Page 50 of Grotesque Love

“Let’s bring her to the tower,” Sax suggests, though it’s more of an edict.

I nod, as Jas helps Sax wrap her in the bedsheet and lift her as if she weighs nothing before he sits on the window ledge facing us with her bundled close, his expression grim. Her cries have softened but they haven’t stopped, and each one is a lethal dagger through my heart.

Without another word, Sax falls backwards. Jas and I rush forward, to watch as his huge wings spread and effortlessly he glides upwards.

Jas clambers up onto the ledge, wings already unfolding before he launches himself forward and into the nighttime air. I follow behind even though I’m useless.

I did nothing.

I saw her on the bed, sobbing, mind fragmenting and I did nothing.

I curl my claws into tight fists.

By the time I climb into our window, Jas has already lit a small fire to warm our room while Sax has pulled back the bedcovers and is inside with Ari.

We added the bed to our space a few generations back, but it always felt pointless because besides sex, we don’t use it. Now I’mgrateful we added it to the place we call home. This small, hidden space that’s just ours. Our tower.

Our little dove.

Sax wraps his thick arms around Arianwen, cocooning her in the safety of him. She’s finally closed her eyes as she lets herself sink into him.

She needs him.

But she doesn’t need me.

Shame over my jealousy, my cowardliness, makes my chest tighten.

A light touch on my arm makes me flinch.

Jas looks up to me, slate coloured eyes soft. “Shall we go and find some food? She might be hungry when she wakes.”

He pities me.

He saw my weakness.

I swallow, a bitter taste lingering in my mouth as I nod and dive back through the window without waiting for him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JAS

Mal, like Ari, is stuck inside his own head. He’s letting his demons rage as we fly for a while, diving and dipping and swooping in pointless patterns as he battles with himself.

My suggestion to go find food was a ruse to get him out of there and moving. He needs to stretch his wings and fly, to shuck off his worries and insecurities. If we truly were going to get food, we’d have flown straight from the tower to the kitchen.

He needs this more than Arianwen needs her next meal. Besides, she’s exhausted. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sleeps all night after her mind shut down like that.

Mal’s been turning wild, losing himself through the centuries as we age and crumble. He needs Arianwen to anchor him, but he won’t let her in if he thinks he’s failed her. Mal is always hardest on himself.

His words may be brave, and sharp, but the gargoyle beneath is like an injured animal – wary, untrusting. Even with us. Especially with me. I wish he could see himself the way that Sax and I do, see how good for him Ari will be, how good for herhe could be…

Eventually, when he’s burned off some of his energy, we find our way into the manor kitchen.

Gargoyles and grotesques do not require food, and I only know how to prepare meals because I’ve been watching humans for a long time. There have been one or two people over the years who have shown me a few tricks, but otherwise it has always been something I practise on my own, away from Mal and Sax.

I grab a large black pot with a lid from a shelf and place it on the stove top, ignoring Mal as I wait for him to settle. He stands behind me, tail in his hands, face downcast, while I find a wooden chopping board.

Opening the fridge seems to bring him back into the room, and he jumps up and sits on the kitchen worktop as I pull out the ingredients for a simple vegetable soup.

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