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Reynard was still glaring daggers at Amber. She studiously avoided eye contact with him as she cleared up her paintbrushes and jars. I sighed. ‘Do I need to know about whatever this is?’ I asked, indicating space between them.
‘Ancient history,’ Amber snapped.
‘Not so ancient to me, my saucy sorceress.’ Reynard’s tone was equally abrupt.
Amber had nothing more to say. Looking awkward, she finished packing her bag. As she stood up, she swayed. ‘You’re exhausted,’ I said. ‘I’ll get one of my wolves to drive you home.’
Amber opened her mouth, no doubt to say that wasn’t necessary, then closed it with a clack and gave me a sharp nod. ‘Yes, that would be acceptable.’ Never expect thanks from Amber DeLea, then you won’t be disappointed.
I left her and Reynard alone in the room whilst I sought out one of my wolves. I found David just round the corner. ‘Would you mind giving Amber DeLea a lift home?’ I asked.
‘It will be my pleasure, alpha,’ David responded with a little bow.
I smiled warmly. ‘Thanks, David. I appreciate that.’ I really did. David was a yes man – no questions, no quibbles – and it was refreshing. As we went into my sitting room, Amber was glaring at Reynard and the room was positively vibrating with tension. ‘Huh. What did I miss?’
Amber didn’t respond; she swept past me, grabbing David as she went, leaving me alone with Reynard.
‘So that was tense,’ I commented.
Reynard didn’t reply.
‘Anyway… So if your name is Reynard, why did you call yourself Bob?’
‘One does not simply give away one’s name. You had to call me something, so why not Bob?’
I frowned. ‘Then it definitely wasn’t a clue that something was going to happen to Bobby?’
There was a long pregnant pause. ‘I had no idea that Bobby was in danger,’ Reynard said finally. ‘But it was a clue of sorts.’
‘A clue that the dead gargoyle was linked to Bobby in some way?’ Even as I said that, the wheels turned in my head and there was a sudden click as everything settled into place. ‘The dead gargoyle – you called him Yorick. Yorick is a character inHamlet. Bobby’s father was called Hamlet. Are you telling me that that dead gargoyle is Bobby’s father? How is that possible?’
Reynard gave a sudden grin. ‘You’re not just a pretty face, my furry friend.’
I sat down heavily. ‘Bobby’s father was my main suspect for Bobby’s kidnapping. If he’s dead, we’re back at square one. And why was his dead body dumped on my lawn?’
‘I don’t think his body was disposed of there, lovey. I think he waskilledthere.’
‘Why?’
‘There was an awful lot of blood soaked into your fine lawn, and dead bodies don’t bleed that much. Also, Hamlet often came to the mansion. All your new security doesn’t include the air above you, and he used to fly over to see if he could catch sight of Sonia and Bobby.’
I made a mental note to talk with Greg about the securityabovethe mansion. My to-do list was an ever-growing beast.
I frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to me. ‘Why didn’t Sonia tell me that Bobby’s father was a gargoyle? Wait a minute – I thought only two werewolves could make a pup?’
‘You’re right there, and Bobby is a pup.’
My head hurt. ‘So Hamletwasa werewolf?’ I frowned. ‘Wait a second, are gargoyles made rather than born?’
‘Now you’re getting to the heart of it,’ Reynard said approvingly. ‘I can’t tell you the ins and outs of it all. Geasa are a bitch.’
‘He was a werewolf turned into a gargoyle? Did Sonia not know he was turned?’
‘All she knew was that he disappeared.’
‘But he came here anyway, to watch over them?’
‘Every chance he got,’ the gargoyle said mournfully.
