hoped I sounded reasonably sane.

"Ah," he said. His mouth turned downward in disgust. "Harpies."

"H-Harpies?" I echoed. As if gargoyles weren't enough, now I had to deal with the possibility that another mythical beast was entirely real. I shook my head in bewilderment.

"What you saw were harpies. They're related to gargoyles. Aye, they're ugly."

"Related to gargoyles?" I repeated inanely, my brain still trying to catch up to my mouth.

A dark slash of color burned across the high arc of his cheekbones. "Closely related," he admitted though he didn't seem too happy about it.

"And they're stone creatures that can come to life, like you?"

He grimaced. "Unfortunately, yes."

It sounded as if he didn't like harpies very much. I guess that shouldn't have surprised me since I'd never heard anything good about them in any of the old myths I'd read. On the other hand, I didn't think gargoyles were considered to be the embodiment of pure goodness, either.

"I'm thinking my clothing isn't exactly up to date," he said, changing the subject. He held his hands out from his sides and gave his wool shorts a critical look. "Do you happen to have anything I could wear?"

Relieved to be discussing something halfway normal, I crooked a finger at him. He followed me into the house and upstairs while Hooligan checked out his food bowl in the mudroom. "This is my brother's bedroom," I explained as I opened a door on the upper level. "He's at school. College." When Valor didn't appear to understand, I added, "University."

He nodded as if he knew what university meant.

I opened a drawer, pulled out several pairs of faded jeans and tossed them on the bed. "Those look like they should fit," I offered then added some T-shirts to the pile before leaving the room. "I'll go downstairs and keep my eye out for the delivery van. Come on down when you're ready."

Down in the living room, I stood at the window and watched the driveway while I waited for Valor to change. I had so many questions for the gargoyle I didn't know where to start. Was he immortal? Could he fly? Did he have any other...super powers besides his ability to change to stone? Was I dreaming or just going mad? And if I was dreaming, would a pinch wake me up or would a kiss be better?

Personally, I was leaning toward the kiss.

Seriously, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd suffered some kind of brain damage when the tool chest had fallen on me. But everything else in the world seemed normal. It was just Valor that was...extraordinary. I also wondered about the way he'd acted yesterday and if he'd only been friendly because he wanted to learn more about the crates, which I assumed held more gargoyles. It seemed too much to hope for that he would actually like me or anything like that.

I heard him on the stairs and turned to watch him come down the steps, his gait loose and confident like some of the best athletes at school. He'd pulled a V-neck T-shirt over his closed wings and a small triangle of smooth, glossy leather showed in the deep plunge of the soft black cotton.

I'd expected him to wear the shirt underneath his vest then realized that would be impossible unless he cut slits in the back for his wings to fit through. The T-shirt looked good on him, though. The close-fitting gray jeans did nothing to hurt his looks, either. His muscles flexed beneath the burnished skin on his arms as he reached up with his hand to move his hair out of his eyes.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans, pulling the waistband forward an inch. "My belt wouldn't fit through the loops," he told me as a frown formed between his eyebrows. "So, I have no way to carry my knife."

"I can probably find you something in my brother's room," I offered. "Will white be okay until we can go shopping?"

"I'm not particular," he assured me. "I just need a way to carry my blade."

The thought of his long knife hanging from an old emo belt made me grin as we strolled back through the garage and out into the sunshine. Hooligan followed us and made himself comfortable, sprawled in the middle of the driveway. "So, what does it mean to be a gargoyle?" I asked as if I met mythical creatures every day and I wasn't freaked out in the least. "And how did you end up in that crate?"

He told me that he and his pack had been trying to outrun a gang of harpies. According to Valor, harpies are way larger than gargoyles, despite the fact that they're female. As night approached, the gargoyles found themselves near the Roman walls at York. They decided to turn to stone so the harpies couldn't harm them. They'd hoped the harpies would eventually give up on waiting for the gargoyles to change back. But instead of giving up, the harpies built a wall around them.

Gargoyles can change to stone and return to their living form at will, as long as direct sunlight can reach them. They need the extra boost the sun's energy gives them to make the change. The wall blocked the sun's light and they waited for eight hundred years, trapped between the walls, until Greg found them and crated them up.

"So, you're immortal, then?"

"No!" he replied. His eyes registered surprise. "What gave you that idea?"

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip and lowered my gaze to the ground then returned it to his face. "Um. You're at least eight hundred years old and you don't look a day over eighteen."

He explained that gargoyles don't age when they're in their stone forms. But when they make the change back to their living forms, they age at the same rate as humans. "My brother, Dare, was actually born three years before me," he told me. "But he's spent so much time in his stone form that we're about the same age now."

"Was your brother trapped between the walls with you?"

He lifted his chin in a brief nod. "Dare was trapped with me, along with the rest of my pack—my other brother, Havoc, and six of my cousins."

"You can't...communicate with each other while you're in your stone forms, can you?"

He shook his head in answer as he looked down the long length of the driveway. "Nay. I haven't spoken to my family in eight hundred years and don't know where they are now. But my brothers were standing closest to me between the walls so I'm hoping they're in the two crates that are supposed to arrive today."

"Why were you waiting for your family to get here before telling me you were a gargoyle?"

"I'm sorry for trying to mislead you," he answered with a guarded expression. "But I was hoping I could pass myself off as a human until the rest of the crates made it here. Then we would have all left together, before you knew anything about us."

"Oh!" I said softly. My eyes widened in realization and my heart pounded dully. He hadn't meant to hang around any longer than necessary. But I should have realized that. I could see how the gargoyles might want to keep their existence a secret, especially in their time. Maybe in my time too.

"How did I do?" he asked. "Did I make a convincing human?"

"Well, you fooled me," I pointed out soberly. "Although some of your word choices were a bit...unusual."

"I was afraid of that," he admitted. "I tried to pick my words carefully."

I nodded. That explained his reluctance to talk yesterday.

"Language has changed so much during the last eight hundred years. I was worried I'd use some old word that would give me away, like carriage house instead of garage. And I watched you pretty closely to see how things worked, like your phone and the television and even the refrigerator."

More disappointing news. I'd thought maybe he was watching me because he was interested in me. "Do you think the other gargoyles will be upset that I know about you and your pack?"

"They'll just have to deal with it," he said quietly. He returned his gaze to my face and probably saw the concern in my expression. "Don't worry. They won't harm you."

"Maybe they could just wipe out my memory," I suggested, trying for a light tone. "That would be a lot cleaner than killing me."

Valor just gazed at me thoughtfully. To be honest, I would have felt a lot better if he'd laughed or at least chuckled at my comment.

"So, can you fly?" I asked after clearing my throat. "Or are those wings just for show?"

"We can fly," he replied. A smile lingered on his perfect lips as he glanced up at the sky with an expression of warm longing.

"You don't have x-ray vision or any other super powers, do you?"

"No x-ray vision," he answered as his blue eyes glinted with humor. "If I understand what x-ray means and if you're worried about me being able to see through your clothing."

I rolled my eyes like that was a ridiculous suggestion. "No super powers at all? Because you seemed awfully...strong when you tossed that tool chest across the garage."

He lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. "I might have used a little more energy than I needed to, but I was in a hurry to get the box off you."

I sent him a challenging look. None of the guys at school could have thrown the tool chest across the garage.

"In my time, I was never any stronger than the village blacksmith," he insisted modestly.

Maybe. But it sounded like he was at least stronger than an average human his age. And that blacksmith back in his time must have been a freakin' ox. "What was it like...back then?"

He widened his stance and considered the house with its attached garage. "The homes were smaller and not as clean. Your house would be considered a palace in my time."

"Anything else?" I asked, just to hear him talk. I loved the low, rough tone of his accent.

"I haven't been here long," he pointed out. "You might have to give me some time to get back to you on that question."

Fair enough, I thought. Though it didn't sound like he was going to be around long enough for that to happen. "Did my stepfather know about you...being alive?

Valor shook his head. "When he pulled us from behind the wall, there were no windows in the room so no sunlight touched us—just electric light—and we couldn't change. After that, we went straight into the wooden boxes."

"Wait a minute," I exclaimed, as something suddenly occurred to me. "Does that mean you could actually see, even though you were solid stone?"

"We can see when we're in our stone forms as long as we have our eyes open when we make the change."

Ugh. That meant he had seen me stroke his arm...and his hair, yesterday morning after I opened the crate. Not to mention my impersonation of a windmill. I felt a warm rush of heat crawl up my neck and curl behind my ears. "Can you _feel_ anything when you're in your stone form?" I asked, even more mortified by this possibility and hoping he wouldn't notice the blush on my face. If he did, he'd probably guess what I was thinking.

"Not a thing," he claimed as he dipped his head and hid his smile. But his amusement shone in his eyes and it was clear that he knew exactly what was worrying me. I just hoped he didn't think I was a total loser.

"And you can hear when you're a statue," I stated, steering the conversation back to a safer topic. I knew he'd heard me give my name to the driver of the delivery van.

"Aye. I heard the crash when that box fell on you and I heard your struggles. I knew you were in trouble and wanted to help but I couldn't make the change."

"You had to wait until the sun shone on you before you could wake up?"

"Aye," he answered slowly. He stared off into the middle distance as if he was wrestling with a complicated puzzle. "I only needed a single ray to touch any part of my body. But I could see that the sun was never going to reach me. I was stuck in the building's shade."

I nodded. The crate was too far inside the garage for direct sunlight to reach it. "How did you make the change, then?"

A ridge formed between his ink-dark eyebrows and he searched my face for a moment before he looked out beyond the driveway and into the forest. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

### Chapter Five

"Has anything like that ever happened before?" I asked the gargoyle.

"No." Valor's gaze settled on the top of my head as if he was looking for an explanation beneath my hat. His dark eyebrows pulled together like he wasn't happy with what he saw. "Is it common for girls to cover their heads nowadays?"

"No, my hair just...doesn't behave." I pulled off my hat and my hair poured over my shoulders in a tangled mass of red. "See what I mean?"

His eyes widened in a startled look of shock as he swiftly averted his gaze. I watched his mouth form a grim line while his expression turned aloof and distant, as if he'd lost all interest in talking to me.

I couldn't understand the reason for his sudden change in attitude. The way he'd shifted gears had me reeling. Earlier, he'd seemed friendly, if reserved. Now he was acting like he didn't want to know me. And it appeared to be because of my hair—as if he had something against redheads. I know a lot of people don't consider red hair attractive but surely he couldn't hate redheads _that_ much.

An unfamiliar sense of loss settled in my chest like a dull ache as I captured my hair inside my hat again and tugged it back over my head. I tried to think of something to say that might break the uncomfortable silence. Unfortunately, I was so rattled I couldn't think of a single thing.

"The forest is angry," he eventually said without looking at me.

It seemed odd that he would express what I'd been thinking only the day before. But I knew it wasn't possible for the trees to be angry. "It's only the wind moving through the branches," I pointed out flatly.

"When the trees are content, the wind moves through the branches with a soft sound. This is a harsh sound. Listen," he insisted.

I tilted my head and listened. I had to agree the forest sounded mad. "The neighbor has been clear-cutting his lot."

"That would explain the forest's dark mood," he muttered, still without looking at me.

"If the trees are so angry," I snipped, "then why doesn't one of them fall on him?"

Finally, a slight smile edged his mouth. "They've probably been trying to, but humans move fast compared to trees. It's like you or me trying to catch a fly in our hands."

"They've probably been trying to?" I snorted. I almost laughed out loud but I checked Valor's face and decided against it; he seemed to be serious. Hmph. I doubted the trees were trying to fall on my neighbor, but I liked the idea.

Valor fell silent again.

I hated the uneasy quiet so I searched for another topic of conversation. "Stone can be broken and crushed," I pointed out. "And you said the harpies were bigger than gargoyles. If they wanted to destroy you, why didn't they just find themselves a hammer and chisel?"

"We're more than common rock," he murmured. "We're pretty nigh indestructible when we're in our stone forms."

I thought this over. "Then why didn't they pick you up and throw you into the sea?"

He sent me a dark look. "You're a bloodthirsty lass, aren't you?"

I felt my cheeks darken with heat. "That's not what I meant," I insisted awkwardly.

He stared at me a moment before he started talking again. "They could have picked us up if we hadn't been fused to the stone floor of the croft."

A frown furrowed my brow as I tried to make sense of his answer.

"When we turn to stone, our clothing makes the change as well," he explained in an impersonal monotone. "Everything in direct contact with our skin turns to stone. That means our shoes would turn to stone, if we were wearing them. But if we aren't wearing shoes, a thin layer of the soil or rock beneath our feet turns to the hard material that we're made of."

"If that's true, then how was my stepfather able to pry you away from the stone floor in the croft?"

"The hut's floor had eroded beneath the layer of stone fused to our feet and we came away easily." He stepped inside the garage and showed me the flat piece of stone in the bottom of the packing crate. It had returned to its original form, a dark, reddish slate. "The harpies would have carried us off if they could have, but they weren't trying to destroy us."

"They weren't?"

But instead of responding, Valor turned his head as if he'd heard something outside the garage. "Something's coming," he said.

Together, we stepped back to the open garage doors as the shipping van appeared at the bend in the driveway. I was surprised when Valor moved in front of me and put his arm out as if to shield me from the large vehicle trundling up toward the house.

"It's the just delivery van," I told him when I realized he hadn't seen the vehicle that had brought him to my house the day before.

"Ah," he murmured as the stiff line of his shoulders relaxed.

The driver managed to avoid running over Hooligan who was still sprawled in front of the garage. Then he kept a wary eye on the dog as he stepped from the van. But Hooli just stretched and yawned then closed his eyes and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, two new packing boxes sat beside Valor's crate in the empty garage bay while the van made its way back down to the road.

Wasting no time, Valor pulled one of the crates to the edge of the concrete slab and faced it into the sun. I handed him the crowbar then got out of his way to let him open the crates. Just before he got the top panel off the first wooden box, I tugged my hat from my head and shook my hair out. These two new gargoyles could see me as I was. I didn't want them thinking maybe they liked me then changing their minds after they found out I had red hair. Yeah, there was a lot of it. And yeah, it was really red. And they could just deal with it right from the start, this time.

Valor eyed me for a long moment then tore his gaze from my hair and went back to work on the crate. Once he'd removed the upper and lower panel from one side of the box, he ripped apart the bubble wrap and revealed a winged gargoyle with long dreadlocks. He wasn't quite as good-looking as Valor but he was still way ahead of Josh Saxon.

"Havoc," Valor said in a warm tone as he looked at his brother.

The sun spilled across the lifeless gray stone and the statue took on a glow of color that spread across his skin, into his pale green eyes and up to the roots of his dark bronze hair. With a wolfish grin, Havoc kicked away the plastic wrap clinging to his legs and stepped out of the wooden box. He pulled his brother into a bone-cracking bear hug. "You look good," Havoc muttered in a voice rough with emotion.

Valor shoved him away and growled, "You wouldn't be so affectionate if you knew I've waited eight hundred years to flatten you."

"What for?" Havoc asked. His teeth flashed in a wide grin.

"For getting us stuck behind that wall." Then Valor grabbed Havoc as if he couldn't help himself and gave his brother another fierce hug.

"I can't believe you guys would risk turning yourselves to stone in a country where the sun only shines three days a year," I offered cynically.

Havoc turned his head and found me in the shadows. Like his brother, he wore a blue tattoo on his neck, though the design was different. He also wore a couple of gold rings on his fingers, inset with colorful flat stones. As I watched, his wings folded down into a black vest that wrapped across his chest and back. His eyes glinted with interest as his gaze dropped to my feet then moved back up to my face again. "Where'd you find the pretty little human?"

Valor flicked his gaze at me. His mouth pulled into a one-sided smile as he reached up with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Underneath a big red box."

Appalled that he would share this information, I shot him a dirty look. Then I introduced myself to his brother as I stepped forward and stuck out my hand. "I'm MacKenzie."

Havoc grasped my forearm just below my elbow then took my hand and showed me how I should do the same. "Jolly awesome to meet you," he said.

I laughed at the weird combination of new and old language. I was pretty sure I was gonna like Havoc.

"Where are we?" he asked, and rubbed his hands together as if he was glad to be back among the living. "America?"

"Colorado," I confirmed.

He stepped over to the open garage doors and looked up at the clear blue skies. "It's glorious here," he proclaimed enthusiastically. "Much nicer than back home."

Having spent some time in England, I had to agree. Colorado weather is hard to beat. Even in winter, it's sunny and dry. As far as I'm concerned, Colorado winters are better than British summers.

"Let's get this other crate open," Valor suggested, getting right back to business. "I'm hoping Dare is in there."

"Okay," Havoc replied. He caught my eye and sent me a private grin. "But if it's Victor, we leave him in the dark. Agreed?"

Valor's smile was wry. "Agreed."

"What's wrong with Victor?" I questioned. I wondered if their cousin was a jerk or something.

"Nothing," Havoc grunted. He used the claw foot hammer on one side of the crate while Valor worked on the other side with the crowbar. "That's the problem."

I probably looked puzzled because I was.

Valor caught my expression and explained. "Victor is really..." His voice trailed away as he searched for the right word.

"Good looking," Havoc supplied. "Attractive."

I almost blurted, "And you're not?" It was hard to imagine anything or anyone better looking than the two guys working in front of me.

"So when he's around, all the girls flock to him," Havoc continued.

"All the gargoyle girls?" I asked with a sudden twinge of jealousy. I assumed gargoyle females would be as beautiful as the males. If that were true and if there were any left, Valor and Havoc would obviously prefer them to ordinary human girls like me.

Both Valor and Havoc immediately stopped what they were doing and shared a startled look. "No," Havoc eventually said. "Human girls."

"There are no female gargoyles," Valor added.

Okaaay. That sounded impossible to me. The way I understood nature, there couldn't be any males unless there were females. "You mean there are no females left _now_ ," I clarified.

"Not now," Havoc grunted. "Nor then."

This didn't exactly clear things up. Maybe Havoc and Valor were trying to tell me that all of the female gargoyles had died out during their lifetime.

"Anyhow, Victor is golden," Havoc said, returning to the original topic of conversation.

"What do you mean by golden?" I asked.

"I can't explain," he answered as he tugged the wooden panel away from the crate. "You'll just have to see for yourself when he gets here."

Together, the two brothers removed the bottom panel in nothing flat. While Havoc stood back, Valor ripped open the plastic bubble wrap that hid the statue inside.

"Reason," Valor said as he stepped away and let the sun shine into the open crate. Although he and Havoc were obviously disappointed the crate didn't hold their brother, they mustered up some smiles for the new gargoyle. This one had thick, straight blond hair that reached the bottom of his ears. His eyes were a deep cornflower blue that I'd normally consider attractive but looked very ordinary compared to the intense color of Valor's eyes. The gargoyle stepped from the crate and grasped first Havoc's arm then Valor's. My eyes immediately searched for the tattoo on his neck, which was—again—different from the symbols his cousins wore.

"Did you see Dare?" Valor asked anxiously.

"He was standing between Victor and Defiance when I went into the crate," Reason told him. "Don't worry. He'll catch up with us eventually."

Valor lifted his chin slightly. "I hope so," he said without smiling.

The new gargoyle tilted his head toward me. "What's with the human?" he grunted.

Valor turned his gaze on me. "Her name's MacKenzie Campbell."

"She knows about us," Reason growled, and eyed me darkly.

"I'm sorry," Valor apologized though his tone was prickly. "I didn't have much choice in the matter."

Reason gave his cousin a critical look. "Then I assume you'll take full responsibility for her."

Chapter Six

"Full responsibility for me?" I echoed. Right away, I decided I didn't much care for the blond gargoyle. "What do you mean by that?" When I got no answer from Reason, I wheeled around to face Valor. "What does he mean?"

"Nothing," Valor gritted, sending Reason a warning look.

"Am I a hostage?" I demanded, while Hooligan lifted his head and gave me a curious look.

"We don't normally share the secret of our existence with humans," Reason explained coldly. "It means we'll have to be careful about you. We can't allow you to go telling all your friends about us."

Insulted right down to my toes, I crossed my arms over my chest. "If you want me to keep quiet about you guys, I will. You don't need to hold me hostage." I hoped one of them would back down and tell me that's not what Reason meant.

Instead, Reason just looked me up and down and said, "We'll see."

I glared at the three gargoyles and wondered what I'd gotten myself into. I didn't think Valor would want to see me harmed but what would happen when the rest of the gargoyles arrived? What if they were all like Reason? And what if Valor was outvoted?

As I stood there and freaked, Havoc caught sight of Hooligan in the middle of the driveway. He strode toward the open garage doors while I tried to catch Valor's eye, but he and Reason followed Havoc out into the sun.

Hooligan got to his feet as if to greet the approaching gargoyles, his tail wagging sedately.

"What have we got here?" Havoc murmured. He dropped to one knee in front of my dog. "Here's a fine looking war hound. Who does he belong to?"

"He's mine," I answered as I followed them out onto the driveway. "But he's not a war hound. He's a wolfhound. At least that's what we call the breed nowadays."

"It doesn't matter what you call him," Reason snorted with an annoying air of superiority. "He's still a war hound."

"The Celts took these dogs into battle with them, to help kill their enemies," Havoc told me.

I gave my guard dog a blunt stare. Apparently, Hooligan didn't care that I was being held hostage against my will. "I guess Hooligan didn't get around to reading his copy of the War Hound Manual."

Havoc chuckled as he scratched behind Hooligan's ears. "The Celts used them to hunt wolves as well."

"Did they hunt gargoyles?" I asked, and shifted my pointed gaze to Reason.

"Not gargoyles," Havoc answered with an unapologetic grin. "But this dog would defend you to the death...if you needed defending."

I returned my gaze to Havoc's face and studied his easygoing expression. He seemed to be suggesting that maybe I had nothing to fear from him and his family. As reassurances went, it wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

"Is that an automobile?" Havoc asked as he returned suddenly to his feet and paced toward my Jeep in the garage. He stopped in front of the car and spread his arms wide. "It's so big."

I gave my Jeep a critical look. I'd never thought of it as big or impressive. My mother bought it used ten years ago and handed it down to my brother when he was in high school. When he left for college, it became mine. Currently, it had 200,000 miles on it. I'd hoped for something a bit nicer when I got my license but we don't have piles of money like some of the newer families that have recently moved to Pine Grove.

Although my mother has a degree in geological engineering, she works as a field technician. That's why she has to travel so much. She usually works for ten days then has four days off. My father's an accountant and has a decent job but his new wife came with four young kids. I'm saving my babysitting money for a later model car, but at ten dollars an hour, it's definitely gonna take a while.

"I thought they'd be smaller too," Reason admitted as he sauntered past Havoc, opened the car door and planted himself in the driver's seat. "How does it work?"

"You can't drive without lessons," I informed them after I caught up to them in the garage.

Havoc turned a hopeful look in my direction. "Can you teach us?"

I met his green gaze and considered his request. Driving lessons weren't out of the question. Police cars were rarely seen on the winding roads that led up the mountain to my home. Twelve year olds raced around the neighborhood on their ATVs and dirt bikes all summer long. It looked like I had a bargaining chip. "Not as long as I'm a hostage," I told him without hesitation.

A soft snort of humor broke from Havoc's lips. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and said, "We'll have to work on that, won't we, Reason?"

Reason pinned me with a chilly look that didn't budge an inch. "We'll have to wait until the others get here."

With a slow shock of realization, I understood what Reason was telling Havoc. The gargoyles had to keep an eye on me until the rest of the pack arrived. Then they'd all disappear together and it wouldn't matter if I told everyone about them, because nobody would believe me.

For some reason, the idea of the gargoyles leaving—completely and forever—was worse than discovering I was a hostage.

"Do you have a television?" Havoc asked next, before I could adjust to Reason's unsettling comment.

"Television!" Valor echoed gruffly as he joined us in the garage and steered the conversation in a safer direction. "Yes, you guys must see the television."

I decided Valor had the right idea and it was best to change the subject for the time being. It also occurred to me that I might be able to make myself useful to the gargoyles and maybe upgrade my hostage status. "Are you guys hungry?" I asked.

Havoc sent me a grateful look. "Frickin' aye. I feel as if I haven't eaten in forever."

"It's been almost that long," I pointed out with a mild chuckle. "Maybe after lunch and some television, we could all go out in the car."

Reason gave me a dark look as if he knew exactly what I was doing but I ignored the arrogant gargoyle.

As we made our way into the house, the guys started listing off all the things they wanted to see, including airplanes and computers, hot air balloons, radios, trains, an electric stove, a telescope, a helicopter and a telegraph if at all possible.

In the living room, I discovered that Top Gear was the gargoyles' television program of choice. They'd listened to the British version for years and wanted to see the men behind the voices. Fortunately for my guests, I owned the last few seasons. I stuck a disk in the DVD player for them to watch while Hooligan settled down on the floor between the couch and the TV. There was no doubt my dog considered himself one of the boys and I was a little annoyed by his behavior. Clearly, the wolfhound had loyalty issues.

"You'd better call your stepfather," Valor reminded me once I had Top Gear started.

"Right," I answered, wondering if the reminder was an order or a request then realizing I didn't really care. I knew Valor was hoping for news about his brother and probably the rest of his cousins. I couldn't stay angry at him and I couldn't deny him the help he needed to find his family. "I'll see what I can find out."

Valor followed me into the kitchen and listened to my telephone conversation. "So?" he asked, after I hung up.

"Three more crates should arrive Monday morning," I told him.

"Monday?"

"Tomorrow is Sunday and there's no delivery."

He scraped his hands back through his hair and eyed me fiercely. "Only three?"

"My stepfather hasn't sent the last three yet."

With a dissatisfied growl that seemed to suggest I was to blame, Valor stalked from the kitchen and joined the rest of the gargoyles in the living room.

I glared at his back, exasperated with his complete lack of courtesy. He hadn't even offered to help me make lunch. As I heated up some soup, I wondered if the care and friendliness he'd shown me yesterday was all an act.

We ate our soup, watched three full episodes of Top Gear, then headed out in the car after raiding my brother's closet for more jeans and shoes. Fortunately my brother is a shoe hound; he's never met a shoe he didn't like. He owns them in lots of different colors and hasn't thrown a pair away since he was thirteen. Normally I think it's ridiculous for a guy to have more shoes than the women in the house, but it paid off on this occasion since we had no trouble fitting all of the gargoyles with something for their feet. Havoc had to settle for purple high tops but he didn't complain. In fact, he seemed to love them. I sensed another shoe hound in the making.

They all wanted belts for their knives but my brother had only left one belt behind when he went away to school and Valor was wearing it. And there was no way I was gonna start rooting through the step-person's stuff. He gets all stiff when it comes to his things. I told them belts would have to wait until we could go shopping in Denver since there were no clothing stores in Pine Grove.

When we got in the car, I'd hoped Valor would sit beside me in the front passenger seat but he climbed into the back with Reason, leaving Havoc to ride shotgun.

I was just glad it wasn't Reason.

I pointed out my high school as we drove past it on the county highway then we stopped at the grocery store and used my debit card to stock up on food. The guys were amazed at the store and the amount and variety of food that was available. Havoc immediately offered to hunt for fresh meat but I managed to convince him I wasn't keen on either deer or elk. "Besides," I said. "Poaching isn't exactly condoned in the twenty-first century."

Havoc snickered. "It wasn't exactly condoned in our time either. But that didn't stop us from hunting."

Before I pushed the shopping cart to a cash register, I stopped at the end of aisle thirteen and asked each of them pick out a toothbrush in a different color. They were like a bunch of kids, fighting over the available choices. They all wanted a brush with a bright, translucent handle. Havoc insisted on red, which meant the other two had to settle for blue and purple.

On the way back to the house, the guys talked about the roads and buildings and people and clothing, but mostly they talked about cars. They talked about my car and the cars we passed on the road and the cars parked at the grocery store. As far as I could tell, guys hadn't changed much in eight hundred years.

"What did you guys talk about back in your time, before cars were invented?" I asked.

"Horses," Havoc replied.

"That figures," I muttered as I shifted gears and turned off the county highway toward home.

"And hunting," Reason added with a lazy drawl. "And fishing."

A crooked smile lifted the corner of Havoc's mouth. "And girls," he said. "We talked about girls."

Nope. Guys hadn't changed much.

I couldn't help but notice that Valor didn't join in the conversation. Evidently, he wasn't talking to me any more than he had to. It shouldn't have bothered me but it did. In fact, it stung. To me, Valor's silence was worse than Reason's open hostility.

Back at the house, I unloaded the groceries with Havoc's help. When we were done, he made straight for the couch and joined Reason in front of the TV. I thought I'd be alone for a while to sort out my thoughts...and plan dinner, but Valor took Havoc's place in the kitchen.

"How much do we owe you for everything so far?" he asked. He stood stiffly on the other side of the counter, as if he didn't want to risk getting close to me.

"Don't worry about it," I muttered, although my debit card was going to be stretched thin by the end of the week, especially if more gargoyles arrived. My mom had only put enough money in my account for food and gas. I had some of my own babysitting money in the bank but at some point we were going to need more jeans...although we'd never run out of shoes.

The guys would need coats as well. The warm weather wasn't going to last forever. Winter would come and it would probably be sudden if past experience was anything to go by. It almost always snows in the foothills by Halloween. We could shop for clothes in the thrift stores but I wasn't sure I'd even have enough money for that!

Valor dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a few coins. "Dare has most of our money. This isn't much and I don't know what things cost these days but this used to be enough to buy food for a week, back in our time."

I peered at the ancient coins resting in his open palm, then picked out a silver one and held it up to the light. A cross was stamped into the middle of the coin and letters curved around the edge. The other side had what looked like a cart in the middle with fleur-de-lis around the rim. It was in damn near mint condition. "I think this might be worth quite a bit more than it used to be," I told him, and headed for the computer in the family room to look up the coin online.

The family room was a few steps down from the kitchen. It was my favorite room in the house, partly because of the "sunken pit" feeling it had going for it and also because of the stone fireplace that took up one wall. In addition, the dark wicker furniture with tapestry cushions was relatively up-to-date.

I sat down in front of the computer while Valor dragged one of the chairs over to join me. He pulled his chair remarkably close for a guy who, 1) didn't seem to like me and, 2) was potentially holding me hostage. I was both encouraged and confused. The mixed signals he was sending me was taking my heart on a roller coaster ride and giving me that funny feeling you get in your stomach when you drive over an unexpected bump in the road. While waiting for the computer to boot up, I slid a cautious look at his perfect profile, which did nothing to improve that feeling in my stomach.

It turned out the coin was worth almost a thousand dollars. So we priced it a bit lower and listed it as buy-it-now. Assuming the coin sold, the payment would go directly onto my debit card and we'd be ready to do some serious shopping.

By the time we finished listing the coin, Reason and Havoc were asleep on the couch in the living room. I was surprised the gargoyles were tired since they'd just had a nice, eight-hundred-year-long rest.

"We've basically been awake for the last eight hundred years," Valor explained in a minimum of words. "It will probably take us a few days to catch up on our sleep."

"I see," I answered. Forgetting myself, I gazed a long moment at the clean angles of his face. He was so beautiful and I'm sure my opinion showed in my besotted expression. I figured he probably thought I was a total loser for staring at him like a lovesick weirdo who'd never seen a cute boy before, but I couldn't help myself.

He averted his gaze and muttered something about building himself a bow. "Where can I find some yew trees?" he asked.

I told him I didn't know what a yew looked like and directed him to the four hundred acre park next door.

"You don't know what a yew looks like?" he asked, apparently shocked by my ignorance. Shaking his head, he sauntered toward the front door. Hooligan appeared suddenly at his side, obviously intending to take a walk with his new best friend.

"I'm sorry I can't identify all the species of trees in the northern hemisphere," I snarked, feeling nominally pissed and maybe even a little defensive. Maybe I couldn't identify trees by sight. Maybe I didn't hunt my own red meat. On the other hand, I knew how to use a lot of pretty handy conveniences that hadn't been around the last time Valor walked the earth—like cell phones and televisions and cars! "But if it makes you feel better, I can spot an unmarked police car at a hundred yards."

He eyed me critically. "So you're telling me you have different priorities nowadays?"

"Things have changed in the last eight hundred years," I growled. "In case you haven't noticed."

"I'll keep that in mind," he muttered.

"Why do you want to build a bow?" I demanded, annoyed by his attitude and determined that he wasn't going to kill any deer on our property. "You can't hunt without a permit and you can't get a permit because you have no identification."

"I thought maybe we could sell the bows to support ourselves," he shot back at me. "Our coins won't last forever."

"They might last almost that long, depending on how many your brother has," I muttered.

"Even if they did, we'd need something to do," he argued. "We couldn't do nothing all day." He turned his back on me and wrapped his hand around the doorknob.

"Aren't you worried that I might escape while you're gone?" I cut at him.

Valor stopped and wheeled slowly around to face me again. He crossed his arms over his leanly muscled chest while Hooligan watched the door with the singular focus of a dog determined to go for a walk. "Gargoyles have exceptionally good hearing. If you tried to leave, you'd wake Havoc and Reason."

"Oh, good," I said with acid cheeriness. "I'm glad that isn't a concern for you."

He rubbed his hand over his mouth like he was trying to cover a smile. "Okay, if that's the way you want it," he said. He lowered his voice to a deliberate snarl while he pointed a finger at me and creased his brow into a stern frown. "I'll be back soon, so don't try to escape. If you do, I'll hunt you down like a..."

"Like a rat?" I offered with a reluctant smile. I couldn't help but be amused by his tough-guy act. There was just something about him that made my heart stutter in my chest. My insides went all warm and mushy whenever he looked at me.

He grimaced as if he didn't like the rat comparison.

"Like a harpy?" I suggested next. "Or a witch?"

His face went completely white. Without answering, he turned around, opened the door and slipped out of the house with Hooligan at his side.

For several moments I frowned at the paneled wood door and wondered what I'd said wrong. Whatever it was, I wished I hadn't said it. Because it seemed like every time Valor started warming up, I said or did the wrong thing and he turned on the chill factor.

Chapter Seven

While Valor was out, I called my mother and brought her up to date on everything. Well, everything except the gargoyles. She asked if we had enough dog food; she knew how hard it was to keep up with Hooligan's appetite. I told her I'd take care of it. She also asked about the neighbor and I told her he was still cutting trees. She hated the tree-cutting almost as much as I did. When she warned me not to approach him—for like the zillionth time—I promised again to be careful.

I ordered three large pizzas, which were delivered shortly after Valor returned from his tree hunt. He hadn't found a single yew. I looked them up online and was able to tell him they were pretty rare in Pine Grove.

As soon as I opened the cardboard delivery boxes, the guys pulled out their knives and started chopping the slices of pizza into smaller chunks. Then they used the long blades to spear the food into their mouths. When I tried to tell them they could eat the slices with their hands, they stared at me like I was some kind of barbarian. Giving up, I pushed some forks at them. They experimented with the forks for a while before they returned to feeding themselves with their knives.

While they made their way through the hot wedges piled with thin, crisp pieces of pepperoni, they got caught up on everything that had happened while they were trapped between the walls at York—like the last plague, the most recent wars and football and music.

Surprisingly, even though they'd all listened to the exact same football games on the radio and television, each of them supported a different British team. Havoc favored Arsenal and Reason cheered for Liverpool while Valor preferred David Beckham's Manchester United. Since I don't follow British football, or any other professional sports, I wasn't very familiar with any of those names...except for David Beckham. I just knew the guys were going to be disappointed when they found out they couldn't watch their teams in America since the games aren't televised here.

When it came to music, Havoc was a fan of practically everything but especially the forties' big band songs. Reason preferred classical stuff. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Valor's tastes ran closer mine, since he liked a lot of the current indie artists.

