Page 36 of Bewitching the Dragon
And then Argyle lumbered up, and two gargoyles moved out of the way to allow him to walk through the living fence they’d created. Becca’s eyes widened.
“The handyman,” she said. “Wait. You’re—” She looked at Rahu.
He nodded.
“He’s a gargoyle?” she asked.
Rahu nodded again.
“And youknew?”
She clearly wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Yes,” Argyle said. “Thank you for protecting her, but we can take it from here.”
“No, I want to stay. She needs—”
“You’ve done enough damage.” Argyle’s voice was cool, seemingly calm, but Rahu could feel the anger simmering just underneath the façade.
Which pissed him off, because damn it, this wasn’t his fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Argyle’s. He was the one who refused to tell her about her own damn heritage, for her entire life. If she’d known, if she’d grown up practicing her magic, she’d be better able to protect herself and she wouldn’t have to keep summoning him to do it for her.
Not that he minded, although it was a hell of a sensation to essentially break through the fabric of time like that, but what if it didn’t work next time? She had no idea what she was doing or even that she was summoning him. What if, next time, she was too confused or frightened to make it happen?
He needed to stay with her, to protect her. Those warlocks were still out there, and Becca was their target.
“What are you doing to destroy those damn warlocks?” he demanded.
Argyle nodded at the wall of gargoyles. “My brethren are even now seeking out their location. Wewillstop them.” He was stoic and calm, but the force behind his words was real. Argyle’s small army would accomplish their task or they’d die trying—it was as simple as that.
“Okay, so you’re a gargoyle,” Becca asked, interrupting them.
Argyle nodded. “Yes.”
“So gargoyles are real. And dragons. And, apparently, witches. What else?”
Argyle’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“What else exists?” Becca demanded.
Rahu crossed his arms and waited for Argyle to explain. This should be interesting.
Argyle looked as uncomfortable as he possibly could, which, in truth, wasn’t much. But Rahu had enough experience with gargoyles to know he had no earthly idea how to start this conversation.
“What’s a Daughter of Light?” Becca asked.
Argyle’s body visibly jerked while the other gargoyles all moved restlessly and began murmuring among themselves. Whatever a Daughter of Light was, they knew. The question was, would they tell Becca?
“That warlock called Becca a Daughter of Light when he attacked us at the bar,” Rahu said.
The gargoyles’ whispers increased in volume.
“Warlocks?” Becca said. “Those exist too? And the band—that’s what they are?” She smacked her forehead. “Of course. Hide in plain sight. Isn’t that in some sort of criminal handbook?”
Rahu stared at her. Maybe learning all this stuff at once was too much and her brain was starting to fry.
“You are a witch,” Argyle said to Becca. “A very powerful witch.”
“So a Daughter of Light is a witch?” Rahu asked.
