Page 10 of Mated to the Gargoyle
Myfeet itched with the urge to chase her, butIcouldn’t frighten her more.AndIcouldn’t leave her unprotected.
Ihad a duty to protect her.SoIhad to return to stone and hide from her, the same wayI’dbeen doing for months.AndI’dwatch over her from afar.
CHAPTER6
ANYA
Iran across the campus, far from the library.Iran from all the crazinessI’dseen.Iran fromHugo.
WhatIthoughtIsaw wasn’t real.Itcouldn’t be.Theworld was only that fantastical in books.Itdidn’t work that way in real life.
WhatItoldHugowas true.Ineeded to go home and get some decent sleep and get whatever drug or exhaustion that was making me hallucinate hybrid demons who looked like men and statues that came to life and winged creatures flying through the library out of my system.Tomorrow,I’dwake up, maybe a little groggy, maybe a little refreshed, but at least my world would be back to the oneIknew.
Althoughmy purse was still in the library,Iaccessed a keyI’dhidden to enter my apartment.OnceIwas settled inside my apartment,Itried to relax in the comfort of my home.Myplace was cozy but filled with things that comforted me—a well-worn sofa with plump pillows, warm blankets draping over the back, candles, and of course—books.Bookswere stuffed into every nook of the small bookshelf and stacks of them were piled onto the coffee and side tables.Ihad many types surrounding me, from coffee table books on gardens and photographs around the world to contemporary fiction to history to nonfiction.AlthoughIlonged to curl up on the couch under a blanket with a hot cup of tea and a good book, my mind was far too restless for me to even attempt the process of reading.
Instead,Isank onto the couch, leaned forward, and rested my elbows on my knees.WhenIclosed my eyes, the images of the men who’d broken into the library, the woman with fearful eyes who’d handed me the book, and the transformation ofHugofrom stone to flesh collided in my mind, vying for importance.HowwasIsupposed to unravel them?Myhead was already going to explode with unanswered questions.Iraised my hands to my temples and rubbed, as if my fingers could help calm the chaos within.
ShouldIhave called the police?Thatwas yet another question that gnawed at my conscience.Thenagain, would they even believe me?Iwouldn’t have believed my story ifIhadn’t seen it.Partof me still had doubts whether it was real.MaybeI’dgo to sleep and wake up in the morning realizing it was all just a bad dream.I’dgo back to the library and continue as if nothing had happened.
Aftera bowl of tomato soup and some cheese and crackers,Iwent to bed a couple of hours later.Mymind continued to replay the images, soIplayed a podcast on a sleep timer, hoping it would help break me out of it.
Atsome point,Idozed off, becauseIwoke up with a gasp.I’dbeen having a nightmare about gargoyles and demons and—fire.Isat upright, panting hard.Ittook several minutes beforeIcalmed enough to lie down again.
Thattime, whenIslept, my dreams took on a different tone.Iwas alone withHugoin an unfamiliar room.Weeach had a glass of red wine, and we were talking, laughing.Ourlegs were close, nearly touching.Thenwe moved closer, our faces merely inches apart, our lips a hairsbreadth away…
WhenIwoke, the fringes of a delicious dream faded away.HadIdreamed about being with a gargoyle?
Iclimbed out of bed and attempted to push any cobwebs out of my brain.ThenItook a mental and physical assessment of my body.Ididn’t feel groggy as ifI’dbeen drugged.
Thenwhat happened last night?Itseemed so real.Notlike a nightmare or a crazy, vivid dream.Butthings like that didn’t happen.Gargoylestatues did not come to life.
Whilebrewing coffee,Itook a shower and tried to make sense of the situation.Forsome reason,Imust have conjured a bizarre fantasy in my mind.Buthow or why?Andwhy did it feel so real?
Iexhaled.Despitehow insane the idea was, a part of me wished it could have been true.ThatIdid have some sort of connection withHugothat wasn’t just one-sided.ThatIwasn’t a quirky introvert who talked to statues after hours.Thatthe gargoyle who shifted to protect me was real.
AsIwashed my hair,Iscrubbed it hard, as if that would knock the ridiculous ideas out of my skull.ThenIdressed and made a breakfast of waffles smeared with peanut butter and covered with sliced bananas.That’swhatIneeded—a good breakfast to start the day right.Stresseating was my go-to whenIwas overwhelmed, and after the nightI’dhad,Ihad a helluva lot of anxiety.
Afterdressing in a light gray sweater and black pants,Iexited my apartment to walk the mile or so to work.Itwas a sunnyJunemorning with some clouds in the distance, but no signs of gargoyles in the sky.Whata fantastic vision that had been.
Iwalked by the attachedVictorianbuildings, mostly gray, with rounded turrets and colorful top levels.Thescents from cafes and ethnic restaurants filled my nose.AsIheaded closer to the library, colorful murals decorated the sides of buildings.
Thesense of being watched came over me.Iturned around.Nobodywas there.
Ilet out a nervous laugh.NowIwas spooking myself out.Terrific.
Continuingmy walk,Itried to put that sensation out of my mind.Butit wouldn’t leave.IsworeIwas being watched.WasIbeing paranoid?
Ihad to be.SoIkept walking, but quickened my steps.Iturned onto the campus lawn and hurried down the tree-lined paths.Manypeople traversed them, which provided some comfort thatIwasn’t alone.Theirnumbers dwindled asIapproached the more remote section near the library.Thenit looked likeIwas alone, but the disquieting sensation heightened.
Isearched in a circle and demanded, “Who’sthere?”
Afterseveral seconds without a reply,Iadded, “Iknow you’re watching me.”Althoughthe idea sounded foolish even in my head,Ivoiced it. “Isit you,Hugo?”
Movementfrom a building in the distance caught my attention.Amassive figure with wings flew toward me and then settled on the ground with a graceful landing, barely making a sound.Hornedand winged with a long, curving tail and gray skin, the gargoyleI’dmet last night gazed at me from silvery eyes.Hugostraightened and brought his enthralling wings in.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Iexhaled with a heavy whoosh.Seeinghim land on the campus grounds last night could scare books off a shelf, but this was different.Seeinghim today helped ensureIhadn’t imagined it or was losing my grip on reality.Itwas more of a—relief?
