Page 21 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"I do. It's different with her," I said. Khell's eyes widened, and I scoffed. "Not like that! It's just new. I haven't done anything new in a long time."

Gargoyles weren't usually creatures of change, the phrase 'set in stone' applying to our lives a little too well. But I'd moved cities. Found my own work. Made friends. I liked change.

So sure, maybe I did like Hannah. I'd have time to decide that more over the next few months.

CHAPTER 8

Hannah

"Meeting is in fifteen," Kiernan called to the others as I pulled the foam earplugs from my ears.

I watched my two departing bandmates, Lawrence and Mikey, out of the corner of my eye, their backs disappearing down the stairs that would lead to the bar on the ground floor. We'd started renting the empty space above the bar years ago, just when the indie scene in Chicago began to recognize our name. Back when our debut album was downloaded directly from our own website and our songs streamed online just enough to make us a little cash on the side. Back when we'd piled into a converted van and toured the midwest together.

Before the record deal.

Before I was attacked.

"Dunno why we bother to rehearse if we can't tour," Lawrence muttered at the door.

I froze while wrapping the black cable, and behind me Kiernan sighed. Lawrence's timing was intentional. He wanted me to hear.

"Ignore him," Kiernan murmured.

Kiernan and I had been a team for years. He'd been my guitarist, my co-writer, my lover for the first half of our tenure together, and my best friend for the rest.

I finished wrapping the cable, elbow to wrist, and shook my head. "He's not wrong."

"We've got Milwaukee, Detroit, St. Louis," Kiernan listed off. Easy trips. Easily planned inside of the windows of a full moon.

"Not New York," I said, glancing over my shoulder, leaving the rest unspoken.

Not London. Not Tokyo or Sydney or Mexico City.

"We'll see what the label has to say," Kiernan said. He was tall and lanky, ginger red hair in a riot of curls, too outrageously huge for his slim frame. He sat down on a speaker, long legs crossed in front of him, and stared at me as I finished packing up.

We used to pack up together, order pitchers of beer together, drink too late and unwind together. Now Kiernan and I let the others go, get their frustration with me out of their system, safely away from my earshot and my unpredictable temper.

"You seem…a little lighter," Kiernan said, words laid out with careful precision.

It was probably wishful thinking on his part. I hadn't been the easiest creative partner in recent months, except…

"A little," I admitted, offering him a smile.

I'd managed to sleep through most of the full moon, worn out from my night with the gargoyle, and I'd been less tense in the week since. I owed Natalie a discreet thank you for her suggestion.

"You honestly don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I know I haven't been—I know the touring thing is—"

"I'm relieved because I've been worried about you, Hannah," Kiernan said, eyes wide. "I'm not saying I don't know why. I can't relate, but I can…imagine."

No, you can't.

"I'm just saying, as your friend, I'm glad to see any improvement. For your sake."

"It doesn't mean everything's better," I said, fighting past the heavy rock that had lodged itself into my throat.

Kiernan's mouth flattened briefly. "I know that."

---