As the evening wore on, the guys got to talking about the gargoyles they'd known back in the day. My favorite story was about their friends, Panic, Mayhem and Malarkey, who decided to fly to Ireland one afternoon to meet some new girls.

"They'd been through all the girls in York," Havoc explained with a wolfish grin that put a keen edge on his humor. "So Victor told them to fly toward the sun."

"Only they got a late start," Reason snorted. "And they didn't leave until the next morning."

Havoc snickered. "So when they flew toward the sun, it was in the east instead of the west and they ended up in the land of the Danes."

"They barely made it there alive because it was so much farther," Reason added with a gruff bark of laughter. " _And_ they didn't like the girls in Denmark."

"At least, that was their story," Havoc chuckled. "I suspect it was more a case of the girls not liking them."

"Those guys were crazy," Valor commented with a reminiscent smile.

Havoc sighed. "I suppose they're long gone now."

"I suppose so," agreed Reason quietly.

A hushed silence fell over the kitchen. Even though the gargoyles appeared to be happy in the twenty-first century, I could tell there were things they missed from their own time. "They flew in the daytime?" I asked. "I thought gargoyles tried to hide their existence from humans."

Havoc lifted his chin with a quick jerk, as if pulling himself from a daydream. "We did and we do. But those guys were crazy." He looked around at the pizza boxes and paper plates that littered the counters. "We'll help you clean up," he offered.

After the kitchen was straightened up, I showed them the bathroom and briefly explained how the plumbing fixtures worked. All of them were keen to try out the shower and took turns. Each gargoyle stepped out of the bathroom dressed only in his jeans, with his wings unfurled and dripping. Reason stood in the middle of the living room and flapped his until they dried. Havoc waited until Valor disappeared behind the bathroom door then tossed me a towel and insisted I help him with his leathery wings. I'd hoped Valor might do the same when he came out, but he curled his wings in front of him and dried what he could reach with a towel then let the rest air-dry. I have to say, the guys were pretty impressive with their wings stretched open like big, night-black hang gliders. It might sound cliché, but the handsome gargoyles looked like a bunch of vigilante angels.

I dug up a new shaving razor for them, in case they needed it. But after they figured out what it was for, they told me gargoyles don't have facial hair. I nodded, recalling that I hadn't seen much growing on their chests, either. In fact, there was only a light dusting of hair on their arms. That was okay with me. I've never liked the wolfman look.

By nine o'clock, Havoc and Reason were both yawning so I showed them upstairs to the bedrooms. I gave Reason my brother's room and put the other two gargoyles in the guestroom. Before I reached my bedroom door, something occurred to me; I stopped in the middle of the hall and backtracked to the room Valor was sharing with Havoc. "Where did you sleep last night?" I asked Valor.

He rolled his shoulders in a brief shrug. "In the woods."

"But, weren't you cold?" I asked.

"Our wings keep us warm," he explained briefly as if he wasn't interested in making conversation.

I could tell he just wanted me to leave him alone and felt angry tears begin to gather at the back of my eyes. Swiftly, I blinked them away.

"They make a dandy tent when necessary," Havoc spoke up quickly and cheerily. "Comes in handy when it rains."

I shot him a grateful smile and said good night. And as I walked down the hall toward my bedroom, I tried to figure out how the tent-making thing could possibly work. I wasn't sure Havoc wasn't "winding me up", as my English cousins would say. But more than anything, I didn't understand why Valor was being such a jerk.

Again, I wondered if the care and friendliness he'd shown me earlier was just an act. I decided there was only one way to find out; my ankle would just have to start bothering me again. And when it did, I planned to watch Valor closely to see how he reacted.

The next morning I woke up determined to carry out my wonky-ankle plan. I threw on some clothes and practiced limping around my bedroom while trying to look vulnerable but sincere, which was no easy trick. When I thought I had the hang of it, I realized I was limping on the wrong foot and had to start all over again.

Eventually, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I let Hooligan outside then started some coffee and made a pot of tea. I didn't think either was available in England eight hundred years ago and had no idea what the gargoyles would like. But once the tea was brewing, I answered a few text messages then headed down to the family room and turned on the computer.

While the computer was booting up, Valor stepped into the entryway with his long fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of something hot.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked, startled by his sudden appearance.

"Nay," he said.

"Are you drinking coffee or tea?"

He lifted his cup. "A little of both."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't think you're supposed to do that."

He took a sip and made a face. "I think you're right."

"I was just checking on the coin," I explained in a nervous rush. I felt suddenly self-conscious and guilty about my wonky-ankle plan. "To see if it sold."

He stepped down into the room and pulled a chair over to join me at the computer. The light from the computer monitor flickered across his features as I clicked my way to the right website and I couldn't stop my gaze from sneaking toward him—to his brilliantly blue eyes, his elegantly sculpted face and the strong line of his shoulders. His nearness made me uneasy. Or excited. I wasn't sure which.

"Is that it?" he asked, drawing my attention back to the computer screen and our listing.

"Yes," I murmured. The coin had sold in the middle of the night and we were eight hundred dollars richer. "We're in the money," I said, and shared a shy grin with him.

"Well done," he said, and his lips curved into a warm smile.

For the moment, he appeared to have forgotten that he didn't like me. I took a second to bask in the glow of his approval then reached for the coin I'd left sitting at the edge of the desk. Valor reached for it at the same time and our hands collided. My pulse raced and my heart pounded at the fleeting contact, upsetting the uneasy balance I was trying so hard to hold on to. I got quickly to my feet and—as chance would have it—my ankle gave out. I sucked in a sharp breath and forgot to cry out, which is what I would have done if I'd planned it. I clutched the back of the chair but lost my balance anyway and almost landed in Valor's lap.

"I'm sorry," I cried. "It's my ankle." My hand was spread on the middle of his chest as I struggled to regain my balance. I could feel the heavy beat of his heart surging beneath my palm. The rhythm of his heartbeat was almost as frantic as my own.

Valor gasped, his eyes going so wide it was almost comical. "Softly," he rasped in a hoarse voice as he scooped me into his arms and stood. "Softly, lass. I didn't know your ankle was still bothering you. You should have told me."

"It wasn't bothering me," I moaned, using the words I'd practiced for just this occasion...only now they were the truth instead of blatant lies. "I thought it was fine."

He carried me to the center of the family room and lowered me onto the wicker sofa in front of the fireplace. He knelt on the rug and clucked his tongue softly while probing my ankle with his strong, warm fingers. "We'll have to get you a staff," he suggested, getting all strict with me. "Or a cane."

"Or crutches," I added breathlessly.

His dark hair spilled over his face and his thick eyelashes shadowed his cheekbones. As I looked down on him, it occurred to me that maybe he was trying to hide the fact that he cared about me. Maybe he didn't want me to know he cared, or...maybe he just didn't _want_ to care about me.

Now I just needed to figure out what my red hair had to do with any of this.

But before I could give the idea any more thought, I heard Havoc and Reason on the stairs. Havoc found us and leaned into the entryway. He pointed at me. "You," he said. "You need to take us to see airplanes."

"And helicopters," Reason added from the kitchen.

"Her ankle is bothering her," Valor immediately argued.

"No," I cut in right away before that idea had a chance to take hold. "It's not bad at all. I just stood on it wrong. It won't stop me from driving."

Valor gave me a severe look. "Are you sure?"

"I won't be walking on it, Valor," I said, loving his protective streak. "I'll just be sitting and steering the car."

"Jolly awesome," Havoc declared, and rubbed his hands together. "Now come and teach me how to cook on this tiny oven-stove thing."

I shared a grin with Valor and got to my feet. I'd never thought of our kitchen range as tiny but I guess it was small compared to the huge hearth fires that were used centuries ago. I was just glad Havoc had taken an interest in cooking since my own skills were limited and I'd have my work cut out for me with six more gargoyles on the way.

Valor's hand rested low on my back as he guided me up the three stairs into the kitchen. The contact sent chills of excitement up and down my spine. Too soon, he left me in front of the stove with Havoc while he settled onto a barstool to watch us make breakfast.

"Aren't you gonna help?" I challenged him with a laugh.

He opened his mouth to answer but Havoc cut in before he could say anything. "Don't go looking for trouble," he warned me cheerfully.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm a way better cook than he is."

"And that's an understatement," Reason added.

Valor explained. "Back in our time, I did most of the hunting."

"And Havoc did most of the cooking?" I asked as I pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge.

Valor shrugged. "He was good at it."

Havoc certainly seemed at home in the kitchen. Using his knife, he chopped potatoes into a mound of small pieces and threw handfuls into a frying pan while I scrambled eggs. Reason stood at the sink and washed the pans as we finished with them. "Hot water at the turn of a knob," he murmured. "It's freaking amazing."

With breakfast out of the way, I ran upstairs to put on a little makeup while Havoc filled Hooligan's food and water bowls in the mudroom. When I came back down, we were ready to go. "Be good," I told Hooli as I locked him in the house.

We stepped into the garage just as the neighbor started up his chainsaw and my sauntering herd of gargoyles came to a sudden halt. "Is that a motorcycle?" Reason asked. His brow creased into an uncertain frown.

"Chainsaw," I answered.

"Her neighbor is cutting down the trees on his property," Valor explained briefly.

"All of them?" Havoc asked, clearly stunned. "Why is he cutting them? Is he...building a house?"

I shook my head. "He already has a house. We don't know why he's clearing his lot. I guess he could sell firewood if he needs the money. But he'll have to wait at least a year for the wood to dry."

"And you did nothing?" Reason criticized. "Did it not bother you?"

What _was_ it with these guys and trees?

"Yes, it bothered me," I answered, my voice rising with emotion. The tree-cutting had bothered me deeply, right from the start, though I didn't really understand why.

"Why didn't you stop your neighbor?" Reason demanded.

"This is a free country," I grumbled, starting to get a little impatient with Valor's cousin. "And it's his property. He can do whatever he wants with his land."

"So, you said nothing to him?"

Ugh. I preferred not to think about my neighbor at all. His name was David Blocker. Mim called him Blocker the Stalker and he totally gave us the creeps. "We don't talk to the neighbor. We're...not sure he's safe."

I expected this explanation to satisfy the blond gargoyle. But Reason's brow knitted into a deeper frown. "You could have made him change his mind."

My mouth dropped open. I'm like five-four and sixteen years old. What on earth could I possibly do to stop a grown man?

Before I could ask the stubborn gargoyle what he meant, he went on. "Any good witch worth her salt could have stopped him."

An inadvertent snort slipped past my lips and I tried to smother it. It really wasn't fair to laugh at Reason. Back when he lived in Europe, everyone believed in witchcraft...although I didn't know why Reason had suddenly decided I was a witch. Maybe it was just his backhanded way of insulting me. "Yeah, well, unfortunately, I'm not a witch."

Reason tilted his head and narrowed his blue gaze on me. "What do you mean?"

"There's no such thing as witches. I know people used to believe in them back in your time but they don't exist."

The blond gargoyle shared a look with Havoc.

"Yes, they do," Havoc stated firmly. "We've known several during our lifetime."

"And what made them witches?" I challenged the gargoyles.

"They could cast spells to change peoples' behavior," Reason said. "They could predict the future and scry to locate missing objects or people. Witches can perform all kinds of magic."

If Reason really believed a witch could do all that, then why would he tell me I might be one? Surely a witch who could change someone's behavior wouldn't make very good hostage material. I figured he was just looking for an excuse to criticize me. "Did any of their spells actually work?" I demanded with a strong dose of skepticism.

"Of course they did," Havoc insisted. "Witches could heal people and change the weather and make fire."

Needless to say, I wasn't impressed. "And why are you convinced _I'm_ a witch?"

It was Havoc's turn to snort. "All redheads are witches," he said easily.

Chapter Eight

"Redheads!" I exclaimed, and searched my memory. I hadn't seen that one coming, although I vaguely recalled reading about redheads put to death for witchcraft in medieval Germany. But while I believed the unfortunate redheads were killed for witchcraft, I didn't believe they were witches. It was the fear and superstition of others that had sealed their fate.

Havoc reached out with his fingers and snagged a thick curl of my hair. "The redder the hair, the more powerful the witch."

I took a quick look at Valor and noted a muscle pulsing in his jaw. I wanted to think he resented Havoc's fingers sifting through my hair but I guessed it had more to do with the conversation about witches. It occurred to me that maybe it wasn't my red hair that bothered Valor. Maybe it was the fact that he thought I was a witch. "I'm not a witch," I scoffed, and straightened my spine assertively.

"Yes, you are," Havoc countered.

"And we can prove it," Reason added.

"Reason," Valor growled with a sharp note of warning in his voice.

"How?" I asked, ignoring Valor and crossing my arms over my chest.

Reason ignored Valor, too. "You want your neighbor to stop cutting his trees, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can stop him with nothing more than a simple spell."

"A spell!" I echoed. "But I don't know any—"

"That's enough," Valor snarled at his cousin. "She has no powers and she doesn't want to have any."

I narrowed my gaze on Valor. For some reason, he didn't want me to be a witch. And while I don't much care for other people making up my mind for me, I couldn't think of a good reason to argue with him. Obviously, I didn't believe for one moment that I might be a witch. Trust me, if I were a witch and if I had any powers, a tree would have fallen on my neighbor the day he started slaughtering trees wholesale. Either that, or he would have cut off his leg with the chainsaw. I'm not a saint and I wouldn't be a saintly witch.

No, I definitely wasn't a witch...although the idea of being able to cast spells _was_ kind of appealing.

Reason opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it again when he noticed Valor's fierce expression. "A witch might come in handy," he muttered beneath his breath as he slanted his stubborn gaze in my direction.

Valor took a menacing step toward his cousin. "Leave it, Reason."

As Reason backed away and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, I was impressed. I could see that the blond gargoyle considered his cousin a force to be reckoned with, even though Valor was younger than him.

I just hoped that force would be on my side when it was reckoning time.

But in the meantime we climbed into the jeep and left Pine Grove behind, taking I-70 east toward Denver International Airport. It's relatively new and there's a lot of undeveloped property surrounding it so we were able to pull off the road about a mile from the runways. We left the car straddling a shallow drainage ditch and climbed an embankment where we threw some bleacher blankets down on the dry grass. With the sun pouring down on us, we lay on our backs and watched the planes pass directly overhead. We even got lucky and saw a helicopter take off, though it didn't fly in our direction.

"Ah," Havoc sighed as if he'd landed in heaven. "That's grand."

I laughed and even Reason chuckled. "That's frickin' grand," he agreed.

On the way home, we detoured up Coal Creek Canyon. There's a place on the county highway where the railway track follows the road on one side, crosses a bridge over the highway then turns back up the road on the other side. So if you park your car in the right place and a long train is on the tracks, the train actually wraps around you on three sides.

The view is epic.

I timed our arrival so that we entered the canyon just before the train traveling west got there. The guys were gobsmacked as well as awed. I was pretty pleased with myself for showing them such a good time. I took a picture of the guys with the bridge-full-of-train behind them then handed Havoc my cell phone and showed him how to use the camera. He went crazy taking photographs.

A few miles down the road we stopped at a railway museum and everybody got a close look at the old engines and passenger cars that operated during the days of cowboys and gold miners. "Amazing," Valor murmured. His blue eyes glowed as he admired an old engine painted a dark, shiny green.

"Worth waiting for, wasn't it?" Havoc murmured, and bumped his brother with his elbow.

"It was worth every minute of eight hundred years," Valor agreed. "If I'd known this was waiting for us..."

"What?" Havoc asked as he snapped a quick picture of the train.

"I wouldn't have spent all those years waiting for the chance to flatten you." Valor chuckled darkly.

And as Valor grinned at his brother, I couldn't help but wish he would turn one of his heart-stopping smiles in my direction. Sadly, he'd managed to get through the entire trip without saying a single word to me. But I was glad the gargoyles had a good time. They were in a great mood as we headed home with some fast food and I figured I'd gained at least a few points toward improving my hostage status.

Two voice mails were waiting for me on the landline when we walked in the house. Greg wanted to make sure I was going to be home in the morning to open the garage for the shipping company. Mom wanted me to call her and check in. When I did, she said she hoped I was having fun and that I'd met some nice guy and that was why I wasn't home when she called.

My mother is such a romantic.

She also told me she hoped I was eating something besides pizza while she was gone. I made a mental note to make sure the pizza boxes went out in the trash before she returned on the weekend.

When I got off the landline, Havoc tossed my cell phone at me. He told me to check out his photographs when I had a chance. But I noticed some text messages waiting for me and by the time I answered them, I forgot about his pictures. I didn't remember them until I went up to my bedroom for the night.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I called up Havoc's pictures and flicked through the images of Coal Creek Canyon and the train museum. The last few photos were shots of me, Valor and Reason exploring the train cars. And here's the weird part. Maybe it was just the angle, but in every one of those last few photos, the image of Valor seemed to be watching the image of me.

It was bizarre. I could have sworn he hadn't looked at me all day.

"Did you take a look at my pictures last night?" Havoc asked as I came down the stairs on Monday morning. He stood in front of the stove, scrambling eggs while bacon sizzled in a second pan.

"Yes," I answered, eyeing him carefully and wondering why he thought it was so important for me to check his photos.

"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. And that was it.

But I couldn't help suspect him of meddling—in a sweet way, of course.

After breakfast was out of the way, I kept busy washing dishes and cleaning counters. Three more crates were scheduled to arrive before noon and I was so nervous and excited I could hardly stand still. I just hoped for Valor's sake that his brother was in this shipment and not in one of the three crates that were still in England. I kept pacing to the living room window whenever one of the others weren't standing in front of it.

At last, I saw the blue and white van starting up the driveway.

"They're here!" I shouted as I made for the garage at top speed. My ankle almost gave out again as I skidded into the mudroom. The gargoyles were right behind me and I felt a hand on my hip, guiding me upright again before my feet went out from under me. I glanced over my shoulder to see who had stopped me from landing on my butt, hoping it was Valor. But Reason was closest to me. He caught my gaze and smirked as if to say, "God, you're hopeless".

I ignored him. If he wanted to be a pain in the ass, there was nothing I could do about it. And he already had such a good head start, it was probably too late to change anything.

Hooligan raced ahead of us as we spilled into the garage and threw the garage doors open. He was waiting for the van as it came to a stop in the driveway. The driver watched the dog apprehensively and waited for me to take Hooli's collar before he opened the door.

You could almost feel the excitement and impatience rippling through the garage as we waited for the crates to be unloaded. My hands were shaking as I signed the driver's clipboard.

He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and eyed the three guys with an unspoken air of disapproval. To him, they probably looked like a bunch of rough street kids. "You be safe," he cautioned me before he left.

"I will," I answered, catching Havoc's eye and shrugging at the driver's attitude.

"He was just looking out for you," Havoc said, making excuses for the guy, which I thought was pretty forgiving of him.

But as soon as the van disappeared around the bend in the driveway, the gargoyles went to work on the large wooden shipping crates.

The first box held Defiance, a gargoyle with straight, ash blond hair tied back at the nape. Like the rest of the gargoyles, he arrived barefoot and dressed in a pair of long shorts, complete with belt and knife. As I expected, he wore a tattoo on his neck that was different than the tattoos the others wore. And when he grinned, I noticed one of his front teeth was slightly chipped. But it did nothing to harm his angular good looks. In fact, it added a sort of wild, rough element to the clean lines of his features.

Valor and Havoc were relieved to find Dare in the next crate. They seemed to recognize their brother before they even got the bubble wrap off him. That might have been because he was the only gargoyle to arrive without his wings spread. Unlike the rest of the gargoyles, a loose long-sleeved shirt covered his upper body and I couldn't see a vest showing in shirt's low neckline as he came to life. His hair was night-black like Valor's, but not as straight and a shade longer. Oddly, the bottom of his hair was tipped with two inches of white where it touched his shoulders in loose waves.

Although Valor had mentioned that he and Dare were close in age, Dare looked older. His face was drawn, his cheeks hollowed out beneath high cheekbones, the lines around his mouth deep and well defined. Thick scars cut across his knuckles, remainders of what must have been some horrific wounds. All in all, he looked as if his life had not been easy and I wondered how his past had differed from Valor's.

The final crate held Victor and I peeked between the guys to get a look at the "golden" gargoyle. Everything I'd heard about him was true. All of the gargoyles were beautiful but Victor was utterly perfect. His hair fell to his collar in a tangle of colors ranging from rich creams to dark burnished gold. His perfectly formed mouth curved into a wickedly charming smile with those really masculine dimples that look so good on guys. Even his skin had a tawny glow, which set off the silver wristbands he wore, not to mention his pale, blue-green eyes.

He was really something. He was just about as pretty as a guy could get and still be a guy. But if it came down to a male beauty pageant, I'd pick Valor over Victor any day of the week. Victor was too elegant. I preferred Valor's bluntly chiseled looks.

Victor's eyes glinted with interest as soon as he caught sight of me. "What do they call you?" he asked.

Valor stepped between Victor and me before I could answer. "Don't even think about it," he growled in a mutter so low I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

The golden gargoyle just stepped around Valor and grasped my arm below the elbow. When I took hold of his the way Havoc had shown me, Victor closed his hand over mine for a long, lingering moment while he held my gaze.

I was glad to have made a friend in Victor, if only because of the whole hostage issue which I was hoping to change. But more than that, I was longing for the sort of warmth that Valor had denied me. And even though Havoc acted friendly toward me, I still had to deal with the outright hostility I got from Reason.

"Forget it, Victor." Valor might have been younger than his golden-haired cousin but he sure didn't look it as he scowled at Victor. There was a definite "back-off" tone in his voice.

I didn't know whether to be annoyed or encouraged by Valor's behavior. Obviously, he had no right to interfere in my life. On the other hand, I figured it was an improvement over the way he'd ignored me yesterday.

"Don't move, m'dear," Victor instructed me. With an elegant air of patience, he let go of my arm and turned to face his cousin. Victor pointed a long finger toward me. "She's not wearing your rune. That makes her fair play in my book."

I didn't know what Victor meant by wearing Valor's rune. Maybe back in their time it was common for a girl to wear a guy's token when he liked her, like a scarf embroidered with his family crest. Maybe even a ring with a seal on it. The medieval equivalent of a letterman jacket. I had to admit I liked the idea of wearing Valor's token but he'd given me nothing...as Victor had so bluntly pointed out.

Valor positively bristled. His fists knotted at his sides as he glared at his cousin. "You know it's too soon for that."

I sidled up next to Havoc. "What does Victor mean by rune?" I muttered.

Without speaking, Valor's brother lifted his finger and pointed at the tattoo on his neck.

I stared a moment at the swirling blue lines before I realized what he was trying to tell me. The symbols decorating their throats were runes—letters from an ancient alphabet that was used in Europe and Scandinavia before the Latin alphabet took hold. And it looked like I was "fair play" because I didn't have Valor's rune tattooed into my skin.

Chapter Nine

While I liked the idea of wearing Valor's jacket or ring, I wasn't so keen on the whole tattoo thing. Tattoos are pretty damn permanent. If I got a tattoo for some guy, it would have to be serious. I'd want him to last at least as long as the tattoo.

Havoc draped an arm around Victor's shoulders and dragged him toward the house. "Come on," he insisted in an obvious attempt to break the tension that crackled around Valor like an aura of static electricity. "You've got to see the television and telephone and refrigerator."

I lagged behind as the others moved off toward the back of the garage, Hooligan following his new friends. The idea of wearing a guy's tattoo didn't really appeal to me so I might have been frowning when Valor turned around and caught my eye.

He stopped and waited for me to catch up. Maybe he thought I was mad at him because he acted like he owed me some kind of apology. His voice was low as it trailed away. "I'm sorry if I came across a bit..."

"Possessive?" I suggested wryly. I wasn't really angry with him, just slightly annoyed.

"Nay," he growled. He stepped toward me and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. "Protective."

"Exactly what are you protecting me from?" I asked him. I felt a little frustrated as I cut a glance over my shoulder at the rest of the gargoyles who were just entering the house. "Is there something about Victor I should know? Is your cousin dangerous?"

His mouth formed a hard line but he said nothing.

At that point I lost it. Most of the time, Valor acted like he wasn't interested in me. Now it seemed like he didn't want anyone else to be interested in me, either. That just wasn't fair. "What exactly is your problem, Valor? You've been sending me mixed signals ever since you landed in my garage. Yesterday, you barely said a word to me. Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be protected from Victor?"

The words had barely left my mouth before I regretted them. I wasn't interested in Victor. I was just trying to make a point with the stubborn, headstrong, heart-stoppingly handsome gargoyle standing in front of me.

Pain flashed briefly in Valor's blue eyes. "Aye, actually, it did occur to me," he gritted as he turned on his heel and strode swiftly toward the house. "Do what you like, MacKenzie. I didn't really expect you to be different from any of the other girls."

Oh, honestly. He'd virtually ignored me for days. Now he was angry because one of his cousins had looked at me without scowling. Feeling defeated, I followed Valor into the house where I located my backpack and headed back out to the garage.

Valor caught up to me as I opened the car door. "Where are you going?" he demanded. He seemed to be taking his job of being-responsible-for-me seriously.

"I'm going to see my friends," I informed him as I tossed my backpack behind the driver's seat. "You said I could do what I liked."

"That's not what I meant," he said darkly.

I sighed as I turned to face him. "You have all your friends around you. Now I'm going to see mine. I'll be back in a few hours."

"You can't go," he stated. His mouth flattened into a stubborn line that looked amazingly good on him. You wouldn't think anger and annoyance would improve a guy's looks but they sure looked good on Valor.

I didn't ask him why I couldn't go because I was afraid he might use the H-word. It was one thing for Reason to suggest I was a hostage but I didn't think I could stand to hear Valor say the same thing. Changing tactics, I said, "Mim's mother has been talking about renting out her basement and it might be a good place for you and the others to stay."

His expression hardened and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "I'm staying right here."

"You can stay here as long as you're willing to be statues," I shot back at him. "My mom will be home in a week and she'll expect to find six crates holding six sculptures. She won't understand why a bunch of strange guys are living in our house."

"You can't go alone," he insisted without budging an inch.

"Why not?" I demanded. I held my breath and wondered if he would dare confirm that I was a prisoner. If he did—and if I didn't start crying—I was ready to unload on him.

"I'll come with you," he grated, and headed around to the passenger-side door.

"I don't want you to come with me," I yelled, finally giving in to my frustration. "I'm mad at you and I'm gonna be mad at you for at least the rest of the day. Maybe even part of tomorrow. If you don't trust me enough to let me leave here alone, then send someone else with me."

He ripped his hands back through his hair so hard it must have hurt. "Take Havoc or Dare," he barked.

"I'm not going to pick my guard," I informed him, lifting my chin to a proud angle. "If one of your brothers is willing to be my warden, send him out. But tell him to hurry. I'm leaving in five minutes."

And five minutes later I was headed to Mim's place with Dare sitting beside me in the passenger seat. He wore an old skateboard T-shirt and a pair of extremely faded jeans. I'm not sure the moccasins were the best match for the shirt, but I hadn't given him much time change clothes.

"Maybe you'd better slow down," he suggested as I took the first bend after leaving the house.

I glanced down at the speedometer and decided maybe he was right. "I'm sorry," I apologized as I took my foot off the accelerator. "I guess you aren't used to these speeds."

"I don't mind the speed," he answered mildly. "I've gone faster."

I knew the guys had ridden horses back in the day but horses aren't that fast. "You've gone faster? How is that possible?"

"It's not hard if you dive to earth from a great height," he pointed out dryly.

"Dive to earth?" I exclaimed on a surprised burst of laughter. I figured the gargoyles used their wings to travel around but I hadn't imagined them just dropping out of the sky. "Why would you do that?"

"For fun," he answered.

I slid my gaze toward him and noticed his eyes for the first time. They were green like Havoc's, but darker. Thick flecks of gold floated on his sage-colored irises. As I checked out his extreme good looks, I began to suspect he had a wild side.

"Tell me about your friend we're going to see," Dare suggested, making small talk.

"She's...really nice," I said, and hoped he'd be nice to Mim.

Mim's mother never married. Her last name is Monroe. She could have given her daughter any other name in the world but...she chose Marilyn. Mim doesn't even have blond hair. Her hair is black and hangs in long, loose curls. It's a hard name to live up to and Mim hates it. Her middle name is Indigo, so we call her Mim.

When Mim was born, her mother was only sixteen so she's young as far as mothers go. She teaches belly dancing for a living and the guys at school think she's totally hot. It can be pretty bad for a girl's ego when your mother is more popular with the guys at school than you are. Cory Devereau actually went out with Mim for two months just so he could hang around her house and ogle her mom. When Mim figured it out, she was heartbroken.

I had biology that semester. I don't enjoy dissecting animals and the smell of preservative turns my stomach but the class wasn't a total loss. Devereau never did figure out who shoved that pickled piglet up his tailpipe. He was annoyed when his mustang wouldn't start and furious when he discovered why, which was _after_ the tow truck arrived and charged him a hundred dollars.

The tow-truck-guy thought the piglet was hilarious. He still tells the story around Pine Grove whenever he can get anyone to listen. I smile every time I think about that afternoon. I can still picture Devereau's face. I'm really _not_ a very nice person.

"I'm sure all of your friends are nice," Dare said, his words bringing me back to the present.

"Yeah, but Mim's _really_ nice," I insisted. "And she's my _best_ friend."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," he murmured as he watched the road through the windshield.

So when we got to Mim's, I introduced Dare and told her he was a friend of my cousins in England. I hated lying to her but if I told her the truth I'd end up betraying the gargoyles by revealing the secret of their existence. And I'd promised them I'd keep their secret.

Dare barely said two words to Mim then threw himself on the sofa in front of the TV and ignored us. I was furious when I realized I had another rude gargoyle on my hands. Those guys might be drop-dead gorgeous but their social skills sucked. And at that point I was wishing they'd never landed in my century.

Good and pissed, I pretended Dare didn't exist while Mim and I worked on our costumes. For months, we'd been planning to spend Halloween night at the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder. Everybody shows up there on Halloween to parade down the mall.

Whitney was going as Marie Antoinette who lost her head during the French revolution and Mim was going as Ann Boleyn who was sent to the chopping block by her husband, Henry VIII. They were going to wear long gowns and bloody scarves tied around their necks. Since they had such a great headless theme going, I decided to go as Bess Throckmorton who was a lady in waiting to Elizabeth I and married to Sir Walter Raleigh. Fortunately, Bess never lost her head. Unfortunately, her husband did and poor Bess carried his head around in a jar for the rest of her life.

I had a big, empty plastic jar that used to hold animal crackers. I just needed a head. At that point, I was seriously considering Valor for the job although Dare was running a close second. But I'd probably end up settling for a mask stuffed with paper.

Anyhow, Mim was making our gowns. She can sew like anything. She makes all her own clothes and like half of mine. We couldn't afford new fabric for the costumes so we shopped around the thrift stores for large pieces of material. Whitney's dress was made from an old set of brocade curtains, Mim was using blue satin sheets for her gown and my widow's dress was cut from a couple of black Halloween capes.

While Mim sat at the sewing machine and pushed heaps of gold brocade beneath the machine's needle, she sent the occasional tentative look in Dare's direction. I kept up a steady stream of small talk while I hand-stitched lace onto the sleeves of Mim's blue gown. I wished I could tell her about the bizarre turn my life had recently taken and my unusual houseguests—Valor in particular. And Reason's crazy idea that I was a witch. I did mention that several more of my cousin's friends were staying at my place and told her she'd probably get to meet them on Wednesday night when we went to Boulder.

She leaned close and whispered, "Are the rest of them anything like him?" She tilted her head toward Dare, slouched on the sofa.

"Naw," I answered, and waved my hand dismissively. "The rest of them are good looking."

Mim's eyes widened in awe and I had to muffle my snort of laughter.

"You're kidding," she murmured.

"Not at all," I insisted a little more loudly, hoping that Dare could hear our conversation with his gargoyle super hearing. It was probably mean of me to suggest he wasn't good looking but I figured he deserved it for ignoring Mim.

And as we were leaving, Mim offered to borrow her mother's car and come see me later on but I told her I had homework to do and would catch her at school tomorrow. She gave me a tight hug before I left, as if she could tell something was bothering me. Mim seems to have a second sense about things like that. Her mother claims to have gypsy blood and maybe that's where she gets it from.

Dare said one more word to her as we were leaving. "Goodbye."

I was so mad. If I was forced to have guards, they could at least be civil. I decided I'd take Havoc with me the next time I went visiting. I was sure he could scrape up more than a total of three words.

I turned the key in the ignition and backed out of Mim's driveway onto the road. "You could have talked to us for a little while," I gritted through my clenched teeth. "Maybe you don't think Mim's worth your time, but you're wrong. She's the best person I know. Her smile can light up a room."

"I'd like to see that," Dare muttered.

I assumed he was being sarcastic and got really angry. "Just because she's not the prettiest girl in the world—"

"Did I say she wasn't pretty?" he shot back.

I pressed my lips together and took the next bend a little aggressively.

"There's something you need to know about gargoyles," he growled. "When we meet a person, we don't only see what's on the outside. We see what's on the inside, too, and it affects the way people look to us. When Valor met you, he knew you were a good person. He knew he could trust you—"

"If that's true then why am I a prisoner?" I interrupted him.

"You're not a prisoner," he insisted with an impatient snort.

I shot him a dark glare that said I didn't believe him.

He backed down a little. "You're not a prisoner but we have to be careful about you. Just because you're trustworthy doesn't mean that you won't share your secret with your friends."

I made a dissatisfied sound at the back of my throat but I could see what he meant. It hadn't been easy for me to keep the truth from Mim. I was dying to tell her about the gargoyles, especially Valor.

"Anyhow," he continued evenly. "Valor knows you're a good person. I know you're a good person, too. Even Reason knows you're a nice person. But..."

"But what?" I snapped.

"Mim is even nicer."

That shut me up. I wasn't expecting him to say that. And I couldn't argue with him because he was dead right. Mim would never hope a tree would fall on her neighbor, no matter how horrible he was. And Mim would never shove a pig fetus up anybody's tailpipe so their car wouldn't start.

A new idea occurred to me as I accelerated up a hill toward home. If Valor knew I was a good person then he had no reason to dislike me, unless he had something against red hair or witches, which were probably the same thing as far as he was concerned. That supported the idea that maybe he just didn't _want_ to like me. I shifted my gaze toward Dare and said, "Tell me why Valor hates witches."

Dare turned his head and gave me a long, measuring look. "Valor doesn't hate witches. Not really."

I didn't like the sound of that "not really" part. As a qualifier, it didn't fill me with a huge amount of confidence. "Great," I grumbled. "It's just me, then."

"Valor doesn't hate you, either."

"How do you know?"

"I know," he answered quietly.

I sent him a pleading look. I really needed to find out what was going on with his brother.

"It's probably my fault," he finally sighed, and rubbed his fingers between his eyes.

"How can it possibly be your fault?" I exclaimed.

"A witch betrayed me once."

"Oh!" I cried softly.

"She scryed my location and watched me until she was sure I was alone. Then she told a harpy where to find me."

"But how could the witch betray you when you can sense the good and bad in people?"

"I didn't even know the witch," he explained in a low voice. "The harpy probably pointed me out in a crowd and the witch must have kept track of my movements."

"Why?" I asked. "Why would she do that?"

"Money," he answered with more than a trace of bitterness. "Gold, silver, treasure. Harpies are great thieves as well as avid collectors. They're like ravens. They like shiny things, pretty things. They always have a treasure trove somewhere and they always have money."

I looked at Dare's beautiful face and figured that's why the harpy had stolen him.

"After she captured me, the harpy told me she'd paid a witch to scry for me."

I was too terrified to ask what the harpy had done to him. My gaze slid down to his knuckles and I wondered if she was responsible for the deep scars on the backs of his hands.

"Anyway," Dare continued, after taking a deep breath. "I think that experience has tainted Valor's opinion of witches."

