Page 50 of Reflections of Silence

Can a gargoyle be intoxicated?

“I think that settles it, then.” Granny Smythe packed her cards away, wrapping them once again in the white cloth, which became blindingly bright once she had taken her hands away from the material.

I squinted and hid my eyes in Sebastian’s shirt.

He didn’t move. “Is that all?”

“What more do you want, Sebastian?” For the first time, Granny Smythe sounded tired. “You came here, sulking. You came seeking answers.” I chanced a look over my shoulder. She gestured at us. “And you leave with something more than many far greater in age than you ever achieve.”

She leaned back on the hardwood chair, lines decorating her face I was sure hadn’t been there moments before. I regretted my choice of words to her, before.

“Thank you.” I inclined my head, as much as Sebastian’s arms would allow. “We’re grateful.” I kicked his shin.

He gave no response. Minette giggled somewhere to my left.

“Don’t be too thankful, love.”

I stared upwards. “Whyever not?”

Sebastian clenched his teeth; I was getting no further response from him.

It was Dolion who answered. “Because she’s waiting for payment.”

“Oh.” I twisted in his arms and addressed Granny Smythe. “How do we pay you?”

I was careful of my words, having grown up on stories from the Black Forest of elves and fairies who demanded debt of agreements and refused to be tricked by my ignorance of this world.

Dolion grinned over Minette’s head, and relief swamped me. I was glad to have another ally in this chaotic menagerie of magical folk.

Granny Smythe smiled—a thin slash between tight lips.

“Blood.”

I opened my mouth to make some snide remark, but Sebastian stopped me.

Allow me, Gella, please. We can argue later.

I was so relieved to have his voice back in my head, I didn’t register his exhaustion until he was already speaking.

“Whose?”

“Hers, of course.” Granny’s voice washed over me. She had already taken salt, and Sebastian drank from me like I was his personal liquor cupboard. What more was a little drop? Sebastian’s arms tightened around me. “Oh, my child, I wouldn’t dream of taking from your wife. I want Anitta’s blood.”

“Are you making light of us?” I asked, confused. I swiveled back to face Sebastian, my neck tight from the rally of back and forths.

Not now, Gella.

I felt like a disobedient child, told to leave best alone or to sit in the corner for some misdeed. Even in my own home growing up, I hadn’t been ignored or left out of conversations…until the one that left me homeless and another man’s property.

After that trauma, I refused to think of my neediness as petty. Lack of control over my life haunted me, and I refused to let that go in silence, cowering meek and quiet while others decided my fate. No, if my life was going to tear apart, I wanted to be able to blame myself for its shortcomings, not leave it in the hand of a pair of crusty oldhas-beens.

Are you quite done?

I clenched my teeth, my toe beginning to tap. Broad hands squeezed my arms, and I was glad he recognized my impatience.

“She needs the power,” Sebastian spoke slowly. “To keep herself looking like this. Us. How much?” This last came in a resigned tone.

“You agree, then?”

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