Page 15 of Stone Temptation
She tackled a third red octopus that leaped from the sea, punching its three yellow fish heads in quick succession.
A gargoyle knight landed from the sky in his full stony form, skin a mass of gray rock, huge gray wings flexing, an iridescent green sword shining brightly in his big hands.
“No!” the monster roared. “You will not?—”
The gargoyle sliced it in half with a mighty downward strike. The monster’s dying screams rocked as it melted into a puddle of gray liquid, evaporating seconds later.
Dead.
I wound the window down. “Thank you.”
The gargoyle flew off without looking at me.
“Snotty,” I mumbled.
Maren returned to the passenger seat. “The monsters are being particularly pesky tonight.”
Mercifully, the rest of the journey into town stayed monster-free. I parked in the designated staff area behind my workplace on the western side of the seafront’s entertainment stretch—the seedier side.
Maren hugged me. “In you go.” She nodded at the staff entrance, a Christmas wreath hanging on the door.
Screw Christmas.
Another gargoyle knight lingered in the carpark, watching us. Violet motes spun in a gentle vortex over by the big bins, prettying up that grim little corner.
“Are you staying at mine tonight?” I asked.
“No, darling. I will be back at some point tomorrow, though.”
“Okay. See you then.”
“You will indeed.”
Maren didn’t leave until I entered the club safely, the gargoyle knight’s presence be damned.
Midas Cherry. My place of work and one of the hottest clubs in town with drink prices to match. Every inch of the club, decorated in cherry-reds and golds to match the theme, was packed with customers, dancing and drinking away their Saturday night.
Multicolored lasers pulsed, glitter canons fired, and the music pounded hard. People cheered and twerked and got a little steamy on the dance floor, while others hung out in the various booths around the edges of the club.
“More champagne for the VIPs,” my friend Tom called to another member of staff.
She prepared the ice bucket and the flutes for the snooty poser in the far corner booth wearing his shades and expensive suit, surrounded by hangers on. He thought himself a big shot because he shagged someone on a reality TV show set in Ibiza. Caused a stir, milked his fame every day, in desperate need of a personality transplant.
I suppose his antics did put Brinecrest on the map, bringing in a lot of tourism whenever he rolled into his hometown.
“Who’s the new woman?” I asked Tom, whipping up a margarita.
“Apparently, she’s the first girlfriend. They were together before the show started filming.”
“Seriously?”
“She’s back for more, it seems. Heard there might be a new show following their journey back to love. Not my words.”
I’d rather lick a battery.
Tom and I were machines behind the bar whipping up cocktails to the heavy beats of the music, so on fire that we could do this in our sleep.
My mood soared every time I got to work my real magic. I loved the thrill of a busy shift, making cocktails was a pure joy, along with swimming—my two favorite pastimes.