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Two men from the garrison stepped up. "Show some respect to the president of the Devil's Own Motorcycle Club!" one said, as his fellow sank his fist into Harlow's midsection.
Or he would have, if Harlow had been made of flesh and not living stone. Instead of knocking the breath from Harlow's lungs, it was his attacker who doubled over with a howl, clutching his smashed fist.
His companion was quick to respond – too quick, for he moved straight to anger, without realising how Harlow had hurt the other man. He went for Harlow's face, in a blow that likely would have broken a normal man's teeth. Instead, all that broke were his fingers.
"Deal with him!" the president shouted, waving more men forward.
In the past, Harlow had been in a few bar room brawls...usually instigated by Grant, and his part had mostly been hauling his brother out before he got himself killed. He'd learned to take blows where they would do the least damage, but now...he just stood unmoving, until the fools figured out they were wasting their time.
"OI!"
Octavia's shout cut through the noise. As one, they all turned to stare at her.
And the open door behind her.
The president's jaw dropped.
"I found your problem. Your batteries are flat. I plugged my phone in to get enough charge for the fingerprint scanner to work, but when the low battery light comes on, you need to replace the batteries, or this will happen again. So if you send someone down to the supermarket for some double As, I'll show you how to fit them so you won't need to call me next time." She looked askance at all the men on the ground, and Harlow standing in the middle of them, with his arms folded. "Or my assistant."
The president, who'd paled considerably, picked up his jaw and managed to find an uninjured man to send on Octavia's errand.
"While we're waiting, let's discuss my fee. I mean, there's my standard hourly rate, emergency call out rate, plus my assistant..." Octavia coughed. "Good tech support does not come cheap, Mr Jerome, as I'm sure you know."
After a long moment, Mr Jerome sent his men inside, though he stayed where he was until the errand boy returned, his swiftrider or whatever the conveyance was, growling like a bear beneath him. Harlow was fascinated by it. Perhaps he'd be able to obtain one. He'd have to ask Octavia how, though.
Octavia fitted the small cylinders into the lock she'd taken apart, explaining to both men what she was doing, before she reassembled the lock again and handed the remaining cylinders in their paper packaging to Mr Jerome. "Now, my fee?"
Mr Jerome sent the errand boy scurrying inside. He returned a moment later with a stack of brightly coloured notes that were evidently the money of this time, and handed them to Octavia.
Octavia tucked the money into her pocket and inclined her head. "A pleasure doing business with you again, Mr Jerome. You know how to contact me if you need any more technical support in future." She walked to her car with her head held high, then turned back. "Are you coming, Harlow?"
Flying was fun, but...it seemed prudent to accompany her right now, in case any of these men thought of coming after her in revenge. Then again, surely they'd want revenge on Harlow for humiliating them, though it was hardly Harlow's fault they'd punched him...
"Yes, ma'am," he said, sliding into the seat beside her. Did he imagine it, or did she drive a bit faster this time than she had the other night?
They'd been driving for at least a quarter of an hour before Octavia suddenly blew out a breath, then said, "Well, that was an adventure. Thank you for coming, by the way. Should I even ask how you knew I'd be there and need your help?"
Harlow shrugged. "You asked for help. I answered. I'm your gargoyle protector. It's what I'm bound to do."
She rubbed her hand across her forehead. "Yeah, you said that before, but I kind of...well, I honestly thought I was imagining you at first. Especially the way you disappeared that first night. But those men could see you, and hit you, and they didn't even hurt you. You just appear out of nowhere, right when I need you and I have to wonder...why now? And where have you been all my life?"
Harlow wasn't entirely certain, but he could give her some answers. "You called me in the cemetery. Something you said woke me, and now when you call for help, I come."
She looked puzzled. "In the cemetery? You mean we actually managed to...wait, you said you arrived in theHooghly, and Alethia said that cemetery's one of the oldest in Perth. Were you...did we wake up your corpse? Because you don't look dead."
Harlow had to think for a moment, before responding, "I believe I died in 1834, in the most foolish escapade my brother ever suggested. I feel more alive now than I ever did then, but I do not now how you managed to wake me. For death is not supposed to be just a sleep one can be woken from."
"Don't ask me. The only magic I'm capable of involves computers. Callie's the one who knows about witchcraft, though she's always said magic doesn't exist. Which is why it's even weirder that a spell she cast actually worked...and why me? We were trying to summon a demon to protect Alethia, not me. I didn't need protection. Well, until tonight, maybe. But..." She wet her lips. "Are you protecting all of us? Is that why you're here, and other times you're not?"
Harlow shook his head. "I am bound to protect you, and you alone. You woke me, and I answer your call for help, whatever help you might need. Whether it is in early colonial farming practices, or defending your person from some very angry, but not very bright men."
"Yeah, thank you for that. I'm not sure what would've happened if you hadn't shown up. Maybe I should just stick to remote tech support, and the occasional company contract. They don't pay as well, but...well, with the money I made today, I should have enough to replace my computer, and pay a courier to ship the graphics card here. Just crypto traders and fraudsters from here on in."
"If you wait until the evening to make house calls like these, I can go with you to protect you. You have only to say the word," Harlow said.
Octavia stared at him for a long moment, then turned her eyes back to the road. "I just...can't believe it. My own gargoyle protector. And you were on theHooghly..." She gave a little laugh. "Is it wrong that I'm more excited about what you can tell me about the past? I mean, you were on the same ship as Sean Bell. Living in the same settlement as him. All the things I haven't been able to find in any written sources are there, in your head!"
"I will answer any questions you have. I am bound to serve, after all," Harlow said. But in his stone heart, he knew it was more than that. He wanted to be with her. Wanted to protect her. He wasn't madly in love with her like Stanley or Wystan had been with their women, but he greatly admired her. She was a lady scholar, her station so far above his own he didn't dare even think...
