When A Gargoyle Kidnaps Page 3

  Her mom looked great; her cheeks were pink, and Gwen thought that she could actually detect a few more pounds on her frail frame. Thrilled, Gwen gave her a huge hug.

  “Goodness, honey!” exclaimed her mom chuckling, “it’s so nice to see you in such a good mood!”

  Gwen shrugged but could not hide her grin as she flipped through their mail. Even the extravagant medical bills couldn’t put a damper on her mood. “Just glad that you’re looking better.”

  “I’m feeling better, thank you. Now, why don’t you go relax and let me take care of you for a change, you do so much for me…”

  “Mom…” She hated it when her mom felt any kind of guilt over her condition and how Gwen worked hard to try and pay her medical bills. Made her feel guilt too.

  She pointed the spoon at her. “Don’t argue with your mother, now scoot.”

  Gwen gave her another hug, and a whispered ‘I love you’ which delighted her mother.

  “Call me if you need a hand.”

  But really, she was excited to be able to get to her computer. She threw her coat on top of a pile of clothes in her room – she really needed to do laundry – and grabbed her laptop, pulling it onto the bed. In the many minutes it took for her computer to boot up – it was so old it was virtually steam powered – she tapped her foot impatiently, chewed on her nails and almost considered tidying her room.

  Finally, she logged on and almost squealed in glee as she found a message waiting from him. Honestly, she has no idea if he was even a he. TG could be a ninety-year-old woman serving consecutive life sentences for murdering puppies for all she knew. The puppy part was unlikely, but still, she was enjoying chatting with TG.

  She didn’t really have time for friends, so it was just nice to talk with someone who didn’t feel sorry for her or annoyed because she had no time to spend with them.

  ‘I read all the fiction books you suggested. They were all marvelous.’

  OMG!

  ‘You read all those books already?!’

  *

  Tristan chuckled. Honestly, he could not put them down, and not just because they had been immensely enjoyable. They had been wonderful books, but they were made more enjoyable by the fact that he knew Guinevere loved them.

  Guinevere. His Guinevere.

  He had dreamed of his mystery woman all day in his stone sleep. In his dreams, she was blurred, just out of reach. He could not imagine how she may look. In truth, he was not a good judge of what made a female human attractive. He was no innocent when it came to females, but he could not say he found them attractive, nor they him. To be brutal, he had been lustful, and they had been available and lustful, too. Gargoyles had never bothered with the niceties of dating; when they had a need, they dealt with it.

  Tristan had tried looking at both the gargoyle and human females of his new clan objectively, but while he liked them as sisters of the clan, he felt nothing more for them. He supposed he liked Maggie’s darker hair and almost elfin features and he also enjoyed the symmetry of Martha’s face, though he would never say the latter out loud – he was not suicidal.

  ‘I am a fast reader,” he typed.

  ‘No kidding! Which did you like best?’

  ‘I am not sure I could choose one. I have to agree that I also enjoy the humor in these books.’ He sometimes found it hard to judge human humor, but it had not been difficult in these books. Gargoyle humor was easy – it was all but non-existent. ‘I very much enjoyed the take on vampires in Carpe Jugulum. I cannot say that I particularly enjoy vampire stories, but perhaps I will rethink my stance.’

  ‘I know, me too! I think vampires have been done to death, but I love that book. Particularly the ending where they’re all craving tea and biscuits! ;)’

  Tristan peered at the strange use of punctuation. What on earth was that supposed to signify? He stared at it for a while and was considering putting it into a search engine until it finally hit him. It was supposed to be a wink and a smile! Oh, how clever.

  ‘I very much enjoyed The Princess Bride also. Again, fairytales are not something I would normally read, but I liked that there were parts about the writer’s life set amongst the story.’ Here Tristan attempted his own winky face.

  “What are you doing?” grumbled Grey.

  Tristan jumped up, his wings knocking over a lamp.

  “Nothing,” he growled defensively.

  The male narrowed his eyes. “You waste your time with that human contraption. You should be training and sparring with the rest of us.”

  Tristan tried not to roll his eyes. Grey was of the opinion that everything invented by humans was evil and to be avoided. Though Tristan knew that Grey had actually been using the shower in his bedroom. Perhaps the shower was not evil.

  “Some may argue you are wasting your time training for a war that is not happening.”

  Grey let out a sound of disgust. “There will always be a war. Sooner or later the humans will come for us.”

  “Perhaps you should train against a human.”

  Grey smirked, flexing his muscles as his wings quivered. “None of them seem keen to fight me.”

  Tristan kept his face neutral as he said, “Perhaps you should ask Danica.”

  The large male’s eyes flared, and a low snarl vibrated through his throat. “Do not mention that infernal female to me.”

  He stomped out of the room, his whole body trembling. Tristan let out a long breath and quickly righted his stool and returned to the screen, scanning her new message. How had they ever managed before Danica showed up?

  ‘If you like the book you should see the movie – it’s terrific. I watched The Princess Bride so many times when I was a kid I wore out my VHS.’

