Stone Passions Trilogy (99 page)

“If you really want to help, carry that down to my car,” she said, nodding her head towards a large duffel bag. She hefted another bag up and put her finger in front of her dragon. The dazzling gold creature scurried up her arm and settled on her shoulder, butting his head against her jaw in a show of affection.

With a sigh, Raphe grabbed the bag from her arms and put the strap over his shoulder, “Ferris, you don’t have to do it all by yourself. You have a household full of gargoyles who would do anything for you.”

“I know,” she said with a small smile, idly stroking the dragon’s golden scales, finding comfort in the simple action. Heaving a sigh, she looked around her room, wondering when she would be back. If she would be back. She didn’t know if she could handle being there with Armand so close but forever barred from her. “Let’s go.”

Weeks passed and nothing made her miss Armand less. Lying in the bed that had been hers when she was a child, Ferris had spent hours staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember what it was like to feel anything. In a world filled with magic there had to be some way for her to see Armand once more, to be with Armand in the end. Unfortunately, she knew enough about the world of magic to know that it would be a devil’s bargain to ask for immortality. The cost was always more than one could afford to pay and she wasn’t talking about money.

No, magic always required a hefty fee and even her friends would be unable to help her without asking for something in return: a first born child, the ability to love, one’s soul. As much as she loved Armand she didn’t want to give up her soul. And if there was a way to achieve immortality without paying a high price the risk was astronomical and usually resulted in an agonizingly painful death.

She had considered and discarded a hundred options, from becoming a vampire to trading her soul for eternal youth to figuring out a way to clone herself and transfer her memories into the new body. But every one of those scenarios changed who she was and she doubted Armand would be amenable to loving a blood-sucking monster or a carbon copy that lost a little bit more of Ferris with each copy.

By the end of the first week she was sick of her own behavior, she just hadn’t been sure how to go on living when everything still hurt so damn much.

Going to work didn’t help much since she was expected to interact with people and that was just annoying. They were all so… annoying. Her beloved art supplies just made her want to cry, which made the annoying people even worse, especially when they would ask her questions. Her boss had called her back to the office on several occasions to discuss her sudden change in behavior but Ferris hadn’t had any excuse. She was simply broken-hearted and trying to figure out what to do next.

She called her mom on occasion, just to make sure Jenna didn’t worry too much. Jenna didn’t need to know that Ferris spent too much time standing outside of the castle, staring up at the roof at the formidable gargoyle that was now frozen. It was pathetic because from fourteen stories she couldn’t even really see more than the talon of Armand’s foot. More often than not one of the other gargoyles would look over the edge and try to get her attention while trying to be unobtrusive to the other pedestrians. That meant little pebbles raining down on her head until she walked away, ignoring her best friends and the wound that was still too close to the surface.

Being away from the castle felt strange but at the same time it felt so good to be back at her old home, the long forgotten familiarity of a time before she knew anything about the world of gargoyles and magic seeping into her frozen soul.

After an endless period of numb detachment, Ferris finally worked up the courage to talk with the wisest non-gargoyle she knew: her grandmother. She sat across the table from her mother’s mother, wondering when the vibrant woman had gotten more gray hairs than brown and when she stopped dyeing them. There were more wrinkles on her skin and Ferris knew that the lines around her eyes and mouth weren’t all from laughing.

Grandmother put her hand over Ferris’s and squeezed, “Your mother is worried about you, Ferris. She has been calling every day since you arrived.”

Ferris winced as guilt bit her in the ribs, “I should have called more often.”

The older woman chuckled softly, compassionately. “You needed time to work through things.”

“I’m going to need a lot more time than I have to figure this out,” Ferris muttered, offering a small smile to ease the bitterness of her words. “It’s been nearly a month and I am no closer to a solution than I was when Armand told me he was leaving me.”

Grandma was thoughtful as she studied Ferris’s face with concern and love. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Are you planning on doing anything… dangerous?”

Ferris slowly shook her head no, holding her grandma’s eyes. “I know the risks and I’m not that desperate.” With a wry chuckle, she added, “Yet.”

“Please be careful,” Grandma said with a tight smile.

Ferris caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked down at their hands, the fragile skin tightly stretched over bones of a woman growing older and the smooth, glowing skin of a young woman. Running a finger over the knuckles of her grandma’s hand, she asked softly, “Did you ever wish you could have a long life like your daughters?”

“Maybe,” she smiled sadly, her eyes bleak. “When I was younger and the world was still new. But now, after everything that has happened, with the world the way it is, your grandfather and I no longer belong in it. We’re relics of the past.”

“Grandma, don’t say that,” Ferris frowned, her heart aching over the desolation in her grandmother’s eyes. “I’m sure if you wanted to you could learn to… adjust.”

Grandma smiled a little brighter, “I discussed this with your mother a few years ago when she told us the truth about Rhys and Vaughn. But what happened to your uncle revealed the… dark side of their world and, I don’t know, it’s not something I want to be a part of. A world that can so easily take a human’s life without regret or mercy is not somewhere I want to live.”

They were silent for a long moment, their thoughts filled with her Uncle Jensen and what happened to him. Licking her lips with the tip of her tongue, Ferris slowly murmured, “Uncle Jensen is still alive, grandma, he’s still alive.”

Shaking her head no, Grandma murmured, “He may be alive but he’s no longer Jensen.”

Ferris had to agree: her uncle was young and beautiful and slightly mad. But, she expected that was what happened to new incubi. Of course, he shouldn’t have survived the attack at all, let alone been converted, but he had. No one was quite sure how it happened and at first everyone was happy he had survived. But that was before he sexed Lizzie to death. They soon realized that it might have been better had he not survived.

