Page 8 of The Gargoyle's Captive

I hate that I know that feeling. I hate even more that I empathize with it. He sounds like he’s the last person living in the entire world and he only just realized it. I felt that when my mother never came home and I realized I was the last Jaeger left.

For so much my life, my family was the compass I guided my actions by, whether I followed in their footsteps or to fight against harmful traditions. Being the last one means I am unmoored in a way that I still haven’t quite wrapped my mind around.

I guess I’ll figure that out when I get back to my realm. For now, I have answers to seek.

I slip fully back into my room and carefully close the shutters. Climbing down the exterior wall might work in a pinch, but it’s a route I would like to avoid. There has to be a better way out of here that doesn’t require wings.

But first I have to deal with dinner.

And the fact that this castle is freezing. The gargoyles may look human enough, at least at first glance, but their differences become more apparent as the minutes tick by. Obviously the same skin that protects them from the icy temperatures at higher altitudes also insulates them in everyday life. There’s not even a fireplace in my room. I shiver and rub my hands over my bare arms, knowing full well that it won’t do anything to actually warm me up.

He said something about clothing...

I move to the faded wardrobe tucked back in a corner. I half expect dust to explode in my face as I muscle it open, but it seems like it’s been cleaned relatively recently. Inside, there are dozens of articles of clothing in a variety of styles. The one thing they all have in common is that they’re about the same size and obviously made for colder climates. I shoot a glance at the door and quickly drag off my dress. It’s tempting to go for the pants and long tunic, but I don’t want to raise Bram’s suspicions by making him think I want freedom of movement to fight or escape.

Instead, I pull on a thick dress that’s almost exactly my size. The square neckline leaves most of my chest bare, but at least the dress has got long sleeves and plenty of layers to keep me warm. It’s also about two inches too short, but I’m used to that. In the bottom drawer, I find woolen thigh-highs and ties to keep them up. That’s enough to make me raise my brows. I don’t know if Bram is allergic to clothing, but all he wore was a fancy-looking loincloth. There are no slits in the back of this dress to accommodate wings, so it was obviously created with a human in mind. The fact that there isn’t a single undergarment to be found... I’m not sure what to think about that.

No, that’s a lie. I knowexactlywhat to think about that. I doubt whoever these clothes belonged to needed underwear. I read the contract Azazel gave me. I know that the opportunity for seduction is part of this. I even imagine that some people who make demon deals find fucking monsters to be a joy rather than a trial to avoid.

I can even admit that Bram himself is attractive. The wings are a bit overwhelming, and his skin doesn’t feel like a human’s, but it’s not unpleasant either. There’s a part of me that... No. I’m not going down that route. The only reason I’m here is to find answers about my mother, and I won’t discover those by bouncing on a gargoyle’s cock.

Though I have to play the game if I want him to let down his guard. That means allowing him to believe he has hope tonight so he won’t watch me too closely when it’s all said and done. By tomorrow, I’ll be gone.

Again, a little twinge goes through me at the thought of honoring the word but not the spirit of Azazel’s agreement. I promised seven years of service, and maybe I’m being unforgivable for essentially going back on my word, but I’ve done worse for poorer reasons.

In the bathroom, I find a brush and do my best to tame my wind-tangled hair. I don’t bother with any of the cosmetics. There’s also a sunken tub that was obviously designed for someone with wings because it’s massive and shaped a little strangely.Maybe if dinner is over quickly enough, I’ll have time to soak for a while.

No, that’s an indulgence I can’t afford. If I do anything to slow or stop my momentum, I might not get started again. I am... so tired. I shake my head shortly. “No use thinking about that. One step in front of the other, just like always.”

To do exactly that, I walk out of the room and start down the hallway. I doubt it’s time for dinner, with Bram out flying and venting his emotions to anyone who can see, but surely I’ll run into someone who can point me to where dinner will be served.

And I’ll get a look at the castle in the process.

Part of me thought that Bram dumped me in a mostly unoccupied wing of the castle and that was the reason there was no art on the walls or furnishings to be seen. There’s not even a rug to warm the freezing stones beneath my stockinged feet. But apparently gargoyles don’t believe in interior decorating at all. Every hallway and staircase is almost uniformly plain. If the gargoyles' goal is to ensure newcomers are hopelessly lost in minutes, they’re doing a damned good job of it.

I make an effort to remember what turns I’ve made so I can find my way back to the room again, even if I have no intention of staying there for long. It’s more difficult than I anticipated.

The other thing I notice is that the hallways are a lot larger than I expected, and I imagine a careful gargoyle could fly down them. Unfortunately, I don’t have wings. The staircases give my poor human self vertigo, even though heights don’t normally bother me.

In a place this big, there should be at least a small army of staff if not a shit-ton of other people wandering around. I won’t pretend to be an expert on the demon realm and the politics of individual territories, but even in the brief moments I was outside of my room in Azazel’s castle, I encountered a number of people.

This place feels deserted... Haunted, even.

There’s a study several floors down from my room with a giant map pinned to the wall. I peer at it for several long moments. I can’t read the text, but I’m pretty sure the mountains near the bottom are the ones we flew over to get here. We’re not near the ocean, or at least I couldn’t see it from the roof of this castle. Therewas, however, a lake. Just like the one on the map.

The only time I see another being is when I round a corner and almost stumble over a trio of young gargoyles. I’m still deciding if I’m supposed to smile or interact at all when they screech and flap their wings to put as much distance between us as possible. It startles me enough that I have to plant my feet to prevent backpedaling, which only makes them screech more. In seconds, they’re gone, but it takes several beats longer for the sound of them to fade.

What the fuck was that?

I still don’t have an answer an hour later when I finally find a door to the outside. I push through it, half expecting someone to appear and stop me, but the exterior is just as deserted as the interior. I inhale the cold air and do my best to smother my curiosity. It doesn’t matter that this place is nothing like I expected. It doesn’t matter that Bram seems to wear his sorrow the way some people wear clothes. All that matters is that there’s no one around to stop me from leaving later tonight.

I study the area. There it is. The lake, just like the one on the map. It stretches to the north almost as far as the eye can see, ending in what appears to be a mountain ridge. Thankfully, I don’t intend to head in that direction. It’s pretty, though.

A bare whisper of sound announces Bram’s arrival. He alights next to me almost delicately. I can’t help searching his face for some sign of the anguish I witnessed, but he’s got his expression locked down. His emotions aren’t quite as controlled. White, pale blue, gray. This man is filled with grief and sorrow and worry. Somehow, I think it has nothing to do with me. It’s certainly none of my business.

“Who did you lose?” I don’t mean to ask the question. It’s like my brain decided one thing and my mouth did the exact opposite.

He narrows those eerie pale-violet eyes at me. No, not violet. Lilac? I honestly don’t know why I’m obsessing over the proper name for his eye color. The way he’s watching me, it’s almost as if he knows. But when he speaks, it’s to answer my inappropriate question. “Everyone. I lost everyone.”

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