He glanced at the windows, perhaps tracking the path of the sun. “Samhain, Sage and I are shape-shifters. It’s part of who we are. We need to spend part of each day in our natural forms, or we suffer.”
“Suffer how?” She pictured agonies of the damned, men screaming in pain.
“It’s melancholy at first. We become moody and withdrawn, go off our feed. If left for a very long while, some shifters become suicidal. You could give us the best things in life, and we still could not cope with the grief. We need to be ourselves.”
“Oh. I see.” His explanation made sense.
He watched her carefully. “Good. You’ll understand then when I tell you that we chose the night to be our animal forms. We are nocturnal by nature, and it keeps our neighbours from noticing. Since it’s also the time when the gargoyles awaken, it is most convenient. It’s also why we eat dinner just after sunset. Gargoyles wake hungry.”
Jordon thought about that for a moment, then cleared her throat. “OK. You’re telling me that you’ll all be at the dining room table as your true selves.”
He smiled at her. “This shape is also a ‘true self. I’ll just look a little different.”
“Right.” She nodded, then kept nodding as she processed his revelation. How did a girl brace for all that?
Griffin suggested she meet the gargoyle clan first, hoping it would be easiest on her. “You might also want to ask Rook how his nose is doing. He was the one you hit with the stick. He’ll be the black one, with white hair.”
She winced. “Sorry about that. I was a little shook up last night.”
“Hm. Well, I won’t let him eat you. You should know he tends to be moody, though.”
As a result of his warning, she was feeling a little nervous as they approached a gate set in the high shrubbery. The gate itself washidden from the house by an oak tree and a group of flowering bushes. Griffin had to unlock it.
“The gate is warded to drive away any guests we might receive. We don’t want visitors to wonder why the statues change positions from day to day.” He held the door open for her.
Jordon stepped inside, looked curiously at the group of five statues within the large garden. Each one rested on a wide stone pedestal, and no two seemed to be the same. There were several that she recognized as gargoyles, though none of them were the squat, ugly monsters she’d been expecting. They were alien, yes, with hard, sharp angles, like the one with spikes on his elbows and wingtips. He had claws, and his face was set in a snarl, but she saw the beauty in his features, too. There were others like him, though each was unique in his own way.
Jordon hadn’t known how the sight of them caught in stone would affect her. The thought of seeing them wake should have daunted her more than it did. Stronger was the urge to see them free.
She gently touched the foot of the gargoyle closest to her, felt the stone flex under her hand. She gasped and pulled her hand back. The stone subsided.
Griffin grinned. “It’s all right. They’re close to waking. No doubt you startled him.”
She gave Griff a wide-eyed glance, then went back to watching the silent gargoyles. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the stone flexed slowly, moved like a living thing. All around her, chests expanded, drew in air. Colour bloomed over the stone, turned it to onyx, jade, carnelian, quartz . . .
Jordon paced backwards, the better to view the change. As stone slowly became flesh, a powerful joy seized her and, with it, a sense of helpless fear. She didn’t know these beings. She had no cause for joy.What was happening to her?
She still felt awkward at dinner. By then she suspected that part of what she was feeling came from the house itself. All day it had seemed as if it were whispering to her, subtle thoughts that just brushed her mind. That was odd enough, but the reality of sitting across from seven mythical beings was almost overwhelming.
Griffin sat on her left in his griffin form, the size of a horse. A handsome, gleaming brown with golden beak and claws, he wasrather intimidating. It was difficult to convince herself that he was also the man she’d spent the day with, and much of last night.
The gargoyles were able to sit, though Jordon thought they would have been more comfortable on stools than in high-backed chairs, for their wings draped uncomfortably behind them, and none of them seemed to rest their spines against the upholstery. She speculated that the pressure on their wings was uncomfortable.
Sage and Samhain stood at the table, though the stallion’s food and water was actually on the floor. Jordon wasn’t terribly shocked when Sage was brought a couple of whole, raw chickens. He was a giant white owl, after all, easily the height of a man. It did cause her some consternation when a bowl of freshly butchered rabbit was placed before Samhain’s stallion form, along with a bucket of strong black coffee. She didn’t comment, of course, but she did pour herself a little more wine. Unfortunately, her own excellent meal was going mostly untouched. She was too tense to really enjoy it. Though they were on their best behaviour, she was just not used to such extraordinary company. She sipped at her glass of wine.
She studied them carefully, trying to be subtle. In return they eyed her boldly back as they shoved food into their maws. There was very little talking. Eating was serious business.
After a few minutes, Jordon left off picking at her soup. When she saw Griffin eyeing it, she shoved it his way. “It’s good, but I’m not very hungry.”
He drank it carefully, making the bowl look dainty as a tea cup. “Very nice.” It was odd to hear his voice coming from a griffin’s beak.
She cleared her throat. “Do you often eat human food when you’re a griffin, or is meat better for your body?” Someone had poured more wine into her cup. She took a sip.
“I prefer meat, though cheese makes a nice snack. Bread is pretty tasty, too.”
“But no vegetables,” she said, smiling a little.
“Definitely not.”