“Not all of the supernatural creatures are like that,” Ferris stated softly.

Grandmother gave her a pitying look, “No, but every single one of them changes us. Look at your mother and Aunt Melanie; they’re not the same as they were before.”

Ferris’s brows drew together in a bewildered frown, “They’re the same as they’ve ever been.”

Grandmother shook her head and smiled sadly, “They’re not. You were so young when they were converted and the change is so subtle that maybe only a mother would sense it but it is there. My two girls are… they’re withdrawn from the world now. It’s like all of the trials and tribulations of being human no longer touch them. They are… tranquil because time no longer has any meaning.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Ferris frowned, her heart pumping in her chest at her grandma’s words. “I think when our lives are so short we tend to dramatize everything and sometimes forget to remember what’s really important.”

“And sometimes when time no longer has meaning we forget everything that matters,” Grandma countered. “Like family.”

Ferris shook her head no, “Not all of the Others are like that. The gargoyles are very passionate about their families.”

Grandma’s lips curled into a smile, “Their
own
families. Your mother and aunt don’t visit very often anymore and when they do the conversations are always a little awkward because their lives revolve around the supernatural now and your grandfather’s and mine don’t. We can’t talk about Jensen because they’ll think I blame them for introducing us to that world and if I am completely honest, part of me does. They beg us to take drops of Medusa’s blood to prolong our life but I’m not a vampire, Ferris. I’m not going to drink blood.”

Ferris swallowed the excitement of her grandmother’s words. If her grandma still had the blood then she would be able to safely prolong her life until Armand could wake up and gift her with his nights, with becoming a gargoyle. “Do you have any of this blood left?”

“Ferris, no,” Grandmother rebuked. “I refuse to let my only human granddaughter lose her humanity. Besides, I threw the vial away years ago and your mother told me that it was the last of her blood, that the woman is gone now.”

Ferris nodded her head as the excitement turned to disappointment. Medusa had finally returned home to her sisters so of course there would be no more of her blood. She should have requested a vial of the blood the last time her family went to visit the famous Gorgon, the mother of the gargoyles and the imps. She just hadn't known she was going to need it because Armand was supposed to make her a gargoyle.

“I don’t want to live in a world where
they
exist and have all of the power,” Grandmother continued, her words resigned and weary. “In a few generations humans untouched by the supernatural world will be extinct or kept on farms and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

“What would you have me do?” Ferris asked softly. Raising her head, she met her grandmother’s old and wise gaze and murmured, “That world is where I grew up and it has been far kinder to me than the human world.”

“I know,” Grandma sighed, reaching up and cupping Ferris’s cheek with her cool palm. “But look at what else it has done to you.”

Ferris broke into a wide smile to keep from crying, pushing up from the table and turning away from her grandmother. She understood the older woman’s concerns and wished that she didn’t. Warm arms wrapped around her from behind and she was pulled into her grandmother’s embrace. “You’re still very young, my sweet girl. You don’t have to figure it all out now.”

Putting her hands over her grandma’s, returning the love, Ferris nodded, “I know.”

She did know but it still felt as if there wasn’t going to be enough time, that she had to do something soon before it was too late. Maybe she would get onto the internet and see if anyone had any of Medusa’s blood just lying around that they would be willing to part with. Of course, there was the problem of not knowing the correct dosage so as to not inadvertently kill oneself. There was also the possibility of the blood being fake, or worse, the blood of a different demon. 

Turning her head to the side, not quite meeting her grandma’s eyes, Ferris asked, “Do you think you would have taken Medusa’s blood if Jensen hadn’t been attacked?”

Grandmother was silent for a long time, carefully weighing her words, and Ferris’s stomach muscles clenched in anticipation of the answer, not knowing which one she would prefer. “I don’t know, Ferris. Possibly. Probably.”

“Okay,” Ferris murmured, not really sure what she was saying okay to. “I should get back to Fray. I don’t want him to think I’ve forgotten about him.”

“Don’t do anything rash, Ferris,” Grandmother warned as Ferris slowly made her way to her old bedroom in the apartment over the garage. Her grandmother was right; now was not the time to do anything rash, especially since she hadn’t done anything for nearly a month. The first thing she had to do was to stop moping. She was only making it worse by dwelling on the what-ifs and what could have beens. It didn't help when she imagined the woman to whom Armand gave up his nights.

Scooping Fray up, she shuffled over to her bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling and imagining the scenario that lead Armand to the mystery woman. She could almost guarantee that the woman was beautiful. Armand didn’t screw anyone that was less than stunning. He probably met her in some bar and whispered words of seduction in her ear, not that he would have to say much. All he really had to do was smile at some poor, hapless woman and she would drop her panties in a heartbeat for the pleasure of his touch.

Any woman would jump at the chance to fuck him all night long. God, it killed her to think of him with another woman, giving up his nights to another woman, choosing years of being frozen instead of being with her.

Her grandmother was right: being a gargoyle was vastly different than being human. Time wasn’t as much of a concern when one had all of the time in the world. Sitting frozen for sixty or seventy years would be nothing in the grand scheme of things, not when he had brothers that were thousands of years old, not when he was expected to live for thousands of years.

She should accept Raphe’s offer. It would serve Armand right for choosing safety over passion. Except it would be awkward to have sex with Raphe even once and she couldn’t imagine having to spend an entire night connected. A shudder tripped down her spine at the thought and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to erase the image from her head. “Ugh, gross.”