Page 22 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"Or that I'm comfortable with the tour the label laid out for us."

"Hannah—"

"But thank you," I finished. Kiernan fell silent and nodded, his shoulders relaxing. "I'm relieved too."

"Any news from Ray?" Kiernan asked.

"We're grabbing a bite to eat after this, if you want to come. No news though. He just likes to check in," I said.

Kiernan's gaze dropped. "I've got…an audition after this."

I blinked. "An audition."

"Just a local studio gig. Nothing permanent."

Footsteps hit the stairs and I stiffened, backing away from the conversation, the news. A position as a studio guitarist would be a good way to fill the gap, it was true. It would create conflict with our band's schedule, but that was irregular now anyway. Mikey, our drummer, had already started taking gigs with a local wedding band who needed a regular stand-in. The studio might also put Kiernan in a position to join another band.

You're supposed to be happy for him, I told myself. He deserved to make a living with his talent. That had been the goal for us all along.

Us. As a team.

"Catch, Han."

Werewolves were meant to have good reflexes, or so I'd been told, but my head was stewing in Kiernan's news, the ache of a betrayal I was meant to forgive easily but couldn't. I didn't really hear Mikey's call to me, and I didn't see the water bottle spinning in the air.

"Hannah, shit!" Kiernan said, startled and urgent.

I stiffened and turned only in time to get smacked in the face by a pound of water contained in flimsy plastic.

"Ow!"

The bottle fell to the floor, and the lid cracked against the wood, a sudden splash and flood of water sending us all into a chaotic dance to gather up guitar cases and amps. Ice cold water soaked through my jeans into my skin, and the past brief minute caught up to me, a sudden snarl escaping my lips.

The room froze, but the sound rumbled on.

"Sorry, Han. That was…stupid."

Mikey was short and stout, and had the kind of ubiquitously manic energy typical of all the drummers I'd met in life. It was pretty standard character for him to "helpfully" toss something in my direction without warning. He was eternally well-meaning and frustratingly impulsive. Once upon a time, when I'd found his chaos amusing, one spilled water bottle would've been par for the course and barely worth noticing.

I didn't know what bothered me more now. Getting smacked in the face, the fact that I was no longer laid back about it, or that Mikey had realized the change in my temperament too and was prepared for me to snap.

"Here," Lawrence said, digging into his bag and pulling out what I was pretty sure was a used gym towel.

I shook my head and tried to ignore the growl in my voice. "It's just water. I'm fine."

Mikey's mouth opened, and I wondered how far and fast I had to run to keep myself from snapping at him if he apologized again. Thankfully, my phone rang in my back pocket.

"That'll be the label. I'll meet you guys on the couch," I said.

Lawrence dropped the towel on the spill, doing a shitty job of mopping it up with his foot, and Kiernan crossed to me.

"I'm good," I said before he could ask. "Couch."

He held his hands up and retreated, and a shiver of frustration raised predatory hairs on the back of my neck. I wanted to rewind time and go back to that moment in the apartment living room, where the city was blocked out by dark wings and I was unraveled and calm. My next appointment with Raphael was still weeks away, and I wondered how unreasonable it would be to book him outside of the full moon too.

I pulled my tablet from my bag and answered the video call on the larger screen. George Daniels' face stared back at me, and I choked on the growl in my throat. The last thing I needed was to lose my shit with Daniels too.

I'd liked the man when I'd met him, but perhaps in the face of a record deal that didn't come attached with my father's name I was bound to like him. He reminded me of some of the musicians I'd met through my dad and his band, but he didn't show the same wear and tear of drugs and alcohol. I'd respected his even keel and strictly business approach to our band to start with. He stayed out of our music for the most part, and focused mainly on how to market us.

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