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I blinked in confusion. 'Have we met?'
The gargoyle smiled, a maw full of sharp spikes which looked less than friendly. 'My mistake.'
I guess I looked like another naked blonde woman he'd seen lately. ‘Aren’t you worried about them hearing us?’ I whispered.
‘Not really, wolfie, no. Super-speed, super-healing, super-bitey, but no super-hearing. Sounds like they’re bitching amongst themselves. Looks like Alessandro stood them up. Hopefully they’ll mince on out of here before you can say crushed windpipe.’
I grimaced at the mental image. ‘How come you’re hiding, too?’
‘New to the Other, are you, my snarly darling? Wolves and vamps don’t get on, it’s true – but gargoyles and vamps are something else. Mostly the vamps see us as caviar. We may be ugly little fuckers, but apparently we’re a tasty little morsel. Didn’t fancy my chances at five to one.’
‘Can’t you fly away?’
‘About as fast as a fat duck, lovey. They’d be on me faster than I could shit my pants.’
I pulled a face; that wasn’t an image I needed.
‘Of all the sodding nights to go for a stroll.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘I’ll have to haul ass back to the church before the sunrise. It’s hard for the human tossers to explain away a stone gargoyle in a kids’ park. And I’d probably get covered in stinking spray-paint, too. Teenagers have no respect for French masonry these days.’
‘You’re French?’
‘I was, a long time ago. Now I’m British. We’re an inclusive cosmopolitan society these days, not like the good old days.’ He sighed.
Despite myself, I found myself liking the rude little thing. ‘So that’s a real thing? Struck by daylight, and you’re turned to stone?’
‘For at least a week. Let me tell you, your joints ache like a motherf—’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I interrupted quickly.
‘Delicate constitution, have you, my bitey pup?’ he asked with an amused look.
‘My mum is anti-swearing. She thinks it shows a small mind.’ I hadn’t exactly stuck to her no swearing rules, but certain phrases have never made it into my vocabulary. One rhymed with hunt and the other rhymed with … motherclucker.
‘Nothing small about my mind, love, just my stature. I don’t remember my mum. Too many centuries gone.’ He scratched his bald head. ‘Shame that. I bet she wasn’t a cumberworld.’
I blinked. ‘A what?’
‘Cumberworld. Someone that is so fecking useless, all they do is take up space. The youth of today have no education.’
‘To be honest, we just say waste of space.’
He snorted. ‘And your mum would saymyvocabulary is limited?’
I’d clearly touched a nerve. I tried to change the topic. ‘So was your mum a gargoyle, too?’
‘Certainly not. Gargoyles aremade,my sweeting. I was something else once. Back in the days where every breath wasn’t agony.’ He shrugged like it didn’t matter. ‘Here, the loiter-sack louts are muttering rude shit about Alessandro, but they are finally leaving.’
I decided to leave loiter-sack alone. I wasn’t sure I wanted to expand my vocabulary anymore.
He’s right,Esme spoke up.They’re going.
‘Of course I’m right, my four-legged friend. I’m not often wrong.’ His gleaming yellow eyes looked off into the distance. ‘At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to remember these days.’
He heard me?Esme asked.
‘Course I did. Loud and clear, my canine culver. You’re shouting.’
‘Can all gargoyles hear a werewolf’s wolf?’ I asked curiously.
