C. E. Murphy - House of Cards, Book 2

C.E. MURPHY

HOUSE OF CARDS

EIGHT

FRUSTRATED HUMOR LANCED through burgeoning anger as Margrit recalled the first time shed walked way from the gargoyle. He hadnt called her back and shed been oddly dismayed, as though hed failed to fulfill his role as required by the script. The mysterious stranger was supposed to call the principled womans name, and she was supposed to falter, then turn back to face the love shed been denying.

Now, finding her steps slowing and coming to a stop, Margrit discovered it was just as frustrating to play the part as it was to have it stymied. A woman of her age, from her era, wasnt really supposed to be so easily swayed, not by something as simple as her name being called across a dark pathway. That was for the movies, not her life.

Margrit turned around slowly, ironically aware of her own fickle nature. Alban had moved closer, coming into the light. He looked as she felt: conflicted, hopeful, wary, helpless. I didnt think youd stop.

Im not sure I would have, if my intellect were in charge. I guess it isnt, because now its killing me not to run toward you in slow motion. The only thing thats stopping me is Im waiting for the music to swell.

A smile etched itself into one corner of Albans mouth. Next time Ill try to arrange for an orchestra. Margrit He broke off, then spread his hands. Whats happened? Your life seemedsettled.

How can anything be settled when Ive got a gargoyle watching over me? Margrit tried to keep accusation from her tone, making the question a genuine one. Thank you, by the way. For jumping those guys last night. You know thats the first time anyones ever actually come at me? The news said mugging attempts in the park are up since January.

You mean, since Ausra murdered four women. Alban shifted his shoulders as if he might move wings. Ive noticed more police recently. Im sorry. I know you view the park as your haven. To have it violated must be distressing.

Itd be more distressing if you hadnt fallen out of the sky to save me last night. Alban It was Margrits turn to trail off, staring across the distance the gargoyle kept between them. Amber streetlights took what little color he had and distorted it, yellowing the silver of his suit jacket and turning his shirt sallow. Margrit glanced at her own clothes, cream bleached to a sickly white and tan deadened into neutrality. Her skin was as unhealthy a shade as Albans shirt.

Can we go somewhere else? For the second time she surprised herself with abruptness. Out to dinner, something, I dont care. Just somewhere inside, somewhere real. She looked up to see Alban abandon the wide stance hed taken and come to his full human height, more than a foot taller than she.

Real?

Indoors, Margrit repeated. So the light doesnt screw up the colors. So I can see you properly. Please.

Margrit. Her name came heavily, a sound of defeat. Its better for you to remain apart from my world. Dining with me onlyprolongs the inevitable.

Which inevitable is that, Alban? She stepped toward him, watching him tense and glance toward the trees, as if seeking escape. Are we talking about inevitable heartbreak? An inevitable clash of your world and mine? Inevitable ending to whatever this thing between us is? Or are we talking about the fact that Im inevitably stuck in your world already, because thats the inevitable Im facing. She kept her voice low as she approached him, trying not to let irritation flare. Ive been accosted by a dragon, a djinn, a vampire, and a selkie in the last twenty-four hours, and nothing you do is going to change that. Im part of your world. If theres an inevitable here, its that were involved with each other. Did you really think Id be allowed to stay out of it once I knew the Old Races existed?

Accosted?

Margrit let her head fall back, blowing out an exasperated sigh. Well, at least something got your attention. Nobody seriously hurt me, but your worlds not going to leave me alone. She took a breath and held it, touching her fingers against his sleeve. Can we please go somewhere else and talk? You might not feel the cold, but I do, and I really am hungry. I came here from work and I havent eaten.

Im unaccustomed to dining in public.

Im unaccustomed to having to ask a guy three times to get a dinner date out of him. Were both going to have to adjust. Will you please come out to dinner with me?

Alban hesitated a moment longer, then retreated one step into shadow. No. Margrit, I am sorry for involving you in my world, and I should have acted sooner, before the inevitable did draw you back in. Ill do what I can to loosen the chains that bind you. I swore to protect you

So help me, Alban! Skulking around in the sky isnt protecting me, not when Janx wants me to keep Malik alive, and Malikd rather kill me than let that happen!

Alban flinched, his expression incredulous as he searched her gaze for truth. For a moment a thread of hope tightened in Margrits heart. A relieved smile curved her mouth and she moved forward, but Alban retreated again, deliberate and intricate as a dance. Ill deal with Janx, he growled. Forgive me, Margrit. I shouldnt have let this go on so long. He set his jaw, resolution coming into his eyes. I will not watch for you again at night. I will not be here to protect you. Fondness kept me lingering too long as it is, and has done neither of us any favors.

Cold clenched Margrits stomach, dismay born from belief. I dont believe you. Youre a gargoyle. You protect. Thats what you do, what you are.

And the best way to protect you is to leave you very much alone. My mistakes are to your detriment. I will always be sorry for that. Alban pulled in a deep breath, broadening his chest. Be well, Margrit Knight. Goodbye.

He turned and sprang into the shadows, into the sky, a pale blur of winged imagination before treetops and distance took him away. Margrit shouted his name, running a few steps forward before stopping again in open-mouthed fury as the gargoyle disappeared from sight for the second time in three nights.

Regret and rage wound through him like snakes, conspiring to take away his breath. He ought to have known better; he did know better. It wasnt only Margrit who might look for him in the night sky, and of those who were likely to, she was the least troublesome. He ought to have kept his word to himself, his promise to the beautiful lawyer, and stayed away. Instead hed let sentiment rule himhe, a gargoyle, bending to the whim of emotionand now Margrit paid the price.

Well, if irrationality was to govern him, he would ride it as far as it took him.

He folded his wings and dove, flight from the park having carried him high and to the north. He back-winged only a matter of yards above the rooftop he sought, wings aching with the strain of pulling out of the dive. Then again, it wasnt a soft landing he intended. Stony weight smashed down, Alban landing in a three-point crouch that shook the roof, and, he trusted, echoed deep into the warehouse establishment below him. Caution made him transform to his human shape, heavy taloned fingers turning to a clenched mortal fist before his gaze.

Seconds later the rooftop door flew open and half a dozen armed men spilled through it. Alban lifted his gaze by degrees, knowing full well the picture he made: a solitary, pale man splashed against the black rooftop, a place with no easy access. The wind lifted his hair and opened his suit coat, making a flare like wings as he came to his feet with slow deliberation. The men who surrounded himtough-looking, as if theyd seen their share of battleexchanged wary glances, unsure of how to respond to his fearless stance.

One raised a gun as Alban stepped forward, daring to block the gargoyles path to the door. You cant go in th

Stand down, Ricardo. It wasnt the voice Alban wanted to hear, but it would do; Malik appeared in the doorway, his cane held by its throat as he swung it. Korund. What a surprise.