"Well, that sucks," I whispered.

Dare's gaze was sober as he watched me. "Yeah, it does. And it's just plain wrong. Valor shouldn't have let one bad experience affect his judgment. He knows the difference between a good witch and a bad one."

"Does he?" I asked slowly, and wondered if a witch could hide her true nature. That might have explained Valor's reluctance to trust me and maybe even the way Reason treated me. "Can a witch hide her true nature?"

"She'd have to be very powerful," he answered.

Well, I figured that let me off the hook since I wasn't a powerful witch. Except that...something had caused Valor to wake in the garage before the sun reached him. "Could a powerful witch hide her true character and...even cast spells without realizing it?"

"Possibly," he answered. "Again, she'd have to be very red."

"Very red?"

"The redder the hair the more powerful the witch."

My mouth turned downward. My hair is really red. I kept thinking about that pig fetus and how not-a-nice-person I was. Maybe I was a bad witch.

"You haven't bewitched Valor," Dare insisted gently, as if he was reading my mind.

"Of course I haven't," I scoffed, and gave myself a shake. I wasn't a witch and I had no powers. "But maybe Valor thinks I have."

"Valor's just being careful," he argued.

I could tell he felt sorry for me. "What do you mean?"

"If I'm reading the signs correctly, Valor likes you—a lot—but he's fighting it. He probably doesn't want to like a witch the way he likes you. But eventually he'll come to his senses and realize he shouldn't hold your red hair against you."

"I hope so," I muttered as we pulled up the driveway and into the garage. But I wasn't convinced and it probably showed in my expression.

"Why do you think Valor revealed himself to you?" Dare asked encouragingly. "Why do you think he let you know he was a gargoyle?"

I blew out a heavy sigh. "He didn't have any choice. I threatened to call the police."

Dare shook his head and snorted. "He could have stopped you easily enough."

I turned in my seat and looked at him. "What are you saying, Dare?"

"That Valor wanted you to know he was a gargoyle. He'd already decided he trusted you and..."

"And?" I prompted him, holding my breath.

"He'd already decided he wasn't going to leave you any time soon."

"You think so?" I asked in a small, hopeful voice.

"I know so," Dare said firmly. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"I think Valor made the right decision."

Chapter Ten

"Thank you," I choked, my emotions getting the better of me and almost locking my throat. It was the most encouraging conversation I'd had since the whole gargoyle issue started. Now I could see why Valor loved his brother so much. Dare was a supremely nice guy. I couldn't help but feel guilty about what I'd said to Mim while we were working on our costumes—the way I'd implied he wasn't good looking. "I...didn't mean those things I said about you. At Mim's place."

Dare pretended to be shocked. "What things? Are you suggesting that I might have been listening to your conversation with your friend?"

I was probably blushing as I sent him a wry smile.

"Don't worry about my ego," he said quietly although I sensed a deep doubt in him that had nothing to do with my comments to Mim. "In the meantime," he suggested, "if I were you, I wouldn't tell anyone you're a witch. It can be dangerous."

"I won't tell anyone I'm a witch, because I'm not," I snorted. "But even if I was, it's not like I'm gonna be burned at the stake in this day and age. In your time, people believed in witches. Nowadays it's different. In fact, it's the exact opposite. Even if I performed a miracle, nobody would believe I'd had anything to do with it. They'd find some sort of scientific explanation for it."

"Believe me," he said as he opened his door and stepped out of the car. "Even in this day and age, it's probably best if nobody knows about witches and their powers."

I sat there a moment before I pulled the keys from the ignition and slid from the seat down onto the floor of the garage.

"Are you coming?" he asked, waiting for me by the door to the house.

"Go ahead," I told him, forgetting that he was supposed to be guarding me. "I think I'll take a walk."

I didn't feel like facing Valor and the rest of the gargoyles. I didn't feel like smiling and pretending that everything was cool. Valor thought I was a witch and he'd decided eight hundred years ago that he didn't like witches. That's a long time. Despite Dare's optimism, I didn't think I was gonna change his mind any time soon.

I headed down the driveway then picked up the pace once I reached the road.

The gargoyles thought I was a witch and experience told them that being a witch wasn't necessarily a good thing. Dare thought I should be cautious. At first I'd scoffed at the idea of danger but now that I gave it more thought...

I wasn't concerned that a lynch mob would turn out to storm my castle, carry me off and hang me from the nearest tree. But I'd seen enough conspiracy movies to make me question my situation in general. If it could be proven that certain redheads had certain powers, somebody would want to study the phenomenon. The government. The universities. The drug companies. Or maybe even someone else's government.

That realization led me to the next one. Valor had said he was indestructible in his stone form. That fact alone—let alone his wings—would make him prime studying material. The gargoyles were absolutely right to hide the fact of their existence. And I needed to be damn careful to keep that fact to myself.

A stiff breeze swirled out of the trees and whipped my hair around my face. I pulled up my hood and noticed Valor standing on the road ahead. It looked like he'd cut through the woods to intercept me. I'd forgotten I wasn't allowed to be on my own. But I'd promised Valor I was gonna be mad at him for the rest of the day so I buried my hands in my pockets and passed him without saying anything.

He turned and joined me, his shoulders braced against the wind. "I didn't mean to suggest there was anything wrong with Victor when we were in the garage," he started in a growl that didn't quite sound like an apology. "I'd trust him with your life."

"That's reassuring," I muttered with more than a trace of cynicism.

"I just wouldn't trust him with the rest of you."

Relieved at the break in the tension, I snickered.

"It's just that Victor goes through quite a few girls in a short amount of time. He's...how do you say it? A player."

"And you're not?" I asked as I slanted my gaze up at him.

"No," he murmured. His intense blue gaze touched my face and traveled to my mouth where it rested a long moment before returning to my eyes. "Not where you're concerned."

My heart did a weird fluttering thing and I felt like I was melting from the inside out.

"I'm sorry if I've been sending you mixed signals," he said quietly.

"That's...okay," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"I just didn't want to feel this way about you," he murmured, which kinda confirmed what Dare had suggested in the car.

I held my breath and waited for his next words.

"But I don't think I can fight it anymore." He blew out a rough sigh. "I'm not sure why I started fighting in the first place."

"Dare told me about the witch who betrayed him," I said softly. "I'm not a witch, Valor."

He rolled his shoulders like it didn't matter but it was hard to miss the flicker of regret in his eyes. "All redheads are witches," he said in a low voice.

"Well, I don't have any powers," I pointed out. "So that makes me not-a-witch."

"When you were trapped beneath that red box, I was able to wake up without the sun's help," he argued quietly. "You must have spelled me out of my stone form—maybe without even realizing it—because you needed help."

"It must have been something else," I countered right away. "Or maybe you were mistaken. Maybe the sun _did_ reach you."

"I wasn't mistaken," he said seriously. He stopped in the road and I had to tilt my head back to look up at his face, my hood falling down onto my shoulders. His gaze lingered on my hair, and there was a small crease between his dark brows. "I'm pretty sure it was you. I'm just not certain how you did it without any wood."

"What does wood have to do with anything?" I exclaimed.

"Ultimately, witches derive their power from the wood in trees. That's why Reason was so surprised that you hadn't done anything to stop your neighbor. A witch has an obligation to watch out for the source of her power."

"I hate what my neighbor's doing," I muttered, forgetting that I was supposed to be convincing him I wasn't a witch.

"I'm not surprised," he answered with a quiet smile.

"But I'm not a witch." I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets and started walking again. I wasn't a witch and I didn't want to be one. So, I didn't tell Valor that I was holding a hammer with a wooden handle when I'd prayed for help in the garage. The handle was painted red so you couldn't tell it was wood.

The wind tossed Valor's dark hair around his face as we scuffed down the road and he flicked it out of his eyes. "It doesn't matter if you are," he said as solemn as a vow.

We made the rest of the trip back home in silence. As we climbed the long driveway up to the house, Valor opened his mouth several times as if he had something to important to tell me but was having trouble getting the words out. Finally, he said, "The other day, you asked me what it was like back in my time."

"That's right."

"And I wanted to tell you the girls are prettier now," he confessed with a lopsided smile.

I was pretty charmed by what appeared to be an indirect compliment although it was hard to believe the girls weren't prettier back in the day since the guys were definitely better looking—at least the gargoyles were. 'Course, I wasn't sure how many girls he'd seen since he'd landed in my century. "How many girls have you seen, so far?"

"Just one," he murmured, and stopped me with his hand wrapped around mine.

His gaze locked on my face and the husky tone of his voice sent a thrill of warmth through my nerve endings, making my knees weak. I realized I needed to find a safer topic of conversation before I fell flat on my face but I just stood there, trapped in the intensity of his gaze, powerless to move.

Reaching for my face, he tucked a thick curl of my hair behind my ear. "I wouldn't let anyone harm you, MacKenzie. I hope you know that."

Speechless, I nodded up at him.

"After all," he continued like he was reasoning out his position. "It's my fault that you're in this situation. I put you in jeopardy when I revealed I was a gargoyle. So, I _couldn't_ let anything happen to you."

It took a little reading between the lines but I understood what he was trying to say. Although Reason wouldn't want me to know it, none of the gargoyles would resort to violence against me. On the other hand, they weren't willing to let me out of their sight, either.

"I know," I admitted seriously as I searched his eyes. "And I understand why you guys need to be careful. But I have to go to school tomorrow. If I don't turn up, the administration will start asking questions."

He pulled a hand back through his hair and nodded.

"And I'm _going_ to the Pearl Street Mall on Halloween night," I told him with a determined smile. "I've been planning it with my friends for ages."

He didn't seem too happy about that little announcement.

"But there's no reason you guys can't come along," I added swiftly.

He seemed to consider this possibility for a few moments as we walked to the front door. "I need to talk to the others," he said as he pulled me behind him and I enjoyed his warm grip on my hand. "We need to have a pack meeting."

As soon as we walked through the front door, Valor took his knife from his sheath and leaned into the living room, where the rest of his family was sprawled around the television. Without saying a word, he lifted his blade up to the level of his eyes then he turned into the dining room and tossed it on the table. Responding to this silent communication, his brothers and cousins joined him, one by one, placing their knives with his.

Thanks to all the historical fiction I've read, the whole throwing-down-the-knife business didn't seem all that weird to me. I knew that when the ancient clans got together, it was customary for them to lay down their weapons before talks began. And I figured the gargoyles were just following a similar custom. Since they were having a meeting, tradition required them to lay down their arms before they got started.

"What is this about?" Victor asked when the six gargoyles were seated around the table.

Reason snorted. "I'm guessing it's about the girl."

Valor lifted a hand and motioned me to join them. "We need to talk about MacKenzie," he admitted. "As well as other matters."

I pulled a chair up next to Valor at the end of the table and sat with my hands pressed between my knees.

Valor's elbows rested on the table, his fingers laced loosely together in front of his face. "Chaos, Courage and Force are still in England. MacKenzie's stepfather hasn't sent them yet. We have no choice but to stay here and wait for them. Unfortunately, our presence here creates problems for our hostess."

I opened my mouth to argue this point. I wanted to say that the gargoyles really weren't too much trouble but Valor sent me a quelling look.

"Normally, we wouldn't allow a human who knew about us out of our sight," he said.

"Not until we could leave," Defiance confirmed.

"That's just common sense," Reason drawled.

Valor continued determinedly. "Unless we knew the human and trusted them."

Everyone looked at me as I buried my teeth in my bottom lip, feeling totally self-conscious.

"This is a problem for MacKenzie," Valor pointed out. "Since she's expected to attend school tomorrow."

Victor leaned forward in his chair and flicked his gaze at me. "Could one of us go to her school with her?"

"It might be possible for one or two of you to shadow me," I offered tentatively. "I could say you were relatives from England."

"Not relatives," Valor cut in quickly. Evidently, he didn't like the idea of being related to me. I couldn't help but smile. I didn't want him to be a relative either.

"I'd like to suggest that we put our confidence in MacKenzie," Valor suggested. "The world is a much more complicated place than it was in our time. Our coins aren't the accepted form of money anymore. Instead a plastic card is required."

"I can get cash for you, too," I pointed out, trying to be helpful. "Or I can get you paper money. A card isn't absolutely necessary."

Valor gazed at me, a soft smile lighting the back of his eyes. "MacKenzie's offer just confirms the fact that we need an ally. We can't go it alone in the twenty-first century. Even after the rest of the pack gets here, we're going to need somebody's help. Since MacKenzie already knows about us, it might as well be her. I vote that we give her our complete trust."

At those words, Defiance leaned forward in his seat as his eyes widened with surprise. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm proposing we invite MacKenzie to join the pack," Valor said.

Chapter Eleven

Valor's announcement took me by surprise. It was way more than I expected. I'd have been happy just to upgrade my status from hostage to trusted friend.

I was gobsmacked and I wasn't the only one. A harsh laugh broke from Reason's chest, although he didn't sound the least bit amused. And Defiance was so stunned his mouth hung open for like two seconds.

"You're asking a lot," Defiance muttered after he'd recovered from the initial shock. "We've only just arrived and we don't know MacKenzie well enough to make that kind of decision."

"I know what I'm asking," Valor admitted. "But MacKenzie has looked out for us since we landed in her garage and invaded her home. We all know she's a good person."

"There's a difference between good and trustworthy," Defiance argued, his gray eyes fierce with emotion. "There's a difference between kindness and wisdom."

"I'm hoping my opinion will carry a lot of weight," Valor conceded. "I've been here longer than you have and I feel confident we can rely on MacKenzie to keep our secret."

"But not all of you who've been here longer are convinced she can be trusted," Defiance pointed out as his gaze slid toward Reason.

Reason lifted two fingers from the table, arrogantly acknowledging that Defiance was talking about him.

"I'm convinced," Havoc offered seriously.

I sent Havoc a small, cautious smile and tried to look like a quiet, reasonable, trustworthy person. I'm not normally much of a joiner. I don't quite fit in with most people my age. But this was something I wanted to be a part of. I wanted to belong to this beautiful wild, extraordinary family.

But Reason argued it was too soon to admit me into the pack. Unfortunately, Defiance seemed to agree with him. I sneaked a look at Victor who tapped his fingers on the table and listened without commenting.

"Then there's the matter of her hair," Reason continued. "She's very red. She might have bewitched you into trusting her, Valor."

"That's ridiculous," I snapped, forgetting to look quiet and reasonable. "Even if I was a witch—which I'm not—I wouldn't begin to know how to bewitch someone."

Reason ignored me and talked directly to Valor. "She might have done it without realizing it, if she wanted you to like her."

I leaned forward and put myself in Reason's line of sight to get his attention. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Human females generally think we're attractive," he said, his eyes mocking me.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't flatter yourself, gargoyle. You're not that irresistible."

Reason's eyes flashed. "Maybe I'm not, _human_. But what about Valor?"

I set my mouth in a mulish expression. I couldn't answer that one without incriminating myself. Remembering my grandfather's advice that a good offense is the always the best defense, I went on the attack. "If I were a witch, Reason, you'd be the first to know it."

He laughed with irritating insolence. "I know what you're suggesting, Mac. But perhaps I should let _you_ know that a good witch can do no evil."

I narrowed my gaze on him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Witches are either good or bad," Reason explained. "A good witch can cast no harmful spells. So you couldn't cast a spell that would hurt me or anyone else...just in case you were contemplating something dark and painful."

"You must have read my mind," I snarked without removing my gaze from his face.

Valor interrupted in a growl. "My brothers and I have more reason to distrust the red than you," he argued. "If we're comfortable putting our trust in MacKenzie, then it should mean something to the rest of you."

"Valor's right," Dare volunteered firmly.

"Agreed," Havoc spoke up in a strong tone.

Victor shifted in his chair and everyone's eyes turned toward him. "If nobody has anymore comments, it's time to vote," he said.

At the point, each of the gargoyles took a coin from his pouch or pocket that was similar to the one I'd sold online. One side had a cross stamped into its center. The other side was embossed with what appeared to be a cart.

Valor placed his silver coin on the table. "I vote to admit MacKenzie into the pack."

I studied the coin lying in front of Valor with the cross facing upward. I assumed that if the gargoyles put their coins on the table with the cross showing, it meant they agreed with Valor. If they placed the coin with the cart facing up, it was a vote against me.

Havoc voted next and he sided with Valor.

I was winning. Sorta.

Reason voted after that, slapping his coin down with the cart facing upward. It was the first vote against me. It was Defiance's turn to vote next and he announced that he was undecided. I thought that meant he would forfeit his vote but I was wrong. When one of the pack is undecided, they leave the decision to chance. Defiance flipped the coin and it landed on the table with a dull ring. I stared down at the coin's cart and fleur-de-lis. It was another vote against me.

The vote was tied as I turned my gaze on Dare. I was pretty sure he'd vote for me and he did. Only Victor was left. If he voted against me, it would be a tie. I didn't know for sure but I guessed that meant the decision would go against me. Victor took his time, turning the coin between his fingers. The tension stretched thin as I waited for Victor to cast his vote. My future rested in his hands. My stomach turned like the coin between his fingers.

Victor looked at me for a long moment then placed his coin on the table. When he moved his hand, I saw the cross stamped into the silver coin. "I'll go with your judgment," he said as he pinned Valor with a sharp look.

I glanced around the table at the rest of the gargoyles and most of them seemed satisfied with the decision. Even Defiance was smiling. I let out a deep sigh of relief but it was short-lived.

"Just a minute," Reason spoke up. "What about Chaos, Force and Courage?"

"What about them?" Valor asked cautiously.

"Their votes need to be counted," Reason insisted.

Valor sent a troubled look toward Victor.

The golden gargoyle sighed and said, "My brother's right. Their votes need to be counted." He transferred his gaze to me and explained. "Since they're not here, their votes will be left to chance."

"I'll flip for Chaos," Reason offered without wasting any time. "Since he's my brother."

"He's my brother, too," Victor countered. The look on his face suggested he wasn't too happy with Reason for questioning the vote. "I'm the oldest, so I claim the right to toss the coin for him. Defiance can flip for his brothers, Courage and Force."

With three more votes to be counted, there was no possibility of a tie. At the end of all the coin tossing, I would either be in...or out. I couldn't help but feel resentful toward Reason. I couldn't understand what I'd done to earn his unrelenting scorn.

The first two coins landed with their crosses facing downward which meant the vote was tied up again. I tried to tell myself that the odds were against the third coin landing cross-down but I felt like things were going against me and I was so discouraged I couldn't watch the last coin fall. Instead, I fixed my gaze on Valor's face while the silver disk spun in the air and landed with a clank on the tabletop.

Valor leaned forward to see the coin.

When I saw him smile, I let out a second sigh of relief. Valor's hand slid across my knee beneath the table and squeezed my fingers, sending hot flashes of emotion up my legs into my heart. I looked around the table again and was surprised to find that most of the gargoyles actually looked relieved. Only Reason stared at the ceiling like he was bored with the whole situation.

Victor grinned as he turned his gaze on me. "Welcome to the pack, m'dear."

I was so thrilled I could hardly speak. "Thank you," I said. "I won't let you down." It probably sounded lame but what's a sixteen-year-old supposed to do when she's admitted into the gargoyle pack? It felt like the most special thing that had ever happened to me.

With my acceptance into the pack sorted out, Victor and Defiance changed into some old jeans and we all piled into the car so we could drive to the city to shop for clothes. I only had seatbelts for five passengers so Havoc and Defiance sat behind the seats in the back with instructions to duck down if we spotted any police cars.

We went to the Cherry Creek mall in downtown Denver and picked up T-shirts first. Havoc chose bright colors while the others stuck with black and dark gray. We managed to find belts for everyone although I could tell that all the guys envied Valor's white emo belt. We stocked up on jeans then looked at jackets and coats, most of the guys selecting either black or brown leather. I suppose the animal skins felt familiar to them.

Only Dare couldn't find a coat he liked. He wanted something longer so we stopped by a thrift store on the way home where he picked out a vintage, black trench coat. With the collar turned up, I had to admit he looked cute. Tall, dark and vigilante-angel cute.

And after we picked up some fast food at a drive-thru restaurant, we headed back toward the foothills and home.

"Thanks for all the help, today," Victor said after the gargoyles had finished their hamburgers and were comfortably sprawled across the living room. "Is there something we can do for you in return, m'dear?"

I decided Victor's offer was my chance to test the gargoyles. They'd said I was part of the pack but I wanted to find out if they actually trusted me enough to leave me on my own. "I'd like to watch you guys fly if you think it would be safe. It'll be dark soon and I don't think anyone would see you if you flew out over the park next door."

They seemed happy to grant my wish. We waited until dusk then hiked over to the park. Just inside the park's boundary, there's a huge granite outcrop with a drop-off of like a hundred feet and that's where the pack took off from. Each gargoyle strode out to the edge of the cliff, opened his wings and glided away to the southwest, high above the trees. They were beautiful in flight. For several moments I forgot my ulterior motive and just enjoyed watching their graceful forms hanging in the air.

But I wasn't alone. Dare had stayed behind to hold their jackets and T-shirts. And to "protect" me. I'd tried to convince them Hooligan was more than enough dog to handle my security needs but the gargoyles weren't having it. They insisted one of them had to remain behind with me. I was pretty sure it had more to do with their lack of trust in me than anything else, but I felt sorry for Dare anyhow. I could see the longing in his eyes as he watched his pack circle away above the park.

"Maybe you can take off after they come back," I suggested as we watched the sky darken.

Dare shifted the awkward pile in his arms. "That would be nice," he murmured. "Only, I can't fly."

I stared at Dare as all the breath went out of my lungs and my heart beat brutally against my rib cage. He'd told me earlier that he used to dive from the sky at great speed, for fun. I knew there had to be something terribly wrong if he couldn't fly anymore. "What do you mean?"

But before he could answer, Hooligan moved close to my side and growled into the shadows behind us.

"What is it, boy?" Dare asked. He glanced over his shoulder into the dark forest that separated us from the house. The gargoyle's expression was troubled as he peered down the trail and murmured, "Hooligan's senses are better than mine."

"He's probably just sensing a fox," I murmured though Hooligan wasn't one to bark at shadows or even foxes.

"I don't think so," Dare answered quietly. His long coat swept the ground, the forest floor covered with a quiet carpet of brown pine needles. "Let's go back to the house."

I glanced up at the skies as we headed through the trees toward the house. I hoped the rest of the guys would return soon. I wasn't exactly afraid but I knew I'd feel safer with the pack there. Safety in numbers and all that. As I checked overhead again, I realized the growling had gotten louder. I lowered my gaze back to earth and discovered my dog watching the house in the distance. A rumbling snarl vibrated in his chest as he padded forward.

But Hooligan wasn't the only one growling. Dare was making the same noise.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a low voice, getting more concerned as we drew closer to home.

"Quiet," he warned as I followed his gaze down the trail. A dark form slinked through the shadows close to the house. Dare dropped his armful of clothing while I felt my pulse thicken in my veins.

A sudden swooping sound hovered overhead, like huge birds beating their wings against the air. I looked upward and saw the sky filled with black leather sails. Reason landed in front of me, caught me and tucked me behind him. Victor did the same, passing me back to Defiance, who passed me another step backward to Valor. Valor put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his body while Dare stepped forward and Havoc landed beside him.

"What is it?" I whispered.

Valor shook his head. "Something bad."

I held my breath, expecting a grizzly bear or mountain lion to loom out of the darkness. Although I'd never seen anything more impressive on our property than a young black bear—and that had been ten years ago when I was a girl—several people had reported mountain lions near our neighborhood. The big, golden cats are considered more dangerous than bears and more likely to attack humans.

The gargoyle pack stood in front of me, their wings folded into vests, their bodies held taut, as if prepared for battle. A flash of light caught my eye as the moonlight glinted on metal and I could see Dare had his knife gripped in his fist. My gaze traveled immediately to Defiance's hands. He wasn't holding a knife. Instead, it looked like he had slipped on a pair of brass knuckles tipped with sharp spikes. When I checked out the rest of the guys, their hands were the same. Except for Dare, they all wore the strange weapons on their knuckles.

A dark shape separated from the trees closest to the house and stepped onto the patio deck. I almost screamed when I recognized my neighbor's face. Not that he's horribly disfigured or anything like that. The guy's a perfectly normal-looking man in his mid-thirties. But his gaze is restless and cold and I've always avoided him. There's just something about him that makes me uneasy. I didn't know why he was creeping around my house at night but I doubted he was up to any good.

Victor reached the house in a few long strides. He stepped onto the patio deck, followed by Defiance and Reason. It took both Havoc and Dare to hold onto Hooligan who was throwing himself at the house and howling like he'd lost his mind.

I expected Victor to politely ask the tree-slayer if he'd lost his way. He's so dignified with his m'dears and all. But the golden gargoyle cut right to the chase. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

It was clear that Blocker hadn't expected to run into a huge barking dog and six young men, any one of which looked like they could flatten him with a bare-knuckle punch. "Who are you guys?" he snarled. "What are you doing here?"

"We're MacKenzie's friends," Victor answered in a voice that was menacingly soft.

"Friends," he sneered, making my skin crawl. "Why should I believe you? I'd like to check with the girl and make sure you're supposed to be here. Make sure you don't mean to harm my young neighbor."

I opened my mouth, ready to speak up for my friends in no uncertain terms but Valor turned away from the scene and pulled me against his chest. I had to peek around his shoulder to see what was going on.

Victor put his face very close to the neighbor's. "We're supposed to be here. You're not. Piss off."

The neighbor's tone turned ugly. "We'll see about that when I tell the girl's mother that she's got six guys spending the night with her."

A tremor of rage vibrated through Valor as he looked over his shoulder at the deck. With one hand, he held my head against his chest. His other hand was knotted into a fist at his side. And as I watched, the thick skin on his knuckles peeled back to reveal spikes about an inch long.

I stared, transfixed.

Those weapons I'd seen on the gargoyle's hands weren't brass knuckles at all. They were some sort of barbs that slid from beneath their knuckles like a cat's claws.

Chapter Twelve

My neighbor's language went downhill from there but Victor never lost his composure. His voice was silky with violence. "Don't let us catch you here again. Do you understand?"

"Don't threaten me," Blocker snarled. "You guys might think you're tough with your brass knuckles and knives but they'd be pretty useless against a real weapon."

Valor didn't seem to like the sound of that. My feet left the ground as he lifted me into his arms. He took a few running steps into the darkly shadowed forest then opened his wings and rose into the air. I would have squawked when we took off but he pulled my mouth against his chest and silenced me as we glided upward, out of danger.

"What about the others?" I whispered. My lips moved against Valor's skin as we circled over the park. "Will they be okay?"

"They'll be fine. They can handle themselves."

"But what if my neighbor has a gun?"

Valor shook his head. His handsome mouth was set in a grim line. "They'll kill him if he gives them an excuse."

It wasn't exactly the answer I expected but I was relieved Valor didn't think his family was in any danger. Only when I got to thinking about it, I started wondering how I would explain a dead body to the police. I hoped nobody got killed. "Why did you hide me from him?" I asked. "I could have told him you were allowed to be here."

"I couldn't stand the idea of him looking at you," Valor growled. "That guy is pure evil, MacKenzie."

My neighbor had always given me the creeps and I knew Valor was right about him. As far as I was concerned, Valor's statement proved Dare's earlier claim that gargoyles could tell a good person from a bad one.

I rubbed my cheek into Valor's smooth skin and tried to take strength from his warm, comforting presence. He smelled good in a way I couldn't describe. And it was nice to be in his arms, even if he was only trying to protect me. I might have enjoyed the flight over the park if I hadn't been so unnerved about what had just happened and so worried about what might be happening now on the patio deck behind my house.

"Reason protected me. What was that about?" I asked. I was having a hard time accepting the idea. Up until then, everything Reason had done indicated that he didn't like me...at all.

Valor tucked his chin into his chest and looked down at me. "You're part of the pack now," he said quietly. "Reason will protect his hearth, home and family. It's instinct."

I decided this instinct business was working out in my favor. "But I thought..."

"What?" he asked.

Actually, I thought Reason couldn't stand me but I didn't say that. "I thought he didn't like me."

Valor seemed surprised. "I don't think Reason dislikes you. It's just that he's the second oldest and feels responsible for the safety of the pack."

"Shouldn't that responsibility fall to the oldest?"

"It does," he agreed. "Victor is the oldest and he leads the pack. But the second oldest is the one who must first put himself in danger to protect the pack and defend the leader."

"Is that why Reason landed first?" I asked.

"Aye. We formed our strategy in the air," he explained. "Victor and Defiance joined Reason to set up the first line of defense. They positioned my brothers behind them, to make sure they were the second line. I was meant to be the last line of defense. My job was to protect you and remove you from danger if anything happened to them."

If anything happened to them? I felt a sudden rush of emotion at the idea of the pack defending me...at all costs. "And you guys planned all that out while you were flying here?"

Valor gave my question some thought. "Actually, we didn't have to plan anything. We just did it as naturally as...breathing. I suppose it was instinct again."

I nodded without speaking, not sure I could comment without my voice shaking.

"You're trembling," he said softly.

"That guy gives me the creeps," I murmured, which was true. Just thinking about my neighbor gave me the shivers. I tried to laugh it off but that just made me shake more violently. Valor tightened his grip on me. His heat warmed me but I was still trembling when we returned to the house. The place was quiet, the hateful neighbor gone, while Havoc and Dare waited for us on the deck behind the house. Havoc was wearing his leather jacket, which meant the guys had retrieved the clothing Rage had dropped earlier in the evening.

As soon as Valor set me on my feet, I opened the sliding glass door and stepped into the kitchen. Hooligan cantered over to me and licked my fingers. "Are you guys okay?" I called out as we hurried into the living room. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Sadly, we couldn't find a good enough reason for murder," Defiance grumbled.

"Stay away from him," Victor advised simply.

Like I needed to be told that! I had no intention of ever having anything to do with the guy. I certainly didn't buy his story that he was just checking on me. Unfortunately, I didn't like to think what his real motive was, or how often he'd spied on me in the past.

"He's a bad man," Havoc said as he came up behind me.

"D-Did you see Hooligan?" I asked as I rubbed my hands over my arms. "He looked like he was ready to take on my neighbor all by himself."

"I think he was ready to take out his throat," Havoc chuckled and stroked his hand over Hooligan's furry head.

Hooli lifted his muzzle and gave a soft bark followed by a low, tough-guy growl.

We all laughed at my wolfhound and it helped to lighten the mood a little but I was still wound up. I think the others felt the same way. We stayed up late watching TV and it was almost two o'clock before the gargoyles started picking out places to sleep. I offered them my mother's bedroom but Victor said he'd bunk with Reason in my brother's room and Defiance said he was fine on the couch in the living room. Valor insisted that Dare move into the guest room with Havoc.

When I closed my bedroom door, Hooligan flopped down at the foot of my bed and opened his mouth in a huge yawn. He settled his face on his front paws and closed his eyes. Evidently, barking your head off is very tiring.

As I changed into my pajamas, I looked around at the shadows clinging to the corners of the room. I shivered and wondered if I'd ever really feel safe again. A firm knock on my bedroom door made me jump and I cursed myself for being such a wimp. I opened the door an inch then pulled it wider when I saw it was Valor. "What is it?" I whispered. "Is something wrong?"

"Now that there are three more gargoyles here, there aren't enough beds," he said as he looked back over his shoulder.

That wasn't quite true. "You could sleep on the sofa, downstairs in the family room," I suggested in a low voice.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a stubborn look. "I won't leave you alone."

My eyes widened on him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm sleeping here, in your room," he answered, and pushed past me into the bedroom like I wasn't wearing a baggy pair of powder blue pajama pants...dotted with little black penguins...wearing red earmuffs. Fortunately, the top I had on was a quietly understated, plain white T-shirt.

"But if anything happened, you'd hear with your gargoyle super hearing," I pointed out, not really wanting to convince him of anything. I knew I'd feel safer with Valor in my room.

"I might not hear soon enough. And I might not get to you quickly enough," he argued. He glanced around the room and threw himself into my wide, French Provincial chair.

Valor looked good in the upholstered chair. It's been in my family for three generations and it's really comfortable. I usually take a book and drape my legs over one arm while I rest my head in the crook of the other arm. Anyhow, Valor looked too good to argue with, so I didn't try to make him leave. And I wanted to know about the spikes I'd seen on his knuckles. "What did I see tonight, on the back of your hands?"

For once, he didn't try to avoid the truth. "Hackles. When we sense danger, our hackles pull back and our barbs...extend."

"Show me," I demanded as I reached for his hand.

He shook his head and drew his hand away before I could touch it. "They're dangerous."

"What do you mean by dangerous?" I demanded. I found it hard to believe that Valor might endanger me in any way. I felt so safe when he was around.

"The talons are poisonous. They...release venom when we use them."

My mouth dropped open. "You told me you didn't have any super powers!" I almost shouted, feeling like he had totally misled me.

He chuckled softly. "I don't consider poisonous barbs to be a super power."

"You have hackles on the backs of your hands that peel back to reveal poisonous talons and you don't consider that a super power? You could probably kill a man with one blow."

"It would take more than one blow to kill a human male," he said matter-of-factly. "But it might kill a small female like you. It would definitely make you very ill." He gave me a serious look. "So you must be careful."

I backed up until my legs touched the bed then I sat down. "Okay, I'm being careful," I told him. "Can you make the barbs come out so I can see them?"

He made a fist and looked at his hand but nothing happened.

"Well?" I asked.

"Hang on," he muttered. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"But you didn't have to concentrate earlier when we were in the woods."

"That's because instinct kicked in," he explained. "The situation was dangerous and I was angry."

"You could think about my neighbor," I suggested.

He flicked his intense gaze at me and nodded. And as I watched, his hackles pulled back and his barbs crept forward.

"That's amazing," I breathed, my eyes probably as big as tennis balls.

His barbs sank back beneath his knuckles again and he smiled at me. "Now go to sleep," he ordered softly.

I hated to think of him spending the night in a chair even if it _was_ comfortable. "You don't have to do this," I told him. "You don't have to spend the night in my room. I'll be fine here with Hooligan to guard me."

Valor cast his gaze at my sleeping dog. "I don't think so," he murmured. He dropped his head onto the back of the chair and closed his eyes to signal the end of our conversation.

"Can I get you a blanket?" I offered.

"I'm fine," he muttered without opening his eyes. "My wings keep me warm."

As long as he was determined to stay in my room, I decided it was a good chance to learn more about him and his family. I was wide-awake, anyhow. "Tell me about the runes you wear on your necks. Are they letters from an old alphabet?"

He opened his eyes and gave me a surprised look. "Nay, they're not letters. They're words."

"They're words? Really? What do they mean? What does the rune on your neck mean?"

He reached up and laughed softly as he ran his fingers over the blue mark on his throat. "It's my name," he said as if it was obvious.

"The rune on your neck means Valor?" I questioned as I studied the blue tattoo.

He nodded and pointed to the symbol on his neck. "This is a rock in the ocean, turning back the waves. My brothers' runes mean Havoc and Dare."

"How did you get the tattoos?" I asked as I perched on the edge of the bed and swung my legs.

"Our mother named us when we were born and our father marked us when we came of age. All gargoyles wear their names on their throats. In fact, that's why we're called gargoyles."

I tilted my head and questioned him with a look.

"Gargoyle comes from the French word for throat."

"Really? French?"

"Nine hundred years ago in England, a lot of the nobility spoke French," Valor explained. "Gargoyles tried to hide their existence from most people but they always had human friends and those friends called our kind gargoyles. But the stone carvings that drain rainwater from buildings were also called gargoyles because they poured water from their throats."

"And because most of the manmade water drains were ugly, people used the same word to describe harpies," I mused as my hair fell over my eyes.

"I suppose so," Valor stated quietly. "Then the gargoyle race apparently died out while we were trapped behind that wall. And our kind were forgotten while the harpy race took our name."

