Page 7 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"Checking in early?" the young woman behind the counter asked as I stepped inside. I nodded, and she offered a sympathetic smile. "You're not alone. Seems like a rough one."

I pulled my pass card out of my wallet, pressing it to the scanner.

"Welcome back, Hannah," she said. "Room 1630 is ready for you. Need anything before the morning meal?"

"No, thank you."

"Have a nice night."

I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming, and breathed the carefully balanced sterile air of the shelter to help cleanse my lungs of the lingering tickle of that man's scent. The elevators were silent, waiting on the ground floor. No one who checked in early would be out of their rooms for at least a couple days. I rode up, listening to the jangle of machinery, the steady beep of passing floors.

I'd stayed in the shelter for my first month after being turned, adjusting to my newly heightened senses in an environment built for them. There was a comfort to returning every month, and also heartache. I was this creature now, not Hannah.

The sixteenth floor was quiet, and I used my card again at the door to my room. I paused on the threshold, door open. The room smelled like me, my beast. Sweat and blood, but something warm and familiar too, comforting at this time of the month. I stepped inside and didn't bother turning on the light, the beam from the hall growing narrow as the door swung shut.

Open closet to the right, bathroom to the left, my nest of cushions and blankets around the corner, the rest of the room open, room to pace and growl and howl. I left my coat on and walked to the nest, sinking down to my knees, sucking in lungfuls of my own scent. It was safe here, but barren too, more like a jail cell than a shelter.

There had to be something better than this.

CHAPTER 3

Rafe

I stretched my wings slowly, grimacing at the ache in the joint on the right wing. I was getting too old for being thrown around. I'd be healed in the next couple of days, as long as I didn't have another appointment like last night's, but it seemed like more often than not, I was walking out of work with a wing sprain.

I twisted in front of the MSA bathroom, checking the scratches on my back from the chimera I'd just partnered. She'd left her mark for sure, but the red welts were already shrinking. I'd be fresh and ready for whomever came next. No one wanted a punching bag who looked like he'd already had a few too many turns.

The locker room door opened, and I lowered my wings, folding them close to cover my back as Edgar, one of the vampire partners at the agency, walked in. He was pink-cheeked, freshly fed, and walking a little bowlegged.

"You look like you had fun," he said.

"My client had fun," I allowed, reaching for my shirt, ignoring the pull of sore muscles as I twisted my arms back to fasten the clasps around my wing roots.

"That's right. You get the rough ones," Edgar recalled.

I grunted. "I can take it."

"Astraeya's looking for you," he said, reaching into his locker as he unfastened the campy black cloak from around his shoulders.

I paused with the buttons down the front of my shirt. Astraeya only needed us when we had complaints or new clients.

They can't define it, but they know something's off. What can we change?

I'd tried to play my part. I'd been hyperaware of my behavior ever since the comments had started coming in. I'd lost two clients in the past five months. If I lost another one, got another mild remark about my lack of commitment to the experience, MSA was bound to consider letting me go.

"Thanks, I'll find her," I said, nodding to Edgar as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

Weekends at the agency were busy, the back halls—the ones for staff, not clients—full of various species running from one appointment to the next. I reached Astraeya's door and found it hanging open, filled with a fluffy golden and brown figure.

Elias—moth fae, part-time partner at MSA, vague and occasionally a snob—stood leaning against the doorframe.

"Don't you have a business to run?" I asked as I reached the door.

"Nightlight's doing great, Rafe, thanks for asking," Elias answered, his glittering antennae twitching in my direction before his head followed, slowly turning. "I'm bored. Trying to get Astraeya to find me someone."

"I've found you several someones, you just turned them down," the succubus said, her chair turned to face the door, bare feet wiggling against the floor, black high heels abandoned to the side.

"Someone more interesting," Elias said, shrugging.

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