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Meg would be delighted because it’s a game geek’s dream.
I’m just…confused. Why would gargoyles collect stuff from our realm? I’ll ask Jace later. Not Atticus. Not after that simple brush of his lips made me want to ask for a kiss. Or kisses. From both of them.
What’s wrong with me?
Some kind of dimensional fever?
Gargoyles aren’t human. Although both twins have masculine features that human movie stars would covet from their strong jaws to their muscles to their alpha natures. Or alphahole in Atticus’s case. Still, with their fangs, claws, wings, tails, and blue skin—they’d never be mistaken for humans. And that’s not even considering the fact they turn to stone during the day.
Since snooping might get me further than spinning thoughts, I close the armoire doors and move toward the odd purplish-red light coming from the window. The colored glass is a pale blue. So what’s causing the scarlet stain painting my skin? I reach up to the latch and it turns easily beneath my twist. Shoving the window open, I lean forward.
From here, I can see what’s on the other side of the wall surrounding the gargoyles’ keep.
The After Worlds, Jace had said.
I can see why he used the plural to describe them. The land is divided with forests, mountains, lakes, and rivers between winding paths of flames. Each territory has a different color sky above it, and they all bleed together into a hellish nightscape. Lightning flashes in the distance, bright and violent over ruby clouds.
There’s a wrongness about that farthest sky. It makes me shiver, and chills prickle along my arms and neck.
Yanking my gaze away from the horizon, I peer down toward the river beneath the tower. Glowing lights float along it, but more writhe deep within the water as if they’re alive. A sudden wind has my hair floating around my face and brings the smell of dark wine and heavy spices. It’s not a sea breeze like the one that whipped around the haunted mansion. It’s an oppressive weight that drags me down. The pull has me clinging to the solidness of the window’s stone sides.
A clatter behind me makes me jump.
“Back away from there.” Jace’s voice holds none of his earlier teasing.
I spin toward where he stands in the doorway, looking like a demented avenging angel ready to take on the world for me. Broken pieces of plates and an overturned tray lay at his feet. Or claws. Whatever he calls them. Two oranges roll toward me, lonely pops of brightness amid the grey walls and dark furniture. “Come away from the window,” he demands.
“I…I was just looking.” I don’t ask if I’m a prisoner. I hadn’t felt that way with the open door, but now? He’s making me feel trapped. Claustrophobia hasn’t been a thing before, yet the illusion of the walls closing in has me wanting to escape.
Shadows crowd around us—the same darkness that circled me at the haunted house. I breathe in, counting as I do so my anxiety can’t escalate to a full-blown panic attack. I’ve coaxed patients through those horrible episodes. Focus on the breathing.
Jace crosses the room in a rush to shut the window. He puts himself between me and the glass. “It’s not safe.” He closes the glass with a loud bang.
Anger floods through my every sense, pushing the anxiety to the side for the moment.
“Not safe?” I repeat. “Being in a realm of gargoyles and whatever’s over the wall to make the skies look like blood? That’s not safe.”
The shadows fade a bit, and his nostrils flare as though he’s scenting the air. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
A sudden thought hits me. “Are you sniffing me?”
His wings slump, and he pushes a hand to sweep a fallen lock of hair off his ridged and horned forehead. “Uh, yeah. It’s not as creepy as it sounds. It’s a gargoyle thing.”
“We’ll need to discuss a list of ‘gargoyle things’ if we’re going to be spending time together. Starting with why you don’t want me looking out the window.”
“I thought you would fall or…”
I don’t let him get away with leaving that sentence unfinished. “Or?”
“Jump.”
Why in the world would he think I’m ready to freefall three stories to the ground below? Or worse, plummet into that weird river? The fall would kill me.
As I study his stricken expression, the realization skitters along my spine. His wide eyes and tense posture scream at me to pay attention to the emotions thrumming beneath his words.
“Who’d you lose?” I soften my voice, hoping it might ease the blow that’s sure to come with the question, but I need to know if he’s going to flip out anytime I’m near a window.
He stiffens, his tail curling at his feet as though throwing a physical shield between us.