I peeked up through my hair at Valor's grim face and quickly changed the subject. "So your father was a gargoyle and your mother was..."

"Human," he answered with a distant sigh.

"When a gargoyle marries a human, are all the children gargoyles?" I persisted, determined to get his mind off the topic of his lost heritage.

"All the boys are. All the girls are human."

That finally explained where gargoyles came from. "There are no female gargoyles?" I asked somewhat hesitantly. I remembered how he and Havoc hadn't wanted to talk about it earlier.

"Nay," he said, and closed his eyes again. "Now go to sleep, lass."

Nope. He still didn't want to talk about it. I scooted back on the bed and pulled the covers over my legs. I sat and watched him for a moment before I asked, "What happened to Dare?"

"What do you mean?" he muttered as if he didn't really want to talk about it.

"Why can't he fly anymore?" I asked softly.

"I don't want to tell you," he answered after a long silence.

"Why not?" I whispered.

Valor opened his eyes and leaned forward in the chair, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched the floor. "If I tell you, it will make you cry. And I don't want to see you cry."

"I won't cry," I insisted although I was half afraid of what he might tell me.

Without moving his head, he lifted his gaze to my face and watched me from beneath the shadow of his lashes. "You think you're tough and strong, Kenz, but you're soft-hearted."

"Is it...that bad?" I asked tentatively.

"It's bad," he confirmed as his eyes clouded with sorrow.

"Was it the harpy who captured him?" I asked, my throat tight. "Did she do something to his wings?"

"Did Dare tell you about her?"

"He told me a harpy caught him and kept him prisoner."

After another long silence, he eventually said, "The harpy stripped his wings so he couldn't fly. So he couldn't escape from her."

My heart pounded heavily and I lost all my breath. "She stripped his wings?"

Valor nodded. "She tore the leather out from between his spines."

"But...why?" I croaked. I was beginning to wish I hadn't been so nosy. I assumed the harpy had stolen Dare because he was beautiful. If that was true, why would she have vandalized him? "Why did the harpy capture him in the first place?"

"She wanted his venom...and his rune."

I shook my head in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Harpies are closely related to gargoyles," Valor explained. "But unlike gargoyles, they have no barbs for fighting and no venom. They crave our venom more than anything on earth because they become more like us once it's in their bloodstream."

"So the venom isn't poisonous to harpies?"

"Nay. Once the venom is in their veins, the common stone they're made of changes to the fine-grained material that gargoyles are made of. Imagine a flying monster that's virtually indestructible."

"Do they become beautiful, like you are?" I whispered.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" he asked as the color of his gaze warmed to soft blue.

I rolled my eyes and sent him a wry look. "Duh."

"Their appearance changes," he admitted. "But the harpies are only beautiful on the outside. Inside, they're just as horrible as any living thing can be. But the harpy didn't only want Dare's venom. She wanted his rune as well."

Valor explained that his brother took a lot of risks when he was younger, and he didn't always stay close to the pack. He was on his way to meet up with a girl on the night he was captured, and he was in his living form when the harpy got him. The monster flew north to Scotland and chained him at the back of her aerie where the sun couldn't reach him. She wanted him to give her his rune so that she could have a permanent supply of venom. Evidently, when a gargoyle gives a female his rune, he's bound by instinct to stay with her and protect her. He'll never leave her. Even if he hates her.

I was beginning to understand that this instinct business had a downside. "How does a gargoyle give a female his rune?"

"He uses his barbs to mark his symbol on her upper arm, near her shoulder," Valor said, and pointed to the top of his arm.

"How did Dare finally get away from her?"

"She died," he answered in a flat tone.

"How did she die?" I asked tremulously, and wondered if Dare had managed to kill her.

"Old age," he muttered.

My stomach churned in absolute horror. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick.

"They're evil old things," he growled as his fists balled into tight knots. "Right up to the end."

Like I said before, I'm not much of a crier. Crying makes your face blotchy and red and does nothing for your appearance. This is especially true for a redhead like me. But I cried when Valor told me Dare's story. I couldn't hold it back. I covered my face with my hands and tears just poured out of me in a blotchy red torrent of despair.

I felt a weight settle beside me on the mattress and realized Valor had joined me on the bed. He put his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. We sat on the bed while he stroked my hair and murmured soft words of comfort.

"You couldn't rescue him?" I sobbed.

He tightened his hold on me. "We couldn't find him. We hired every witch we could round up to scry for him, but none of them were powerful enough."

I wept onto his shoulder for several minutes. Finally, he pulled my head away from the warmth of his hard frame. He smiled softly as he held my face and thumbed the tears from beneath my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered. "I must look like a mess."

"I think you look beautiful," he insisted, his voice a soft stroke of sound. He brushed his lips across my forehead before he pulled my temple against his cheek. His warm breath beat against my ear in an uneven rush that made me want to pull closer to him. And I was already as close as I could get.

"But what happened to his hackles?" I sniffed as I remembered the deep scars that slashed across Dare's knuckles. I looked up into Valor's heavy-lidded gaze. "Did the harpy do that to him?"

"No," he whispered in a way that made me think the worst was yet to come. "He did that to himself."

Chapter Thirteen

"The harpy's aerie was located on a ledge that cut into the sheer face of a cliff," Valor continued his brother's story. "Without his wings, Dare couldn't escape."

Valor told me how the harpy had threatened to hurt someone Dare loved if he didn't share his venom with her. When he told her it was a long way back to York and the people he cared about, she said she'd find a child and bring her to the aerie. And make Dare watch while she tortured the little girl. Dare refused to let that happen. But he didn't want to give the harpy his rune and be bound to her forever. He didn't even want to give the harpy his venom, since that would make her almost impossible to kill and he was still hoping the pack might find him one day.

"So he thrust his fists into the fire and crushed his hackles against its red hot coals." Valor's voice cracked on the last three words and when I saw what it cost him to tell the story about his brother, I wished I'd never asked.

Some time after Dare had destroyed his barbs, the harpy removed his chains so he could tend the fire and prepare food and essentially be her slave. Since he couldn't fly, she didn't think he could escape from the aerie—not without falling to his death. She didn't notice that a narrow sliver of sunshine reached the ledge for a few minutes every morning one week in winter.

Unchained, Dare was able to reach the sun at the edge of the cliff one cold morning. And before the harpy realized what he was doing, he stretched out on the cave's floor and turned to stone. With his back fused to the rock and his arms crossed over his chest, the harpy couldn't get a chain or rope around him. He lay there for more than two years until the harpy died. Then he waited until the direct sunlight touched him again.

"The harpy couldn't break him away from the stone?" I questioned.

"Harpies aren't _that_ strong." Valor answered. " _Nothing's_ that strong."

By the time Dare returned to his living form, he'd had two years to decide what to do next. Without hesitating, he stepped from the cliff face and turned to stone. After he hit the ground on the valley below, he waited for the sun to reach him again the next day before he changed back to his living form and walked two hundred miles home.

"And when he got back to York, the ends of his hair were white," Valor said. "From all the stress of what he'd been through."

"He...can't cut the ends of his hair off?"

"The new ends turn white again in a few days," he explained.

My emotions got the better of me. "You'd better tell me the best way to fight a harpy," I said shakily.

"There aren't any harpies anymore," he pointed out gently.

"Maybe," I said, my voice catching. "Maybe not."

He slanted a look down at me and searched my face. "Don't let this harden your heart, Kenz."

I wiped my eyes and shook my head. "I'm not contemplating revenge. I'm just thinking about survival, in case anything happens."

"I won't let anything happen to you," he muttered fiercely.

"Then tell me what to do if something happens to you or your family," I insisted.

"If something happens to any of us, I don't want you involved," he growled. "A harpy could break your neck as easily as snapping a twig. I don't want you anywhere near one of those monsters."

I stared at Valor and saw the determination in his eyes. But there was concern in his shadowed gaze, too. And despite his claim that harpies no longer existed, I could tell he was worried he might be wrong. At any rate, I could see there was no way he was going to tell me anything I could use against a harpy. It was clear I'd have to get the information from someone else. I was planning on Dare being that someone else and fell asleep that night meaning to talk to him as soon as I got the chance.

I hit the snooze button after my phone alarm woke me the next morning. The early morning sunlight brightened the corners of my room and my neighbor seemed like a very distant threat with Valor sitting a few feet away. As long as the gargoyles were near, I knew I'd never be afraid of David Blocker again.

I bunched my sheets beneath my chin and watched Valor asleep on the other side of the room. Sprawled out in the upholstered chair, he looked pretty ohmygod hot—spectacular and breathtaking—like the ohmygod road that winds through the mountains from Idaho Springs to Central City. His long legs were stretched in front of the chair and his thick eyelashes fanned out on the high cut of his cheekbones while his dark hair spread beneath his head like a wash of intense midnight.

As I gazed at his perfectly molded face, I thought about the hug we'd shared last night. I wondered if it meant as much to him as it did to me. In the end, I decided he was probably just trying to console me so I'd stop pouring tears all over his shoulder.

My phone started beeping again, reminding me I had to get up and go to school. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed from the room so I wouldn't wake Valor or any of the other gargoyles in the house. I crept downstairs to the bathroom on the main level and stepped inside to take a shower. And when I walked out of the bathroom, Dare was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, waiting for me.

I rubbed a towel over my wet hair. "Have you been assigned to me for the day?" I asked with a defeated sigh. I might have known I couldn't sneak around without waking at least one of the gargoyles. Their hearing was just too good.

Dare averted his eyes and rolled his shoulders. "No," he answered. "I just thought maybe..."

"Maybe what?" I asked as I threw the towel over the back of a barstool and breezed past him to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

"You mentioned that you might be able to take someone to school with you, and I thought..."

He was so hesitant, I could see that my security wasn't the issue this time. For whatever reason, he just wanted to go to school with me. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea, since it would give me a chance to ask him about harpies. "Get rid of that knife hanging from your belt and have some cereal," I told him as I pointed my spoon at the box of corn flakes. "We have to get out of here in ten minutes."

Dare grabbed a bowl and filled it. "You're sure it won't be a problem?"

I gave him an appraising look. He looked more like a senior than a sophomore. But fortunately, Whitney's mom works in attendance. "I don't think it will be a problem," I told him.

It was no trouble at all getting a school pass for Dare. The women in the attendance office were falling all over themselves trying to be helpful. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat and charmed everyone's socks off with his unusual accent and his extreme good looks.

I watched as he signed the form they gave him and was surprised when he marked his rune with a few swift strokes. Nobody else seemed to notice. I suppose it didn't look much different than a short, scrawled signature.

"Name?" Whitney's mom asked as she turned the paper around on the counter and gave it a quick glance.

"Dare," he answered.

"Last name?"

As if he hadn't expected the question, Dare looked at me for help.

I hadn't expected it either. "Greystone," I answered off the top of my head.

"Dare Greystone," Mrs. Anders repeated. "Nice name."

I almost said thank you and only stopped myself just in time.

When we stepped into the hall, the ladies back in attendance were still talking about Dare's accent. I grinned up at him, grabbed his arm and dragged him off to my first class where he caused quite a sensation. In his long black trench coat, he pretty much looked like a rock star and all the girls stared at him with blatant interest.

Unfortunately, the first class was Algebra and Dare was lost. But he did better the next period, which was history. We were discussing the Napoleonic wars and Dare had some strong opinions on the le petit caporal. Mrs. Bennett was pretty impressed with his knowledge. She probably got the impression that British schools were better than American ones. You wouldn't necessarily think so if you met some of my cousins.

When the lunch bell rang, we joined Mim and Whitney at a picnic table behind the school. I'd hoped Dare would join in our conversation and show Mim he wasn't a complete jerk but he didn't say much. He sat with his forearms resting on his knees and tossed French fries at the ravens.

The birds that hang around school are huge. They live pretty well on student leftovers. They took the fries and hid them under the bushes close to the wall then piled stones on top of them. Ravens aren't dumb. They were probably saving the food for the weekend when school was out. Either that or they were planning a big party.

After lunch, I had an hour of band then P.E. was my last class of the day. Dare took off his coat and joined in the coed volleyball game. He did remarkably well for someone who'd never played before. The girls were all in raptures as they eyed the damp T-shirt that clung to his lean physique. The guys were less thrilled.

He ignored everyone as thoroughly as he'd ignored Mim and Whitney at lunch.

"Do you just not like my friends?" I asked Dare as we pulled out of the sophomore parking lot at the end of the day.

"I like them fine," he answered as if he was surprised by my question.

"Well, you don't act as if you like them."

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give that impression. I was distracted at lunch. School...wasn't exactly what I expected."

It was my turn to be surprised. "What did you expect?"

A slash of color burned along his cheekbones. "I didn't realize that everyone could already read and write."

"Oh," I said as the meaning of his words sank in.

"I was quite keen to go to school with you so that I could start learning."

"You...can't read?"

"No," he replied wistfully. "The alphabet has changed a lot in the last eight hundred years. I could read a little back in my time but there wasn't much _to_ read. That was before the printing press and books."

"Really?" I murmured. I should have realized the gargoyles wouldn't be able to read. But they were so familiar with my century that it was easy to forget they'd been in the dark for eight hundred years.

"About two centuries ago, we had a large family living in our house. The father read Dickens aloud to his children. Great Expectations. Tale of Two Cities. A Christmas Carol. I was hoping to read them myself, one day."

I couldn't help but feel sorry for Dare. I could tell he was discouraged about being so far behind in his education. And I could see he desperately wanted to learn. Most of all, I felt bad for accusing him of being unfriendly, especially when I realized he couldn't say all that much to Mim and Whitney since he had to keep his history a secret. "I'm sorry I suggested you didn't like my friends."

"It wouldn't do me any good if I _did_ like them," he sighed. He turned his head and looked out the side window.

I cut a quick glance at him. "I can teach you to read."

"It's not just that." He stared down at the deep scars that ripped across his knuckles. "What can I offer them compared to Victor and the others? Without wings, I'm no use to anybody, much less girls like Mim and Whitney. And the girls will be meeting the rest of the pack tomorrow night."

I figured it was time to get tough with the moody gargoyle. "Here's a news flash, Dare. Mim and Whitney don't know any guys with wings. Not one. So they aren't going to miss your wings. In fact, they're gonna think it's totally bizarre if they ever find out you're supposed to have them!"

His mouth curved downward into a masculine sulk and he turned his face toward the window again.

I hit the brake and the Jeep fishtailed to a halt on the gravel road. Before the dust settled, I pulled the handbrake, got out of the car and walked around to the passenger-side door.

"What?" he growled as I opened the door.

I held up the car keys. "Learn to drive and you won't need to fly."

His lips tipped slightly upward. If it was a smile, it was the first one I'd seen on his handsome face. It was pretty thin, but it was a start.

I gave him a few instructions and we were off. Dare was a natural when it came to driving. I could tell he'd been watching me, and he knew almost exactly what to do before I said anything. He steered the car back home, up the driveway and right into the garage.

"Good work," I told him.

"Thanks," he responded quietly, but there was more life in his gold-flecked eyes than I'd seen up until then. "It was...nice of you to give me a lesson."

"Do you want to do something nice for me in return?" I asked, all innocent-like.

He slid me a wary look from the corner of his eye.

I felt a little guilty because I knew Valor didn't want me to know what I was about to ask. But I asked anyhow. I was just careful to keep my voice low so the gargoyles in the house wouldn't hear us. "Tell me how to fight a harpy."

Dare rubbed his hand over his mouth and eyed me as if he was reluctant to start. "You know there probably aren't any more harpies, right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." I stubbornly repeated the words I'd said to Valor the night before. "Either way, I want to be prepared."

He gave me another thin smile. "You aren't going to go picking a fight if you _do_ find one, are you?"

"Of course not," I mumbled, feeling a little bit silly. I guess I probably sounded like an idiot by suggesting I might be able to take on a harpy. "But if I wake up one morning and discover you guys are missing, I'm gonna come looking for you."

He watched me a long moment. "I believe you would."

"Hey," I said. "I'm a member of the pack now and I protect my own."

With a soft chuckle, Dare started his explanation. "The best way to get rid of a harpy is to take a sledge hammer to her. Harpies aren't indestructible like gargoyles. The stone they're made of is common rock and can be broken. But that doesn't make them easy to kill. Harpies can remain motionless on the side of a building for eons, but if they see you coming after them, they'll peel away from the building and fight. They're big and they're strong. Although they can't turn to flesh and blood like we can, they can move while in their rock form. And they don't have to wait for the sun to touch them."

"A sledge hammer?" I mused doubtfully. That would be heavy. I wasn't sure I could do much more than pick one up.

Dare gave another low laugh. "They're easier to kill with a long knife but you have to slide the blade between the stony plates on their bodies. And that isn't easy to pull off, either," he pointed out. "At least it wasn't easy back in my time because harpies tended to hunt in gangs and single out a lone gargoyle then attack him together. When that happened, a gargoyle wouldn't stand much chance of getting in a blow."

"They sound horrible," I muttered. "Ganging up on you guys like that."

He nodded. "Gargoyles soon learned to form packs and avoided traveling alone."

I thought this over. The whole pack thing was more than just a social grouping. It was a strategy to improve the gargoyles' chances of survival.

"Once the harpy is dead, she returns to stone forever," he continued.

I wondered how many of the ugly sculptures I'd seen in Oxford were dead harpies...and how many were still alive. "Then she can be broken up?" I asked.

"She _could_ be broken up after she was dead but it isn't strictly necessary. After she's dead, she'll never rise to harm another living thing."

"Anything else?" I asked, determined to learn as much about harpies as possible.

"Bright light bothers their eyes."

"Really?"

"And they hate music."

Well, there you go. Any creature that hates music has nothing good in them. "All music?"

"All music," he confirmed. "A harpy wouldn't even like the Beatles."

I hadn't known Dare was a Beatles fan. He and my mother would get along like gangbusters. "Anything else?" I asked.

The passenger door opened suddenly and I jumped at the deep click of sound. I'd been so focused on my conversation with Dare that I hadn't seen Valor approach the car. I thought he might envy his brother getting driving lessons but the look he shot at me was pure gratitude. "Were you driving?" he asked his brother enthusiastically.

"First lesson," Dare admitted with a grin.

"How'd he do?" Valor questioned me.

"The guy's a natural," I proclaimed as I grabbed my backpack and jumped down to the garage floor.

Valor put his arm around his brother's shoulders then reached for my hand as he hauled us back to the house. We found the rest of the pack in the living room, busy working on a set of bows.

"Did you...find some yew trees?" I asked Valor incredulously.

"I spotted some when we flew over the park last night. We hiked over there today and gathered some wood."

"That's great," I said as I dumped my school stuff behind the couch. For several moments, I watched the guys shave away thin curls of wood with their knives. I could see they'd eventually need some sandpaper so I went out to the garage and found some for them. They thought it was brilliant.

"What would you have used in place of sandpaper?" I called out from the kitchen where I was working on my Sir Walter Raleigh head. I had glued a cheap black wig to the back of a mask and I was stuffing it full of tissue paper.

"Stone," Victor answered. "Probably sandstone, come to think of it. Or a metal file if we could afford one."

It was hard to imagine a time when metal was in short supply. Gold, yes. Plain old steel, not so much. I glued some bright turquoise marbles into the mask's eye sockets and rearranged the dark hair.

"What do you think?" I asked the guys after I'd crammed the head inside the plastic jar.

Victor slid a grin toward the others. "It looks familiar, somehow. What do you think, Havoc?"

Havoc rubbed his chin and pretended to study the head in the jar. "It does look familiar, especially around the eyes. I can't quite place the face, though."

Everyone turned and looked at Valor. "Personally, I can't see the likeness," he declared without cracking a smile.

Grinning, I set my plastic jar on the kitchen counter and headed for the computer in the family room. I got online and ordered the stuff the guys would need for bowstrings. I didn't want them skinning any cats although Havoc assured me that bowstrings weren't made of catgut or any other animal intestines. He insisted that bowstrings were made from plant fiber and they were completely vegetarian.

Whatever. I ordered the nylon just to be safe.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, I left for school "sans guards". The fact that none of the gargoyles insisted on going with me convinced me they trusted me to keep their secret. I would have stopped by the library after school and picked up some books so we could get started on reading lessons, but it was Halloween so I hurried straight home.

When I opened the mudroom door, I could smell food cooking. Havoc was in the kitchen with my mother's striped apron pulled over his head and tied around his waist. He looked utterly adorable in a lean, dreadlocky sort of way. He'd already started dinner—something he called dead bird stew. At first I freaked, until he told me he'd found the bird in the freezer above the refrigerator.

It was a chicken. And the stew was really good. Way better than it sounds.

Not only that, Defiance had discovered the vacuum cleaner and he thought it was genius. He'd spent the whole day sweeping the house from stem to stern. My mother wasn't going to recognize the place when she got home. And if I let her think I'd done all the work, she was going to wonder what was wrong with me. She'd probably haul me off to a doctor, or at least a psychoanalyst. I decided I'd have to tell her that Mim and Whitney had given me a hand with the housecleaning.

And after an early dinner, I took Dare out for his second driving lesson. We even ventured off the gravel roads onto the county highway. I figured if we happened to cross paths with a policeman, he wouldn't pull us over. Dare was at least two years older than me and he looked it. So as long as he followed the rules of the road, we weren't likely to draw attention.

Before it got dark outside, Whitney brought Mim over in her mother's van. Mim stepped through the front door with an armload of costumes and the guys jumped up to give her a hand. I was so relieved they didn't ignore her like Dare had. Quite the opposite, the guys seemed to be really taken with her. In fact, except for Defiance, they all seemed more interested in Mim than they were in Whitney, who is certified gorgeous.

Unlike Mim and me, Whit has even had a few boyfriends. She could have had a lot more of them but she's picky when it comes to guys. Some people think she's stuck up. She's not, really. But she is sort of regal...in a good way. Her father's a doctor and her family isn't short of money so her clothes are always nice. And she has long, pale blond hair. In the summer, she works as a lifeguard at a mountain country club so she has this lovely golden tan that lasts through the entire winter.

She was gonna look so great in the gold brocade.

We dressed and did our makeup in my bedroom. Mim had even made some fake moles for us to wear. I stuck one of the little dark patches at the corner of my upper lip. Mim wore hers at the side of her cheekbone while Whitney positioned hers below her mouth.

Whitney tilted her head and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. "So, why did women wear fake moles back in the day?"

"They were considered sexy," I explained as I reached for a tube of lipstick that was darker than anything I'd normally wear. "They were called beauty spots."

Whit stuck an extra mole on her nose and we got to giggling and I ended up with a lot more lipstick on my mouth than I needed. My sides were aching before Whitney finally peeled the mole from her nose and tossed it at the wastebasket in the corner of my room. Still laughing, we tumbled down the stairs to join the guys.

"What do you think?" I asked as we twirled into the living room trailing yards of gold brocade, blue satin and cheap black silk.

I could tell the gargoyles were gobsmacked. Each one who wasn't already standing rose to his feet and stared at us in our costumes. I have to admit we looked pretty awesome. Mim had sewn those bodices to within an inch of our lives and they _fit_. I don't know about Mim and Whitney, but mine was so tight I could hardly breathe.

Victor was the first to recover his poise. "You...look amazing," he murmured as he took Mim's hand and touched his lips to her fingers.

Mim blushed like crazy but the pink cheeks looked good with the blue satin.

I swung my gaze toward Valor to get his reaction and noticed Dare standing in the background. His expression was a mixture of anger and dark despair. I wondered why he was so upset. It didn't occur to me that he might not like Victor paying so much attention to Mim. After all, he'd had plenty of chances to express his own interest in her.

"What about you?" I asked the guys. "Aren't you gonna get dressed?"

The gargoyles shared a bewildered look. "We are dressed," Havoc said, and glanced down at his jeans.

"Aren't you going to wear your _costumes_?" I asked, emphasizing the last word.

"Costumes?" Defiance questioned without removing his eyes from Whitney's face.

I gave Valor a pointed look.

"I think MacKenzie means our Celtic warrior costumes," he said, finally catching on.

"Ah," Victor said. "Right."

And as the gargoyles herded upstairs to change into their wool shorts, Mim turned around and sent me a wide-eyed look. While she fanned her face and tried to catch her breath, Whitney's quiet, regal gaze followed the gargoyles up the stairs.

"What do you think?" I whispered.

Whitney just tilted her chin in a cool nod that seemed to say, "They'll do".

Mim placed her hands on her hips. "You were lying when you said the others were better looking than Dare," she declared.

"Keep your voice down," I warned her from the side of my mouth, pretty sure the gargoyles could hear our conversation.

The words were barely out of my mouth before Havoc appeared at the top of the stairs. He hitched the side of his butt on the handrail and slid down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he jumped to the floor then held his arms wide as he turned in a circle. "What do you think?" he asked, mimicking my earlier words with a grin.

"Awesome," Whitney said approvingly.

"Jolly awesome," I agreed.

Havoc sidled up next to me. "I never realized how itchy these breeches are," he complained beneath his breath as the rest of the guys followed him downstairs.

I have to admit the gargoyles looked more comfortable—and more handsome—in their jeans. Dare was the last to appear at the bottom of the stairs, his loose white jerkin tucked into his wool shorts, a sulky scowl etched into his features.

I picked up my big plastic jar and we all traipsed out the front door. Whitney's van seats nine people so we were able to fit everyone in; we just had to decide who was going to sit where. I couldn't help but notice that Defiance didn't wait around for someone else to decide they wanted to ride shotgun. He slipped into the front passenger seat before anyone else could claim it.

Mim and I weren't quite sure how to manage the massive volume of our skirts. We'd had enough trouble getting through the front door. Now we had to climb into the van and find room for all the fabric. I hung back, waiting to see what Mim would do, planning to copy her or at least learn from her mistakes. But Victor took command of the situation.

He threw Mim's skirt over his arm and handed her up into the first seat then settled down beside her with the blue satin spread over his knees like he'd been managing skirts for women all his life. Before I could adequately express my awe, Valor guided me up into the seat behind Victor and Mim with the same skill, leaving the back seat to Reason, Havoc and Dare.

Mim turned her head and gave me a brief, shocked look as if to say, "Can you believe what just happened?"

I just smiled back at her. There was no doubt about it. We'd landed in thirteenth century heaven.

We got to Boulder a little after nine o'clock. It was dark by then and the streetlights cast a soft glow on the Pearl Street Mall. The brick-paved street was packed with diehard Halloweeners ranging in age from newborns to senior citizens. Some of the costumes were pretty amazing; Boulder goes all out when it comes to Halloween.

Defiance and Whitney led the way as our group strolled along behind a bunch of Jedi Knights. Victor followed with Mim, Reason and Havoc. Valor and I were next in line while Dare brooded along at the rear.

Mim was right in front of me and I could see that Victor was making a big fuss over her. I thought she'd be in heaven to be the center of his attention, but her furtive gaze kept flicking backward toward Dare.

As we made our way past the shops that line the mall, a woman traveling against the flow of traffic threaded her way between the groups of people. She cackled and crowed as she swerved through the slow-moving column. The long skirt of her tattered gown trailed behind her like a ragged black banner.

"What was she supposed to be?" Valor asked as he turned his head to watch the dark-haired woman sweep behind us.

"A witch," I told him.

His eyebrows tilted upward as if he was surprised. "Not a very convincing getup."

"No?"

He shook his head. "No. To begin with, the hair's all wrong."

"Not red enough?"

"Not nearly red enough," he confirmed as he gazed at the hair I'd piled on top of my head. "Not pretty enough, either."

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks and lowered my gaze to the ground. "Are witches always pretty?"

"No," he admitted. "Some of them are almost as ugly as harpies."

"Is there anything here as ugly as a harpy?" I asked. I caught sight of a tall grim reaper on the other side of the mall. He was wearing one of those weird glow-in-the-dark "scream" masks. A plastic baby doll was impaled on the end of his scythe. It was pretty gross and I nudged a little closer to Valor.

Valor cast his gaze over the crowd. "Some of them are pretty close," he admitted.

It occurred to me that one of the monsters could walk around freely on Halloween night and never be recognized for what she was. "You're not worried about running into a real harpy tonight, are you?"

"Not really."

"Would you be able to sense a harpy's presence in this crowd?" I asked, wondering what would happen if the harpy was wearing a mask or some sort of costume that covered her completely.

"Probably not," he answered. "I'd only be able to sense an evil presence and there are a few of those in every crowd."

"Really?" I asked. Generally, I thought most people were good. I glanced at the family behind me with their three small children dressed as turtles. The kids were adorable. "Even here?"

"Even here, there are people like your neighbor," he affirmed.

Creeped out by the idea, I looked across the mall again and noticed a group of girls from my high school. They were working their way in the opposite direction but when they caught sight of us, they stopped dead in their tracks.

"Uh-oh," I muttered as I watched the girls from the corner of my eye. They peeled away from the traffic going the other way.

"What is it?" Valor asked sharply as his shoulders squared up like he was preparing for attack.

"Incoming," I warned him.

Alexa Thompson breezed up with two of her friends. All of them were dressed as vampires, assuming vampires wear that much makeup. They planted themselves directly in our path so we had to stop if we didn't want to run over them. The costumed mass of humanity flowed around us like a river of bright color and black splashes. "Hey MacKenzie, Whitney," Alexa bubbled without mentioning Mim. She tossed her well-behaved auburn hair behind her shoulders. "Great costumes."

"Thanks," I murmured and shifted the plastic jar on my hip. "You guys look great too."

"What are you supposed to be?"

"Headless heroines," I explained without going into details. I figured Alexa wasn't really interested in my costume or me. Not that she's mean or anything like that. I actually have her in some of my sophomore classes, even though she's a senior. And she's copied my homework once or twice.

She eyed the guys expectantly so I introduced them and then explained, "These are friends of my cousins. I met them on my last trip to England."

"I'm Alexa," she announced breathlessly without commenting on their unusual names. Maybe she didn't even notice. "Do you guys have last names?"

There was a slight delay before Dare answered, "Greystone."

"All of you?" giggled Alexa.

"All of us," Valor confirmed. "We're related. Brothers and cousins."

"Cousins," she gushed. "I get it."

Valor turned an uncertain frown on me as if he hoped I could interpret.

I just shrugged.

"I saw you at school the other day," she said, singling out Dare. "I really love what you've done to your hair."

Dare fingered the white ends of his hair while a brief flash of pain touched his eyes. "I didn't do this to my hair," he said in a low voice.

"You mean it's _natural_?" she squealed. "That is _so_ cool."

Talk about awkward. As Dare moved backward a step, I quickly changed the subject. "Have you seen anyone else from school tonight?"

"Just some loser freshmen," she answered.

I winced. I knew quite a few freshmen and I didn't consider any of them losers.

"So, MacKenzie," Alexa bubbled on, speaking to me but eying Victor like she wanted to get him alone in a dark closet. "There's a party tonight at Carly's house, starting at midnight. Her parents are out of town. Why don't you guys come?"

"Um," I stalled. I don't dislike Alexa. She's a harmless giggler. She's also pretty popular with the guys at school. She has what Whitney calls infinite cleavage and she never fails to show it off. In fact, Alexa has more shirts with missing buttons than anyone I know. But she'd never invited us to any parties before and I couldn't help but think there was a wee bit of hypocrisy involved in her sudden offer of friendship. "We might do that," I answered noncommittally. "Are you gonna invite Josh Saxon, too?"

"Is he here?" she exclaimed, and turned her head to check the crowd.
I pointed to the other side of the mall. "I saw him earlier. He was heading that way."

"Seriously?" she squealed and bounded away with her friends while Valor slanted a sly grin at me.

"What?" I asked, and tried to look innocent, like I hadn't just lied to get rid of my classmate.

"Nothing," he said with another grin that showed off his white teeth.***

"Do you want to go to the party Alexa told us about?" I spoke up so the whole pack could hear. To be honest, I hated to ask. I didn't want to go and I didn't want to share the guys with the rest of the girls in Pine Grove. But I kinda assumed the answer would be yes. Because Alexa is definitely boy bait and I had several unattached gargoyles on my hands.

The guys shared a quick look. "I think we'll give it a pass," Havoc answered for the pack.

Okay, I was kinda surprised. Like I said, I consider Alexa to be pretty harmless. But maybe the gargoyles could sense something I didn't know about. Maybe they noticed how she ignored Mim. Or maybe it was because of her awkward comment about Dare's hair.

We turned at the far end of the mall and headed back in the direction we'd come. About half way down the other side, we ran into a bit of a bottleneck. A rough crowd of bikers had taken over the center of the mall. They were older, dressed in motorcycle leathers and were shoving each other around while beer splashed from the bottles they gripped in their fists. Although there was no real danger, Valor put his arm around my waist and pulled me against his side.

His grip on my waist was strong, warm and possessive. And I've never been more grateful for rowdy, beer-drinking, motorcycle-riding guys in my lifetime. If I'd known their addresses, I'd probably have sent them all thank you notes. Up ahead, I noticed Defiance and Havoc flank Whitney on either side while Reason and Victor did the same with Mim.

One of the bikers took a shove in the chest and staggered backwards toward us. Reason stepped toward him and met him before he could fall into our path. When the leather-clad oldster stumbled into Reason, the gargoyle dusted him off, turned him around and gave him a friendly push back toward his friends. With a few fluid steps, Dare moved in to take Reason's place at Mim's side.

I was impressed with the way the guys worked together to make sure Whitney, Mim and I were safe. It reminded me of the way they'd operated the other night, cooperating as a pack to protect me from my neighbor. And although I hated to give any credit to Reason, I also noticed that the second-oldest gargoyle was in the front line again, the first to step forward and shield the pack from danger. Not that it improved my opinion of him, or anything. As far as I was concerned, he was still a total jerkoff.

It was probably midnight by the time we returned to the van parked several blocks away. Victor claimed the back seat with Havoc and Reason, leaving Dare no choice but to sit with Mim. I couldn't help but notice the quiet undercurrent of maneuvering going on amongst the gargoyles. There was no doubt in my mind Victor had given up his seat so that Dare could sit with Mim. But why had he done that after showing so much interest in Mim? Was Dare interested in Mim, too? If so, how did Victor know? And why would he care?

Dare was actually talking to Mim about her costume as Valor handed me up into the car. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic but I was encouraged by the look in Dare's eyes as he gazed down at my best friend. I curled my arms around the jar on my lap and eavesdropped as they discussed Ann Boleyn—or Nan Bullen, as Dare called the unfortunate wife of Henry the VIII.

Just after Valor slid the door closed and Whitney started the engine, some goon in a zombie mask threw himself at the side of the van. His plastic mask slid along the window with a thin screeching sound as he beat the side of the car with his fists and howled like he was being murdered. Valor's barbs shot into place before he realized it was just a kid fooling around. The sharp tips of his talons scraped across my arm. When I looked down, I saw four thin tears on the long sleeve of my gown.

I was surprised at the modern curse Valor used as his barbs eased back beneath his hackles.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I rubbed my palm over the rips in the black silk.

He yanked my hand away and turned my arm so he could look at it. His hand was shaking as he thumbed the edges of the ripped fabric apart.

"What's wrong?" I repeated. I figured he was worried about scratching me with his poisonous barbs but I couldn't see any marks on my skin.

With his gaze locked on my eyes, Valor shook his head grimly and I realized he couldn't explain while Mim and Whitney were in the car.

Valor didn't say anything more until we were back in my bedroom at the end of the night. I sat on the edge of my bed and smoothed my hands over my black silk skirt while he paced the floor. I eyed his fierce expression. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head with a violent jerk and said in a low voice, "I almost scratched you with my barbs."

"That idiot in the mask startled you," I argued, immediately jumping to his defense.

The look on Valor's face was a study in anguish as he stopped pacing and dropped into the chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. "I could have killed you, Kenz."

