as a coffee table, for a big tray sat on it and what looked like the remains of breakfast in a bowl, with a spoon in it.
There was a simple kitchen up against the fourth solid wall, with a sink, a tiny amount of counter space, a small fridge and a range. It was the barest of necessities.
There was no television, no dining table and no other chairs.
“No books,” Nyanther added, aloud.
Jake picked up an iPad from the side table and waved it. “Yes, there is.”
Nyanther looked at the spiral staircase in the corner by the kitchenette. It was made of wood and looked as old as the rest of the house and just as worn. The tight, sinuous curve snaking upward made him think of the big iron staircase in Sabrina’s apartment. He closed down the thought and shoved it away.
“There are no chairs for company,” he pointed out.
“This is my place,” Jake said. “No one else gets to come here.”
“Ah.” Nyanther looked around once more, taking in the surfboards leaning up against the verandah railing and the wind chime tinkling musically, in the corner next to them. “This is the real you, then.”
“I suppose.” He said it cautiously.
“The business suit is a lie,” Nyanther pointed out. “The knife and the combat boots are temporary, according to you. Here, where no one comes, you can be yourself and this is what I find.” He waved his hand, taking in the room, the verandah and the beach beyond. “If this was the sixties, I’d call you a hippie.”
Jake grinned. “That’s a new one. My family uses different names.”
“‘Lay about’?” Nyanther guessed.
“‘Useless’, mostly,” Jake replied. “I’ve heard ‘a waste of oxygen’, too.”
“Are you?”
Jake’s expression grew darker and his eyes stormy. “I found out what really happened to my parents. It took twenty years, but I did it. I’ve killed two of the bastards and I fully intend to kill the rest. No, I don’t think I’m useless.” He let out a breath. “They’re never going to know, though.”
“Then you’ve figured that much out for yourself. Good,” Nyanther said. “If there’s a rule at all in our world, that’s it.”
“No one must know?” Jake shrugged. “There will be no need for anyone to know, once I’ve killed them all.”
“Once we have killed them,” Nyanther emphasized. “You’re not alone in this anymore. Although, in the interests of keeping up appearances, why aren’t you in your high rise office right now?”
Jake scowled. “I went to the board meeting. I couldn’t stand it after that. I came out here as soon as I could get away from the damn place. I needed to sleep, at least for an hour or so.”
“You have an apartment in New York, don’t you?”
“That’s for work,” Jake said shortly.
“And for women, I suppose.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Of course,” he said flatly. He had suddenly grown cautious. Nyanther could see it in the stiffness in his shoulders and the stillness of his body.
“You’re never tempted to tell the women about your secret life?” Nyanther pressed. “Whisper of your deeds and see the admiration in their eyes?”
“That’s not why I’m hunting gargoyles,” Jake said, his voice flat. He was growing angry.
“It would be a nice side benefit,” Nyanther pointed out.
“Shit, you don’t know me at all.” Jake pushed his hand through his hair, making the blond locks fall forward over his eyes. “I let them see the limousine and they just about fall into my lap. Most of the time, I don’t even need to do that. My family name is enough. Why would I share the one real thing in my life with them?”
Nyanther held up his hand. “I had to make sure,” he explained.
“That was a lesson ?” Now he was truly angry. “How dare you?”
His fury triggered Nyanther into moving. Fast. He plucked the cup out of Jake’s barely moving hand, dumped it back on the table, then gripped his shirt in his fist and made himself slow down to human
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