Page 4 of Bitten in Stone
While he should probably take advantage of the opportunity, he shook his head. He still had another day before he officially started his new job, and he wasn’t really in the mood to volunteer for drama.
And judging by Kol’s cagey demeanor, the brothers had it in spades.
“I’ll meet them tomorrow.”
His gaze lingered on the duo for another moment before he turned back to his brother-in-law. He didn’t think he had imagined the relief in Kol’s expression.
“Well, I guess I should get back to work. If you need anything—”
“I’ll let you know,” he promised.
Despite living in one of the most densely populated cities in the country, he wasn’t used to being around so many people. Thankfully, his new position didn’t require him to interact with guests, but he supposed he should get used to the hustle and bustle of the castle.
And he would. Tomorrow.
Right then, he just wanted to get to his cabin and shut out the noise.
Chapter two
Atthebottomofthe hill, Ruger followed a narrow path shaded by a thick canopy of gold and orange to the property’s private lake. A wooden bridge now arched over the water, connecting the two banks while providing enough clearance for canoes and kayaks to pass underneath.
While an impressive feat of construction, it wouldn’t be Blackhaven Manor without a touch of absurdity thrown into the mix. Hence the twin pillars of natural stone that bracketed the entrance, each topped with an intricately carved, crouching gargoyle.
Did it make sense? No. Did it fit the serene atmosphere of the area? Not even a little. Still, it didn’t surprise him. Skye Maddock never did anythingordinary.
Brass plaques decorated the front of the pillars, one detailing the historical use of gargoyles in architecture, and the other giving information about these particular statues. Apparently, they had been imported from the ruins of some castle in Europe.
Still, he couldn’t deny the craftsmanship. In fact, he wondered if they had been restored before being placed on the bridge.Particularly the one on the right. The attention to detail was a little unnerving, and by appearance, it could have been carved just that morning.
The face was fierce and expressive, with deep-set eyes that seemed to glint in the sunlight, and a mouth that twisted into a silent snarl. Its muscular limbs coiled as if ready to leap, claws gripping the stone base with lifelike tension.
Ornate patterns traced along its flanks, almost like tattoos that disappeared into the creases of its thighs. A set of impressive wings folded down the monster’s back, each tipped with a long, hooked claw at the joint.
Oddly captivated, Ruger shuffled closer, tilting his head as he studied the face with more intensity than it probably warranted. A set of fangs that would make any vampire green with jealousy curved over a thin bottom lip. Even stranger, he swore he could see a glint of saliva along the edges.
He reached out, index finger extended, to trace one of the canines. The stone felt smooth against his skin, surprisingly warm.
And sharp.
Hissing in a breath through clenched teeth, he jerked his hand back to stare wide-eyed at the line of crimson that trickled down his finger. The cut, however, didn’t startle him nearly as much as the way the smear of blood he’d left on the statue sizzled and bubbled like acid.
He stumbled back a step and whipped his head around, checking over his shoulder for witnesses. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he couldn’t help but feel like he had just been caught red-handed in some nefarious scheme.
Music, laughter, and conversation floated to him from the east lawn, but he was very much alone at the water’s edge. The fact did little to calm his nerves, especially when a loud crack echoed through the morning like a gunshot.
Spinning back to the gargoyle, he watched in horror as the stone split right down the middle, starting at the point where he had bled on the snarled lip. Thinner, shallower lines branched off from the first, crawling in every direction like delicate spiderwebs.
If that alone hadn’t been bad enough, the stone around the fissures began to crumble, pieces of rock plinking off the podium and the wood slats of the bridge. A cloud of gray dust billowed into the air, obscuring his view as the structural integrity of the carving completely failed.
Ruger swallowed thickly, his throat tight with panic while his heart knocked painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know what the hell was happening or why he couldn’t look away, but he did know he was so getting fired for this.
The sky darkened, the once blue canvas now churning with angry storm clouds that blotted out the sun. Lightning streaked across the heavens, followed by crashes of thunder that shook the ground beneath his feet.
Up the hill, someone screamed, and he caught a flurry of movement from the corner of his eye as everyone scrambled for cover. Still, he couldn’t look away from the cloud of gray powder that still surrounded the broken statue.
Another deep rumble echoed across the lake, the sound deeper and wilder than the storm. The kind of noise his subconscious immediately registered as dangerous.
And it was coming from somewhere inside the swirling dust.