"No," I insisted as I got to my feet and joined him on the wide chair. I took his hand. "You didn't and you wouldn't. You just grazed me. It wasn't that close."

"It was damn close," he rasped. "Too close."

"You could never hurt me," I insisted quietly as I stroked my fingers across his thick knuckles.

As if he needed an emotional release, Valor reached for my face with both hands. He lifted my chin with his fist and his fingers traveled along my jawline before threading into the hair behind my ear. He smoothed his thumb across my cheek as he tilted his head and lowered his mouth against mine. His lips rubbed against my mouth like rough silk, sending my inner circuitry haywire and leaving me utterly breathless. I wrapped my hands around his strong wrists and hung on.

"Oh no," he suddenly breathed, and pulled his mouth away from me before the kiss got properly started.

Everything inside my body was humming and whirring from the sweet shock of my first kiss. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. If I had to compare it to something, I'd say it was like a tempting sample of something indescribably irresistible. Once I'd had a taste, I wanted more. "What is it?" I murmured woozily.

He leaned away from me. "You'd better go back to your bed, MacKenzie."

"But, what—"

" _Now_ , MacKenzie."

My hands were still wrapped around his wrists. "Valor, what's wrong?"

He stood suddenly, tearing his wrists from my grip. "Dammit," he cursed as he stepped away from the chair. As I watched, blue liquid dripped down his fingers onto the carpeted floor.

"What is it?" I gasped. "What's wrong?"

His tortured gaze met mine. "Can you get me a towel or something?"

I raced for the bathroom down the hall and returned with a dark blue towel, which he pressed against his knuckles. "Valor," I panted. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, and scowled at the stains on the carpet. "I've made a mess."

"What _is_ it?" I shrieked in a whisper.

"It's instinct," he answered soberly. He fell back in the chair as if he was suddenly tired. "I knew it would happen," he murmured. "I just didn't think it would happen this soon."

"Valor, what are you talking about?"

"It's instinct," he repeated, his expression troubled as he watched me. "I'm driven by instinct to mark you."

"Mark me?"

He nodded. "With my rune."

"I don't understand," I said shakily.

He looked at me a long moment while emotion swirled in the intense color of his eyes. "I'm attracted to you," he said softly.

"That...doesn't sound all bad," I whispered.

He shook his head. "It's not all bad. But it's not all good, either. If I try to mark you, my venom will kill you. I can fight it, but..."

"But what?"

"I'm not safe, Kenz. You're not safe with me."

Chapter Fifteen

While Valor watched me unhappily, I sorted through my internal database of gargoyle knowledge. There wasn't a whole lot there but it was enough for a few questions. "When Victor first got here, he said I was fair play because I wasn't wearing your rune. That suggests a gargoyle could give his rune to a human girl without killing her." When Valor said nothing, I continued. "And I assume your father must have given his rune to your mother."

"Aye," he admitted reluctantly. "It's not impossible."

"How does it work?"

"It's risky," he answered as his mouth formed a stubborn line. "And I don't want to place you in danger."

"But I'm in danger now," I argued. "I'm in danger anytime I'm out with you and the other gargoyles. If I was standing next to Victor and something startled him..."

But Valor refused to discuss the matter. Eventually, I gave up and I went down the hall to the bathroom and changed into my pajamas.

I had all day Thursday to wonder about the wearing-of-the-rune business. By fifth period, I decided I'd take Dare for a driving lesson after school and pump him for information. But before I headed home, I stopped at the library and picked up some children's easy-readers then swung by the store for some wide-ruled notebooks. After Dare's driving lesson, I planned to start teaching the gargoyles to read and write.

When I pulled up to the garage a little later, Valor was waiting for me in the driveway. I half-hoped that he wanted to talk to me privately, without the rest of the gargoyles listening in. Their super hearing made a private conversation impossible. But as I stepped from the garage, Valor kept his distance, which was majorly depressing. I hoped he didn't still think he was a threat to me. 'Cause if he did, I was never gonna get a follow up kiss. And I wanted more. As in, a lot more.

"I need to tell you something," Valor started. He buried his hands in the front pockets of his jeans like he didn't trust himself not to touch me.

I could tell from his tone he didn't have good news. A stiff breeze cut across the driveway. It carried an icy chill that felt like winter coming and I wrapped my jacket across my chest. "What is it?" I asked.

He eyed the treetops uneasily and motioned me back into the garage. After he followed me inside, he closed the doors.

"What's going on?" I exclaimed quietly as I flipped on the lights.

He turned to face me and searched my face. "While you were at school today, we heard some troubling news on the television. Evidently, a stone statue is missing from a collector's home in Denver."

Puzzled, I looked at him.

"The television reporter called it a gargoyle. Only it's not a gargoyle, of course. It's a harpy."

"So a harpy statue is suddenly missing in Denver and you're worried because..."

He let me figure it out for myself.

"Oh," I murmured, finally catching on.

He nodded grimly. "We're afraid it's woken up and is looking for us."

I felt a horrible breathless ache of worry in my chest as I watched Valor's face in the dark garage.

"The owner reported the piece as stolen," he explained. "She imported it from England over ten years ago."

"But how could the harpy be looking for you? How would she even know you were in America?"

"Harpies have a sharp sense of smell," he explained as he reached up with one hand to rub the back of his neck.

"They can _smell_ you?" I asked, shocked by the idea.

"It's the venom," he growled. "They can smell the venom beneath our hackles."

I hated the tension I could see in his body language. "How good is their sense of smell?" I asked. "Because Denver is thirty miles away."

He shook his head. "Thirty miles is too far. But we went shopping in Denver a few days ago."

"Denver's a pretty big place," I pointed out, not wanting to think there was a harpy on the loose.

He pinned me with his serious gaze. "The collector's home was in a place called Cherry Creek."

My heart bottomed out. We'd been shopping at the Cherry Creek Mall on Monday. "How close would a harpy have to be to pick up your scent?"

He rolled his shoulders and his black hair fell over his eyes. "Within five or ten miles, maybe."

"That would do it," I muttered, worried. "But there's only one harpy, right?"

"As far as we know," he confirmed, sweeping his hair behind his ear.

"And she _might_ have been stolen," I insisted hopefully.

He nodded but didn't seem too optimistic on that score. "The police are claiming it was an inside job. They suspect the owner is trying to collect on the insurance."

"Why do they think it's an inside job?" I asked, afraid of more bad news.

"There were no signs of forced entry other than a large plate glass window that was broken. But apparently, the window was broken from the inside."

"That doesn't sound good," I commented as a chill traveled my spine. If the window was broken from the inside, that might mean that the harpy was breaking out instead of someone breaking in. "Well, the good news is the harpy doesn't appear to be here. If she was, she'd attack, right?"

"Not necessarily," Valor answered. "She might watch us first to see who she could use against us."

Maybe that explained why he'd stood like a mile away from me while we were outside.

His next words carried a low note of dread. "If she knows what you mean to me, she'll try to use you against me."

I didn't understand why he seemed so worried. So far, he hadn't confessed to anything more than being attracted to me. If he felt anything stronger than that, he'd hidden it from _me_. "How will she know what I mean to you?"

"She wouldn't if I were strong," he answered as he reached out to tuck a wayward curl of hair behind my ear. "But I'm not strong. And one day she'll see us together, doing this." He leaned down and drew me into a long, searching kiss. His lips moved restlessly over mine, his hand gripping my nape and angling my head as he opened my mouth with his lips and deepened the kiss with a startling urgency.

I responded with an unsettling urgency of my own that was similar to hunger. My fingers knotted in his cotton T-shirt and I pushed my body against his hard frame, trying to get closer to him.

As Valor's damp lips slid across my mouth, I felt something warm trickle down my neck. He quickly broke away from me with another modern curse. "I'm sorry," he muttered as he looked down at the blue venom dripping from his barbs. "I'm...sorry, Kenz."

"Don't be sorry," I whispered breathlessly, wanting to console him. Wanting to reach up and cup his jaw in my hand. "I'm not."

He wiped his hands on his jeans then carefully curled his fingers around my neck. His thumb rubbed over the hollow at the base of my throat as he pressed his forehead against mine. I could feel the uncertainty and confusion that tightened through his limbs, his desire to kiss me warring with his determination to protect me, not only from the harpy threat, but from himself.

"C'mon," I said, and gave him a watery smile. "Help me get my stuff from the car."

His voice was still rough with emotion as I opened the car door. "What's all this?" he asked.

"I'm going to teach you guys to read and write," I announced as enthusiastically as I could manage.

"That...sounds good," he murmured, although his gaze was still stuck on my mouth.

"What about driving lessons?" I asked cheerfully, trying to distract him, which I thought was pretty nice of me since I'd have preferred him to start kissing me again. "Do you think I should teach the rest of the pack to drive?"

"Maybe you could hold off on that for now," he said. His expression was solemn as I handed him two plastic bags.

I lifted my head to look at him. "Why?"

"It's just that...all of us can fly except for Dare. I think it would be good for him if he was the only one who could..." His voice trailed away but I could see where he was going with the idea. He wanted his brother to have an edge on the rest of the pack. Something that would set him apart from the others and strengthen his confidence.

Impulsively, I threw my arms around Valor's neck and gave him an emotional hug.

Sadly, he didn't hug me back. He stood with his hands fisted at his sides while blue venom streamed from his hackles, down over the white plastic bags onto the concrete floor.

"I'm sorry," I said, and collected myself. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Maybe not," he rasped in agreement.

And as I gathered the stack of children's hardbacks from the front passenger seat, I could see I wasn't going to get any more kisses until the venom issue was resolved. I decided I was going to have to work on the problem the first chance I got. In the meantime, I headed toward the back of the garage with Valor at my side.

Inside the house, the curtains were drawn and the mood was subdued. It was obvious that everyone had harpies on their minds.

I dumped the notebooks and hardbacks out on the dining room table and turned on the lights. Then I asked Dare if he wanted to go for another driving lesson but he decided we should lie low, in case there was a harpy around. So we started writing lessons, instead.

Victor and Dare applied themselves with a lot of enthusiasm, while Havoc and Defiance seemed less passionate. But they did better than Reason, who spent most of his time doodling in the margins of his notebook. And all of them outperformed Valor who seemed to have trouble focusing. I don't know if he was worrying about me or his barbs or harpies but he definitely wasn't thinking about reading or writing.

"We've decided to set up a day and night guard," he told me when we went up to my room for the night. "Defiance, Havoc and I have the night watch this week."

"What about me?" I asked. "Shouldn't I take one of the watches?"

"You have school," he pointed out sternly.

I thought maybe I'd get a kiss goodnight but Valor wouldn't let me anywhere near him. Which just reinforced my determination to learn more about the venom issue as soon as possible.

I got my chance the next morning before school. Valor was still awake when I stepped out of bed. But when I returned to my room after showering, I found him fast asleep on top of my quilt with his face buried in my pillow. You can't imagine how nice he looked sprawled out on my tartan quilt. I was tempted to watch him for a while but forced myself to hurry downstairs so I could get some questions answered while he was asleep.

I passed Havoc and Defiance on the stairs, coming off the night watch. They gave me a sleepy "good morning" as they headed for the bedrooms on the upper level.

I found Victor eating cereal in the dining room so I grabbed a bowl and joined him. After a little small talk to work up my nerve, I launched my first question. "How is it possible for a gargoyle to give a human his rune? How can he mark her with his venom...without killing her?"

Victor's sharp gaze cut to my face. I could tell he was already suspicious and I'd only just started. "You can build up a resistance to the poison by drinking it diluted in water."

I tried not to act startled. I hadn't expected such a simple solution. "Is it dangerous?"

"It's not without risk," he admitted with a shrug. "But it's been done before."

"How long does it take to build up a resistance?"

"You start with one drop of venom in a cup of water and increase the amount every day until you're up to about this much," he said, indicating the tablespoon in his hand.

I looked at the tablespoon and figured it might take a week to ten days. "Then I'll be immune to the poison?"

Victor tilted his head and narrowed his gaze on me.

I realized I'd said the wrong thing. "How long do you have to drink the venom?" I improvised quickly.

"At least two weeks. A month to be safe," he answered slowly. But I could tell he was on to me. "Why do you ask?"

I babbled out a long explanation about expanding my gargoyle knowledge but I don't think I fooled him.

"Did Valor's barbs...bleed while he was with you?" Victor asked.

"Not blood," I answered cautiously.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. His blue-green eyes glinted with interest. "Did they bleed venom?"

I didn't want to betray Valor so I kept my mouth shut.

"And how did he explain that to you?" he asked after a pause.

"He said instinct sometimes kicks in when a gargoyle's with a girl," I ventured tentatively. "And it makes his barbs leak."

"A girl?" Victor questioned. "Is that what he said?"

"Um, yes," I lied.

Victor chuckled softly. "It's not _a_ girl that causes it to happen, MacKenzie. It's _the_ girl."

"What do you mean?" I asked a little breathlessly.

The glow in Victor's eyes was warm as his gaze connected with mine. "It happens when a gargoyle meets _the_ girl. The girl he wants to share his rune with. That's why his barbs extend and start leaking venom. Instinct makes him want to mark her as his own."

I just stared at the golden gargoyle.

"Valor's in love, m'dear. With you."

Chapter Sixteen

Speechless, I stared at Victor.

"Yeah, right," I eventually snorted. Valor hadn't said anything to me about wanting to mark me or wanting to share his rune with me. He was just attracted to me. That's what he'd said. He was _attracted_ to me.

Reason stepped into the dining room, startling me. Evidently, he'd just woken up and had come downstairs. "If Valor was in love with her, he would have asked her to wear his rune," he argued. There was a mocking edge to his irritating drawl as he pulled out a chair and dropped into it. He targeted me with his gaze. "He would have wanted to put his mark on you. The mark he wears on his throat. He would have wanted to _carve_ his rune into your arm."

I glared at him, annoyed by his comments as well as his gargoyle super hearing. A girl couldn't have a private conversation in her own house, anymore.

"Don't scare her," Dare growled as he walked into the room behind Reason and joined my increasingly unprivate conversation. "He's not going to carve anyone. It's more like giving someone a tattoo."

"Dare's right," Victor agreed with a quiet chuckle. "But before a gargoyle can tattoo the object of his affection, she has to build up a resistance to his poison."

"Did he offer to share his venom with you so you could build up a resistance?" Reason demanded. It was pretty clear the irritating gargoyle shared my opinion. He didn't think Valor was in love with me, either.

"No," I muttered. Valor hadn't offered to share his venom with me. He hadn't asked me to wear his rune. He hadn't even asked me to be his girlfriend. And he certainly wasn't in love with me. Feeling defeated and even a little beat up, I stood swiftly and hurried toward the hall. As I stepped through the entryway, I ran smack into Valor's unyielding chest.

I tilted my head upward and looked at him, but Valor's cold, hard gaze was fixed on Reason's face. "MacKenzie," Valor said slowly but clearly. "Do you have a small glass flask of some sort?"

"Will a drinking glass work?" I asked, and wondered why he needed a flask.

He shook his head. "Nay. It needs to have a stopper...a top...a lid."

A stopper? Normally, Valor got his words right. Apparently, something had rocked him pretty seriously.

In the kitchen, I sorted through my mom's glass vitamin bottles. I found one that was almost empty and dumped the contents into a coffee cup. "What are you gonna do?" I asked as I returned to the dining room where Valor stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still glaring at Reason who smirked back at him, but you could feel the friction crackling thickly in the space that separated the two gargoyles.

Valor took the bottle from my hand and removed the lid. He placed the glass container heavily on the table and flicked his gaze at Reason as if the whole putting-down-the-bottle thing was Valor's response to some kind of challenge.

He held his hand above the bottle and made a fist, exposing his barbs. Stroking his fingers downward on his veins, he milked a bright blue liquid from the sharp tips of his talons. The venom dripped into the bottle. "Drink one drop in a cup of water on the first day. Two drops on the second day. Add an additional drop every day until you're up to about ten drops," he said.

He strode from the room into the kitchen and returned with a small glass of water. He squeezed a drop of venom from his knuckles into the glass.

I watched the ribbon of color swirl then spread through the liquid until the water was tinted blue.

"Try it," he murmured.

I took a cautious sip. It was delicious and warmed me right down to my toes. It tasted a little like strong, sweet alcohol with all of the heat and none of the dizzy. "It's nice," I told him as he watched me closely.

A chair scraped backward and I turned my head toward the harsh noise as Reason stood and paced from the room. I frowned at the back of his shoulders. For some reason that I would never figure out, the guy just couldn't stand to see me happy.

After Reason had left the dining room, Valor's mouth softened into smile. "Let us know if you have any symptoms."

"Symptoms?" I asked, and jerked my gaze to his eyes. "What kind of symptoms?"

"Tell us if your fingernails turn to stone," Victor chuckled.

"Whaaat?" I exclaimed.

"He's kidding," Valor assured me as he backed into the hall. He lifted his arms behind his head and stretched his long frame. "Now, if you're alright, I'm going back to bed."

"I'm...good," I told him quietly. "I'm fine."

He smiled. "I'll see you this afternoon after school."

"See?" Victor murmured as I watched Valor climb the stairs. The golden gargoyle got to his feet and headed toward the kitchen with his empty bowl. As he passed me, he lifted an eyebrow and sent me a significant look. "Now he's sharing his venom with you. Next, he'll ask you to wear his rune."

I shared a look with Dare and snorted softly, convinced that Valor was more concerned about my safety than anything else. Although...I had to admit the whole wearing-Valor's-rune thing sounded pretty romantic, which was a big change from how I'd felt five days ago when I'd first considered the idea. "Valor's just trying to protect me," I protested sensibly. "When we climbed into Whitney's van the other night, he almost scratched me with his barbs."

Dare's answering gaze was steady. "Maybe. But if Valor _does_ ask you to wear his rune, MacKenzie, there's something you must understand before you agree to wear it."

"What's that?" I asked, my voice a bare whisper of sound.

"If my brother gives you his rune, it will be forever for him. There is no breaking up for gargoyles. Even if you decide you no longer want him, he'll remain loyal to you—and only you—for as long as he lives. So before you accept his rune, you must be willing to give him forever, as well."

"I understand," I said solemnly.

"Do you?" he questioned me stubbornly but gently. "Because I'm afraid that modern girls might not understand the level of commitment that's involved. Back in my time, things were different. Nowadays, relationships seem much more casual."

"I'd better get to school," I muttered, changing the subject. I felt like Dare's concern was way premature. Because despite Victor's claim that his cousin was in love with me, Valor _hadn't_ asked me to wear his rune. He _hadn't_ said that he was in love with me. And the only reason he'd shared his venom with me was because Reason had challenged him to act.

I spent the day feeling a little gloomy about my prospects.

"How do you feel?" Reason asked as soon as I walked into the house after school. I was surprised to find him standing at the mudroom door, as if he was waiting for me. He was probably hoping I was dying.

"Fine," I answered just as cheerfully as I possibly could. I expected him to be disappointed but he actually looked relieved. I decided maybe he didn't want me dead, after all. He was probably having too much fun taunting me.

"How do you feel?" Dare asked as I stepped into the kitchen.

What? Now all of a sudden the amazing gargoyle super hearing wasn't working? "Didn't you hear what I just told Reason?"

Dare rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to check for myself," he confessed with a lopsided smile.

"How do you feel?" Valor demanded as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, almost running into Dare.

I stared at the three gargoyles. You'd have thought I was having a baby or something. "I'm fine," I laughed. It was clear the guys needed a distraction so I got on my phone and called Whitney. I asked her to pick up Mim and come over as soon as possible.

We spent the night watching old westerns. Like most Brits, the guys were in love with the idea of cowboys. I dragged out the old hot-air popcorn popper so they could watch the corn explode. They got a big kick out of that.

"Are you annoyed with Reason?" I asked Valor when we went up to my room later that night. I watched his reflection in the window as I sat on my bed with my quilt pulled up to my chin.

"Nay," he answered. "I'm glad he pushed me into doing what I knew should be done. I was dragging my feet because I didn't want to expose you to any risk at all. But by doing nothing, I was putting you in even greater danger." He paused a moment before continuing. "But I didn't like the things he said to you. He made it sound like I don't care about you." Valor turned his head and held my gaze. "That's not true, Kenz."

"I know," I murmured as I scooted down on the mattress and dropped my head onto the pillow. I was encouraged by his confession. It wasn't exactly a declaration of love or even a declaration of like. It was a long way from asking me to be his girlfriend and it wasn't even close to asking me to wear his rune. But it was a start. It looked like he did care about me. Unfortunately, I was afraid his feelings for me might not come close to my feelings for him. Because by this time, I was pretty sure I was extremely, recklessly, unreasonably in love with the blue-eyed gargoyle. But I probably fell asleep with a smile on my face.

The landline woke me at eight o'clock the next morning. Half asleep, I tumbled from bed and scrambled down the stairs to answer it in the kitchen. "Hello," I grumbled, annoyed at whoever was calling me so early on a Saturday morning.

"Sorry," Greg apologized from four thousand miles away. "I guess it's still a bit early there."

"Yeah," I agreed with a loud yawn I didn't try to hide. "It's early here."

"I didn't have much choice about calling, MacKenzie. You need to open the garage. The shipping company's supposed to be there before ten today."

That woke me up. At last, some good news. "Did you send more crates?" I demanded, trying to hide my excitement.

"Not yet," he answered.

"Then why is the shipper coming?"

"They're coming to pick up one of the crates that's already there," he answered. "I made a sale."

My stomach dropped like an elevator full of Sumo wrestlers. For some reason, I'd assumed Greg would ship all of the gargoyles home before returning here and putting them up for sale. Ideally, that would allow the gargoyles time to "disappear" before he got back, even if they didn't actually go very far. I didn't trust Greg with the gargoyles' secret but I figured he'd never recognize the guys in living color and without their wings. "What do you mean?" I asked hoarsely.

"I made a sale," he repeated. He sounded so smug I wanted to kick something. "To a millionaire in Texas."

"But, why?" I cried in panic. I was so alarmed, I forgot to act like the crates and their contents didn't mean anything to me.

"To be honest, I had to," he answered. "I've spent a fortune in shipping. I had to sell something so I could afford to send my last three crates back home."

I stood on the tiled kitchen floor in my bare feet with my mouth hanging open while Valor slipped down the stairs and gave me a worried look.

"Make sure you send me the tracking number when the van gets there," Greg instructed. "I have to send it to the buyer before he'll wire me the down payment. The rest of the money is due when he receives the shipment."

I tried to say something but nothing came out. Victor and Reason stepped into the kitchen behind Valor, the rest of the gargoyles following soon after.

Greg blathered on while I tried not to hyperventilate. "Listen, MacKenzie, because this is important."

"What?" I croaked.

"When the shipper arrives, make sure he loads up the box that's marked with the letter B. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Do you understand?" he repeated sharply.

"I understand," I said, feeling very wobbly.

"Good. Call me with the tracking number as soon as he leaves."

I hung up the phone and shared a stricken look with Valor.

"What is it?" he asked gently. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tugged me into his warmth.

"My stepfather," I explained in a faint voice. "He's sold one of the statues."

There was a long silence before Victor finally asked, "Which one of us has he sold?"

Slowly, I shook my head. "I don't know. According to Greg, each of your crates is marked with a letter. I didn't notice it when you arrived. But in a few hours, the shipping company is coming to pick up the crate marked with a letter B."

Victor's expression was grim as he flicked his gaze at Dare. Even though we'd only had one reading lesson, they'd all learned enough of the alphabet to recognize the letter B. But Dare was my best student.

Dare disappeared through the mudroom doorway. I was relieved he was going instead of me. I didn't want to be the one to discover what was certain to be bad news. Well, unless it was Reason's crate that was marked with a B. That wouldn't be so awful.

But what if it was Valor? My knees went weak and Valor tightened his grip on me. I just wished Mim were there to hold my hand as well. Then I might have felt strong enough to deal with the situation. I looked up into Valor's eyes and saw my own concern reflected in his worried gaze.

Dare dragged back into the house like he was going to a funeral. Okay, I've never been to a funeral but you get what I mean. When he gave us the news, my worst fears were confirmed.

Greg had sold Valor.

Chapter Seventeen

Victor took his knife from his sheath and lifted it up to eye level. He gave the others a pointed look and headed toward the dining room. The rest of the gargoyles pulled their blades and followed.

The meeting started when all of the knives were sitting on the dining room table. I pulled up a chair beside Valor. He reached over and gripped my hand and gave me a reassuring smile though his eyes were shadowed with sorrow. I knew he felt compelled to do the right thing—the thing that would assure his three missing cousins were reunited with the pack. I just hoped the gargoyles didn't believe in sacrificing one for the sake of three. 'Cause I didn't want him to go.

Victor spoke first. "Obviously, this morning's news changes our plans. I'd assumed that after Chaos, Courage and Force joined us, we would all disappear before MacKenzie's stepfather returned."

Defiance nodded as he pulled his pale ponytail through his fist. "It wouldn't have been difficult to make it look like we'd been stolen."

"If I understand correctly, MacKenzie's stepfather can't afford to send the others until he gets more money. And he can't get the money until we ship Valor." Victor pinned me with a questioning look.

"That's right," I agreed faintly.

"I'm torn," Valor admitted in a low voice.

Victor lifted his hand to stop his younger cousin. "We understand," he said quietly. "You want to do what's right for the pack but you're worried about leaving MacKenzie without protection, especially now that there seems to be a harpy on the loose."

"We'd be here to protect MacKenzie," Defiance pointed out smoothly.

"That's not the same," Reason snorted, surprising me with his support. "Valor's instincts command him to stay here."

Victor looked at the serious faces gathered around the table. "What are our options?"

Valor cleared his throat and began. "We ship the crate to the millionaire with me inside. MacKenzie's stepfather gets the money and ships the others. When I arrive in Texas, I escape and make my way back here."

"How would you get back?" Havoc asked. He looked first at Valor then at me.

Valor shrugged. "I could fly...at night."

Victor turned his face toward me. "How far is it to Texas?"

"At least a thousand miles," I answered.

"Too far," Reason cut in bluntly.

"He could fly to a bus station and take a bus," I suggested tentatively. "We could send him with money in his pouch. But..."

Victor lifted a golden eyebrow. "But, what?"

"A rich collector might have a closed room without windows to protect his collection from fading in the sunlight."

"Stone doesn't fade," Havoc pointed out.

"He might have other things in his collection that _would_ fade," I explained miserably.

"If that happened, MacKenzie would have to drive us to Texas to break Valor out," Havoc declared. His green eyes burned with determination.

The table fell silent. I knew what they were thinking. There were a lot of things that could go wrong.

"The plan is too risky," Victor said slowly.

Up until that point, Dare hadn't commented. Now he rubbed his fingers along the angle of his jaw and asked me, "What would happen if the Texas millionaire received the wrong statue?"

" _No_ ," Valor cut in. He glared at his brother.

"Let MacKenzie answer," Dare insisted in a quelling voice.

"He'd probably send the statue back," I answered as a small kernel of hope took hold inside my chest. "And insist that the correct one be shipped to him."

Dare looked at Victor. "It would buy us some time. Maybe enough time for the others to get here."

Valor's gaze blazed on his brother. "And who would go in my place?" he demanded.

Dare turned his palms upward on the table. "I'm the obvious choice," he stated. "I imagine the rest of you were advertised with your wings spread. I have no wings."

"No way," Valor snarled. "You're not going to take my place."

"Just hear me out," Dare insisted in a calm tone.

But Valor wouldn't listen. His voice rose as he asked, "What if the buyer decides to keep you? If you had to escape, how would you get to a bus station?"

"I could steal a car," Dare suggested. His eyes glinted as if he liked the idea.

Valor turned his head and stared angrily out the dining room window.

"Valor's right," Reason drawled. "Dare's plan is even riskier than his."

Victor turned his attention to his brother and gave him a quiet look. "What do you suggest?"

Reason laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "That I go instead of Valor."

When Victor didn't say anything, Defiance took command. "Details," he barked.

Reason smiled his trademark lazy smile. "You send me to Texas with some paper money, just in case I need to take a bus, but we'll assume the buyer will return me. By the time I get back here, the rest of the pack should have arrived. We stage our own theft and find a place to live nearby. MacKenzie's stepfather never figures out what happened to us."

"The buyer will want his money back," Defiance pointed out. "He'll expect MacKenzie's stepfather to return the down payment."

"We could probably help him out," Havoc said. "Though it might take a while."

The gargoyles nodded as if they all knew what Havoc was talking about.

"What?" I asked. "How can you help out my stepfather?"

Dare narrowed his gold-flecked gaze on me. "We know of a few old harpy hoards...one of which is hidden at the back of a cave in Scotland."

"If necessary, we could direct your stepfather to one of them," Havoc added.

"Assuming it's still there," I pointed out in a pessimistic mutter.

"There's a good chance it hasn't been disturbed," Dare murmured knowingly.

Victor let out a long breath and pressed his lips together in a tight line of concern, but the look he gave his brother was proud. "Let's vote," he said. "Someone give MacKenzie a coin."

A coin? I was stunned. I hadn't realized my membership in the pack gave me voting rights. On one hand, I felt honored. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I was ready for the responsibility. Even though I wanted to vote for Reason's plan, I felt as if I had this whole unfair conflict-of-interest thing going on. Obviously, I'd vote for any plan that would ensure Valor's safety. Equally obvious was the fact that I wasn't terribly concerned about Reason's well being. If I could have forfeited my vote and passed, I would have. But that wasn't an option. In the end, I took the cowardly way out and let chance decide. I flipped the coin.

My vote came out in favor of Reason's plan. Valor and Dare voted against it but the results were five in favor and two against. Reason won the honor of traveling to Texas in a wooden packing crate.

"I'd better get ready," Reason grunted, glancing down at his jeans as he stood. He headed for the stairs. "I need to get in the crate while the sun's still shining into the garage."

I looked down at my powder blue pajama pants and realized I needed to get dressed too. So I hurried up the stairs behind Reason and turned off into my room where I pulled on a pair of black cigarette jeans, an orange tank top and a green, boat-neck pullover. As I dressed, I experienced a strange mixture of emotions. I was relieved Valor wasn't shipping out. I felt grateful to Reason for taking his place. And guilty for feeling so happy about the way things had turned out.

I found it interesting that Reason hadn't suggested we count the votes of the three missing gargoyles. Depending on how the coins fell, it might have tied things up. I guess he didn't want to run the risk of that happening. Neither did I, so I didn't bring it up. Lost in thought, I stepped from my bedroom into the hall and almost ran into Reason who was dressed in his long wool shorts and looking like a Celtic warrior once more.

As I rocked on my heels, he reached out and grabbed my upper arms to steady me.

"Thanks," I said awkwardly as I looked up into the deep cornflower blue of his eyes. "Thanks for doing this and taking Valor's place. I know you're only doing it for Valor and Dare and the pack but...I think it's very brave of you."

"It's no big deal," he said. He gazed down his nose at me and took a step backward. "I'll be back soon."

I nodded like one of those stupid bobbing-head toys.

"But I didn't only do it for the pack," he drawled while watching me from beneath his eyelashes. "I did it for you, as well."

I stopped nodding and stared up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I was afraid Valor and I would come to blows over you."

I tilted my head and considered him. "Because you dislike me so much?"

"No, that's not the problem, Mac. I don't dislike you," he murmured with a cynical laugh. "Quite the opposite."

Oh no. No. No. No. No. No. I wasn't going to let him get away with pulling that kind of stunt. Now that he was leaving, he was pretending he suddenly didn't hate me? That he _liked_ me? That was _so_ unfair. "What are you talking about?" I demanded as I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed him fiercely. "You've been nothing but nasty to me ever since you stepped out of that crate in my garage."

"Have I?" he questioned as a lazy smile curved his lips.

"Yes," I hissed in a whisper, not wanting the gargoyles downstairs to hear our conversation.

"Because I insisted you needed to be watched?"

I nodded without speaking.

"Did it never occur to you that I wanted to make sure you were safe?"

"You're so full of crap," I snapped.

"And you're so lovely," he countered easily.

I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth while tightening my arms over my chest.

"Did it not seem strange to you that I ran into you in the hall just now?"

I had a snarky answer for that question. "To be honest, Reason, I think everything you do is strange."

"Think about it," he insisted. "There's nothing wrong with my ears. I could hear you moving around in your room. I could hear you when you opened your door."

I narrowed my gaze on him. "You ran into me on purpose?"

He watched me through his eyelashes and nodded. "I wanted to touch you," he said with an unsettling hint of vulnerability.

I have to admit I was rocked by his words. I wouldn't have thought Reason was capable of anything like vulnerability. But I wanted to make sure he knew where I stood. "Just in case you have any doubts, I want you to know that Valor is the only gargoyle I'm interested in."

"I think that's part of your charm," he mused with another slow smile.

"Why?" I shot back at him. "Because I'm not available?"

"No," he answered. He tilted his head and gazed at me with cynical amusement glinting in his eyes. "Because you're so loyal."

I just stared at him. I wasn't sure I believed the line he was trying to sell me but I was still shocked speechless.

"Valor's a lucky gargoyle," he said as he stepped around me and sauntered toward the stairs. "In the meantime, I'm counting on you to protect the pack while I'm gone."

"Me?" I exclaimed.

"Don't underestimate your power as a witch," he murmured solemnly, without a trace of his usual sarcasm. "And don't hesitate to use that power if necessary."

I stared at his back as he went down the stairs. I couldn't believe it. He'd been a total jerkoff ever since he'd arrived. Now that he was leaving, he decided to be nice and even noble? Why couldn't he just have stayed horrible and nasty? Then I would've been happy to see his backside shipped off to Texas.

But now I was going to be miserable.

As you can imagine, breakfast was a quiet, sober affair. And afterward, the pack filed out to the garage and stood around the crate to see Reason off. We were all in low spirits as Victor nailed the bottom panel on the crate that held his brother. We didn't bother with bubble wrap or anything else since a nuclear explosion wouldn't put a scratch on him. But it all seemed so morbid, like we were nailing Reason into his coffin.

"Any last words of advice?" Reason asked as Victor stepped aside and reached for the top panel.

"Yes," I spoke up when nobody else offered any suggestions. "Try to look unattractive. That way the buyer will be more likely to return you."

He made a face at me.

"That oughta work," I said, trying for humor though I was blinking back tears.

"Fare thee well," Victor said simply, and the rest of the gargoyles repeated his parting words.

"Fare thee well," Reason answered. And with the sun streaming through the garage doors, he spread his wings, turned his gaze slightly downward and turned to stone.

Victor and Valor waited in the garage with me to meet the shipper. Together, we watched as the wooden crate was loaded up into the back of the van. Of course, I made sure I got a copy of the packing slip, which showed the tracking number as well as the address in Texas where Reason was headed. So we could drive to Texas and spring him if we had to. I hoped it didn't come to that, but I was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

It was hard to believe that only a week had passed since the first crate had been delivered to my home. I couldn't believe how much everything had changed since then and how emotionally invested I was in the gargoyle pack that had become a part of my life. And as the shipping van headed down the driveway with Reason trapped inside its dark interior, I felt like I'd lost a member of my family.

Because that's what the pack had become to me. My second family.

Back inside the house, I made the phone call to Greg in England then looked around at the discouraged group of gargoyles. We were all so downhearted, I figured a writing lesson might be a distraction. I started the class in the dining room and handed out the notebooks. And while my students wrote out short sentences on the wide-ruled paper, I leafed through Reason's notebook.

Even though I always checked their work after every lesson, I hadn't paid much attention to Reason's notebook. I was surprised by the neat printing that accompanied the wild doodles scrawled in the margins. I'd thought he hadn't been paying attention. It was clear from his work that the opposite was true.

The guy was certainly an enigma.

