Page 60 of Monsters in Love

“As soon as I was installed on the manor, I became its protector, a fact of which Mary was well aware. She was not simply enamored with French architecture. It turned out it was not a coincidence she had shipped me here; she wanted a gargoyle to look after the her and her daughters, and as she couldn’t find one in North America, she simply sent for a European one.

“All went well for the first few years. Mary became known as a local healer, trading and her poultices and salves. Of course, she was a witch, but people didn’t know that there was anything magical about her cures. Only that they were effective, and therefore she and the girls were tolerated, despite the way they kept to themselves in their huge, strange house.”

“I sense a but coming,” Anya says.

“Indeed,” I murmur.

“Haven’s Hollow may have been founded on magic, but during this time, most of the folk had gone and the population of the town was almost entirely human. Religion and closed-mindedness were the hallmarks of that era, and though the country’s witch trials were more than a century past, people still looked on women like Mary with suspicion. The rumors that she and Alice—and to a lesser extent, Abigail—were witches simply couldn’t be quelled, though Mary didn’t do much to stop them. Mary was a good woman and a strong witch, but she was also too proud for her own good. If she’d been more subtle, tried harder to blend in with the others, things might have been different…”

“Something bad happened,” she interjects.

I nod. “One night, the town came for her. Not a mob with pitchforks, but a handful of self-righteous men who couldn’t let this woman be. They were fueled by hatred and ale, and they broke in, fully intending to kill the Winslows, justified in their actions by the rumors of witchcraft. Fortunately, they arrived under the cover of darkness, so I was active. I did what I could to intercede, but there were six of them against me and they were armed…

“In the end, no one ever saw those six men again. I made certain of that. But before I was able to stop them all, they managed to kill Alice. I was cornered in a room with Mary and Abigail at my back, defending Mary from men who would violate her before murdering her, but two broke away from the pack and strangled Alice before I could stop them. My only consolation was that they didn’t bother to violate her before they murdered her.”

“Oh, no,” she gasps. “That’s awful.”

“Yes. Mary was heartbroken and, understandably, had no gratitude that she had survived. She would have been willing to die if it meant saving Alice, and she blamed me for not protecting her daughter. As punishment for my failure, Mary cursed me, forever binding me to the manor. In most cases, a gargoyle can leave its post if it reaches an accord with the property’s owner. But that is not true for me. I am unable to leave these grounds unless I can rectify my mistake—not only save a daughter of Mary Winslow, but earn her forgiveness so that she chooses to set me free. An impossible task, given that poor Alice has been dead for centuries, as has Abigail. I will never be able to save Alice. I will never be able to leave. I will forever be at the mercy of the whims of the Winslows.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

She fiddles absently with the ruby pendant around her neck. “I don’t even know what to say. That’s a hell of a tale. I’m sorry?”

I exhale slowly, trying to release the tension that built up as I recounted my past. “That’s enough for tonight,” I say as I stand. “I’ll be in the library if you need something. But I suggest you get some rest, Anya Winslow.”

“My friends call me Annie.”

“We may be bound, but we are not friends,” I tell her. “Bonne nuit, Anya.”

I turn and leave her to her tea. I have work to do.

Annie

Given my intense level of fatigue and the valerian root tea, I expected to sleep soundly. I was wrong. I spent the night tossing and turning, repeatedly waking up and wondering where I was. The old mattress was murder on my back, the cats were being space hogs, and Lucien’s tale—and casual dismissal of me—haunted my thoughts. The snatches of sleep I did manage to catch were marred by weird, disturbing dreams.

Now it’s 8:00 AM and I’m grumpy.

My plan is to go to the bank as soon as it opens and see what I can do about a loan or refinancing or whatever would be required to fund the reno. Maybe afterward I can pop over to Queen of Tarts and get a donut or something. Donuts make everything better.

I shower the best I can, given moldy tiles I don’t want to touch and water pressure as strong as a sick kitten, then dress in my favorite outfit: my pleated magenta skirt, a simple white top with a black moto jacket over it, and a pair of black ankle boots I spent way too much money on.

I let my waves air dry and put on enough makeup to be tasteful but not overdone, then add a pair of simple earrings that complement the necklace I never take off. I’m pretty pleased with the overall effect; I’d give me a loan if I worked at the bank.

I kiss the cats goodbye and head out. I can’t help but peek around the back of the house before I leave; sure enough, a huge stone gargoyle hunches under the pitch of the roof, overlooking the mess of the hedge maze. It’s crazy to think that grouchy thing was in my house last night, telling me stories of curses while I sipped tea.

Life is weird.

I head into town and find parking, then stroll down the sidewalk on Main Street. The First National Bank of Haven’s Hollow is an elegant brick building with trailing purple and red flowers spilling out of symmetrical window boxes in the front. I take a deep breath and open the door, the heels of my boots clacking against the shining marble floor.

The first person I see is a pretty mixed-race woman with auburn hair and a trim gray suit, sitting at a polished mahogany desk. I recognize her immediately; she’s one of Haven’s many cousins and she and I got into trouble more than once when we were all teens.

“Lauriel,” I say as I approach her desk.

She looks up and a smile blooms across her face. “Annie Winslow! I heard you were back in town! Haven said to expect you. How are you?”

I grin back. “I’m doing all right. How about you?”

She waggles her left hand, where a diamond glints. “Got married three years ago and have twin babies at home. Life has never been better. Now let me guess why you’re here—it’s about Celeste and Mabon Manor, right?”

I nod and she points to the guest chair at her desk. “Have a seat.” I do as instructed and she leans forward. “What exactly can I do for you?”

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