  Tristan quickly searched what this ‘VHS’ meant – he wasn’t entirely sure after he found out, so he decided to avoid using that word.

  ‘It was your favorite movie?’

  ‘It still is, though I have not watched it in a while. I used to watch it with my mom. Every Friday night we would curl up on the sofa with mugs of cocoa and those big fat marshmallows – I love those.’

  ‘Why do you not watch it anymore?’

  It took her a while to reply, and he wondered if he had managed to offend her inadvertently and what he could do to remedy that. But finally, a reply popped up.

  *

  ‘My mom has been sick. She was diagnosed with cancer, and if it’s not her condition making her sick, it’s the treatment. She has her good days, but mostly she’s tired and doesn’t even want to eat. We don’t really seem to have much time for things like watching a movie together anymore.’

  Gwen wasn’t sure how much she should say, but her mom’s illness wasn’t exactly a secret around town.

  ‘The situation must be difficult for you.’

  ‘She’s my mom; it doesn’t matter if it is difficult.’ She’d work seventeen jobs if it meant she could keep her mom. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘I hope my questions have not upset you.’

  Gwen shook her head as she typed. Far from it.

  ‘Not at all. It’s quite nice to talk to someone about it (figuratively speaking). Watch the movie. Trust me. I better go; I have work tomorrow.’

  ‘Good night, Guinevere.’

  ‘Good night, TG.’

  ‘Tristan.’

  Her stomach fluttered.

  ‘Good night, Tristan.’

  She closed her computer before she did anything impulsive like try to continue the conversation and ask him where he lived and whether he had a girlfriend.

  “Tristan.”

  She said the name aloud, liking the sound of it. Definitely a guy then. She snickered in relief. Their words weren’t flirty, but she kind of felt like they were vaguely flirting. He could still technically be extremely old – or some kind of pervert – but she doubted it.

  Gwen leaned back in her chair, rolling her neck. She was exhausted, but she was always exhausted. She could push through it. She had a few updates for the web
site, and she needed to do some ironing – Myrna tut-tutted at her five times that day for her rumpled appearance. Plus, she’d quite like to spend a bit of time with her mother.

  “Honey, dinner’s ready.”

  Gwen smiled, thrilled that her mother was feeling more like her old self today, and pleased because she knew just making dinner would make her mother feel happy.

  She did have work tomorrow and would be working late at the library. Business as usual, but… she had enjoyed her brief interaction with Tristan. It elated her in a way that an e-mail exchange probably shouldn’t. She was already looking forward to talking to him tomorrow.

  *

  Tristan read her messages over and over, wishing they were longer, craving more.

  He did not know why he had decided to tell her his real name. He just felt like she needed to know, felt like she should at least know one personal thing about him, given that he could not tell her anything else.

  He flicked his tail and strode around the room.

  Vaguely, he knew this was madness. This Guinevere could be anyone – but he found himself intrigued by their interactions, wanting more, needing more.

  He had no problem conversing with the other humans who were now part of the clan, but they were mates and friends of the mates. Creating a human friend for himself was something else, something almost special. Talking to the other humans was not nearly as interesting or satisfying as conversing with Guinevere.

  Perhaps this was a dangerous road to go down, but he could no sooner stop himself than he could stop breathing.

  Tristan decided to find the movie and watch it over and over until he loved it as much as she did.

  *

  A few days later

  Gwen damn near skipped out of the library. How long had it been since she was excited about anything? Her life until a week ago had been nothing but work and worrying about her mother. Now she had something to look forward to.

  She had been chatting with Tristan every night, and their conversations were slowly getting longer, and more personal. Though, he was very reticent to tell her anything about himself. That was slightly worrying. Mostly she was worried that he didn’t trust her. It did not occur to her that he may have a vicious motive behind their interactions, but there was something he was not divulging.

  Perhaps he was married. Lord, she hoped not. If he was, he certainly wasn’t the man she had strangely come to care about.

  So desperate to get home, she was almost running, which meant that when she saw the familiar face, she absolutely ground to a halt and tripped over her feet, landing on the ground with a thud.

  He didn’t rush over to check she was okay, didn’t bother to help her up. Figures.

  Gwen clambered to her feet, wiping her hands and glaring at him. “What are you doing here?”

  Her dad sauntered over to her. There were no platitudes, no ‘you look well’, or ‘look how you’ve grown’ – he really couldn’t give a shit about her or her mother.

  “I’m getting remarried,” he said.

  “Congratulations,” she said sourly.

  “I need a divorce from your mother and money from the house.”

  “What?!”

  He gave her a look of impatience. “The house is in my name – it belongs to me. I’m not going to be unreasonable, but I need the money from it. I’m willing to let you and your mother keep half the money.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He just stared at her. He actually thought he was being reasonable. He dumped them four years ago, took almost all the little money they had left, then without so much as a postcard, he turned up again demanding they sell their home.

  She turned away from him and started walking away. “Leave us alone.”

  “I want my money.”

  She ignored him and kept walking. The nerve of the man! How could he treat them this way? Why was she even surprised? He’d certainly shown how little she or her mother meant to him when he upped and left them to deal with her mom’s enormous medical bills.