I noticed that one of the pages was folded back at the top corner so it could be found easily. When I opened the notebook to the marked page, I found a drawing...of myself. I closed the book with a sharp snap. Then turned quickly and put the book away on the shelf in the corner of the dining room.

Valor watched me closely. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I answered with a brittle smile on my lips. But the image of the pencil portrait was etched into my memory. Reason had drawn me! Why? And why was the sketch so...flattering? One glance at the portrait told me Reason had real skill as an artist. Yet the portrait wasn't accurate. Because I wasn't that pretty.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. Damn him forever! I decided I'd never forgive the arrogant gargoyle for being a nice guy after all.

"What's wrong?" Valor asked after we'd gone upstairs to my bedroom at the end of the day.

"Nothing," I answered. I shook my head and silently criticized myself for letting my feelings show so plainly.

"Are you worried about Reason?"

"Yes," I admitted after a pause that probably seemed awkward. I hoped Valor wouldn't mistake it for anything more than it was. I hoped he wouldn't think I'd suddenly fallen for his blond cousin. Because I hadn't. As I looked into Valor's eyes, I knew he was the only gargoyle for me.

Valor pulled me carefully into his arms. "That's normal," he soothed. "We're all worried about him."

I wanted to say it wasn't normal for me. But I didn't want him to know how not-a-nice person I really was.

"You're a part of the pack now," he pointed out gently as if that explained anything.

"I'm not bound by instinct the way you guys are," I muttered.

He tucked his chin into his chest and looked down at me. "You're taking my venom now. That changes things."

I had no idea what he meant or how taking his venom changed anything. I was just feeling altogether dejected and not only because of the gargoyle we'd lost that morning. Tomorrow, Valor and the others would have to return to their crates before my mother came home. The prospect was depressing. I put my arms around his waist and held him tightly, needing his comfort and strength. Thankfully, he didn't push me away this time.

He backed up and lowered himself into the chair then pulled me onto his lap. "Did you find the picture Reason drew of you?"

Damn. Evidently, he'd noticed my reaction to the sketch in Reason's notebook. "You knew about the drawing?" I asked.

Valor nodded and his lips moved against my temple. "He was pretty proud of it."

I was surprised to learn the cynical blond had shared the portrait with the others. It seemed like everything Reason did surprised me. "He's a good artist," I started hesitantly.

"He's always been able to draw," Valor said quietly. "He used to use bits of charcoal he'd saved from the fire."

"But...it isn't a good likeness," I pointed out. "It doesn't look like me. It's way too flattering."

He pulled his face away and held my gaze. His expression was puzzled. "You're wrong. It looks exactly like you."

I made a wry face. "You're just saying that to be nice."

"Nay," he argued right away. "It looks exactly like you and the rest of the pack agrees."

"Then the rest of the pack is just being nice," I grumbled ungraciously.

For several moments he regarded me quietly. "Let me put it this way," he finally said as he pulled my head against his shoulder. "That's the way you look to us."

I wasn't convinced or anything. I definitely wasn't that good looking. But if Valor was telling the truth and that's the way I looked to the gargoyles, then I couldn't help but wonder how they saw Mim. If they could see her inner beauty, then that would make her the most gorgeous girl on the planet. The idea gave me a warm feeling and I fell asleep happier than I'd been all day.

Chapter Eighteen

I woke up in Valor's arms. He could have carried me over to the bed at some point in the night and I wouldn't have known. I was dead to the world. Instead, he'd held me through the night. I thought it was pretty romantic.

"Helped keep me awake during my watch," he explained before he collapsed in my bed.

And as I watched him stretched out on my quilt, I came to the realization that in-Valor's-arms was where I wanted to be...as in always.

Sadly, the guys had to go back in their crates early in the morning while the sun was still shining into the garage. Greg had told me he wanted my mother to check the statues when she got home so they had to be in the boxes and ready to be checked. My mom was arriving in Denver on a noon flight and would be home before two.

None of them were keen to change into their old clothing and return to their stone forms but Valor was especially reluctant. I could tell he was worried about harpies and hated leaving me without protection.

"My mother will be here," I pointed out. "As well as Hooligan. And as soon as she leaves on Thursday morning, I'll come downstairs, open the garage and let you out."

He was the last one to go into his crate, helping me to close up the rest of the boxes first. Before he stepped into his wooden packing container, he knelt in front of Hooli and held his furry face between his hands. "Take care of MacKenzie, Hooligan."

Hooligan gave a soft bark like he understood. It should have helped Valor's mood but he still seemed tense as he stepped into his crate and helped me attach the bottom panel. I'd hoped he might kiss me goodbye but he eyed the open garage doors with a resigned look. I could tell he didn't want to kiss me in case a harpy was out there, watching. "Don't let anything happen to you, Kenz. You're too important to me."

I hated to see him so worried. "Everything will be fine," I reassured him.

"Take care of yourself," he commanded as he crossed his arms over his chest and assumed his original scowling pose.

I tacked the top panel into place and sighed as I returned the hammer to the tool chest. Then before I went back in the house, I started my car and parked it in the driveway so my mother could pull her Subaru into the garage.

Inside the house, I whipped through the rooms and checked to make sure there was no sign of gargoyle invasion. The guys had straightened their rooms and stashed their bows under their beds. Their old clothes were buried in the bottoms of drawers and my dad's tools were back in the garage. I rounded up their notebooks and readers and stacked them at the back of my bedroom closet.

I was ready for my mom when she pulled up the driveway a few hours later, and met her in the garage. "You bring me anything?" I teased.

She knew I was kidding. She'd decided when my brother and I were young that she wouldn't start bringing gifts home when she traveled because she traveled so often and she didn't want the house filled with a bunch of knickknacks that would gather dust. My mother isn't big on housecleaning.

"Just a hug," she answered as she pulled me into a big squeeze. "What have you been doing? I want to hear all the news and gossip from school."

In the kitchen, she fixed a pot of tea for us while I sank down on a barstool and brought her up to date. My mom believes in keeping up with what's going on. And since my grades are seldom an issue, she keeps track of who's going out with who.

"What about Whitney?" she asked. "Is she still seeing Michael?"

I shook my head. "She only went out with him once."

"Mim?" she asked hopefully as she handed me a cup of steaming tea.

I almost shook my head again then changed my mind. "I think she's met someone who likes her. His name is Dare Greystone."

"Sounds cute," she said. "What about you?"

"Me?" I asked, almost choking on my tea. "What about me?"

"You look different," she said after taking a sip from her cup.

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head and pursed her lips shrewdly. "You look happy. In fact, you almost look like you're glowing. You haven't...found a boyfriend, have you?"

My mom is such a ridiculous romantic you wouldn't believe it. She's always reminding me how Romeo and Juliet were only fifteen years old. I like to point out that Romeo thought he was in love with Rosaline approximately two minutes before he met Juliet.

"Actually, I have met someone," I admitted, and sat a little straighter on the barstool.

All excited, she sat down on the stool beside me. "Is it someone from school?"

"Nooo," I answered.

"Someone from Platte Valley?" she asked, meaning the high school closest to Pine Grove.

"No," I responded. "He doesn't go to school."

She frowned slightly but the twinkle in her eye was still there. "How old is this guy?"

"About eighteen," I told her.

" _About_ eighteen?" she exclaimed. "Don't you know?"

"He's eighteen," I improvised quickly.

"An older guy, huh? But he doesn't go to school." True to character, she skipped the dropout issue and went right to, "Is he going to college?"

"No," I answered and realized my mystery boyfriend must not sound like much of a prize, even to my mother.

"Does he have a job?"

"Kind of. He's done a lot of hunting and he thinks he can make a living selling handmade bows."

Mom considered that for a few seconds before saying, "Well, that's not so bad."

Like I said, my mom is a hopeless romantic.

"What does he look like?" she asked enthusiastically.

I leaned toward her and hoped the gargoyles couldn't hear me from their crates in the garage. "He's pretty cute," I admitted, thinking that was the understatement of the year.

"As cute as this Dare Greystone who likes Mim?"

"They're brothers," I told her in a conspiratorial whisper. "His name's Valor."

"Dare and Valor," she murmured thoughtfully as she slipped from the barstool and stepped behind the kitchen counter. "Unusual names."

I snuffed out my snicker of amusement. If she thought those two names were unusual, I certainly wasn't going to tell her about Havoc...or Defiance. "They're actually Trevor's friends," I said, thinking my lies to Mim should probably match my lies to my mother, in case they ran into each other.

Her head disappeared below the counter as she rummaged through the cupboards. "Your cousin Trevor...from England?"

"Yes. That's how I met them. Trevor gave them my contact information and they...looked me up when they got here."

"How does spaghetti sound?" she asked as she pulled a can of tomato sauce from below the counter.

"Sounds good to me."

"So they're British," she mused. She took a can opener from the drawer next to the fridge. "How long have they been here?"

"Not too long," I answered then realized there probably wasn't much bow hunting in England. This lying business was complicated. "But long enough to have done some bow hunting."

Mom started some spaghetti sauce for dinner and we left it on the stove while we went out to the garage to open the crates. Evidently, Greg wanted her to report back to him as soon as possible. Together, we opened one side of each tall, wooden box.

"Wow," she said, clearly awed as she gazed at Havoc in the last crate.

"What kind of stone do you think they're made of?" I asked her, remembering my initial curiosity about the flint-like material.

"It looks like chalcedony, but..."

"But what?"

"It's unusual to see a chunk this big, let alone several chunks this big."

I hadn't realized that.

"The detail is incredible. They're so lifelike and each of them has so much personality."

"Do you think so?" I asked.

She nodded as she looked at Havoc. "This one is the character of the group, the one most likely to get into trouble." She stepped over to the box that held Defiance. "This is the bad boy."

"Bad boy?" I questioned as I tilted my head and considered Defiance. Now that I thought about it, he was kind of aloof and even...aristocratic.

"This is the strong one. The decision maker," she declared, correctly picking out Victor. "He has a quiet look of command in his eyes."

Knowing Victor could see me, I grinned at him.

"This one has no wings so that makes him the fallen angel," she announced when she reached Dare's crate. "He understands suffering and that makes him sensitive toward others."

"What about the last one?" I asked swiftly, not wanting her to dwell on Dare's suffering.

She walked over to Valor's crate and shook her head. "This one looks like he's carrying a world of worry on his shoulders."

I felt a stab of guilt. I couldn't help but feel responsible for the dark look of concern in Valor's eyes.

"These sculptures are really beautiful," my mom said. "I wish..."

"What?" I asked.

"I wish we could take them inside and just...enjoy them."

I nodded. That would be a good idea since we could place the gargoyles in front of the windows and then they'd be able to wake up right away if anything happened...well, as long as it happened in the daytime. On the other hand, they might be safer in the garage. I didn't want a harpy breaking through our windows at night and grabbing one of the guys. "Greg would probably prefer they were in the garage," I said. "Locked up where nobody can see them."

"Nobody will see them in the house," she argued and looked at me like she couldn't understand what I was thinking. She had a point. The house is a long way from the road. But she was thinking about our neighbors. I was worried about harpies.

"Which one's your favorite?" I asked.

"This one," she answered, and stepped over to Dare's crate. "I think he's the most beautiful."

"Really?" I'd expected her to pick Victor but I guess the golden gargoyle looked better in living color than he did in gray stone.

"It's close," she admitted. "They're all fabulous. But it's between this one and the one who looks like his brother." She pointed to the statue of Valor.

I had to smile. My mother's pretty observant.

We went back inside and I gave the spaghetti sauce a stir while Mom called Greg. When she asked if we could bring one of the statues into the house, he insisted we leave them crated up in their boxes. He explained the crates were marked so that he'd know which sculpture was in which crate.

I asked her to find out if he'd shipped out anything else since yesterday but he said he was going to do that on Monday.

While mom was home for the next four days, we did some after-school shopping and saw a couple of movies at one of the theatres on the west side of Denver. It was great to have my mother home but I missed the guys. I couldn't believe I hadn't taken them to a theatre yet. And when we ate out at our favorite restaurant, I wondered how they'd like Chinese food.

Most of all, I missed Valor's presence in my room at night. Hooli seemed to miss him too. He laid his big head on my French provincial chair and sighed while a mournful sound whined in his chest. "Never mind," I told Hooligan. "He'll be back soon."

I got up early on Thursday to see my mother off. Winter was definitely coming. I could see my breath as I stood at the edge of the garage and waved goodbye. But as soon as the red Subaru disappeared around the bend in the driveway, I raced for the tool chest and grabbed the hammer.

I was wearing a bright, electric blue top I'd picked up on a recent shopping trip with my mother. Blue looked good on me and I wore it often, but I'd chosen this particular top because the intense color matched Valor's eyes. The neckline was a bit low but Mom didn't think I was "giving everything away", as she put it. In fact, she insisted on paying for it.

I opened Valor's box first and actually got a big, long hug as he swept me off my feet and swung me around a few times. It was definitely a Hallmark moment even though I didn't get the kiss I was hoping for. At the end of all the swinging, he stood me up and held me away from his body as his gaze dropped to my new top then back to my face.

"You look amazing," he murmured. "And...and..."

"Jolly awesome?" I helped him out.

"Jolly awesome," he confirmed with a breathless laugh as he glanced down at my top again. "That color totally suits you."

"I totally does," I agreed, meaning the color of his eyes and not my new top. "Let's open the rest of the crates. I have some places I want to take you guys."

So we got to work and it felt like a class reunion when we were all back together again. And that night we celebrated with Chinese food _as well as_ a movie.

Chapter Nineteen

A week after my mother left, we still hadn't heard anything from the step-person. Every day, I expected Greg to call and chew me out for sending the wrong crate. I'd planned to tell him that I'd shipped the right box and he must have made a mistake when he marked them. But the call from my stepfather never came. The crates with the last three gargoyles never came either, and the pack was getting edgy.

'Course, the constant snarl of the chainsaw next door didn't help anybody's mood.

On my invitation, Whitney and Mim were spending more time at my place and the gargoyles seemed to appreciate the company as well as the distraction. When the girls asked about Reason, Victor told them his brother had returned to England for the time being.

Anyhow, while we were waiting to hear about our missing gargoyles, Havoc got on a Parcheesi jag. The game had been crazy popular in England about a hundred years ago, and Havoc had been dying to play it for almost as long. So we looked around on the Internet and found a used game for two dollars plus shipping.

Most of the time, the gargoyles played for money. But when Mim and Whitney were around, they played for what they called a friendly kiss. Havoc usually won but Defiance could be strong competition when the girls were in the game. Havoc didn't show any favoritism when it came to kissing girls, but Defiance always insisted on a kiss from Whitney. And his kisses were a lot friendlier than Havoc's, if you know what I mean.

Dare didn't normally play. I don't think he liked to watch Havoc kiss Mim. But one afternoon, he joined us in a game and seemed determined to reach the finish line first. That day, Mim got off to a good start and won for the first time ever. 'Course I kept running interference for her to make sure she won. I'm not sure, but I think Havoc was helping too.

Mim turned an endearing shade of pink when she asked for her prize—a kiss from Dare. The severely handsome gargoyle seemed startled but pleased. The kiss only lasted like a second, but afterward Dare had a faraway look in his eyes. Like he wanted be alone with Mim somewhere far away.

Okay. Maybe that sounds naive but you had to be there.

By that time, I was mixing a tablespoon of venom with my water every morning and Valor seemed more at ease around me. The gargoyles had finished their first set of bows and I'd opened a website for them with links to the site where their bows were listed for sale. We received a few inquires and read the emails together as part of our daily lessons.

Gradually, the guys gravitated away from the television and spent more time on the computer. They knew how to navigate to their website and print out emails. They also spent hours viewing satellite maps of the UK and looking for familiar landmarks that would help them find the treasure hoards they'd known about eight hundred years earlier.

But despite all of our attempts to keep occupied, we were starting to get frantic with worry. Thirteen days had gone by since we'd shipped Reason to Texas, which was more than enough time for him to get to the lone star state, even if he took the scenic route and stopped at every outlet mall along the way.

On Friday afternoon, I decided to call Greg before it got too late in England. He'd think it was weird for me to call him, but I couldn't see any other solution. 'Course Mom and I had opened the crates together so at least I could reasonably express an interest in the sculptures.

The pack gathered around me in the kitchen as I punched the long distance number into the telephone keypad.

"Hi, Greg," I said when he answered the phone. "It's MacKenzie."

"What's wrong?" he demanded, probably worried about his appropriated property.

"Nothing," I answered. "We're just...I'm just wondering what happened to the last three crates you said you were going to send."

"They're not there yet?" he barked. He seemed distracted, like the crates weren't his main concern anymore. I was surprised by the change in his attitude.

"No," I answered, fighting to hide the alarm in my voice. "Did you send them? When did you send them? Do you have a tracking number?"

After a slight pause and the sound of rustling paper, he read off the number.

"I'm kinda surprised you didn't check with me to make sure I'd be home to accept the delivery," I ventured tentatively.

"I've been busy," he muttered without offering any details. "The shipper probably tried to deliver the crates when you weren't home. I'll check into it on my end."

I planned to follow up as well but first I had to ask about Reason. "Mom and I opened some of your boxes while she was here. The statues are really nice. How did the Texas millionaire like the one you sent him?"

"No idea," he grunted. "I haven't heard from him."

"Oh," I murmured. Greg wasn't giving me much help. "When do you think you'll hear back?"

"I don't know," he answered. "Maybe never. The guy's a millionaire. For all I know, he hasn't even opened the box. It could be sitting in his airplane hanger next to his Rolls Royce and his sealed collection of Van Goghs."

Ugh. That wasn't exactly good news. "Has he paid you the rest of the money?" I asked. I realized my question would sound strange to Greg but I wanted to find out if Reason had arrived in Texas.

"No," he snapped, like it was none of my business. "But I expect to receive the payment soon."

"Well, let me know if you hear anything," I pressed. "I'd...be interested."

As soon as I hung up, I told the gargoyles what I'd learned and headed for the computer in the family room where I checked the status of the shipment from England. Unfortunately, it appeared to have left St. Louis five days earlier but hadn't arrived at its next destination. I called the shipping company and they said they'd check into it and get back to me within twenty-four hours.

"Twenty-four hours." Defiance repeated the words flatly while an unhappy frown creased his high forehead. I could tell he was worried about his brothers.

Havoc slid his gaze in my direction. "Maybe MacKenzie could try to help us find them."

At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I caught on. Amazed, I turned my head slowly and stared at Havoc. He was suggesting I might be able to find his missing cousins because I was a witch.

Yeah, right, I thought. Good luck with that.

"What do you think?" Havoc asked me while carefully eyeing Valor.

I watched Valor too. The last time we talked about me being a witch, he was dead against the idea.

"It's up to MacKenzie," Valor answered as if he'd rather not get involved.

Victor gave Valor a considering look then moved his gaze to me. "Would you mind giving it a try, MacKenzie?"

I shrugged. "Just don't get your hopes up," I warned him.

They sat me down at the dining room table.

"First you need some glass," Defiance stated.

"Or a bowl of water," Havoc added.

"Glass works better," Defiance immediately argued.

There didn't seem to be much agreement on how the scrying should be done. It seemed as if each of the gargoyles had his idea. In the end, I tried everything. We found some glass in the garage that had fallen out of a double-paned window. I tried the glass and water and mirrors but nothing worked. I even tried laying the piece of glass over a map on the table and hanging a needle above it on a long piece of thread. I saw that in a movie a few years ago. It worked spectacularly in the film.

"You have to believe in your power," Defiance lectured as he braced his hands on the table and scowled down on me.

"And you have to _want_ the magic to work," Victor said.

"I _do_ want the magic to work," I insisted since I couldn't claim I believed in my power. "I want to find your cousins so you guys can quit worrying about them."

"You need to want it _more_ than that. You have to want it...for strong personal reasons," insisted Defiance.

"For emotional reasons," Havoc added.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as my shoulders slumped. I felt like I was letting them down. "Maybe if I had met your cousins, it would make a difference. I'm sure I could find one of you guys if you were missing."

"I'm sure you could," Dare replied encouragingly. He looked at his brother sitting at the other end of the table as if to say, "Can we get some help, here?"

"Why don't you take a break?" Valor suggested when he noticed Dare's pointed look. "You've been at it for more than two hours."

"I guess you were right about me," I muttered in a low voice as I lifted my eyes and looked at him. "I'm not much of a witch."

Dare's mouth tightened into a flat line and he gave his brother a blunt stare. He was probably thinking I'd never be able to "access my powers" as long as I believed Valor didn't want me to.

"I know what you're thinking," I told Dare. "But you're wrong. Valor isn't stopping me from finding the rest of the pack. I just don't have the ability. Maybe the power of red hair has died over the centuries. Or maybe..."

"What?" he demanded with an edge of impatience that was unusual for him. "Maybe there never _were_ any witches? Maybe a witch didn't scry my location and give it to that harpy who kept me prisoner all those years?"

"She didn't say that," Valor murmured, defending me as he rose to his feet. "Come," he said, and offered me his hand.

I was surprised when he didn't let go of my hand as we stepped through the front door. But it was just starting to get dark and maybe he thought we were safe from the sight of any harpies that might be hanging around. He took me out to the edge of our property line and picked out the widest tree that faced the tree-slayer's house. Blocker's lights were on which meant he was probably at home.

"Lean back against the tree," he told me. "And put your hands behind you so they're touching the bark."

I did as he instructed. "What's the plan?"

"You're going to cast a spell," he informed me.

I looked at Blocker's house and figured the spell I was going to cast had something to do with my neighbor. "Is that why I'm leaning against this tree? Because wood is necessary to make magic?"

He nodded. "Live trees are best and oaks are the strongest source of power. But this pine should work for a simple spell like this one."

"What if there isn't a live tree available?" I asked, trying to be a good student.

"Leaves will work for small spells. Even dried leaves. Pieces of wood can be used if you have nothing else."

"Like a piece of wooden furniture?" I queried as I leaned against the tree and waited for his next command. "Like the dining room table?"

"Exactly like the dining room table. But a clever witch will keep a piece of wood with her at all times."

"Like a wand?" I suggested eagerly. I liked the idea of a wand. Wands are cool.

"A staff would be better."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "Because there's more wood in it."

My mouth tilted wryly. I guess I should have been able to figure that out. Now that I gave it some thought, I decided a staff might be just as nice as a wand. And it could pass for a walking stick.

Valor propped his shoulder against the side of the tree. "Now focus on the house and cast your spell."

I sent him a blank stare. "What spell would that be?"

"Do I have to do all the work?" he sighed, although his eyes glinted with amusement. "What spell would you like to cast, MacKenzie? What do you want for strong personal reasons? For emotional reasons?"

I decided a kissing spell would be very nice but I didn't say so. "I'd like my neighbor to stop cutting trees," I admitted. "How do I do that?"

"First, you must be careful not to make the spell too vague. If you only wish for your neighbor to stop cutting trees, he might have a heart attack." He sent me a sly look "I know you wouldn't want that."

"No," I snickered. "I wouldn't want that."

Valor waved his heavily knuckled hand toward the house. "Just suggest that he change his mind about the trees."

I fixed my gaze on the neighbor's house though my attention kept wandering to the gargoyle standing so close to me. "Do I have to say the spell out loud or can I do this in my head?"

He leaned in front of me and rested his hand on the tree beside my face. As I gazed into his thickly lashed eyes, I noticed his lips were mere inches from mine. "Something tells me you aren't taking this seriously," he murmured with a stern smile.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. I tamped down a rebellious giggle while my eyes locked on the firm, hard line of lips.

"You have to believe in your power if you want this to work," he lectured gently.

If that was true, then there wasn't much hope for this spell ever getting off the ground.

"I believe in you," he added quietly. "I believe in your power."

"You do?" I asked softly, wondering if that meant he was finally ready to accept me for what I was...and what I might be. Even though I still thought the whole witch business was silly, it was nice to know Valor's feelings for me were strong enough to overcome his eight-hundred-year-old prejudices.

"Aye," he answered. "You're probably the most powerful witch I've ever known."

Feeling suddenly shy, I twisted a wild strand of my hair around my finger. "Because my hair's so red?"

"No," he answered. "Because only very strong magic could have changed me to my living form without the sun's help."

I realized he was talking about when the tool chest fell on me. "You really think I did that?"

He held my gaze and nodded.

"Are you sure?" I argued stubbornly. "Have you tried to make the change since then? Without the sun's help?"

He watched my eyes and lifted his chin. "I tried every day when your mother was home and we were stuck in our packing boxes. We all tried. When I told the others what happened on the morning I met you, Victor thought maybe our powers might have increased during the eight hundred years we were dormant. Defiance suggested maybe the Colorado sunshine was stronger than the sun in England. Before your mother got home, we even checked the roof of the garage for cracks to make sure a stray ray of sunlight hadn't reached me."

"So you're convinced I spelled you out of your stone form?"

He nodded seriously. "I am. Now, do you want to stop your neighbor or not?"

I took a deep breath, determined to do my best. "I want to stop him," I answered firmly. Which was true. I did want to stop my neighbor...almost as much as I wanted Valor to kiss me, which hadn't happened in a long time.

His face moved closer and his head tilted. I felt his warm breath wash against my mouth. I closed my eyes. As I've said before, sometimes you just have to plan for the best.

"Then open your eyes," he commanded. "And cast your spell."

When I peeked out from beneath my lashes, Valor was leaning his shoulder against the tree again, as if he hadn't just almost kissed me and had no intention of ever doing such a thing. Disappointed, I banished him from my mind and concentrated on the house that sat about a hundred feet away.

"Oh," he added suddenly. "I guess I should mention it's best if your spell rhymes."

"You're not serious!" I exploded in a loud whisper.

He shrugged. "All the spells I ever heard rhymed."

"Then why don't you just give me one of those spells?" I demanded.

"Because they aren't in English. They're in the old tongue. And if you don't understand them, they won't work."

I pushed out a sigh and took a moment to make up a rhyming spell, not entirely convinced that he wasn't just winding me up. "At this time, change your mind," I commanded beneath my breath. I felt like a complete idiot, standing in the dark while chanting bad poetry. "You don't want to cut another tree. You didn't realize how hard it would be. It was a bad idea anyhow. Change your mind and stop right now."

Valor looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Well," he said in a strained voice. "That's...not bad. I'm sure it will get easier with time."

"Do you think it will work?" I asked sourly.

"I have complete faith in you," he insisted. His eyes sparkled with humor as he took my hand again and pulled me back toward the house. The laughter in his blue gaze was almost enough to melt my bones.

Chapter Twenty

For the first weekend in at least a month, the menacing snarl of a chainsaw didn't echo through the forest on Saturday morning. 'Course that didn't mean I was a witch. It was going to take several days of no-tree-cutting before I'd even begin to consider the idea that I had somehow changed my neighbor's mind.

But at that point, the creepy next-door tree-slayer didn't seem like our biggest concern because we were all so worried about the missing gargoyles. Even the threat of a harpy attack didn't seem to be our most immediate problem. That's not to say we got sloppy and careless. We didn't. We still kept the curtains drawn and the guys remained vigilant, Valor taking the day watch after a week on the night watch. But he was ready to consider the idea that the missing harpy might have been a dead artifact all along.

And when it was time to crate up the gargoyles on Sunday morning, the guys went into their boxes a lot more willingly than they had ten days earlier. 'Course it helped that I let them wear their jeans since I didn't expect my mother to fully open the crates again. Valor was actually smiling as he helped me install the bottom panel on his crate. "No chainsaw again, today," he pointed out.

I nodded. Yesterday had passed without the sound of the chainsaw roaring to life. That meant a whole wonderful day without the shriek of tearing wood and crashing limbs. But it was only two days of silence and I wasn't convinced my spell had caused the change.

"Will you come out and tell us if you hear any news?" Valor asked as he stood in his tall packing crate.

"Of course," I answered. I knew he was talking about Reason and the rest of the missing gargoyles.

Valor leaned down and touched his lips to the corner of my mouth. "See you soon," he said softly.

I was smiling as I attached the top panel to his crate, my heart expanding at the tiny, half-kiss offering. There was no doubt I had it bad for the dark-haired, blue-eyed gargoyle. Unfortunately, my happiness was interrupted by Hooligan's low growl. A few weeks earlier, I probably would have ignored anything Hooligan had to say. By now, I knew enough to take his opinion seriously. A chill wrapped my spine as I looked around the garage and out onto the driveway, half afraid my neighbor was somewhere nearby. "What is it, Hooli?"

My wolfhound lifted his head and barked at the rafters.

I thought maybe a squirrel had gotten into the garage and was looking for a cozy place to spend the winter. That was a reassuring idea but it didn't last long. Hooli's growl deepened and I heard a scraping sound overhead, like a large raven walking on the roof. Alarmed, I turned toward the open garage doors just in time to see a long, dark shadow move across the driveway. I moved quickly across the garage, but when I stepped to the edge of the concrete slab and searched the skies I couldn't see anything.

Creeped out, I decided to move my car when my mom got home. I closed the garage doors and headed back into the house with Hooligan. When I was safely inside, I peeked through the drapes in the living room at the driveway in front of the house. But everything looked normal. The sun spilled down on the evergreen forest and the wind rustled comfortably through the pine needles while the trees waltzed in place.

At least the forest seemed at peace.

I gathered up the guys' notebooks and climbed the stairs to make my bed. When I stepped into my bedroom, I glanced at my curtains and made sure they were still drawn. Again, nothing looked unusual.

"What are you worried about?" I asked Hooligan, who had followed me into the room and sat alertly at the end of my bed.

But Hooligan wouldn't be distracted. He maintained his watchful stance.

"You look like one of those guards at Buckingham Palace," I informed him as I hid the notebooks and readers in the back of my closet. "All you need is a red coat and a tall hat."

And while Hooli stood guard, I made my bed. As I fluffed up my pillow, a piece of wide-ruled notepaper floated to the floor. Puzzled, I picked it up and turned it over. Written in neat, square handwriting was one sentence saying, "I love you Mackenzie".

The note was signed by Valor.

I sank down onto the edge of my mattress and stared at Valor's note. I felt like laughing. And crying. I felt like running down to the garage and breaking Valor's crate open to give him a big hug, even if he _was_ solid stone and couldn't hug me back. But I didn't want to be too over-the-top and scare him off. Not after waiting so long for him to admit he liked me.

But I couldn't wait until it was time to let him out of his packing box again. Grinning like an idiot, I opened the top drawer on my dressing table and placed the note carefully beneath my T-shirts.

Mom would be traveling back to California on Thursday, which was Thanksgiving Day. It was kind of sad that she had to work, especially since just about everyone in the country has a four-day weekend to celebrate the holiday. But my mother was testing the foundations on a new bridge that was being built to replace one that had fallen down during a recent earthquake. The construction project was on a tight schedule.

She'd invited some of her friends over on Wednesday to help us celebrate an early Thanksgiving. So we spent most of her break cleaning house to get ready for their visit.

When I saw all the food spread out on the dining room table, I couldn't help but think how much the gargoyles would have enjoyed the feast. Havoc would have raved over the huge, roasted dead bird.

I saved a drumstick for him.

"I haven't heard the chainsaw lately," my mother commented as we cleaned up after dinner. "In fact, I haven't heard it the entire time I've been here."

"I meant to tell you," I said. "The neighbor stopped cutting trees a few days before you came home."

"Do you think maybe he's done?" she asked.

"I hope so," I answered as we stacked the dishwasher together.

And when the dishwasher was running, Mom headed for the living room and turned the TV to the weather station. The temperature had dropped about ten degrees while we were eating dinner and we'd noticed the change when we'd gone outside to see her friends off. "They're forecasting snow in the morning," she called out to me in the kitchen where I was wiping down the counters.

I wasn't surprised. The snow was long overdue. We didn't normally get a lot of the white stuff before Christmas but we always got _some_. "How much?"

"Only a couple of inches," she replied. "It shouldn't affect the roads or traffic."

"Well, be sure to wake me up before you leave tomorrow morning so I can say goodbye." I usually saw my mother off anyway but I wanted to be up before sunrise tomorrow to open Valor's crate. I'd decided I was gonna kiss him while he was in his stone form. That way he couldn't stop me.

I was also keen to tell the pack about the shadow I'd seen on the driveway and Hooligan's reaction to the sounds on the roof in case they thought it might be important.

"Have you talked to your father, lately?" Mom asked as I filled Hooligan's bowl in the mudroom.

"I'm having dinner with him on Sunday," I yelled back.

"He didn't ask you over for Thanksgiving Day?"

I washed my hands and joined my mother in the living room. "He's having dinner with Natalie's parents tomorrow so we're getting together on the weekend."

"Say hi to everyone," she told me.

I promised I would. Natalie's kids are really cute and I was looking forward to chasing them around the house. I thought I might even take Valor with me to help with the chasing.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'm making dinner for some friends," I answered, which was a slight exaggeration since Havoc would probably do most of the cooking.

"Are Mim and Whitney coming over?"

"No," I answered. "They have to spend the day with their families."

Right away, her romance sensors went into overdrive. "Are you making dinner for that eighteen-year-old bow maker you met?"

I nodded. "Along with his brothers and a few of his cousins."

"So you guys are...still together?"

I just nodded casually like it was no big deal for me to have a boyfriend.

"When do I get to meet this guy?" she asked slyly.

I wasn't ready for her question and had to do some quick thinking to explain why she couldn't meet Valor. "I don't want to scare him away by asking him to meet my parents, Mom! He'll think I'm...really serious or something."

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Good point. Better to play it cool."

"You'll meet him eventually," I assured her.

She bobbed her head cheerfully. "So, how many are you expecting for dinner tomorrow?"

"Five altogether."

"Five teenage boys? You're going to need a lot of food," she decided. "I'd better wire some more money into your account tonight. Don't forget to go to the grocery store before it closes at noon. Are you planning on getting a turkey or a ham?"

"Maybe ham," I answered. "Since we just had turkey."

"What are you going to do about a vegetable?"

"Um. Ask for your help?"

So together, we got online and picked out a recipe for green beans and another one for sweet potatoes. After that, we discussed the best apples for pie and Mom gave me step-by-step instructions for making pastry. By the time she was finished, I was convinced I should buy dessert. Unless Havoc was ready to take on the project.

I went to bed with a long shopping list laying on my nightstand.

Hooligan's frantic bark woke me on Thanksgiving morning. When I opened my eyes, I found my dog with his nose pressed against the edge of the door as if he was trying to squeeze through the narrow crack. He turned his face toward me and barked again.

A warm wash of sunlight filtered through the white cotton curtains and I realized the room was too bright. I'd asked my mother to wake me up before she left and I'd expected her to leave long before sunrise.

So I threw the covers off my legs and hurried downstairs with Hooligan where I found a note on the kitchen counter. It had snowed twelve inches overnight. Expecting bad roads and slow traffic, my mom had gotten up early and left without waking me.

While Hooligan detoured straight for the mudroom, I rushed into the living room and looked out the window at the tire tracks in the snow. Feeling increasingly uneasy, I followed the sound of Hooli's anxious bark. I jogged into the mudroom and unlocked the door to the garage. Sunlight poured into the open garage bay and I cursed. In her hurry, my mother had left the garage door open. Normally she closes it. Not because we have to worry about anyone stealing our cars in a remote area like Pine Grove. But because the squirrels and birds are always getting in and trying to build homes.

The concrete floor was icy on my bare feet as I rushed into the garage. When I saw the mess, I stopped and covered my mouth with my hand. "No!" I whispered as I gazed out onto the driveway. Two tire tracks cut into the foot-deep snow. And scattered across the brilliant white blanket lay splintered slats of wood.

Hooligan raced past me and sniffed frantically around the garage floor where Valor's crate had stood. With his nose buried in the snow, he plowed out into the driveway a few feet. Then he stood in front of the garage, lifted his white muzzle upward and howled at the sky.

"No!" I screamed as I ran for the tool chest and grabbed the hammer. "He's gone," I cried as I tore at the crate that held Dare. "Valor's gone!"

