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“You expect me to go in there?” I don’t want to curse at him and stomp my foot like a toddler, but the idea of going inside a tomb gives me chill bumps.
“No,” he says. “We’ll walk through the door and straight into the portal once I open it.”
I glance at Jace, and he nods. I want to talk to him, to make sure he’s okay with this, because there’s a loneliness beneath his grins that calls to my own. But not now.
“Then open it up,” I say with far more confidence than I feel. “Let’s get going.” Here’s hoping he doesn’t ask me to read the jumbled lettering carved in the marble or any of the numbers that seem to crawl like ants. I’m holding him to his promise that the queen trials won’t be literal textbook tests. Backing away, I let Huey settle on my shoulder. His little talons grip my shirt, and his feathers tease my jaw.
The wind whips through my hair, blowing curls around my face and sticking to the lip gloss I swiped on during the car ride that seems forever ago now. Fog swirls around my ankles, making my skirt stick to my legs.
The scents of earth, cut grass, and wet stone have me studying the area around us. In the growing darkness, street lights flicker on in the distance. Otherwise, the cemetery is painted in shades of grey. Graveyards don’t creep me out. I visited too many with Lala, and the only monsters I know are among the living. Although I’d been thinking of human monsters until now and not gargoyles with their pointed ears, strange eyes, and wings.
Atticus kneels in front of the tomb, tracing symbols in the dirt with a claw before doing the same with his knuckle over the carved frame around the marble door. At the same time, he mutters words in a language I don’t understand.
“Do I need to learn the language he’s speaking?” I ask Jace. “To visit your realm?” I do okay with picking up a few words or phrases of languages I hear, but they better not expect me to read or write it.
“No. Atticus is talking in the old tongue. Other than the rare spells we work, no one uses it anymore. Besides, he got a translator for you from the demon.”
“A demon?”
He pinches his full lips together. Gone is the easy grin that brought dimples to the deeply carved lines running along his cheek. “Theodopolis. The one you were with. The man who gave you to us as though anyone could be handed over as a freakin’ gift.”
My mind goes blank, and my chest squeezes. “Theo the tour guide at the haunted house? He’s a demon?” My skin goes clammy. “I left Val with him. Ava too. They could be hurt or?—”
Jace stops me with a light touch on my arm. It shouldn’t be so comforting given how his fingers end in claws, but he’s gentle with me—tender. “Theodopolis won’t hurt them. He’s a matchmaker known for taking great care of those he intends to match to someone.”
If Theo wants to match off Ava, Val, or Meg, the demon doesn’t know what a fight he’ll have on his hands with those three. But before I can finish the thought, another pops up that only Jace can answer. “You went to a matchmaker to find me? But why? I haven’t been looking for a boyfriend or a…a…” I gesture toward him.
“A gargoyle?” he asks, and the sadness from earlier falls from his gaze. “No, I imagine not. And why haven’t you been looking? Do you have someone already?” He glances away, and I almost imagine a blush under the blue of his cheeks. “I haven’t seen you with anyone while we followed you.”
Well, this conversation took an even weirder turn. “No, I have?—”
Atticus interrupts. “Making a deal with the demon would’ve been easier than all the talk necessary get you to agree to go with us. Now, come on, the portal’s opening.” Ribbons of colors spin outward from the symbols he traced in the dirt, spreading to the marble door in a rainbow of wavering light.
“Is that safe?” I ask, unsure about stepping into what could be a giant light show of death.
“You walked into a demon’s house,” Atticus tells me. “One who makes deals for a living. It’s not as if you’re a good judge of what’s safe.”
Jace snarls. “Keep it up, brother, and I’ll tell her what else you claim she is.”
His twin glares at him. Although glaring and scowling seem to be the grump’s go-to expressions.
“Beyond being your queen?” I ask because that sounds like more than enough. I don’t look away from the pretty lights of the portal.
Leaning closer to whisper as though we’re conspirators, Jace says, “He thinks you’ll pick us.”
“Pick you?” Stranger and stranger, we spiral into new levels of weird.
“Come on.” Atticus strides through the portal with barely a glance my way. At least he didn’t try grabbing my arm again.
“Now I’ve embarrassed him.” Jace makes it sound like a victory.
“Without answering me,” I remind him.
“A gargoyle queen picks her mates.” He meets my gaze, his eyes going darker.
“Mates?” My voice squeaks. “As in multiple?”
“Yep.” He looks lower to my mouth, and I struggle not to lick my lips. Why does this gargoyle—who’s practically a stranger—interest me more than any guy I’ve met in years? “Atticus believes you’ll pick us both.”
