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“This trip is all I’ve looked forward to lately.” I fight the need to shuffle Lala’s tarot cards to calm myself. “I can’t believe Ava managed to score preview tickets to the house for us. According to the press release, this place will be impossible to get into come fall. I can’t imagine what they’ll charge for entrance when they open.”
“Nothing’s too good for my friends,” Ava says. “I’m just lucky you all agreed to come with me. I hope we won’t be late. Traffic looks terrible on every app.”
Val takes the exit to the scenic coastal highway. “Sit back and enjoy the ride. They’ll let us in,” she says with the easy confidence of someone used to charming her way into anything and everything.
With college behind us, it won’t be long until it’ll be a struggle just to see my friends. Meg will design the world’s greatest tabletop games, Val will conquer the beauty industry with her family, and Ava starts law school in the fall. We’re celebrating our graduation with this trip, and I’m not bringing anyone down with the mention that I don’t have a job or a plan. Instead, I watch the passing beaches and palm trees while pretending everything’s fine.
When we arrive nearly two hours after our scheduled time, the sun dips low in the sky, spreading a golden glow across the house’s three towers. It’s almost dusk. A magic hour, Lala would’ve called it. I take a deep, calming breath, feeling her close here.
A glance to the roof reveals two other familiar faces.
My guardian gargoyles.
Or at least two gargoyles carved with the same faces I’ve seen so many times before.
The enormous one in a crouch with outstretched wings, bared fangs, and curled talons, should dominate my attention, but my focus lingers on the other who appears lost in thought with his massive arms folded across his chest, wings tucked, and gaze pinned on me as if he can stare through me to the secrets I keep locked inside. A shiver runs through me, and I hurry up the front stairs.
I need this place to be the real deal and my séance to work because if anyone can explain to me why I’m imagining gargoyles springing to life, it’s Lala.
5
JACE
THE LOVERS: WHAT’S OBSESSION GOT TO DO WITH IT?
I’ve watched her from a distance for so many nights, but now with Rosemarie this achingly close, if Atticus is right, if she could be our queen, if she might choose me as a mate…no, I can’t think about that possibility right now.
Especially not with the sadness haunting her gaze. Gods, I know the feeling.
Losing Dyphena was my worst failure, my greatest shame, my deepest regret. I won’t risk Rosemarie the way we did her. Fear of forcing this gorgeous, kind woman into the queen trials hangs over me like a too tight cloak crowding my wings that I can’t shrug off.
Dusk paints golden highlights on Rosemarie’s skin, throwing the bruise on her cheek into shadows. Hunting down the bastard who attacked her had been a welcome detour on our way to the demon’s lair.
Demon. I still can’t believe my brother worked with a dealing demon. Since gargoyles can’t enter into actual matchmaking bargains, the demon, Theodopolis, won’t even protect Rosemarie with the normal guarantees any other match could expect.
I hate this.
The women talk about being late for a tour, and Rosemarie reassures her friend on their way into the house. I want to roar. The redhead’s right to be afraid. They should all run, but instead they head into the house as if a demon, portals to other dimensions, and monsters don’t lurk inside. Hell, Atticus and I are monsters looming above them.
What would we do if she ran? If she turned in a rush of those colorful clothes, dangling charms around her neck, and shiny crystals on her wrists? Would my twin and I let her go when losing another queen’s trial would mean our destruction?
I would.
But Atticus wouldn’t. He would gamble her life on a plan that only he’s certain will succeed.
She carries herself like a queen, has the caring spirit required to rule the Bridge of Souls, and the strength to serve as the liaison between the living in this realm and the dead in the next. But if the Bridge doesn’t choose her in the trials? It’ll be the end of all three of us unless I can find a way out for her.
Rosemarie lifts her face, raising those big, dark eyes to aim her attention in my direction. What I wouldn’t give to be able to move, to bow, to acknowledge the fact that her gaze drags over me. The heat of that shared look slides through me, burning me to my center.
The sun slips further in the sky, sinking into the ocean behind us. Magic ripples over my stone skin, buzzing along my wings. Soon, we’ll be able to shake off the stone, and I’ll finally meet the woman who dances through my daydreams in a swirl of color and hope.
Regardless of Atticus’s scheming, protecting her will be my privilege.
My honor.
And likely my doom.
6
