I pace the cabin's cramped living room, cursing myself and the demon equally. Marlow could have been lost. Permanently.
And it would have been my fault.
My gaze drifts to a ceramic wolf figure on the shelf, one I've always hated. I hurl it against the wall. Marlow loves playingBreak Things, but it doesn't help me. It doesn’t change what happened. And now the broken wolf's face stares at me, misshapen on the floor, seeming to judge all my life choices, and I feel a stupid surge of guilt.
Iggy flits around near my head. "Are you worried about Marlow?"
"Of course I am," I say. "What was he thinking?"
"It's hard to tell with you," he says, seemingly ignoring my question. "Since you're always growling and making scary werewolf faces." Scary werewolf faces? "But you can trust Marlow, and I think you'll be good for him."
"Uh, I will?" I reply dubiously.
"You can help him make smart decisions, and he's not who you think he is."
Iggy flies down to perch on the coffee table. I take a seat on the couch.
"Do you know how we met?" he continues. "Lower creatures in the underworld need alliances with higher beings. We rely on them for protection. See my cracked horn and bent wing?"
"It adds character," I say politely.
"Thank you," Iggy touches his chipped horn gingerly. "The thing is, I'm not just made of igneous rock. I'm made ofunderworldigneous rock, which includes... well, mystical properties. My form can endure nearly anything without even a scratch."
So how did he end up with a chipped horn and a crooked wing?
A dark look passes over the gargoyle’s face as he thinks back to the past. "The master I had before Marlow gave his minions protection fromothersin the underworld, but we were still subject tohisrages when displeased. He was a Minotaur, and just like a raging bull, he was always angry at something. Since I couldn't be broken, he took that as a challenge. Eventually, he even made a dent."
Whoa. The underworld sounds intense. How many little creatures like the gargoyle are at the mercy of someone bigger and scarier?
"Us lower creatures are numerous in the underworld," Iggy explains. "Always underfoot. Not everyone cares about our well-being. But Marlow put himself between me and my old master. To gain my freedom, Marlow had to buy me or fight the Minotaur, and Marlow had little power or resources in the underworld."
"What did he do?"
"He fought," Iggy says.
"Did he win?"
"No, not at all,” he answers matter-of-factly. “He took quite the beating. And he promised tokeeptaking one." Iggy shoots me a sly look, one he no doubt learned from his bigger buddy."Marlow himself wasn't respected, but he comes from a powerful family. The Minotaur feared offending them, so he gave me to the demon. We've been together ever since." Iggy perches on my knee, looking up at me with earnest eyes. "Marlow never treated me as his property. He always told me we were partners. Don't assume the man you met that first night is really who Marlow is. He’s more than the guy who tricked you."
"Uh, thank you for telling me this." I don't really know what else to say."Whyare you telling me this?"
"Because if you two stop squabbling and actually start talking to each other, I think you'll both be better off."
Maybe he has a point. "You're smarter than both of us put together, aren't you?"
Iggy proudly adjusts his bow tie. "Almost certainly.” He flies off my knee and hovers in the middle of the coffee table. "But if this mates thing doesn't work out and you hurt Marlow…"
Iggy brings his tiny rock-hard fist down on a ceramic pot, shattering it completely. His tail sweeps across the coffee table, knocking over a stack of old coasters and another pot, which wobbles precariously before tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.
Good thing he doesn't playBreak Thingswith Marlow. The little gargoyle could actually do some damage.
"Are you threatening to break me if I hurt Marlow?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face. Those rocky little fists are no joke, but the six-inch gargoyle looks about as intimidating as an angry kitten with his cute red bowtie.
Iggy looks horrified. "Break you? No, never!" Then he looks down at the mess he made and a smug smile appears on his face. "I'll break allyour stuff."
That threat I believe. I nod solemnly, then reach out to shake his tiny hand when he extends it.
A six-inch gargoyle just gave me the shovel talk. I have no idea what to do with this, but I know what I need to do next.
