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ChapterOne
TITAN
Fat rivulets of rain flood the grooves of my granite back and drip off the tips of my claws and horns. My massive bat-like wings are extended, protecting my face from the downpour and shielding my view through the bar’s skylight. The rare late-summer storm is a useful cover for my position on the roof of the Beverly Hills hotel. The building is streamlined in a midcentury modern style, and a gargoyle, especially one as massive as I am, would be a conspicuous architectural detail.
Los Angeles may be known as the City of Angels, but it’s not prepared to see the supernatural creatures that lurk in its shadows. The gargoyles, witches, shifters, succubi, and more that quietly live among the humans are collectively known as the Strange, and we know better than to expose our small numbers to the common world. There are so few gargoyles left, I will not take the risk.
My kind were created by witches over seven hundred years ago to protect the Strange’s Relic Room, a place for paranormal creatures from around the world to hold their most ancient objects of power. The Pull, a desperate, relentless need to protect the Relic Room, was built deep into the stone chests of every gargoyle. It is our one constant; it is our ruling urge.
Four hundred years ago, the fortress that tethered the Relic Room to the Earthly plane fell. We were attacked by our own, a rogue faction of gargoyles led by Maximus, for reasons I still can’t comprehend. Many were lost that day. My four brothers and I were the only monsters to survive. The Relic Room, and the Keystone needed to gain access to the magical artifacts, were gone as well. Most of the Strange believe they were pulled into some swirling vortex of time and space not on this plane, lost for good. But a few, including my brothers and the coven of witches that aid us, know better.
Three days ago, everything changed. Three days ago, my Pull roared to life.
It scraped against my rib cage like rocks over stone, crying out for its lost purpose for the first time in centuries, determined to always return to the Relic Room and Keystone.
My brothers and I followed the Pull to the Port of Los Angeles, narrowly missing the arrival of the Keystone on California shores. The residue of its magic was everywhere, but the Keystone itself was nowhere to be found. We were, however, able to ascertain the recipient of the artifact shipment.
A Mr. Alvin Harris.
I’ve been here, on top of this Beverly Hills rooftop, for hours, waiting and watching Harris through the hotel skylight as he goes on a merry-go-round of dates in the bar below. We’ve been following him for days, each of my brothers a stone shadow, taking turns watching Harris.
We discovered quickly that the Keystone hadn’t been in his possession for long. Harris had passed it along to someone else.
Determining who that someone is has given me purpose. I’m here, listening to every phone call he takes and every contact he interacts with. I will continue to track him until I uncover what I need to know to find the Keystone, and then, when the witches locate the Relic Room, I will finally have a way to access those precious artifacts once again.
I watch as the shining, bald top of Harris’s head leans in close to his latest date.
As Stiel, the brotherhood’s master of intelligence, had discovered, Harris is the well-known producer of blockbuster superhero movies in Hollywood and a collector of often black-market artifacts. He also has a weakness for beautiful women.
“Why are you on the Sweet Arrangement site?” Harris asks his date.
“Same reason you are.” The former child star he’s with tonight is a professional sugar baby. She goes by Jules H. on the site, but her real name is Julianna Novak. She closes the gap between herself and Harris. She rests her hand on his forearm and brushes lazy circles on his skin. I can scent Harris’s perspiration and desire. “Meet someone interesting, someone who shares similar interests as me—”
“Good food, nice trips, better clothes?” he interjects harshly.
“Among other things.”
“So you’re all about the money.” He laughs, again cutting her off, and I’m not sure if it’s meant to be a joke or just an excuse to be cruel. Having observed him for this long, my guess is cruelty.
She flinches. It’s small and likely unnoticed by the man below, but I hear the way her pulse quickens.
“Is it bad to like a man who appreciates the finer things in life?” she coos, regaining her composure, her pulse beginning to slow.
I watch as she slides her fingers along her collarbone. Her white dress is impossibly tight, cutting low across her tanned white skin and giving me a full view of her generous cleavage. She knows exactly what she’s doing as her fingers dip over the swell of her breasts and Harris leans in closer, his eyes riveted to her chest. I feel my own gaze track her fingers over the full swell.
She says something. I’m so focused on other parts of her that I miss it, but it makes Harris laugh. She flips her long, honey-brown waves to one side, exposing the long length of her neck, and for a brief moment, Harris loses his balance and teeters on his stool.
Siren.A smirk pulls tight over my fangs, and my wings kick back in amusement.
I take perverse pleasure in seeing someone knock Harris off his game. I’ve grown tired of seeing him giddy with the power he held over his previous dates.
“You’re funny, you know that? That’s surprising.” Harris shakes his head in amusement as if he just saw a dog walk on its hind legs or whatever humans find amusing.
Julianna sucks in a sharp breath, her generous chest expanding and contracting. Her warm brown eyes glide up and over the skylight and, for the briefest of moments, appear to meet my stone ones. It’s impossible. I’m hidden in the blackness of the night, and the bright interior lights reflect harshly off the glass, but I see a look in her eyes I know well.
Desperation.
That needy emotion was reflected back at me in the eyes of my brothers when we first believed we’d lost the Relic Room. I felt it myself when the Pull awakened three days ago. And in an instant, I’m sure she wouldn’t be letting this man talk to her this way if she didn’t have to.
