The bell rang, and Olivia stood. “I have class next period, so I’ve got to get going. If you need to talk, I’ll be free tonight.”
Larissa shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”
Olivia looked dubious, but nodded. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”
When she left, Larissa stared at the drawing in the book, at the large wings and sharp claws. The picture was terrifying, yet it was not nearly as impressive as seeing the creatures in moving flesh.
Emulating Olivia, she stroked the snarling face on the picture. Terrifying, yes, but she couldn’t quite remember ever feeling so warm as when she had been enfolded in Terak’s wings.
Larissa looked out the window. Was a gargoyle nearby, watching her? The sun was shining, a light wind whipping the occasional leaf past the glass. How could a gargoyle exist on a day like today? They belonged to the night, to full moons and dark clouds and the wind howling through trees.
They certainly didn’t get involved with people like her, boring people with a too-stifling family and a regular job. She had no money problems, no social life… hell, she hadn’t even had a steady boyfriend yet. Growing up, the brothers had scared off anyone who they didn’t think was good enough for their baby sister, and then Dad took over with the matchmaking. Her big weekend plans involved playing cards with her family.
How sad was that?
How could someone like her attract the attention of necromancers? Or gargoyles?
Stubborn gargoyles who don’t listen to reason and take over your life even though they may be next in line for the Ultimate Evil award.
Why couldn’t she have been saved by an elf?
Chapter Eight
‡
When going back to your childhood home, there is that one perfect moment. It’s the moment where, as you grab the door knob and start turning, memories jumble across your mind like the spill of photographs from a box, quick and cluttered and all of them so damned good you wish you could crawl inside one.
“Baby sister! Get your ass in here, you’re letting the cold air in.”
And then a male member of the family opens his mouth and reminds you why you moved out.
“Bite me there, Steven. How can you pretend to be this big, bad cop if two seconds in the wind has you whining?”
Her third oldest brother came over from the couch and enveloped her in a hug, which he used to maneuver her out of the doorway and then closed the door with his foot. “So, you missed Friday night, huh?”
Leave it to Steven to bulldoze over any pleasantries and get straight to what concerned him.
“I do have a life outside of this house.”
“You were tutoring a student.”
After he let go, she shrugged out of her coat and hung it in the closet. Larissa said, “Teaching is not a job, it’s my life’s calling. I read that on a greeting card somewhere.”
She walked toward the kitchen, the hub of activity in their house, with Steven following. “Your life’s calling is condemning us to the crap shifts.”
“Don’t blame me. I don’t set your schedule.”
“You’re right, the chief does.”
“Do I hear you complaining out there again, boy?” came the call from the kitchen.
Larissa stepped into the kitchen to see her father at the stove and her other brothers Gary, Michael, and Christopher sitting at the black granite island. She crossed the wood floor and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Daddy.”
“Pumpkin.” Going grey dark-brown hair and a non-ironic mustache on a slightly chubby but still very handsome face, Jack Miller was in his element, stirring a pot of simmering chili and surrounded by his kids. “How was work?”
“Went fine. You didn’t tell me we were having chili, I would have made some salsa and cornbread.”
“I had Michael bring some. You can set the table.”
The brothers jumped up and began their respective chores. Before her stomach had the chance to start growling, the table was set and everyone dug into their food, her dad on one end, her on the other, and two brothers on each side.
“So, baby sis, your television still on the fritz?” asked Gary, youngest of all the boys and the one who tortured her most while they were growing up.
Larissa sighed. “I haven’t had a chance to bring it in to the shop yet.”
“How did you manage to break this one?” asked Steven.
Jack snorted before taking a long drink from his bottle of beer. “Why is it I have four boys but whenever anything broke around here, it was always the fault of my baby girl?”
She couldn’t help it she had a black thumb, only instead of killing plants, she killed all their electronics. Four rambunctious older brothers, but when something broke in the house, all eyes turned to her. “I had to do something to stand out from the pack. At least I never almost burned the house down, or snuck boys in by having them climb in the third-story window.”