Page 116 of Cherish

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” I tell Heather when we finally finish.

Sweat is pouring down both of us, and we collapse on the nearest bleacher bench we can find as Jaxon and Hudson do sound checks. “Because no way were we going to let a bunch of dragons and vampires outclass us,” she says, holding up a fist for me to pound.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I rest my head on her shoulder as the sound technician makes Jaxon repeat the same line several times because he sounds pitchy. Which he does, but I’m not sure if that’s the sound system or nerves. Now that I’m sitting in the audience, among rows and rows and rows of seats, I’m beginning to realize just how big this concert is going to be.

“I’m glad you came,” I tell Heather quietly. “I know I gave you a hard time about it—and I’m terrified something is going to happen to you—but I’m still glad you’re here. It’s been nice doing stuff together again.”

She laughs. “What, are you getting sentimental on me in your old age, Grace Foster?”

“Maybe I am,” I answer. “You got a problem with that?”

“Not even a little bit.” Then she lays her head on my nestled one. “I’m glad I came, too. Even though you really need a shower.” She waves a hand under her nose to indicate that I stink.

“Right back atcha,” I tell her as I stagger to my feet. “I think the technician area behind the stage has a shower trailer for volunteers who won’t have time to go home before the concert. I’ll race you for first dibs.”

Heather doesn’t even bother to agree. She just takes off running. Which, if I was still only human, would be a problem, because she always could kick my ass in a race. But the great thing about being a gargoyle is it comes with wings. And if she’s going to cheat by taking off early, all bets are off.

I fly right over her—and the others, who are watching the sound check—and am actually fully in the shower before Heather even makes it to the trailer.

“Cheater,” she calls out from the sitting area in the front of the trailer.

“Takes one to know one,” I shout back.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in my official Vega Brothers Concert Staff gear and heading to the front of the venue with Heather to work the ticket booth.

As soon as we get there, we realizeexactlyhow big this concert is, as crowds of concertgoers are lined outside the arena as far as the eye can see.

“Holy fuck,” Heather whispers, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It’ll take us a year just to collect all the tickets.”

She’s not far off, I suspect, and I motion to the promoter to add a few more people to the ticket collection team.

As seven more volunteers rush to the counter, Aspero waves his arms out wide and shouts, “Who’s ready to make history tonight?”

Everyone cheers, Heather and me included, with giant grins on our faces as we get into the spirit. When he swings open the doors of the arena to let the first excited fans shuffle inside, I take a deep breath and start collecting and stamping tickets.

Two very exhausting hours later, I leave Heather with the rest of the ticket workers to rush backstage to give Hudson some last-minute moral support. He’s going to need it, if the number of people we let in tonight is any indication.

I hustle into Hudson’s tent as he’s arguing with Mila, the hairstylist, about the perfect amount of coif for his hair. I’d say it was just nerves, but this is Hudson, and everyone knows his hair is sacred.

Either way, they get it worked out and he looks gorgeous in the end—just like he always does. He’s dressed in his Armani jeans and a deep-purple button-down with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and he looks good. Really, really good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks as he settles onto the couch next to me.

“Because you look amazing,” I answer, sliding closer to him so I can wrap my arms around his waist. “If you weren’t about to go up onstage, I might be tempted to mess up that fancy hairstyle of yours.”

His eyes spark with interest. “I’m sure I could talk Mila into coming back and doing it again,” he says, right before he lowers his mouth to mine.

It’s a good kiss—just like every kiss we share—but I pull away before it can get too interesting. Partly because I’m afraid I’ll get carried away and actually mess his hair up and partly because I want to talk to him before he goes onstage.

Hudson doesn’t seem to have the same worries I do, though, and he grumbles a little when I pull away.

“Hey,” I tell him, putting my hands on either side of his face so that he’s got to look me in the eyes. “You okay with all this?”

“As long as I don’t let myself think too much about the Shadow Queen’s henchmen grabbing you while I’m still onstage, then yeah. I’m fine with it.”

“You sure?” I ask. “You haven’t even shared the set list with me.”

“I happen to think some things should be a surprise,” he answers before pulling me onto his lap for another kiss. “But I’m good, I swear. Totally steady.”

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