Page 48 of Fated to the Gargoyle

Sable lowers us the rest of the way and touches down in the grass. He still doesn’t let go of me. “A ghoul is a human who accepts gifts from a witch. Magic, charmed treasures, small powers. The gifts dry them out, and the debt never closes. Judging by the state of that one, he was not offered much.”

“My lights. He was already in there while I was playing with that switch.”

“Waiting,” Sable says, and his arms lock tighter around me. “The latch on your glass door is chewed down to bare metal. Small powers open small locks.”

Then he tips his head back and sends a call up into the night, long and low. It rolls off toward town.

Soren plants one clawed foot on the man’s back and presses him into the ground. His claws curl in, and the man yelps into the dirt.

“Who do you serve?” Soren asks it again, so soft now that I press back into Sable’s arm.

“She told me⁠—” The man’s voice cracks. “She told me you’d give me whatever I wanted for Treasure!”

I slap my hand over my mouth. Sable doesn’t even tighten his hold.

“So someone sent this man after me? Me?” I study him, pinned there in the grass. I’ve never seen him in my life.

“Who is the witch?” Soren’s claws sink deeper, and the yelp goes up an octave.

The man screams it. “Delilah! Her name is Delilah!”

Smoke rolls over the lot, and I snap my head up to a pair of dragon wings and a very human body soaring across the night sky. He drops fast and lands beside Soren. His wings fold flat into his back.

“See,” the dragon says, strolling up to the pinned man, “I heard that whole confession coming down. I knew your pretty little Treasure would appraise high.”

I frown. I know that voice.

He looks over Soren’s pants, then Sable’s, and gives me a thumbs-up. “Good seam work. It’s about time these two covered their asses.” He spreads his hands at Soren. “See? Not so bad wearing pants, is it?”

“I do not like this dragon,” Soren says, to no one in particular.

“Get in line, big guy.” The dragon slaps an arm over Soren’s shoulder. He has to reach up to do it, and that doesn’t stop him even a little.

He turns to me, and Sable finally sets me on my feet. The dragon gives me a little bow. “Hello. I’m Jalen.”

I smooth my dress down where Sable’s arm crushed it. “I know who you are. You’re the messy dragon from the podcast.”

He smiles big. “Ahhh, a loyal subscriber.”

I give him back the fake smile I keep for bad tippers.

“Speaking of my podcast.” He tips his chin at my neck, right at my claim mark. “How about an interview with the lovely new couple?”

I put my hand over the mark. Soren shrugs the dragon’s arm off and steps off the ghoul’s back in the same motion.

“No matter,” Jalen says, breezy. “I’ll just run a story about pitching a loincloth ban to the town council instead.”

Soren does not find him funny.

“Okay, Jalen⁠—” I put a hand up.

“Call me Jay,” he cuts in.

I want to strangle him. I fold my arms instead. “Okay, Jalen. Someone better tell me why a witch is sending people after me.”

Jalen pulls out his phone and puts it on speaker. It rings.

A tired voice answers. “Shadow Wolf Creek Sheriff’s Department.”