Page 57 of Monsters in Love

The monster simply stares at me, unperturbed by my warning. “Leave this place,” it orders in a gravelly voice.

I take a deep breath; my heart is racing 400 miles an hour and I’m about one second away from hyperventilating. I thump a hand to my breastbone, trying to calm my speeding pulse. One shouldn’t cast spells in a panic if it can be avoided.

“Who are you? What are you? Why…are you?” I ask in a stumbling rush.

He lowers a brow, his features turning stern, and unfurls his wings with a mighty flap, becoming ten times more terrifying, which is saying something. “I am Lucien Lafitte, gargoyle and protector of Mabon Manor!”

Say what now?

“Excuse me? The what?” I say, trying to process that.

He frowns, as though supremely irritated by my presence. “I am the house gargoyle.”

Okay, what the fuck? Since when does Mabon Manor come with a gargoyle? How is this something Celeste failed to mention?My house is equipped with a straight-up monster.I was prepared for ghosts, but this is really pushing the limits of my sanity.

“I don’t understand.” I press a hand to my forehead.

“It’s quite simple. I’m the property’s guardian. It is my duty to banish interlopers such as yourself.”

That gets my attention, and I rear back in a mix of terror and indignation. Exactly how would he banish me? Tear me apart with those claws? Fly me straight to hell, which is most likely where he came from? “Interloper? I own this place. You’re the one who should leave.”

He crosses giant arms across an equally giant chest. “Ridiculous. Celeste Winslow owns this property.”

I summon more magic and stand my ground, ready to fight if I have to. Monster or not, hell beast or not, he’s not about to tell me off. “Uh, hate to break it to you, buddy, but Aunt Celeste is dead. She left the manor to me.”

“Nonsense. Celeste is a healthy young woman.” There’s something almost foreign about the way he speaks. Not an accent really, but more the cadence.

I snort. “What are you talking about, you lunatic? Celeste was 97.”

“That can’t be.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” I shrug. “Look, I don’t know what year you think it is, or if you’re crazy, or what, but you need to know two things. I own the house. And I’m a witch, so if you even think of hurting me, I’ll enspell your ass before you can blink.”

He pauses, a thoughtful look passing across his interesting face. “Celeste is dead? I suppose this is possible. It has been some years since I have seen Celeste, and it is so hard to keep track of time.” He fixes his black-eyed gaze on me. “Who precisely are you? Do you have proof of ownership?”

“I’m Anya Winslow, and of course I do, not that I need to prove anything to you.” I can’t believe I’m talking afreaking gargoyle—that gargoyles are real, living creatures!—and Celeste never once bothered to tell me. My mind is reeling, and I’m struggling with what to say. How do you casually chat with a gargoyle who just chased you out of your attic? And more, how do you get him the hell out of your house?

“You’re a Winslow?”

I nod and he takes a small step back, his posture relaxing. I finally notice his outfit, which is weirdly old-fashioned. He’s wearing boots, black pants with leather lacing, and a loose white shirt open at the neck. Very pirate casual.

“If you are a Winslow, you have nothing to fear from me. I apologize if my presence startled you. No one informed me that a new owner had arrived. You will not need magic to defend yourself. I will not harm you.”

Yeah, there seems to be a lack of informing going around. I take a deep breath, feeling a little better now that he’s not looming at me. Still, I’d prefer that he not be here at all.

“You said you’re the home’s protector?” I ask, trying to process what he told me. He nods. “That’s great and all, but I won’t be needing your services. There’s nothing to protect me from but dust and dilapidation, and I can handle those. Thanks, but you’re free to go.”

He laughs, but it’s a dry, humorless sound. “I haven’t been free to go for centuries. I’m bound to this property whether I like it or not. Whetheryoulike it or not. I live here and I always will.” He looks down his nose at me. “If you intend to live here as well, I suppose we’ll have to find a way to adapt to one another.”

Super. That’s just the news I was hoping for. Every minute I spend at Mabon Manor makes me want to leave this place and never come back. I definitely should sell the thing and run away.

I rub my temple at the spot where a headache has suddenly formed. “Where did you come from, anyway?” I mutter.

“France.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Like, how did you get in the house? And what do you mean when you say you’re bound to the property? It case it wasn’t clear, Aunt Celeste never mentioned you to me, so I wasn’t exactly expecting you to appear in the attic, all menacing and yelling and terrifying the shit out of me. I had no idea this place came with a roommate.”

“I can see that. Once more, I apologize if my presence startled you. Truly, I mean you no harm. I only raised my voice because I thought you were a trespasser. I serve the Winslow family.”

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