Page 57 of A Lost Light

“I did just what you said,” Zhong murmured, his deep gravelly voice pulling me out of my downward spiral. He was standing a few feet away, by the bookshelves, frowning at the open pagesofThe Kitchen Witch's Guide to Gardening. “But I'm not sure it worked.”

I shoved my notes aside, guiltily glad for yet another way to distract myself from my thoughts of doom and gloom as I turned toward the gargoyle. “Your magic isn't ever going to be the same as a witch's magic,” I reminded him gently. “Just because you didn't see big results right away, that doesn't mean the spell didn't work.”

I went to him and laid a hand on one big bicep, drawing his attention away from the book he was glaring daggers at. “You're not a failure, Zhong. Our magics just work differently. The fact that you are a gargoyle and can cast spells like this at all is a huge accomplishment. It's a big step outside your usual talents.” I shook my head. “But look at it this way, dude. I could never connect to this house and sense all the currents of each bit of stone and timber as if they were living, breathing things, the way you can. I can't turn my skin to stone and become impervious to harm. I can't draw power from protecting the people who dwell in my domain.”

I shrugged, feeling like one of those silly positivity posters humans seemed to love so much. “We all have our own unique strengths. Don't beat yourself up if you can't mastereverything.” I looked up at him and winked. “I mean, youareperfect and all, but you've gotta let the rest of us excel at something now and then.”

He sighed, then shook his head, his frown easing into a wry acceptance. “I'm sorry master. I… just want to feel useful. I thought if I could master these gardening spells, I'd be better at feeding everyone, and--”

I reached up and clapped a hand over his mouth, giving him a threatening look. “Stop. Everything you do is already enough, you big, sweet, idiot. I'll teach you magic all you want. But it's not so you can be moreuseful.”I removed my hand from his mouthand made a gagging gesture at the thought of valuing people by what they could do for me. “You know damned well that's not why I keep you around.”

He chuckled, finally. “I know.” A huge sigh. “It's just… hardwired into me, I suppose.”

I grinned up at him. “Come on,” I said, setting his book aside and taking his big hand in mine. “We both need to get out of this workroom. Show me your plants and I'll see how you did.”

He bent and planted a soft kiss on my forehead, making me melt. Zhong was such an addictive combination of solid strength and patient love. I could sink into his arms and never leave. But, sadly, I couldn't use cuddling and sex to escapeallthe time. And I really did want to see how his spells were coming along. It was a fascinating experiment, trying to teach magic to someone who wasn't a witch. And Zhong really did have a knack for it that most of his kind didn't possess, especially when it came to spells that enhanced or contributed to his own innate home and protection-based magic.

Stepping back, I led the big gray hottie to the stairs. As we descended, I quizzed him on the elements of a strong spell. Drawing on his inner reserves, connecting to the resources around him, intent, focus and concentration.

It seemed he had done well in most of those areas, but as we reached the ground floor and headed out into the courtyard, he scratched the back of his head and looked away as if embarrassed. “I'm not sure my concentration was as good as it could have been,” he admitted.

I arched my brows at him in amusement as he led me to the little patch of earth where he'd planted his vegetables. “Oh?”

He shrugged, resettling his wings. “River came out while I was casting the spell on the last of the plants.”

I chuckled. “Ah. I don't blame you one bit. He can be distracting.” He was probably asking Zhong a million questionsabout how his magic worked, or what recipes he'd use the vegetables for, or his favorite kind of rock or something. The word “curious” didn't evenbeginto describe his unquenchable thirst for knowledge of every sort. It was oddly endearing.

Zhong gave me a wry look that confirmed my suspicions. Then he gestured at the baby plants. I crouched down and ran a hand over them, reaching out my magical senses to feel for his growth spell.

I grinned when I felt what I was looking for. A soft, gentle hum of gargoyle magic. “You did great,” I told him honestly. “It's not as strong as a witch's spell, but… maybe that's even better. This way the plants will get a gentle boost along the way, rather than burning themselves up in one big burst of growth.”

He gave me a hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Yep. Really. I told you, Zhong. Just because your spells are different, doesn't mean they aren't just as good.”

He nodded as I stood. “Thank you master.”

I gave him the side eye. He knew that I'd gone from hating that title to it reminding me of some kind of kinky dominance play. “Watch it,” I warned in a mock growl. But then again, if this was his endgame—to lure me out to the courtyard for sexy fun time, I was all for it.

Zhong chuckled and joined me as I walked around the courtyard, checking on my own growth and productivity spells. With the weaker soil and the general lack of inherent life in this created world of mine, growing food for us all was a full-time job that required a hefty dose of magic. Thankfully between my witch magic and Niamh's fae skills—and now Zhong's contributions—we were able to harvest things much more often than usual.

Still, one day the nutrients in the soil would run out, and the magic that sustained us here was not as potent as the magic in the real world… we'd run out of food. Food. Insulin. Magic. Ifthe pocket world didn't collapse, we'd die of starvation or some other lack. Just another reminder of what I already knew—we couldn't stay here forever.

Once again, Zhong saved me from my downward spiral of worry.

“What do you think of him?” he asked in a very nonchalant tone of voice.

I stopped poking at a bean plant and straightened to look at him, realizing I had missed half the conversation. “Who?”

He smiled patiently at my absentminded reply. “River. What do you think of him?”

Oh. Fair question, I supposed. Our newest houseguest was still a bit of an enigma, and of course Zhong, with his caring, nurturing personality, would want to know where the other man fit in with the rest of us.

“Um,” I said intelligently. Then I went and plopped down on the living bench Niamh had shaped with her magic and a couple of ornamental flowering trees, and stared up at the gargoyle. “Honestly? I have no idea. And now I feel like shit because I haven't really given it much thought.”

He gave me a wry look and sank down beside me. “I think that's a problem,” he murmured. “He chose to stay here with us. But he's… not like a lot of our other family members. He's still an outsider, but I don't think hewantsto be. Not like the way Aahil needs space, or Dyre is happy to spend time alone, or Niamh is used to being independent, or Hasumi gets lost in their own world… I think he's more like me, maybe? Or Ambrose?” his words slowed to a halt, and I glanced at him to find him staring at his hands.

Zhong was great at asserting himself when there was danger, a real life-or-death threat to me or the others he had come to care for. But generally speaking, he didn't speak up, didn't disagree or voice strong opinions. Unless he was looking out for someone.

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