solid thunk. “So.”
The word encompassed an encyclopedia of meaning—puzzlement, uncertainty, questioning, exhaustion, wonder, frustration. Kees let it hang between them as he reviewed everything they had just learned. Gregory was dead, and Dark magic had likely killed him. He had all but invited it into his home, yet once inside, he had probably thought he would be safe. Not one of the Seven, then. Even an experienced Warden would not think to face a demon that powerful without a Guardian or two at his back. What, then?
A thought occurred, and Kees felt a creeping sensation of unease move across his skin. Could the Order be stirring to life once again?
Impatiently, Ella humphed and glared from the seat beside him. “Well? What’s going on in that head of yours, O ancient and mysterious Guardian man? Your friend is dead, so there goes having your Warden explain what’s going on. So what do we do now?”
“You drive.” Kees pulled the safety strap she had called a seat belt away from the car door and fastened it across his chest. “I need to think.”
Ella stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed and her mouth open in an expression of disbelief. Then her jaw snapped shut and she was turning the key in the ignition, bringing the engine of the huge SUV to life.
“I could tell you what you need,” she muttered under her breath as she turned the vehicle back up the drive toward the iron gates and the road beyond, “but I don’t think they stock rubber hoses and vise clamps in the backs of rentals these days.”
At another time, in another place, Kees would have laughed at the little human’s bloodthirsty imagination, but right now he didn’t feel like laughing. He still did not know what had awakened him, but he was beginning to fear that whatever the cause, the purpose was about to come clear.
A battle approached. Now the question became, did Kees have the tools he needed to fight it and win?
He’d never faced the enemy without a Warden by his side and his brothers at his back. If he had to do it now, would he survive the challenge?
Would the world?
Chapter Six
The hour-and-some minutes’ drive back to Vancouver convinced Ella of two things: one, in spite of his human size and shape, Kees could still do a pretty damned fine impression of a mute, motionless statue; and two, curiosity probably hadn’t actually killed the cat, just driven it to suicide. Ella certainly intended to kill something if she didn’t get answers to at least a few of her questions pretty damned quick.
She unlocked the door to her apartment and led the way inside, tossing her keys onto a side table. Flipping the locks behind her, she turned to find the Guardian standing in the middle of the living room floor, stretching his long arms to the ceiling like a puppy that had just woken from a satisfying snooze.
She contemplated punching him right in the taut, washboard stomach.
Knowing her luck, she’d probably break her hand.
“Okay, you’ve had more than two hours to think or plan or process or whatever the hell you’ve been doing while you haven’t been talking to me,” she bit out, planting her feet wide apart and glaring at him. “I have been more than patient. So, spill. What the hell did we accomplish with that little trip, and where the hell are we supposed to go next?”
Kees looked at her and dropped his arms to his sides. “I have grown increasingly uncomfortable with this confining shape I wear. Will it disturb you if I shift into my natural form?”
“I don’t care if you shift into fifth gear and become a half-dead wallaby, I want answers.”
Ignoring the growl in her voice, the Guardian stretched again and blurred, and in an instant, the space before her overflowed with fanged, winged, horned, gray-skinned gargoyle.
Ella stumbled an instinctive step back.
Kees frowned. “Surely you realize that if I intended to cause you harm, I would have done so by now.”
Pressing a hand to her stomach,
The word encompassed an encyclopedia of meaning—puzzlement, uncertainty, questioning, exhaustion, wonder, frustration. Kees let it hang between them as he reviewed everything they had just learned. Gregory was dead, and Dark magic had likely killed him. He had all but invited it into his home, yet once inside, he had probably thought he would be safe. Not one of the Seven, then. Even an experienced Warden would not think to face a demon that powerful without a Guardian or two at his back. What, then?
A thought occurred, and Kees felt a creeping sensation of unease move across his skin. Could the Order be stirring to life once again?
Impatiently, Ella humphed and glared from the seat beside him. “Well? What’s going on in that head of yours, O ancient and mysterious Guardian man? Your friend is dead, so there goes having your Warden explain what’s going on. So what do we do now?”
“You drive.” Kees pulled the safety strap she had called a seat belt away from the car door and fastened it across his chest. “I need to think.”
Ella stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed and her mouth open in an expression of disbelief. Then her jaw snapped shut and she was turning the key in the ignition, bringing the engine of the huge SUV to life.
“I could tell you what you need,” she muttered under her breath as she turned the vehicle back up the drive toward the iron gates and the road beyond, “but I don’t think they stock rubber hoses and vise clamps in the backs of rentals these days.”
At another time, in another place, Kees would have laughed at the little human’s bloodthirsty imagination, but right now he didn’t feel like laughing. He still did not know what had awakened him, but he was beginning to fear that whatever the cause, the purpose was about to come clear.
A battle approached. Now the question became, did Kees have the tools he needed to fight it and win?
He’d never faced the enemy without a Warden by his side and his brothers at his back. If he had to do it now, would he survive the challenge?
Would the world?
Chapter Six
The hour-and-some minutes’ drive back to Vancouver convinced Ella of two things: one, in spite of his human size and shape, Kees could still do a pretty damned fine impression of a mute, motionless statue; and two, curiosity probably hadn’t actually killed the cat, just driven it to suicide. Ella certainly intended to kill something if she didn’t get answers to at least a few of her questions pretty damned quick.
She unlocked the door to her apartment and led the way inside, tossing her keys onto a side table. Flipping the locks behind her, she turned to find the Guardian standing in the middle of the living room floor, stretching his long arms to the ceiling like a puppy that had just woken from a satisfying snooze.
She contemplated punching him right in the taut, washboard stomach.
Knowing her luck, she’d probably break her hand.
“Okay, you’ve had more than two hours to think or plan or process or whatever the hell you’ve been doing while you haven’t been talking to me,” she bit out, planting her feet wide apart and glaring at him. “I have been more than patient. So, spill. What the hell did we accomplish with that little trip, and where the hell are we supposed to go next?”
Kees looked at her and dropped his arms to his sides. “I have grown increasingly uncomfortable with this confining shape I wear. Will it disturb you if I shift into my natural form?”
“I don’t care if you shift into fifth gear and become a half-dead wallaby, I want answers.”
Ignoring the growl in her voice, the Guardian stretched again and blurred, and in an instant, the space before her overflowed with fanged, winged, horned, gray-skinned gargoyle.
Ella stumbled an instinctive step back.
Kees frowned. “Surely you realize that if I intended to cause you harm, I would have done so by now.”
Pressing a hand to her stomach,
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