  Gwen all but stomped home. Her mother was sitting in the living room reading a book.

  “Everything okay, honey?”

  Gwen paused. Her mother really did look well, and she didn’t want to do anything to change that. So instead of venting about her unreasonable pig of a dad, she merely plastered a smile on and said, “Fine, I’ll be in my room.”

  “Okay, I made pizza for dinner.”

  “You made pizza?” Gwen couldn’t remember if they had any in their freezer.

  “I made it myself – handmade the base and everything,” her mom told her proudly.

  “Sounds great.”

  Gwen retreated to her room. Her mom always used to love cooking, and it always put her in a good mood. Great. Just as things are looking up, her dad has to turn up and ruin everything.

  She fired up her computer and sagged with relief as she found a message waiting for her.

  *

  Tristan frowned at Guinevere’s responses. It was hard to judge, but she seemed upset. Her messages were not quite as enthusiastic as usual. True, they had only been messaging each other for the past few days, but he seemed to think he was getting to know her. They had even moved to a private online chat room to ensure no one else in town could read their messages. She had told him about her life, and he could sense that something was wrong.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

  After a few moments, a message popped up.

  ‘I saw my dad in town today.’

  Tristan growled, thinking of the male who had abandoned both Guinevere and her mother.

  ‘What does he want?’

  ‘A divorce from my mother, and since he owns the house, he wants us to sell it and give him half the proceeds. He says he is getting remarried and doesn’t want to be unreasonable. He thinks this is actually him being reasonable!’

  Tristan gripped the computer mouse to near breaking point. How dare this male demand anything of her!

  ‘How dare he?! What can you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my mom about it – before he turns up demanding a divorce. But I’m worried; she’s been a lot better over the past few days, and I don’t want her health to suffer because he’s a total jackass.’

  Tristan wished there was something he could do. But what could he? He had no idea who Guinevere even was, let alone what he could actually do to help. He felt so useless.

  ‘I wish I could be more help.’

  ‘Just talking to you helps me.’

  *

  Gwen hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should she ask him if he wanted to meet?

  Do it her inner voice told her.

  He may not want to. He may actually live on the other side of the freaking world for all she knew. Was she ready to take the plunge?

  Over the last week his messages had made her happy, so what if he turned out to be a complete jerk in real life and she was totally disappointed? Was she willing to take that risk?

  “Honey, pizza’s ready.”

  “Coming, Mom.”

  Saved by the pizza. She quickly told him she had to go and that she would talk to him again tomorrow.

  ‘As you wish,’ he replied, and she chuckled at the reference to The Princess Bride.

  That was close she reflected as she closed her laptop. She almost went through with it – almost asked him to get together for coffee. She wanted to, sure, but she just didn’t know whether it was a good idea. Maybe she’d sleep on it and decide tomorrow.

  What was the worst that could happen?

  He could be fifty-five, married with six kids and already have two girlfriends on the side. Yeah, that would be bad.

  Okay, what was the best that could happen?

  He could be perfect.

  *

  “What is this?” growled Luc.

  Tristan leaped up from the computer as if he were being attacked. One moment he was engrossed in Guinevere’s words,
and the next he was baring his fangs at his leader.

  Luc strode into the room, narrowing his eyes at the computer. “You are using this thing to communicate with someone?”

  “It’s called a computer,” murmured Kylie trailing after him.

  “I was,” admitted Tristan.

  “How could you be so foolish?” roared Luc.

  “Let’s just try and calm down,” said Kylie helplessly.

  Luc ignored her. His eyes flashed, and his wings flared. “One of our enemies could be using you to give them information about our clan.”

  “I have not told her anything about us,” said Tristan, struggling to maintain his own temper. He did not like the inference that Guinevere would do anything to hurt them.

  “That is what Ric said when he was being manipulated by that woman Blackthorne sent, and look how that turned out!”

  “It turned out pretty well,” said Kylie. Luc scowled at her, and she added, “In the end, I mean. The kidnapping part wasn’t great; I’ll admit that.”

  Luc snarled at Tristan. “You do not use that thing,” he pointed at the computer, “to contact any more humans, do you understand?”

  Tristan puffed out his chest. He would likely get pulverized by Luc, but he was not giving up Guinevere so easily. Luc’s face darkened even more as Tristan growled, his wings spreading behind him.

  “Luc’s right,” said Kylie in a soothing tone. “We really do have to be careful – we don’t know that it isn’t Blackthorne or one of his people on the other end of that computer.”

  “It is not Blackthorne,” rumbled Tristan.

  “I hate to say it, but you don’t know that for certain.”

  Tristan glared at Luc, feeling an alien sense of fury towards his leader. He had never disobeyed before. He had always been a good gargoyle, always followed the rules, always listened to his leader and did as he was told, even when it took him away from the things he wanted – like a potential mate. But this was different. He could feel that it was different. He would not stand to lose Guinevere for anyone.

  He bared his fangs and flexed his wings and Luc did the same. They were readying to fight when Kylie stepped between them, and they immediately halted. She was human and pregnant – a potent combination.