The wooden boxes had been opened so many times that it wasn't hard to get the panels off but it seemed like forever before Dare stepped out of his crate. He took the hammer from my hand and worked on the next packing box while I moaned and hopped from one burning-cold foot to the other.

"MacKenzie, it's freezing in here. Go get dressed," Dare ordered me. "And put something on your feet."

I twisted my hands together, wanting him to get the boxes open, wanting him to do something, wanting him to find Valor, right now! I was afraid if I left, nobody would understand the urgency of the situation. Which was ridiculous. This was Valor's pack. They were going to be frantic to find him.

Victor stepped out of his crate and Dare went to work on the next wooden box.

"You have to find him!" I told Victor.

The golden gargoyle grasped my upper arms. "We'll do that, MacKenzie. Now come inside and get dressed."

Victor had to drag me back to the house where I raced upstairs. I was in such a panic, I didn't know what I was doing. I pulled on a bright tangerine tank top then took it off and put on my bra. Then I pulled on the tank top again like it was the middle of summer and we didn't have a foot of snow on the ground.

I yanked a pair of jeans up my legs, tore open my bedroom door then hurried back into my room for my socks and shoes. I grabbed my knitted hat from the top of my dressing table before I ran back into the hallway.

By the time I returned to the lower level, the gargoyles were standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. I hoped they weren't going to call a pack meeting because we didn't have time for the pulling-of-knives and the flipping-of-coins. "We have to find Valor," I panted inanely.

Victor eyed me calmly. "We'll find him, MacKenzie. But it would be a lot quicker if we knew where he was."

Yes. Yes. I agreed absolutely but why were they all watching me like I could tell them where Valor was?

Finally, Dare spoke up. "You have to find him for us, Mackenzie."

My heart stopped beating as I stared at the gargoyles' grim faces and realized they expected me to find Valor...with my nonexistent witch powers. You can't imagine how tragic it was to think I was their best and only hope. Me. MacKenzie Campbell. A totally red but equally pathetic excuse for a witch.

"But aren't there...aren't there any tracks to follow?" I asked, knowing that there weren't. I'd seen the splintered crate scattered across the pristine blanket of snow in front of the garage. There were no tire tracks other than those of my mother's Subaru. There were no footprints or paw prints or any other kind of prints except for the ones Hooligan had made when he dashed out in the snow, raised his head to the sky and howled in anguish.

Like the rest of the pack, I knew that Valor had been taken—stolen by a harpy.

Chapter Twenty-One

"Bring me the glass," I commanded, determined to locate Valor.

Havoc hurried out to the garage to find the pane of glass we'd used before, while Dare whipped down to the family room and printed out a map of the local area.

The guys had heard the harpy rip the packing crate apart and felt certain she couldn't have traveled far before the sun came up. They figured she wouldn't fly in the daytime because she wouldn't want to be seen. In addition, the gargoyles expected to find her on a ridge top, since harpies like high places. Evidently, they feel safer when they can see for a long distance. That way they can watch their enemies approach.

Everything considered, they probably had plenty of enemies.

I was one of them.

We spread out the map on the dining room table and Havoc carefully placed the sheet of glass over the map while the gargoyles gathered around. As soon as I sat down on the pine chair, my phone started beeping and I turned it off so it wouldn't distract me.

I stared at the map, hoping to see something. Anything. A glowing red dot to tell me where Valor was. A vision of Valor or a harpy or even a ridge top. But I saw absolutely nothing that would help us find him. "I don't see anything," I moaned. "Nothing at all."

"Try a mirror," Defiance suggested. He brought a little round hand mirror from the bathroom and placed it next to the map.

But when I looked at the mirror, all I saw was my own sorry face with tears spilling across my eyelashes. "It's no good," I cried. "I have no power."

"You stopped the neighbor from cutting down his trees," Dare reminded me gently.

I shook my head and tears fell from my lashes, making wet spots on the glass. "It must have been a coincidence, Dare. I'm not a witch. I have no power. We're just wasting time."

Victor knelt beside my chair and put his arm around me. "You'll find him," he said quietly. "You just need time to relax and focus." He lifted his gaze to his family. "In the meantime, we'd better start looking."

Together, the gargoyles picked out the nearest ridge tops, then second destinations further away. "If we don't find Valor at any of these locations, we return here to see if MacKenzie has had any luck locating him," Victor ordered while the rest of the pack muttered their agreement.

"Dare will stay here to protect MacKenzie." Victor gave the dark-haired gargoyle a grim look. "The harpy might return here and try to kidnap MacKenzie if she thinks Valor cares about her."

"I won't let that happen," Dare growled. His eyes flashed fiercely as his hand covered the hilt of his knife.

Victor rested his hand on Dare's shoulder. "I know you won't," he said as the rest of the gargoyles headed toward the front door.

In the entry, I pulled on my coat and boots and followed the gargoyles through the snow out to the cliffs in the park. The snow was bright in the clear Colorado sunshine and I had to shield my eyes with my hand as Dare and I watched the pack take off over the empty forest.

Normally, the gargoyles wouldn't have flown in the daytime. Since they had no choice, they rose straight up into the air and climbed quickly to gain altitude. That way, if anyone saw them from the ground below, they'd be far enough away to look like birds. I watched Havoc grow smaller and smaller until he was a dark speck that swung west and disappeared against a hillside covered with snow-frosted pines.

"You guys said all I had to do was really care," I choked as Dare and I turned back toward the house. I felt like I had let everyone down. Myself. The pack. The beautiful gargoyle who'd said he was in love with me. And maybe most of all, I felt like I had let down Reason, who had believed in my powers right from the start and who had counted on me to protect his family while he sacrificed himself in Texas.

Hooligan pressed his nose against the pocket of my jeans and growled unhappily.

"You should try to relax," Dare advised gently. Taking my hand, he led me to a fallen tree and swept the snow from its wide trunk. "Why don't you turn on your phone and check in with your friends? Try to get back some degree of normalcy in your life."

Normalcy? How was my life ever going to be normal again? My boyfriend was a gargoyle. And he'd been abducted by a harpy. None of this should have been happening because none of this was even possible. Both gargoyles and harpies were supposed to be mythical creatures.

I sank down onto the tree's rough trunk and pulled my phone from my pocket. As soon as I powered it up, the damn beeping started again. That's all I needed, another frustration! I wiped my eyes and looked at the glass face of my phone and realized the travel app was turned on. Each time the phone beeped, a red circle pulsed in the middle of the screen.

I stopped breathing and my eyes widened on the phone. "Oh, no," I whispered. "How is that possible?"

"What is it?" Dare asked, leaning close so he could look at my cell phone. Hooligan pressed between my knees and touched his nose to the phone with the sort of avid interest he usually reserves for his food bowl.

"It's my travel app," I croaked. "Only it's not showing me the location of the phone, here at my house. It's showing me a different location." I rubbed my thumb over the pulsing red dot. The surface of the phone was smooth and cool to the touch. "Dare," I squealed. "The front of my phone is made of glass!"

I lifted my head and stared into the gargoyle's gold-flecked eyes.

"Valor," we said together.

I was so utterly stunned I couldn't move past the fact that what was happening was impossible. Either I was witnessing a miracle or...I was a witch.

"I'm scrying with my phone," I yelled as I jumped to my feet and pelted back through the snow toward the house.

"MacKenzie, wait!" Dare shouted.

But I wasn't waiting. Dare would just have to catch up as I tore through the garage and into the house looking for my backpack with my car keys.

"MacKenzie," he panted, when he caught up with me in the kitchen. "We can't go without the others. We have to wait for help."

I gave him the briefest look while I pawed through the contents of my backpack. "We can't wait. We can't risk what that harpy might do to Valor."

"He'll have my life if anything happens to you," Dare argued, his voice rising. "We _must_ wait for Victor and the others to get back."

"I'm not waiting," I shouted as I clenched my keys in my fist. "The pack has only just left and they won't be back for at least two hours. I won't let what happened to you happen to Valor."

Dare's hard expression softened as he pulled my head into his shoulder. His chest lifted as he took a deep breath. "Then we'll just have to come up with a good plan," he muttered.

I lifted my face and wiped my eyes on the shoulder of his black trench coat. "We can figure it out in the car."

"No," he insisted. "We'll take five minutes and figure it out before we leave. Valor was taken in his stone form. He won't make the change back to life until he has to. Let's assume that he's safe for another five minutes."

Five agonizing minutes later, we were ready to go.

We had everything we needed for our plan and even a few things for a backup plan. I had changed clothes. Over my tank top, I wore two T-shirts, a long sleeved top, a heavy knitted turtleneck and a gray hoodie. On top of all this, I wore my coat. It wasn't _that_ cold but my layered clothing was part of our strategy.

My knitted blue hat was secured to my head with bobby pins, hiding my red hair. The small bottle containing Valor's venom was in my backpack. In my coat pocket, I carried an ice pick with a wooden handle and sheath. Sheathed, the ice pick looked like a small, harmless rod of wood. Unsheathed, it was a sharp, deadly weapon long enough to reach beneath the harpy's stony armor all the way to her dark heart.

I wouldn't let that harpy monster take Valor from me. His note was buried in my pocket to remind me what I was fighting for.

We left the local map on the dining room table with our destination circled in red. When the rest of the gargoyles got back, they could turn around and come after us. We wouldn't be far away. The harpy had taken Valor to Evergreen Mountain, two ridges west of my home. And I had a good idea of where we were headed on that tree-covered hillside. I didn't think the harpy was out in the open. I was betting she was holed up in a large mountaintop mansion that had been built two years ago. I'd heard it was empty all winter long. It was probably the summer cabin of some millionaire.

After locking Hooligan in the house, we raced through the garage into the snow. When we reached the Jeep, I backed it up and started to pull down the driveway...only to find our exit blocked by an unfamiliar SUV. "No!" I screamed, at that point beyond wild with panic.

Someone stepped from the car.

It was Alexa. Beautiful, brainless, _harmless_ Alexa, dressed in winter ski wear with a colorful scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Move your car," I yelled at her as I jumped from the Jeep. "We have to leave."

"Hi, MacKenzie," she called cheerfully, her auburn hair glinting red in the sun. She bounced and waved a few times before closing her car door and heading up the driveway toward us. Her friend, Tara, got out of the passenger-side door and smiled at Dare.

If I'd been thinking straight, I would have just told her someone in my family was hurt and I had to get to the hospital right away. But I wasn't thinking anything like straight. "Move your car, Alexa. Now!"

"We're in a hurry," Dare added as he joined me outside the Jeep.

"If MacKenzie has to leave, maybe you'd like to spend the day with us," Alexa suggested to Dare, just not grasping the significance of the situation. "We're going snowboarding at the park next door."

By now I'd plowed my way through the snow and was like ten feet away from the two girls. "Move the car now," I gritted. "Or I'll move it for you."

Clearly insulted by my less-than-warm attitude, Alexa lifted her keys and dangled them in the air. "Uh, that might be kinda hard without the keys."

As my eyes narrowed on Alexa's keys, I felt a whole new force of emotion building inside me, unlike anything I'd ever known before. It tasted of passion, desperation and rage as I shouted, "Move the damn car!"

Alexa's pretty face turned unexpectedly ugly. "You know MacKenzie, I've never told you this before. But you are such a straight-A loser."

I was already as pissed as I thought humanly possible, my fury at the wicked harpy spilling over into my opinion of Alexa. But somehow her comment managed to make me even madder. And the snark about my grades was entirely uncalled-for. I'm not a straight-A student at all. I'm really more of a B student.

As I glared at Alexa's keys, they ripped from her fingers and flew at my face. My own keys were in my right hand and I raised my left one just in time to catch the jangling clump of metal before it knocked my teeth out.

"Thank you," I said, slightly stunned and staring at Alexa's keys clutched in my fist.

Tara looked at her friend. A puzzled expression was on her expertly made-up face as a deep ridge settled between her waxed eyebrows. "Why did you do that, Alexa?" she demanded. "Why did you throw your keys to MacKenzie?"

"I-I didn't," Alexa stammered as I tossed the keys at Dare.

"I'll move her car," he said. His eyes glittered with a fierce light and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

I was a witch and we could do this.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The problem with plans is that things don't always go the way you suppose they will. Dare and I had intended to drive to the ridge top house where we expected to find Valor and the harpy. Dare was supposed to handle the dangerous part of the rescue. He was going to lure the harpy outside with the bottle of venom.

When he removed the cap from the bottle, he figured the harpy would smell the venom and probably think there was a gargoyle nearby. She wouldn't pick up Dare's scent before then because his venom was sealed behind his scarred hackles. After she went outside to investigate, I was supposed to sneak inside the house to free Valor while Dare defended himself with the car. I didn't know exactly how he planned to do that. To be honest, I didn't want to know the details, which I thought might be messy. I was just content to think Dare would be safe in my solid, old Jeep Cherokee.

We didn't plan on the harpy plucking me from the ground while Dare backed Alexa's car down the driveway.

The two girls scrambled to get back into their big SUV with Dare. I was heading back toward my Jeep with my keys in my hand, when a pair of sharp claws gripped my shoulders and lifted me from the ground. Despite my shock, I managed to drag my feet through the snow a bit so that Dare might have an inkling of what had happened to me when he came back up the driveway and discovered I was gone. And I dropped my keys for him, somewhat belatedly. I watched them disappear between the trees and sink into twelve inches of snow. It would have been nice if I could have left him my phone so he could use it to follow me to Valor, but it was buried in the backpack on my shoulder. There was no time to dig it out before we were flying over the forest.

You know those movies where the hero is plucked from the ground by some flying monster and he's kicking and fighting in midair to free himself? Well, that doesn't happen. I reached up and held on to the harpy for dear life, terrified she would drop me to my death on the ground far, far below.

And everything I'd been told about harpies did nothing to prepare me for the sight of the hideous monster that dangled me from her taloned feet. She was gigantically huge with no female features on her rocky face and no breasts whatsoever. Her skin was sandy brown and pocked with small holes; it looked exactly like weathered rock except more pliable, like a thick, rubbery plastic that had been spray-painted to look like granite. And except for the absence of male parts on her naked body, you would never have known she was female.

She swung out high over the trees and headed for Evergreen Mountain, a few miles away. I was pretty sure Victor and the others would've already searched the area and moved on. They wouldn't have discovered the harpy because she wasn't out in the open when they got there. She'd have been inside the big house at the top of the ridge.

I figured the pack wouldn't find us until they returned to my place and discovered the map on the dining room table. If Dare could locate my keys in the snow, he'd probably try to follow me, but it would take a while for him to print out another map and get going. That meant I was going to have to come up with a new plan.

I remembered what Dare had told me about the harpies' stony armor and how my best chance was to strike between the plates. But the monster's ankles and feet were fully protected. Dangling from the harpy's claws, I couldn't reach high enough to do any real harm. The closest vulnerable point was just above her ankles. I figured the best I could do was maybe cripple her. At any rate, I decided not to act until we were almost to the house...and closer to the ground.

As we approached the large mansion, I released my hold on the harpy's legs, which was more difficult than you could possibly imagine. Basically, I was counting on the harpy not to drop me. That meant I was putting my trust in a creature who wished me no good. The kind of creature that strips the wings from beautiful gargoyles for fun. The kind of creature that—if she got her way—was going to torture me in front of Valor.

But I was determined she wouldn't use me against him.

As soon as I let go of her stony ankles, she jerked me around in the air like a rag doll. I resisted the urge to grab hold again, which is what I figured she wanted me to do. I was damned if I'd cooperate with the flying rock pile.

The harpy lifted her knees to her chest and craned her head down to look at me, which was even creepier than it sounds. She cocked her head like some horrible, huge vulture and her beady black eyes glittered with suspicion as she stared at me. Swiftly, I lowered my gaze to the ground below and tried to look like my first priority was escape rather than attack.

When the harpy finally straightened out again, I slid my hand into the pocket of my coat and pulled the ice pick from its sheath. Even though I have zero killer instinct, I was prepared to do my best to cripple the harpy. I just hoped it wouldn't be as hard as putting a worm on a fishing hook. Because I totally failed at that when I was ten years old. Evidently, I didn't inherit my father's murderous fishing gene.

I struck when we were about ten feet from the ground, aiming the tip of the ice pick at the edge of the stony plate that separated the harpy's taloned foot from her leg. But before the ice pick could sink between the plates and do any damage, the harpy dropped me.

I hit the ground with an ominous crunch, considering I fell into a foot of snow. The landing should have been softer. My foot didn't hurt right away. It was several seconds before I realized my ankle was broken, my foot dangling useless at the end of my leg. But by the time the pain caught up to me and I was ready to scream, I had bigger problems.

The harpy wheeled around in the air and shrieked as she dove at me. And if I live forever, I'll never forget the bone-chilling sound of her cry. Like a thousand icy fingernails scraping down polished glass, it wrapped around my spine and spread a helpless, frozen terror through my limbs. She hit me before I could roll over onto my knees. My head snapped back and I saw stars as my skull dented the snow.

Frantically, I lifted my pounding head and looked around for the harpy.

The monster had landed about fifteen feet away. As she stalked toward me, her wings closed around her frame like a coat. It was longer than the gargoyles' vests. The black leather almost reached her knees.

Her rocky bulk towered over me as she came to a stop right in front of me and backhanded me across the face. Blood spurted from my nose and the dark drops looked black against the blinding white snow.

The harpy ignored the ice pick in my hand. I could tell that she didn't consider my small pointed weapon much of a threat. She knotted her fingers in my collar and started dragging me toward the house. As she towed me through the snow, my backpack ripped from my shoulder and traveled down my arm. I gripped the strap with my fingers just before I lost it completely. Panicked, I fished inside the canvas bag for Valor's little glass bottle.

The ugly monstrosity tossed me through the mansion's wide front doors like I was a sack of potatoes. The ice pick flew from my hand as I landed and clattered across the marble-tiled floor. I lay on my face in a spacious foyer that opened into a huge living room with hardwood floors and Persian rugs, my small bottle of venom hidden in the palm of my hand. The sun shone through the beveled edges of the small glass windows on the doors and the light fractured into splinters of color on the large tiles that paved the foyer.

I lifted my head to find Valor. Trapped in his stone form, he stood in the middle of the living room with his knife on his belt and his foot chained to a stake buried in the polished hardwood floor. Like Dare had expected, Valor hadn't made the change to his living form. Maybe he'd never had the chance; the harpy took him before sunrise.

There was no doubt in my mind that he would have woken up as soon as he saw me—if he'd been able to. Unfortunately, heavy drapes covered the large windows in the living room and there was no direct sunlight to help him make the change. For whatever reason, the harpy wanted to keep Valor in his stone form. Maybe she didn't want him to wake up before she'd brought me to the house.

"Pretty," the harpy cackled as her gaze followed mine to Valor.

Seeing a chance to buy some time, I growled, "Mine."

The harpy's head whipped back around and her glittering black eyes narrowed on me with scorching hatred.

"He's mine," I repeated as I rolled over into a sitting position. "You can't have him. You can't make him give you his rune because he's already given it to me."

"Liar!" she screamed like a thousand banshees from hell, her voice amplified in the stone-tiled foyer.

I dug in my pocket and thrust Valor's note at her.

She snatched the square of paper from my hand with her long, craggy fingers and opened it. She tilted her head as she looked at the printed letters. "Can't read," she complained in a scratchy voice that sounded like a raven's harsh croak.

"It says he loves me," I declared and lifted my chin defiantly.

She targeted me with her beady gaze again. "Don't care," she snarled.

"I'm wearing his rune," I shouted, determined to stall for as long as possible in the hopes that Dare or the others would get there in time to help.

The harpy crossed her arms over her chest. "Prove it."

"Not a problem," I muttered in answer.

This was the genius part and one of our backup plans. I was wearing six layers of clothing. And now that my ankle was broken, I had a good excuse for taking my time. Awkwardly, I pulled my coat off. Then my hoodie. After that, I took my time getting the heavy turtleneck over my head. Next came the long sleeved top.

Not long on patience, the harpy screamed with frustration and reached for me. Three seconds later, my two T-shirts were in tatters and my upper arm was exposed. So much for buying time.

"Liar," the harpy screeched triumphantly when she saw my runeless arm. Her malignant gaze swung to the beautiful gargoyle frozen in the middle of the elegant living room. A greedy leer was on her pockmarked face as she stared at Valor. "The pretty boy is mine!" she crowed. "Forever."

Like hell, I thought.

I knew that Victor and the rest of the pack would eventually come to our rescue. I also knew that the harpy would scent their approach and I was afraid she might ambush them. So I threw the small bottle of venom at my feet and smashed it with my good foot, using the heel of my boot. Basically, I was hoping the harpy wouldn't be able to scent the pack's approach over the smell of the venom spilled in the foyer.

As I watched the brilliant blue liquid spread slowly over the tiles, the harpy wheeled around and howled in fury. I lifted my arm to shield my face, expecting her to hit me again but she kicked me aside and threw herself on the ground. I was shocked to see her try to lick up the venom that spread like a stain on the tiles.

I hadn't, for one moment, expected her to behave that way. But while she was crouched on the floor, I snatched up the ice pick and scrambled to Valor on my hands and knees. I imagine I looked pretty ridiculous but there was a method to my madness. I knew the harpy would follow me and I wanted to get her close to Valor.

With my good foot supporting my weight, I clawed my way up Valor's stone frame and turned to face the harpy who had followed me into the living room. A drop of venom slid down her chin and she swiped at it with her thick, pointed tongue.

It was so gross.

She probably thought I looked silly, brandishing the ice pick in my right hand as if I was going to be able to make a dent in her solid stone bulk. But I was counting on her to overlook the wooden sheath in my left hand. Thanks to about a dozen bobby pins, my head was still covered by my hat so she couldn't see my red hair and she didn't know I was a witch.

The monster loomed toward me and gave me a vicious kick in the shin. Pain screamed through my leg and I sank against the statue of Valor as she backed up a few steps. Her retreat didn't last long. Apparently confident that I couldn't harm her, the harpy stepped toward me again. Her big, rocky fist flew at me and knocked the needle-like ice pick from my right hand. This time she didn't step away from me but prepared to deliver the next blow to my face. Stars exploded across my vision as her fist connected with my chin.

As the harpy got ready to hit me again, I knew I was running out of time. I had to act before she hit me too often and I blacked out. But I wanted her a bit closer before I made my move. Valor was chained to the floor and couldn't reach the harpy with his knife. I just needed her to move a little closer.

"Little human idiot," she screeched with an ugly laugh. "Did you really think you could stop me?"

"No," I answered as I gripped the ice pick's wooden sheath in my left fist. "I thought I'd let my boyfriend do that." At that point, I was beginning to fade out, the corners of my vision shrinking inward as consciousness slipped away from me in a dark rush. But I heard a distant bang, like a door thrown open. I was hoping for the gargoyle cavalry. That's not exactly what I got.

Out of nowhere, Hooligan flashed into the room and leapt at the harpy. He went for her throat as she turned to face him.

The harpy stumbled backward under Hooligan's massive weight. Unfortunately, she crashed into me and knocked the wooden sheath from my hand before I could wish for Valor's help. My heart sank all the way down to my broken ankle. I had been counting on that piece of wood to use with my awakening spell.

I didn't know how Hooligan had gotten there but I doubted he was going to be any match for the harpy. Valor was frozen in his stone form. The rest of the pack was nowhere in sight and I was losing consciousness. Feeling defeated and utterly hopeless, I wished Valor would just miraculously wake up and save my dog and me.

Weirdly and unexpectedly, I got my miracle.

Before I could take another breath, I heard Valor shout my name. I felt his arm go strongly around my waist, supporting me as I drooped toward the floor. After that, everything's a blur in my memory. I saw Dare for a brief instant and I was vaguely aware of him tearing down the curtains while Hooligan snarled and the harpy screeched.

As sunlight spilled into the room, Valor spread his wings around me like a tent. His voice was desperate with concern as he called my name again. "MacKenzie. Are you alright, lass?"

Something fell against us and Valor turned to stone to protect me within the indestructible circle of his wings. Then I must have blacked out because I don't remember anything else. But I bet I was smiling when I lost consciousness. 'Cause I could see that Valor's long knife was missing from the sheath hanging on his old emo belt. And I had a pretty good idea of where the knife had ended up.

Chapter Twenty-Three

When I came to, I was floating in a soft glow of peace. Someone was brushing fine, warm silk across my fingers. At least, that's how it felt. The sensation was extremely pleasant.

I cracked my eyelids open and looked into the intense blue color of Valor's gaze. His fingers were laced with mine and he held my hand to his mouth. As I watched, he brushed my fingers against his lips.

"Hi," I whispered.

Valor's eyes filled with emotion. "Hi," he answered in that low, rough lilt I love so much.

I was lying in a doctor's examination room. Hooligan sat beside Valor's chair, looking scruffy but heroic. And as my gaze drifted upward, it snagged on a watercolor hanging on the wall. I recognized the painting and realized I was in the Pine Grove Medical Center where Whitney's father worked. Despite my injuries, I felt no pain. I figured I must be on some sort of medication. Whatever it was, it was pretty effective.

Valor turned his head and I followed his gaze. Dare, Havoc and Defiance were standing against the wall beside the heavy wooden door. Victor sat in the other chair. He leaned forward and watched me seriously. When I smiled at him, the pack let out a collective sigh of relief.

I chuckled hazily. "Are you guys okay?"

Victor shook his head and smiled softly. "With four members of the pack already missing, we couldn't face the idea of losing another one."

"You're being overly dramatic," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

Valor cleared his throat and put his lips close to my ear. "We told the doctor you slipped in the snow on the driveway and hit your face on a rock."

I nodded to let him know that I understood and would back up his story if anyone asked any questions.

He watched me carefully for a moment then turned toward the guys standing against the wall. "Tell the doctor she's awake."

In answer, Defiance opened the door and stepped from the room.

"What happened to the harpy?" I asked dopily, feeling slow but generally glad to be alive.

Victor set his mouth in a serious frown. "She's...passed on."

"Kicked the bucket," Havoc said.

"Bought the farm," Valor added.

Dare went next. "Expired."

"Met her maker," Victor said and shook his head solemnly as he watched the floor.

Okay. The gargoyles were obviously Monty Python fans. I guess that's what happens when you live through the seventies. "So the harpy's dead." I chuckled. "What else did I miss?"

"By the time we got there, everything was over," Victor admitted with sigh, and I could tell he hated missing out on all the action. "Then Dare drove us straight to Mim's house and she called Whitney to see if her father could open his office."

"They were closed for Thanksgiving," Valor explained.

"Then Mim helped us get here," Victor said.

"Mim's here?" I asked.

"And Whitney," Valor told me. "They found your insurance information in your backpack and they're taking care of your paperwork."

My gaze traveled to Hooligan who wouldn't normally have been allowed in a doctor's office. I suppose Dr. Anders had made an exception for him since we were his only patients. "How did you get involved?" I asked my dog.

Hooligan lifted his head and barked softly as if he was trying to answer my question.

"I couldn't find your keys in the snow," Dare explained. "Though I was sure you must have dropped them for me. So I let Hooligan out of the house and he went straight to them. And after I printed out a second map, he insisted on coming in the car with me."

I rubbed Hooli's silky ears through my fingers and grinned at Valor. "So which one of you finished off the harpy?"

Valor smiled warmly as he looked down at Hooligan. "I think it was a tie."

"Really?"

"The harpy's throat was a mess by the time she died and turned to stone," he said.

"Where is she now?" I asked, meaning the dead artifact.

"We broke her up," Valor muttered darkly.

"We saved some of her remains in case you want to pot some flowers," Havoc added with a wicked smile.

It sounded like they'd broken her up into pretty small pieces. I nodded several times before I realized I was repeating myself. And through the quiet fog that wrapped my brain, I remembered I had an unanswered question for Valor. "How did you manage to get out of your stone form in time to rescue me?"

He blinked in surprise. "You woke me."

I shook my head in a wobbly circle. "The harpy knocked the piece of wood out of my hand before I could wish you awake."

"It was you," Valor claimed. He lifted his chin and shot a grin at the other gargoyles.

"It couldn't have been me," I argued slowly as I looked around at the pack. "Unless I'm such a powerful witch that I don't need wood to cast spells."

Dare lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers over his mouth. "Uh. The floor was made of wood, MacKenzie."

"And your feet were touching the floor," Valor added while the rest of the pack chuckled.

Recalling the mansion's polished hardwood floors, I slowly lifted my hand and smacked the heel of my palm against my forehead. So I was a witch after all. Just not a very bright one.

But before I could properly beat myself up, the door opened and Defiance returned with Whitney who was carrying a set of crutches for me. Dr. Anders wasn't far behind. He stepped into the room looking a little frazzled as I realized Whitney and her father were probably missing their Thanksgiving dinner.

Whitney's dad checked my toes peeking out from the end of the cast and pronounced me fit to travel. Then he sat down on the padded stool and dashed off a prescription for me. "I talked with your mother and she's on her way back from California. In the meantime, she said Mim could give you a lift home. Your mom will see you there." He handed me the prescription on the white square of paper. "I hate to heal and run," he joked. "But there's a huge drumstick waiting for me at home with my name on it."

"I understand," I said and grinned at Whitney.

Using the crutches, I navigated my way through the medical center while Valor and the others opened doors for me. We caught up to Mim in the waiting room. She followed us outside to the parking lot where Whitney gave me a hug before she got in the car with her dad.

And back at the house, Valor helped me inside to the living room. As I eased down onto the couch, I realized I hadn't gotten to the grocery store to buy the things we needed for dinner. And by now, the store would be closed. I sent Havoc and Dare to the kitchen to see what we had in the freezer.

Before the rest of the guys could settle themselves around the room, Mim asked if she could speak to me privately. Right away, Victor and Defiance sauntered from the room. I didn't even have to ask them if they'd mind leaving. I thought it was really sweet of them. 'Course it wouldn't do Mim much good. Because the gargoyles would probably hear every word she said...unless they left the house and took a walk over to the park.

Mim glanced uneasily at Valor.

"I'm not leaving," he informed her quietly. He pulled a chair close to the couch and planted himself in it.

I opened my mouth to tell Valor he didn't have to stay with me but he interrupted me before I could say anything.

His tone was firm as he wrapped my hand in his. "Don't ask me to leave, MacKenzie."

I studied him briefly and could tell he wasn't going to budge on the issue. "What is it?" I asked Mim, wondering what on earth she had to say that she didn't want the guys to hear.

Mim set her chin at a determined angle. "I didn't want to ask any questions while we were at the medical center but I'm still waiting to hear what happened to you today."

I felt really bad. Mim's my best friend. And normally, she'd be the first person to hear the story. But we'd all avoided telling her anything and she was probably feeling left out. I was in no condition to improvise because of the painkillers dulling my wits but I did my best. "I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner, Mim. But I...slipped in the snow and broke my ankle."

"What happened to your face?" she demanded quietly. "And don't tell me you slipped in the snow and landed on your face, MacKenzie. It looks like somebody hit you."

Maybe it was the drugs, but I didn't understand why she seemed so upset. Sadly, even though I was under the influence, the perfect lie jumped into my head. "When I walked into the garage this morning, there were two men inside. They were stealing the step-person's stuff. They'd broken open his wooden boxes and had a bunch of statues loaded into the back of their truck. When I tried to stop them, one of the men...hit me."

"You tried to stop them?" she asked incredulously as she glanced at Valor. "Where were the others? Where were Valor and Dare?"

"They...were inside the house," I lied as fast as I could make things up. "They came out but were too late to stop the robbery. When I chased the truck down the driveway, I slipped in the snow and broke my ankle."

She looked at me as if she didn't believe me.

"So the guys carried me to the car and came looking for you."

"If somebody robbed your house," she said slowly, "then you need to call the police." She pulled her phone from her pocket and offered it to me like she was challenging me to stand behind my story.

I looked at the phone and shook my head. "I can't do that, Mim."

"Why not?" she asked as if my response was no big surprise.

But I had the perfect answer. "Because I'm not sure the step-Greg's dealings in antiquities are entirely above board. I think I'd better talk to him about the theft before I go reporting anything to the police."

She stared at me a long moment then returned the phone to her pocket. But I don't think she was convinced of much more than the fact that Greg's dealings were on the shady side. "Okay," she finally said. "I'd better get going."

"Dare can take you home," I offered. "Or you can drive my car to your place and he can bring the Jeep back here."

She shook her head. "I'll call my mother and ask her to pick me up."

I hated, hated, _hated_ lying to Mim. And I had an uncomfortable feeling that she hadn't gotten everything off her chest. Unfortunately, I was too drowsy to give the idea the attention it deserved.

"What was that about?" Dare asked darkly after Mim had left and the gargoyles filtered back into the living room. "What does she _think_ happened to you?"

"I'm not sure," I answered, again feeling like I'd missed something that Dare had somehow picked up on.

He shared a grim look with the others. They looked uncomfortable but not as unhappy as Dare.

"My mom's on her way home," I pointed out in the moody silence. "She'll probably be here in a few hours."

"We'll straighten up our rooms and make ourselves scarce," Victor offered quietly.

"Where will you go?" I asked, worried about where they could spend the night. There was a foot of snow on the ground.

"We need to clean up the mess we made at that big house on the ridge top," he answered. "We can spend a few nights there while we're fixing the place up."

"We'll be careful not to attract attention," Defiance added.

My gaze rested tentatively on Valor.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured me. "Dare and I will stay here with you."

I nodded groggily. I was relieved that he and his brother were staying. But I wondered what my mom would have to say about it.

Valor was still holding my hand when my mother hurried into the house. I was dozing on the couch but she startled me awake when she called my name from the mudroom. Her anxious gaze was fixed on my face as she crossed the living room toward me.

She didn't see Dare who was down in the family room, printing out emails. At first, she didn't even notice Valor sitting in the chair beside me. "MacKenzie," she exclaimed, looking positively ruffled which is unusual for Mom. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I soothed. "Just a few scrapes and bruises and a slightly broken ankle."

"What do you mean, slightly broken?"

"Well, mostly broken," I admitted.

"How did it happen?" she cried, her eyes looking a bit moist.

"Don't cry, Mom. It's not that big a deal," I insisted before she started crying. And I told her my brief lie about the robbery.

She was more concerned about me than the theft. "What did Dr. Anders say?"

But before I could answer, she finally noticed the beautiful teenager holding my hand.

Valor stood as her gaze connected with his. "Please don't ask me to leave."

"Who are you?" she asked, clearly stunned by his words as well as his extreme good looks.

"My name's Valor Greystone," he answered. "And I'm in love with your daughter."

She slid her wide-eyed gaze toward me and I nodded. Then composing herself, she reached out and shook his hand before she wrenched her curious attention from him and returned it to me. "Did Dr. Anders okay your release?" she asked.

"He sent me home with a pair of crutches," I replied with a shrug.

"Does it hurt?" she asked as her unhappy gaze rested on my dark toes.

"I'm on pain medication," I assured her. "I can't feel a thing."

Mom sniffed. "Is there anything I can get you?"

I knew she'd feel better if she had something to keep her busy so I told her some tea would be nice.

"I'll start a pot," she offered, and moved toward the kitchen. But before she got across the room, her gaze snagged on Dare who was waiting quietly for her in the entryway.

"Can I help?" he asked.

Mom gave him a startled look while Valor scrambled to introduce his brother. She shook Dare's hand and tilted her head as she asked, "Do I...know you?"

"You've probably seen me around," he answered with one of his rare, stunning smiles.

"Maybe. But...where are you guys from?" I could tell she was a bit puzzled by their accents, which didn't sound quite British.

"York, originally," Dare answered.

I had to smile. Originally went back a ways for Dare and Valor.

"Do you have a place around here?" she asked.

Dare responded smoothly. "We're staying in a house on Evergreen Mountain."

