Page 12 of Protected By the Gargoyle
Her eyes widened. “Can you show me?”
He shouldn’t have mentioned it. He shouldn’t let anyone outside of the sentries access the library.
Then again, Janie wasn’t a regular human. She was Larissa’s friend and his mate—not that she knew that secret. She was more than welcome here. By the moon and stars, he’d have her move in if she’d agree. And although she was human, she likely knew more about demons than any other human considering her all-too-close encounters with them.
She was his mate, and he trusted her. A bond between mates was sacred. Remembering his vow to do anything to protect her—anything to prevent the demons from attacking him off guard again—he’d show her everything. She was right. Arming her with knowledge was the next step.
He motioned for her to join him. “Come with me.”
JANIE
How many secrets did the compound hold? As Janie headed downstairs with Arto after lunch, she peered down the halls to this mysterious space. She’d been there many times before visiting Larissa or Arto, but only in a limited capacity, mainly to the shared spaces or their rooms. The rooftop and the sitting areas were her favorite locations as they offered views of the city and the waterfront. She often joked that one square foot of this building space probably cost more than her monthly rent. Now as they headed into a library that she didn’t even know existed, she contemplated how many more hidden areas there were to explore in this fascinating tower.
A part of her lamented opening her mouth so soon, though. Snuggling against Arto’s body on the rooftop had been nice—no, what she felt was a thousand times better thannice. It wasn’t the first time he’d held her—nor was it the first time she’d killed a blissful period. Why did she do that whenever they enjoyed an intimate moment together? She always regretted pulling away afterward.
Fear. That had to be the reason. She was afraid.
Afraid of demons. Afraid of intimacy. Afraid of ruining things with Arto.
At least she was tackling one of those issues while she was here—the demon part.
As for the other parts? Those might be much bigger. She wasn’t ready to face her feelings for Arto yet. Would she ever?
“It’s this way.” Arto led her down a dark corridor with a brown door that blended in with the walls surrounding it. The only splash of color was the gold doorknob, which he turned, revealing a spacious room lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves.
“Wow. Now this is a library.” She entered it and turned around. “I feel like Belle. Besotted by books.”
“Besotted by books,” he repeated in an amused tone.
Like the training area, this room appeared to belong in another century, this one devoted to knowledge. Most of the walls were dominated by books. The small areas that weren’t had paintings and a wall-mounted clock. A globe stood on a dark-wood, octagonal table. Desks and tables with green banker’s lamps lined in front of the bookshelves. A couple of brown-leather chairs with Tiffany-style lamps beside them sat atop small round Oriental rugs.
She inhaled, turned to him, and quipped, “It even smells like rich mahogany in here.” When he furrowed his brows, she added, “Anchorman.”
“Oh yes,” he nodded. “I remember. We watched it at your place one night.” One side of his mouth curled up into a smile. “Look at all my leather-bound books,” he said in a perfect impersonation of Ron Burgundy.
She laughed. “Very good.”
He’d indulged her preference for comedies or feel-good movies while she recovered. She couldn’t deal with anything dark after the demons and stuck to the lighter parts of pop culture, devouring them like comfort food. Would she ever be able to handle a horror film with jump-scares again? Likely not anytime soon.
“Find a spot,” he directed. “I’ll find some books.”
She sat at one of the tables. Arto returned carrying three books.
“These are the ones I found most helpful.” He placed them on the table before her. “I referred to them after we returned and identified some of the beings we’d encountered.” He cocked his head. “I don’t recall which one they were in.”
“I can look.” She picked up the book at the top of the stack—a red hardcover with “Demons” printed in a bold black font.
Arto sat across from her and poured through the next one, eyes appearing deep in thought as he focused on the text.
Her pages were walls of text and not particularly helpful, so she picked up the last one. It appeared ancient. The worddeomonologiawas carved into the binding in an ornate font. The dark brown binding was soft and leather-like. She sniffed it. Definitely leather. It had gold filigree embroidered into the cover in intricate swirls and a shiny red stone in the center that appeared like a ruby.
She opened the cover and carefully scanned the pages of what appeared to be delicate parchment and ornate handwriting in a language she didn’t recognize. Colorful illustrations appeared on some of them, depictions of various types of demons, and a number of symbols she couldn’t decipher. What a difference from the last book.
Something about the ink appeared vibrant, almost as if the text and images moved as she turned the pages. She glanced at the banker’s lamp on the table. It must have been the light reflecting on the ink. After all, it was merely a book with static text. She simply was imagining more.
As she flipped through the pages, she recognized some of the pictures of demons that she’d encountered in the other realm and grimaced. Some of the smaller ones appeared like demonic cats, bats, or birds with glowing red eyes and sharp claws—or unnatural combinations of all. Then there were the dark blobs that slithered over the ground like predatory shadows. Her pulse sped up, and her skin turned clammy.
When the landscape appeared familiar as well, a dark, desolate place with red skies and bleak, craggy mountains, her breath quickened. More demons were pictured. “I think this is the one.”
