Page 42 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

“She’s just so… selfish, you know? Always has been. When I was a kid, she’d flirt with other men right in front of me and Dad. She thinks it’s fine to just use her siren powers to manipulate men, get them to buy her drinks or give her money.”

Graeme makes a low noise of disapproval, his expression thunderous. But he doesn’t interrupt, just listens intently as I continue.

“She stomped all over Dad’s heart. They used to get into these unbelievable arguments in front of me, and it always ended with Deandra storming out and my dad bereft. I was stuck in the middle, trying to make Dad feel better, trying to convince Deandra to change, trying to keep them both happy and keep our family together. I just wanted happy, in-love parents like I saw other kids have.”

I kick at a stray pebble, sending it skittering across the sidewalk. “But Deandra never cared about what I wanted. And nothing I could do could fix them. One day she just walked out for good and didn’t look back.”

“That’s...” Graeme seems to struggle for words, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I’m so sorry, Ecco. No child should have to go through that.”

Tears blur my vision and I swipe at them angrily. “I just can’t forgive her, you know? Even after all this time. What kind of mother does that to her own kid?”

He’s quiet for a long moment and I glance over at him. His normally piercing eyes look clouded and stormy.

“Family is… complicated,” he says finally. “It’s not always black and white. People make mistakes, even parents.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me wonder about his own family, what kind of scars he might carry beneath that tough exterior. But I don’t press.

I know all too well how some wounds never fully heal.

Instead, I bump my shoulder gently against his arm. “Thanks for listening. I know I kind of just unloaded on you there. A little outside the normal bodyguard job description, I think.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but warming his stern features. “Anytime. I’m—I’m here if you need to talk.”

Something flutters behind my ribs at his halting offer, the gruff sincerity in his voice. It hits me then how attuned he’s become to my moods, how easily he seems to read me.

In such a short time, Graeme has come to know me better than almost anyone. Has seen beneath the bubbly pop princess facade to the real Ecco underneath.

It’s unnerving.

My heart kicks against my ribs as I meet his molten gaze. The air feels charged. My whole body runs hot despite the frigid air around us.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, pulse pounding as his eyes flick down to follow the movement. “Graeme, I...”

But I never get to finish the thought. Because at that moment, a shriek rings out, high and piercing. And we round the corner to utter chaos erupting in front of the town hall.

Graemeand I pause to take in the scene. A group of children are scattering in every direction. Shouts and laughter mingle with startled yelps as a massive troll child tosses snowballs after a similarly hulking orc kid, their rambunctious game sending the other kids diving for cover.

Behind the pandemonium, standing in the doorway of the building, a frazzled-looking satyr clutches a stack of sheet music to her chest, her wispy hair escaping its bun.

She looks seconds away from a full-blown meltdown.

“Jessa!” I call out, waving to catch the attention of the minotaur girl across the lawn. “What’s going on?”

Jessa comes barreling toward me, her pink snow boots kicking up clumps of snow. She crashes into my legs, nearly knocking me off balance as she wraps me in an enthusiastic hug.

“Ecco! You’re here!” She beams up at me, gap-toothed and adorable. “Mrs. Merriweather is trying to get everyone inside but it’s just so fun out here in the snow and...” She tapers off guiltily.

I laugh, squeezing her tight. “Looks like you guys are having fun, that’s for sure.”

Graeme looms behind me. I can feel disapproval radiating off him in waves. “We should get them corralled before someone gets hurt,” he rumbles, ever the bodyguard.

I ignore him, but internally smile.

Wading into the fray, I clap my hands to get their attention. “Alright, everyone! Who’s ready to make some music?”

A cheer goes up from the assembled children, a few of them whispering to each other as they realize who I am. I still haven’t gotten used to this part of the fame, being recognized by strangers, talked about. But the joy and wonder on these kids’faces is much easier to tolerate than when I accidentally make a stir among adult strangers.

I start herding them toward the door when a pink blur comes rocketing out of nowhere and collides with my midsection.

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