Page 20 of Stone Temptation

Carissa sat in her big gray chair in her big gray office, mulling over paperwork while I waited for her to look at me after telling her about the call. Her collection of clocks ticked together in one loud passing of time.

This office hurt my senses. Give me anything other than this ticking hell of grayness.

What really tickled me was my boss’s lack of punctuality. If she called a meeting, she’d be at least twenty minutes late without fail. The clocks were totally pointless.

Carissa finally lifted her head. “Interesting. Has it intensified?”

“Not yet.”

She picked up some face cream, dabbing some on her face. “Where is the call coming from?”

“Not clear yet.”

She spread the cream, then tapped notes into her laptop. “Hopefully it goes nowhere. I would really like to avoid drama with the gala coming up.”

Shit. The gala. Dressing up, lots of air-kissing and expensive champagne, money flowing from the coffers of the rich to raise cash for various charities across the country. A good cause, but tedious as fuck.

Tragically, I had to attend. I had tonight off, but had to be suited up tomorrow for Sunday evening mingling. Monday a return to patrols.

Bring on Monday.

Carissa saw herself as a charitable gargoyle, always trying to impress King Declan—our supreme monarch who lived here at the London gargoyle tower. Until he went incognito, struggling with his grief over the loss of Queen Alexandra seven months ago in a terrible accident. A private, terrible accident.

Grant Her Majesty peace in her next life, I prayed to the stone gods.

“I hope you’re prepared,” Carissa said.

“Fully, ma’am.”

“Excellent. As for this call, it might pass. Keep an ear on it. Keep me informed.”

Is that it? “Will do.”

“Have a good evening.” She went back to her work.

This muted reaction came down to complacency with the system. We were too used to things, resistant to change like Dane, and it boiled my piss. But what else could I do? I’d have to see if the call became louder and clearer, or fizzled out.

Fingers crossed or the latter.

Was that a risky wish? Ah, fuck it.

I left Carissa’s office, returning to the recreation room. Dane still watched the rugby, my scotch-tea cold. I threw it down the hatch anyway.

“All good?”

“She told me to wait it out.”

Most of his attention still on the game, he nodded. “Best thing.”

“Yeah.”

Who are you? Where are you? Do you even exist?

“You’re lurking,” Dane said.

“I’m what?”

He threw me a caustic glare over his shoulder. “Lurking. Hovering. Getting on my nerves. Either sit down or leave.”