"That's a nice area," Mom commented as she peered at him, probably trying to figure out where she'd seen him before.

Dare nodded. "The place is a little run down at the moment. But we're fixing it up." As they turned toward the kitchen together, he added, "I hope you don't mind if we spend the next few nights here with you and MacKenzie. Considering everything that's happened, my brother and I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you alone."

My mother seemed charmed by the idea as well as the good-looking gargoyle. "Thanks for the offer. That's probably a good idea, at least until I can have an alarm system installed. We have a couple of spare bedrooms." As she stepped into the hall, she turned suddenly. "Don't you think you'd be more comfortable in your bed, MacKenzie? I'll bring the tea up when it's ready."

"That's a good idea," Valor agreed before I could answer. He swept me into his arms and headed for the stairs while I looped my arms around his neck. He didn't really have to carry me. I could have used the crutches to climb the stairs. I think he just wanted to hold me.

"I guess I'd better call the police and report the theft," my mother called from the kitchen.

But I convinced her to check with Greg first as Valor carried me up the stairs.

"That was pretty impressive," I told Valor after he'd settled me on my bed. "Especially that part where you expressed your undying love for me and refused to leave my side."

"I never expressed undying love," he murmured. A crooked smile curved his lips upward.

"No?" I questioned him, and pretended to look disappointed.

"Not yet," he answered softly. "But I'll probably work my way around to it one day if you give me a chance."

I reached behind my head and pulled my pillow down behind my neck. "Tell me more," I insisted, smiling up at him.

Valor's beautiful face turned grim as he looked down at my fingers laced with his. "You can't imagine how terrified I was when that harpy tossed you through the doors of that house, Kenz. I about died. You can't begin to understand how helpless I felt, trapped in my stone form and unable to help you. And when she started hitting you..."

He shook his head and dropped his face into his hand.

"Hey," I soothed. "It's okay."

He nodded shakily. "It's okay, now," he agreed. "But if anything had happened to you..." He lost his voice and lifted his head as he held my gaze. "You shouldn't have waited so long to spell me out of my stone form."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "But I had to wait until the harpy was close enough for you to reach her with your blade."

His voice rose with emotion. "I should have been the one fighting that monster, MacKenzie. I should have been the one protecting you. All of my instincts were screaming for me to act and I couldn't do a thing to help. I thought I'd lose my mind."

I began to realize how hard it had been for him.

"You should never have come after me," he added in a low mutter.

"Technically, I didn't come after you," I argued with feeling. "The harpy came and got me and dragged me into it."

"But you were coming before she captured you," he accused me solemnly. "You were coming with Dare in the car."

"What was I supposed to do?" I exclaimed softly. "Sit at home and wait for you to escape?"

"You should have let the pack deal with it, Kenz. I could handle anything as long as I knew you were safe. I'd have come back to you, even if it had taken years."

I lifted his hand to my face and rubbed my cheek against the thick skin on his hackles. My heart fluttered with emotion. His words were scored into my memory forever and I'd treasure them for the rest of my life. But if Valor thought I'd stand by and let him face danger alone, he was stark, barking mad as my grandfather would say. Maybe it was Valor's venom running through my veins, but I had a protective streak of my own.

Besides, he'd forgotten I was one of the pack.

On top of that, I'm not as patient as a gargoyle. There was no way I'd wait years for Valor to wake from his stone form because I'd end up being older than him. And I wasn't convinced he'd still think I was cute at forty. But I didn't say any of that. I just told him I wouldn't let what happened to Dare happen to him.

He kissed my fingers, closed his eyes and opened them again. Then he pinned me with an intense look as he said, "I love you, Kenz. More than anything. You're the most beautiful, loyal, brave and daring lass I've ever known. I want you to wear my rune."

I just stared up at him.

"Will you wear my rune, MacKenzie?"

I realized he was holding his breath and could tell how important my answer was to him. I wanted to answer yes, without reservations. But I remembered Dare's earlier warning to me. "I'd love to wear your rune," I whispered. "As long as your brothers think it's a good idea."

He shook his head and chuckled softly. "Believe me, MacKenzie. This decision doesn't require a pack meeting."

"Just the same," I said quietly. "I want to make sure your brothers consider me a good risk."

He smiled as if he didn't think that was going to be a problem. "Will you wear my rune, MacKenzie? If my family agrees you're a good risk?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Absolutely, definitely, yes."

Leaning toward me, he tucked my hair behind my ear but it just spilled forward again and covered half my face.

I pulled the unruly mass of red behind my head and trapped it against the pillow. "It doesn't behave," I explained in a shy mumble.

"Just like you," he murmured before he lowered his lips against mine. "I like it that way."

Epilogue

Three weeks have passed since Valor marked me with his rune. I think there must be some sort of numbing agent in gargoyle venom because it hardly hurt at all. Valor wrapped his strong fingers around my upper arm and exposed the barbs on his free hand. Then he slowly carved his rune into my skin. It was pretty much exactly the way Reason had said it would be.

And when Valor was finished, he blew on the rune for a few minutes. Then he kissed it better. He was really cute. Afterward, I got the longest kiss ever.

You'll be glad to know that his barbs don't leak anymore when he kisses me, which is a good thing because those blue stains _don't_ come out. I had to tell my mother I spilled some blue ink on my bedroom carpet while making an art project for one of my classes.

I hate lying. Sadly, I'm getting better at it.

Mom got all ready to freak when she saw the blue artwork on my arm. Then she realized it was the same as Valor's tattoo and decided it was romantic. My mother is incurable. If all of her friends jumped off a cliff, she probably would too...as long as they were doing it for love.

She met the rest of the guys on her last trip home. Even though she's had a security system installed at the house, I think she feels safer knowing they spend a lot of time here. Dare is probably her favorite, which might have something to do with his being a Beatles fan. But she bought all of them gift cards for Christmas.

Christmas is less than two weeks away. I've wrapped all my presents and they're underneath the tree in the living room. I bought up all the old emo belts I could find on the internet, so the guys are all getting white belts. Except for Dare. His is powder blue.

In addition, Havoc's getting a cookbook. And I found an old hardback copy of Great Expectations for Dare. I bought Defiance a pair of designer sunglasses that are gonna look really hot on him. Victor was harder to shop for. I ended up getting him a small digital camera that will probably make Havoc totally jealous.

I've wrapped up a cell phone for Valor. Mom said she'd add him to our plan as long as he paid the monthly charges. That shouldn't be a problem; we sold a bow last week and have had several more inquiries.

I even picked up a set of drawing pens for Reason in the hopes he makes it home before Christmas.

Maybe it's my imagination, but sometimes I think I look more like the picture Reason drew of me. Some of the girls at school have asked what I'm doing different and some of the guys, who were never interested in me before, are suddenly hanging around and asking what I'm doing next weekend. Three months ago, I would have been thrilled if Josh Saxon had asked me out. Now I try to avoid him. I don't know how many ways I can tell him I already have a boyfriend.

It might be the venom pumping through my veins that has caused the difference in my appearance but my skin is definitely clearer. Mom says it positively glows. My lashes are thicker and I'll swear my lips are fuller. I can't help but wonder if that's the way Reason and the rest of the pack saw me right from the start, because they don't think I've changed at all. If that's true, then I wonder how they see Mim. I wish one of the other gargoyles had Reason's artistic skill. If one of them could draw, I'd ask him to sketch Mim's portrait.

That's assuming she'd let him.

On a negative note, Mim seems to think the guys had something to do with my injuries. I'm horrified she reached this totally wrong conclusion but I can't tell her the truth because of the promise I made to the gargoyles. So now she doesn't trust them.

I hate the fact that she thinks they might be capable of hurting me when the exact opposite is true. They'd do anything to protect me. It's really sad. Dare is devastated. He's so upset that she thinks his family could ever do anything like that. The others seem to understand she's only being loyal to me but Dare is taking it personally. I don't know if he'll ever forgive her.

That's where lies will get you. I never have liked them. Somehow, someday, I'm going to have to convince the gargoyles to let Mim in on their secret. I might even have to call a pack meeting so we can discuss the subject. I wonder if I can do that without a knife. If not, I might have to find something in the kitchen drawer.

You're not gonna believe this next part but a tree fell on my neighbor.

I swear I had nothing to do with it! In fact, if Reason is right and I can cast no harmful spells, it _couldn't_ have been me.

It was a windy day on the weekend and we weren't around to hear Blocker's shouts for help but he had his cell phone with him so he was able to get through to the emergency services. The tree that pinned his leg to the ground was the one I leaned against when I cast my spell to stop him from cutting trees.

That tree had a good old heart.

Valor is drying the wood and plans to make me a staff for my seventeenth birthday. He's going to carve a place at the top to set my phone in. Pretty clever, huh? I think the staff will come in handy. My foot is still in the cast but Dr. Anders says I'll probably always have a limp.

We never did figure out why my neighbor got up one morning and decided to level the forest around his home. Maybe he was clearing his lot to improve his view because he planned to put the place up for sale. The realtor sign went up last week. And yes, I did cast a very small, harmless spell suggesting he might be happier living somewhere else. Alaska to be specific. It was the furthest place I could think of, short of sending him to Siberia. But his decision to sell his property might have been a coincidence, just like it might have been a coincidence that he stopped cutting trees the day after I cast my spell on him.

I've tried to levitate my keys since that morning when I found Alexa blocking the driveway but I haven't been able to budge them an inch. Here's what I think about my powers. I think Defiance and the others were right when they said I had to involve my emotions in order for the magic to work. Evidently, I have to be angry or sad or emotionally invested in the outcome.

So, the only reason I was able to locate Valor—when I failed to find his three missing cousins—is because I desperately wanted to. When the tool chest fell on me, the conditions were similar. Ditto when I yanked those keys from Alexa's fingers. And finally, I was in a tough spot when I woke Valor in time to save me from that harpy in the mansion.

So here's the bottom line. If the situation is desperate, you can probably count on me to be a witch. Otherwise, forget it.

On the home front, the step-Greg was pretty upset when Mom told him about his sculptures being stolen. As I expected, he didn't want to report the theft.

The shipping company still hasn't explained what happened to the three crates they lost. They're sending insurance forms, which isn't a good sign. Greg might be satisfied with a big payout but I'm calling the shipper every day until they tell me the last known whereabouts of those crates.

He's beginning to think the statues are cursed. Out of the nine sculptures he started with, five have been "stolen", three are missing, and the one he sold has been rejected by the buyer.

Yes, that means Reason is finally on his way back from the millionaire's place in Texas. I expected Greg to be angry with me for sending the wrong crate. When he told me the customer was really unhappy, I prepared to give him my story about how I'd sent the right box. But before I could start lying, he said something strange.

I pushed the speaker on the phone so the pack could listen to our conversation.

"The customer insisted he ordered a beautiful piece of art," Greg grumbled. "Not an ugly relic."

Ugly? Relic? Reason was a lot of things but he was never ugly.

"The guy sent me a picture of the shipment he received and I had to agree it wasn't the piece he ordered and it wasn't the statue I meant to send. Hell, I didn't even recognize the damn thing."

I held my breath, trying to make sense of his words.

"So, I don't know what the hell is going on," he sighed. "Maybe my shipment got mixed up with someone else's. At any rate, the crate he received is on its way back to the house."

"Will you be heading home soon?" I asked Greg.

"Not right away. I have a few more leads to follow."

"What kind of leads?" I asked, wondering about the possibility of more gargoyles.

"Similar stuff," Greg answered evasively.

I hung up the phone and shared a troubled look with the pack. Greg had said he didn't even recognize the "thing" that was supposed to be Reason.

"Maybe Reason made himself...look bad," Dare suggested.

There was no way any of the gargoyles could make themselves look _that_ bad. "We all saw him go into the sealed box," I pointed out. "He didn't look like a...relic."

"Maybe he got a chance to change after he was removed from the crate," Valor murmured as he pulled me into his side.

I looked up into my boyfriend's troubled eyes. Maybe he was right. But I was concerned just the same. And I knew I wouldn't stop worrying until Reason returned safely home.

About the Author

Hi! I'm Taylor Longford and I live with my family in Colorado. I don't have red hair but I do drive an old Jeep Cherokee with 260,000 miles on it. I've rolled it once and it looks like crap but it still goes fast! If I can make a living as a writer, I'll buy something a bit nicer and write some more stories.

You can find Taylor at <http://www.taylorlongford.com/>

### Excerpt from Dare

### Book Two in the Greystone Series

### Prologue

My brother, Valor, will tell you that gargoyles are extremely patient. That might be true for him. Me, not so much. For eight hundred years we were trapped between the walls of an old house in England and those years crawled by for me.

When we came to life again in the twenty-first century, we were surprised to learn that gargoyles are almost universally considered ugly. And when we found out _why_ people think gargoyles are ugly, we were pretty disgusted. Because our name and our heritage had been hijacked by our worst enemies, the harpies.

The word gargoyle comes from the French word for throat and our kind were called gargoyles because of the runes we wear tattooed on our necks. But the stone carvings that drain rainwater from buildings were also called gargoyles because they appeared to pour water from their throats. And it wasn't uncommon for harpies to hide on the walls of old buildings, pretending to be one of the manmade carvings. So over the centuries, the horrible creatures came to be known as gargoyles, while our kind died out and the human race forgot we ever existed.

Valor will also tell you it was Havoc's fault that we ended up stuck between those walls for eight hundred years but if you want to know the truth, I was to blame.

Back in our time, harpies hunted in gangs and singled out lone gargoyles for attack. As a survival strategy, we stuck together and traveled in packs. Safety in numbers, and all that. But one afternoon, my pack cleared me to travel across town so I could help a friend. A gargoyle can easily pass for a human with his wings wrapped around his chest, underneath his clothing. In my case, I'd lost my wings a few years earlier, and only my leather-clad spines crossed my upper body beneath my linen jerkin. My barbs were destroyed at the same time that I lost my wings, so any harpies in the area would have a hard time scenting the venom locked in my veins.

Like all gargoyles, I was born with a set of eight barbs—sharp claws that are hidden beneath the thick hackles on our knuckles. When we're threatened, our hackles pull back and expose inch-long poisonous spikes. The barbs aren't all that effective against harpies or even other gargoyles but they can be a game breaker when fighting humans or large animals. A few well-placed blows can turn our enemies to stone forever.

But since I had no barbs, the harpies couldn't easily track me down. They'd have to get right on top of me before they picked up my scent. Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened.

The sun had just reached the town's ramparts as I jogged along the main road that cut across York. The streets were relatively deserted since it was the dinner hour, but up ahead a young lad stacked wood against a smithy wall. Ewan was the blacksmith's bonded boy. His master wasn't the nicest man in town and the boy didn't have an easy time of it so we helped out whenever we could. I stopped and gave him a hand with some of the larger pieces of wood.

I could sense the smith lurking inside the house like a force of evil. Unfortunately, his malevolent presence overloaded my radar and masked the arrival of a much more dangerous threat. As I carried another armful of wood from the yard behind the forge, a gang of harpies turned off the main road and ran right into me.

The townsfolk tolerated harpies but not very happily. The creatures were routinely blamed for the loss of livestock though it was hard to catch them red-handed since they hunted at night. Young shepherds who tried to drive the monsters away from their flocks generally disappeared with their sheep. And when a lone traveler went missing on the road outside of town, harpies were blamed for that as well.

Some humans thought they were terrible angels sent from god to punish man for his sins. Others argued that they were winged demons from Satan's bailiwick. But everyone agreed that they sucked. And that they were too big to argue with. These ones were draped in monks' robes, the deep cowls shadowing their faces. I cursed my luck. If it hadn't been for the blacksmith, I'd have sensed them long before I saw them. At such close range, the harpies knew immediately what I was.

I took off running, dodging through narrow alleys and clambering over low rooftops but it wasn't long before they had me trapped against the old Roman walls that surrounded the town. I still don't know how the pack found out I was in trouble. Maybe Ewan reached them and told them I'd been attacked by a gang of insanely tall monks. Or maybe my kin decided I'd been gone too long and they'd already set out to look for me. At any rate, they raced to my side.

Even with nine of us, we were outnumbered. I told the pack to clear off but they wouldn't listen. Valor told me to save my breath; he planned to stay and fight. Defiance and his brothers agreed. Two of them could have flown me out of there but my weight would have slowed them down, making all three of us easy prey. So in the end, my entire pack ended up grounded with me, unable to take to the air because I couldn't fly and they wouldn't leave me behind.

Most of the sun had fallen behind the town's walls when Havoc suggested we take on our stone forms; that way, the harpies couldn't harm us. But gargoyles can only change to stone—and back again—with the help of direct sunlight. We need the extra boost of energy we get from the sun's rays. That meant we only had a few seconds to make a decision before the sun dropped below the horizon.

Valor sent a troubled glance in my direction then shared a look with Victor and the others. Together, they reached a silent agreement; my cousins and brothers decided to make the change for my sake. Gargoyles are protective by nature. They couldn't abandon a cripple like me.

With Havoc leading the way, we raced into a stone croft built against the town's walls just as the afternoon's last rays of sunlight angled through the windows. One by one, Havoc and most of my cousins made the change. But Victor and Valor waited and made sure that I'd changed to stone before they did the same.

Thinking they had us cornered, the harpies rushed into the hut. They were good and truly pissed when they found we'd changed to stone. I have to admit it was funny to see the looks on their faces. There's nothing as entertaining as a harpy going ballistic. Their anger management is an epic fail.

We expected the harpies to take off after an hour or so of screeching and figured we could change back to our living forms in the morning. But before they left, the ugly creatures decided to teach us a lesson. They walled us in at the back of the croft, using heavy slabs of stone to block out the sun's light forever. Or almost forever.

And for almost as long, I felt like it was pretty much my fault.

Eight hundred years dragged by before we were freed. Fortunately, gargoyles have exceptional hearing so we were able to keep up with the times by eavesdropping on the talk around town, then later on by listening to the radio and, more recently, the television. A few months ago, we were unearthed by MacKenzie's stepfather, who's an international treasure-hunter of sorts. And when he found us between the walls of that old house in York, he packed us up in wooden crates and shipped them to his home in Colorado.

If MacKenzie Campbell hadn't been a curious lass, we might have spent several more months stuck in her dark garage, waiting for her stepdad to find buyers for us before we were eventually sold off and separated forever. Lucky for us, Mac opened the first box that was delivered to her place and found Valor inside. Normally, he'd have hidden the fact that he was a gargoyle from a human he didn't know, but a toolbox fell on MacKenzie and pinned her to the garage floor. Val had no choice but to help her. He tried to cover things up and hide the truth from her but our MacKenzie's no halfwit. She figured things out pretty quick.

A day after Valor was delivered to MacKenzie's home, Havoc and Reason arrived. I came in the next shipment along with Victor and Defiance. The last consignment containing Chaos, Courage and Force went missing somewhere between England and Colorado but MacKenzie contacted the shipping company every day, demanding news about the lost crates.

Let me say right now, we love everything about the twenty-first century. Especially the girls. Not too long after we landed in America, we met some of MacKenzie's friends. One of them is especially nice. Her name's Mim. The first time I met her, I acted cool and hung out in front of the television. Afterward, MacKenzie accused me of ignoring her friend. She couldn't have been more wrong. I hadn't missed a single one of Mim's soft-spoken words. But I didn't think she'd be interested in me.

As the next few weeks passed by, I had a chance to spend more time with her. She even kissed me once. Okay, it was only after a game where the winner could claim a kiss from one of the losers—and her only other choice was Havoc—but after her kiss I began to hope she might actually like me.

Right when things were looking good between Mim and me, MacKenzie was attacked by a harpy. We thought we'd left the monsters behind us in the thirteenth century but evidently there are still a few around. It wouldn't have been all that surprising to find some lifeless old relics still attached to buildings in England, but we never thought we'd run into them in the United States. We hadn't expected them to turn up in museums or private collections.

That was a mistake.

While we were shopping in Denver one day, one of the monsters picked up our scent. She smashed through a large, plate glass window in a collector's mansion and followed us to our new home in the mountains. She captured Valor while he was in his stone form and came back to the house for MacKenzie. Val managed to kill the harpy with the help of MacKenzie's big wolfhound but Mac got a little beat up during the process and when Mim saw her injuries, she demanded an explanation.

We couldn't explain the harpy attack without telling Mim we were gargoyles. And we felt that the fewer people who knew about us, the better. To make a long story short, Mim thought we were responsible for MacKenzie's injuries.

That hurt.

I mean, I know humans don't have great instincts. I know they can't sense the good and bad in people like we can. But, really. How unperceptive can humans be? It would be impossible for one of us to harm MacKenzie. Our very nature commands that we protect the people we care about. We would have fricking _died_ before we let anything happen to Mac or her friends.

As far as insults go, it was right up there with the worst modern curse you could think of. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurt.

And I know something about pain.

### Chapter One

I stood at the living room window and watched the cold, winter skies. The clouds were banked across the horizon like dirty gray cotton, blotting out the sun. An inch of crusty snow clung to the branches of the evergreen trees that surrounded MacKenzie's home and a smattering of white flakes made their way toward the ground but they didn't seem too serious about getting where they were going. The overcast skies reminded me of Scotland and the years I spent trapped in the dark shadows of a harpy's aerie. Fortunately, cloudy days are rare in Colorado.

As I tilted a cup of hot chocolate to my lips, my reflection caught my eye. It might sound bizarre, but I couldn't get used to how old I looked. I was born a year before my cousin, Defiance, so I should have been about nineteen. But before the harpies trapped us between those walls in York, I'd already spent two years in my stone form. And since gargoyles don't age when they're stone, that made me about seventeen.

I looked about thirty.

Okay, that was probably an exaggeration but I definitely looked older than the rest of the pack. Maybe it was the two inches of white that tipped the ends of my shoulder-length black hair. Maybe it was the hard lines that carved either side of my mouth. Maybe it was just the worn color in my green eyes. Even the gold flecks that floated on my irises failed to add any spark to my features.

My life hadn't exactly been easy.

I didn't like the direction my thoughts were taking so I refocused my attention on the scene outside the window. A foot of snow had fallen on Christmas Eve and I'd volunteered to shovel the driveway along with the rest of my family, but MacKenzie called a guy with a plow on the front of his truck and he had the driveway cleared in no time. You can't beat the twenty-first century for getting things done.

I took another sip from the heavy cup. Chocolate was another great thing about the modern world. It almost made our eight-hundred-year dormancy worthwhile. Cocoa hadn't reached Europe in our time and we'd never tasted it before. Things were pretty rustic back in the thirteenth century.

Despite the hot drink and the bulky gray hoodie I wore, a shiver gripped my spine. Normally, a gargoyle doesn't get cold. Our wings, wrapped around our upper bodies like a black leather vest, keep us warm in the winter without getting too hot in the summer. Unfortunately, I'd lost my wings when I was about sixteen.

Turning away from the window, I glanced at the decorated tree standing in the corner. We'd celebrated Christmas three days earlier and the tree looked a little lonely without the colorful presents stacked beneath its branches. Like it had suddenly lost all its friends. I was wearing my new powder blue belt with a pair of black jeans. The belt was a gift from MacKenzie, along with a hardback copy of Great Expectations. As well as these treasures, each of us had received a gift card from MacKenzie's mother on Christmas day.

Most of my cousins and brothers planned to use their cards to buy more clothes. I presently owned three new pairs of jeans and a hand-me-down pair that had belonged to Mac's brother before he left for college. I also had five T-shirts folded up in my drawer. To me, this seemed like plenty of clothing so I was saving my money for a guitar.

But kids these days have closets full of clothes. And Havoc was doing his best to catch up. My brother had invested in a lot more clothing than the rest of us and usually picked out bright colors the likes of which we'd never seen in the thirteenth century.

I flicked my gaze at him. His bronze hair spilled over his shoulders and half way down his back in long, twisting coils. MacKenzie called them dreadlocks. I called them a tangled mess. Havoc's hair had a lot of curl in it but it didn't look like the modern dreads I'd seen on teenagers in Denver. His hair had a metallic glint that made it much shinier.

As I watched Havoc in the dark leather chair, he turned a lump of pine in his hands, his knife peeling away small curls of wood. Sadly, the ungainly block looked unlikely to ever become a hunting bow or anything else we could sell to support ourselves. "What are you making?" I asked before taking another sip of chocolate.

"Clogs," he answered without looking at me.

A low burst of laughter echoed in my chest. "What are you gonna do with clogs?"

"Dance," he answered simply, but there was a glint of humor in his pale green eyes when he lifted his gaze to mine.

"Are you sure you remember how?" Victor chuckled from the couch, where he was working on a slender piece of wood with a lot more hunting-bow potential.

"Aye," Havoc grunted. "I'm a clogging fiend. You don't forget things like that. It's like riding a bicycle."

"But you can't ride a bicycle," I pointed out on a snicker. There was an old bike leaning against the wall in MacKenzie's garage but none of us had tried it out yet. The narrow, two-wheeled contraption didn't look like it would work very well in the snow.

"I'll have to work on that," he admitted, and flashed a grin up at me.

"And do you think your talent for clogging will help you fit into the twenty-first century?" Defiance challenged my younger brother as he stepped from the entry and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

"I doubt Havoc will ever fit in anywhere," Victor teased, his hair glinting different shades of gold in the light that spilled from the tall lamp in the corner.

"Not in those red jeans," I agreed.

"They're not red. They're burgundy," Havoc informed us as he glanced down at his knees. "And it turns out there are some clogging clubs in the Denver area. I found some online with MacKenzie's help."

"And do the members actually dance with huge wooden boats on their feet?" Defiance snorted. His pale blond hair was pulled back at the nape and not a single strand moved when he shook his head.

Havoc shrugged. "Not yet," he admitted. "But when they see my clogs I'm sure they'll all want a pair."

"Good luck with that," Defiance snickered, his chipped tooth adding an element of danger to his angular features.

"I expect Whitney will like them just fine," Havoc inserted slyly.

Havoc knew that Defiance had a thing for Whitney, who's one of MacKenzie's close friends even though she's just about the polar opposite of Mac. While MacKenzie is full of fire and emotion, Whitney's kinda cool and offhand like nothing gets her excited. And evidently she's had plenty of boyfriends, which might be due to her long blond hair and equally long tanned legs.

Even though Whitney isn't quite as nice as MacKenzie—and not nearly as nice as Mim—I guess I can understand Defiance's interest in her. Being not-quite-as-nice isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, if the girls were ever attacked by a harpy and each of them had a knife, Whitney's the only one who could make it count. I don't think either Mim or MacKenzie could kill a fly.

So, you've gotta admire a girl who could hold her own in a fight. And some guys like girls who are a little tough. They like the challenge. They like to bring out the tenderness in a girl like that. True, Defiance was two years older than Whitney but he could always spend his nights in his stone form and let her catch up to him.

Defiance pinned my brother with a sharp look. "You just leave Whitney out of this," he muttered.

As Havoc hid a smirk, MacKenzie's high-pitched squeal echoed in the kitchen.

"If you don't stop carrying me around, my legs will shrivel up and fall off," she giggled. She'd graduated from crutches and was wearing what she called a walking cast on her broken ankle. But she didn't get much walking in when Valor was around. He used any excuse he could think of to pick her up.

After a slight pause, MacKenzie's feet thumped lightly against the floor. "I don't believe you," Valor answered with a low laugh. "But I'm putting you down just to be safe. 'Cause I really like your legs."

More muffled giggling followed and I assumed Val got in at least one kiss before MacKenzie started stumping around in the kitchen. Sometimes I feel sorry for Mac. It's hard to have any privacy in a house full of gargoyles.

I heard a kitchen drawer slide open then MacKenzie's uneven pace started up again, going thump-step, thump-step as she moved into the tiled entry between the dining room and the living room. Her wolfhound, Hooligan, slipped past her like a silent gray ghost, the top of his head brushing my fingers as he moved by me and settled down on the living room carpet. In the entry, MacKenzie stopped and lifted a silver butter knife up to her eye level.

Apparently, she wanted to call a pack meeting.

When the clans got together in our time, it was customary for the warriors to lay down their weapons before talks began. We still follow that tradition and when one of us calls a meeting, we start by placing our knives on the dining room table. As a member of the pack, MacKenzie can call a meeting whenever she wants to. Technically, she doesn't need a knife. But she didn't know that.

The sight of the small, wide blade with its round tip would have made me chuckle except that I knew what she was going to ask for...and I planned to fight her.

She headed into the dining room while the rest of us reached for the knives on our belts and followed. The little butter knife looked small and dainty next to the long, fighting blades we tossed onto the middle of the table.

While the rest of us got seated, Victor leaned back in his chair and smiled at MacKenzie. As the oldest gargoyle, and the leader of the pack, it was his responsibility to start the meeting. "I can't say we haven't all been expecting this m'dear."

MacKenzie nodded seriously, her rowdy mass of hair sweeping her shoulders like polished copper. "You all know that Mim is my best friend. Unfortunately, since my injury, she's been avoiding me."

"She's been avoiding _us_ ," I stated bluntly.

MacKenzie gave me a steady look. "She thinks you guys are somehow responsible for what happened to me. For my broken ankle."

A snort of contempt slid past my lips and I set my empty cup down with a sharp bang.

She ignored me and continued. "I promised never to tell anyone about you guys being gargoyles. And I've done that. But I'm asking you to let me share your secret with my best friend. I'm certain we can trust Mim. I know she'll never tell anyone about you."

I made sure I got my two-cents in before anyone else could offer an opinion. "I'm against the idea. The fact that Mim could misjudge us so completely makes me feel like she lacks any intuition at all. I can't understand how anyone could think we were capable of harming you."

Valor cleared his throat. "You _should_ be able to understand it, Dare. Mim's a lot like us. She's only being loyal. As MacKenzie's best friend, she's compelled to warn her against anything that might endanger her."

"We'd do the same," Havoc agreed as he stretched his arms over his head and locked his hands behind his neck.

"We'd know the difference between a friend and a threat," I muttered.

"That's not fair," Valor argued. Impatiently, he flicked his black hair out of his eyes. "Mim doesn't have our keen senses."

MacKenzie nodded her head vigorously. "We're only human, Dare. When Valor first got here, I thought he was a thief. I thought he'd misled me and was trying to rob me."

"But you knew enough not to be afraid of him," I argued immediately.

"I wasn't afraid of him," she admitted. "But I _did_ misjudge him."

"That was different," Defiance pointed out, his gray eyes narrowing on the determined redhead. "The box Valor arrived in was empty the morning after you met him and you thought the sculpture your stepfather sent had been stolen. Valor was the most likely suspect. You were dealing with a situation that couldn't be easily explained."

I leaned forward and pinned her with a stony look. "And we've given Mim an explanation."

"We've given her a _story_ ," MacKenzie shot back, her eyes fierce as her hand tightened into a fist on the table. "And Mim can sense a lie a mile away, especially coming from me. She knows me too well."

Victor tilted his head as he considered MacKenzie. "She can...sense a lie?"

MacKenzie shrugged. "Well, she always seems to know when I'm not telling the truth. Maybe it's the gypsy blood that her mom claims to have."

"Gypsy blood?" Havoc questioned, and shared a look with the rest of us. "What's a gypsy?"

MacKenzie seemed surprised. "You've never heard of gypsies? I thought they'd been around forever. Maybe they didn't reach Europe until after the thirteenth century. They were known for their second sight and a lot of gypsy women made a living telling fortunes."

I slouched back in my chair. "Well, just offhand, I'd say Mim's second sight needs glasses."

MacKenzie opened her mouth again but I cut her off before she could make her next point.

"Just how unperceptive can a person be?" I demanded, my voice rising as my emotions got the better of me. This was the one thing I could _not_ understand. We would move heaven and earth to protect MacKenzie. How could Mim be so totally off the page?

MacKenzie could see she wasn't getting anywhere with me so she turned her appeal on the others. "I just know that Mim's the best person I've ever met. She's honest and trustworthy and she'll protect your secret. But if we continue to keep her in the dark, there'll always be this suspicion and mistrust standing between us and keeping us apart."

Victor finally spoke up. "We all love Mim, m'dear. But we must be extremely careful who we include in our circle of friends. The smaller the circle, the better it is for all of us. Normally, I'd advise against adding Mim."

I watched MacKenzie's shoulders slump.

"But if ever there was an exception to test my resolve, it would be Mim." He looked around at the rest of us before his aqua gaze stopped at me. I knew Victor was interested in Mim and had been since the first day he'd met her. I felt like he was warning me that if I didn't want her, he'd have her and gladly. "She's probably the nicest person I've come across in my lifetime. She _radiates_ goodness."

I stared back at him, refusing to give an inch. "Goodness doesn't equal wisdom," I growled, borrowing an argument that Defiance had used a few months earlier when we were voting to admit MacKenzie into the pack.

"Mim's not dumb," MacKenzie huffed. "She's at the top of our class."

"That's not what Dare meant," Defiance backed me up. "Some of the best, most honest people would have trouble telling the lies necessary to keep our secret. Even when they try to hide the truth, it just spills out unintentionally because they're so used to being honest. It's...their nature."

Valor turned his head and smirked at MacKenzie. "Evidently, you don't have that problem."

"It's not as easy as it looks," she insisted. But a guilty smile curved the edges of her mouth as she punched his arm.

"Any other arguments?" Victor queried, and searched our faces.

"Just one more," Val spoke up as he rubbed his biceps for MacKenzie's benefit; she likes to think she's tough. "MacKenzie's our hostess. We're living in her house, using her car and counting on her to help us get by in this modern world. With everything she's done for us, we owe her this favor."

I expected an emotional argument like this from Valor since MacKenzie is his girlfriend. 'Course it didn't help that he was right. We couldn't have made it in the twenty-first century without Mac's help.

When nobody added anything else, Victor said, "I guess it's time to vote."

I dug in my pocket for a quarter. A few weeks earlier, MacKenzie had convinced us that our ancient coins were too valuable to carry around in our pockets. We couldn't spend the coins anywhere and could only sell them online to get their current value in cash so we'd turned our old coins over to her and she'd replaced them with modern ones.

MacKenzie wasted no time placing a quarter on the tabletop with the head facing upward. "I vote heads that we include Mim in your secret," she announced.

Valor immediately slid his coin beside hers. I glanced at the head on the quarter, not surprised that he'd voted with his girlfriend.

"I vote heads, too," Havoc announced, which wasn't exactly a huge shock either. Havoc hates to be against anything. He just wants to get along with everyone. So my youngest brother surprised me when he explained his decision. "I just worry that Mim's suspicions might do us more harm than letting her in on our secret. She thinks we caused MacKenzie's injuries and that could draw a lot of attention our way. A lot of negative attention."

Great. Now they were making logical arguments as well as emotional ones. But I thought I could count on Defiance to take my side. "I vote the bird," I growled, and tossed my quarter onto the table.

"You mean tails," Havoc corrected me with a snicker as he rocked his chair onto its back legs.

"If there was a tail on the coin, I'd vote tails," I muttered. "But there's only a bird."

Defiance guided his coin onto the table beside mine. "I'm sorry, MacKenzie, but I vote the bird as well. It might be different if Mim lived in this house or lived close by or even if we knew her better. But I'm not ready to let her know about us."

At that point, there were three votes for Mim and two against her. We all watched Victor to see what he would do. If he voted against Mim then the decision would be tied and I'd have my way. If not...well, that would just make things more complicated.

Victor turned the coin between his fingers and I realized I was holding my breath with my teeth clamped together in my jaw. I hadn't volunteered all of the reasons that I didn't want Mim to know about us. I hadn't told the pack how difficult it would be for me when she saw the others' wings then asked about mine. How hard it would be to answer her questions. Why I didn't have barbs or wings. What had happened to me.

As Victor watched my face, I wondered if he could sense the conflict turning inside me. Maybe he could. Because his expression was apologetic when he put his coin on the table.

It was heads.
