Page 38 of Bewitching the Dragon
“Do you get paid? Like, are you bodyguards or something?”
Before Argyle could answer, she said, “No, wait. A mercenary. That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
Argyle cleared his throat. “Not exactly. I would say your bodyguard reference is more accurate. We do have ethics.”
“Unlike warlocks, who, I assume, have none at all?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so warlocks killed my mother. And now they’re—”
“How do you know that?” Argyle interrupted.
She frowned and furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. My parents died when I was eighteen, and according to my therapist, I’ve been suppressing the memories. But today, when I saw Rahu turn into a dragon, I freaked out and for some reason, all the memories hit me at once. It really sucked, to be honest. I’m probably going to need a good cry later. But right now, I’m more concerned with the fact that the exact same people—warlocks—who killed my mother are now trying to kill me. Why is that?”
“Yeah, Argyle, why is that?” Rahu asked, feigning innocence while he waited for the gargoyle to weasel his way out of this one.
Movement from on top of the nearest crypt caught Rahu’s eye, and he lifted his gaze to watch as a stone gargoyle shifted into human form and jumped nimbly to the ground, landing next to Becca. He had shaggy, light brown hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a Mediterranean complexion.
The newest gargoyle to the group nodded once to Argyle and then focused his attention onto Becca. “You have found a Daughter of Light, Argyle. Impressive, even for you, my friend.”
Argyle didn’t say anything.
“Who are you?” Becca asked the newcomer.
He gave her a small bow and said, “I am Oliver. You could say I am the director over this contingency of gargoyles.” He waved one arm, presumably to encompass the group of men and women all standing at attention around them.
“You could say?” Rahu repeated. “What does that mean?”
Oliver’s lips lifted into a tiny smile. “That is a discussion for another time. For now, let us discuss the fact that a Daughter of Light stands among us.”
“How about we discuss what, exactly, a Daughter of Light is?” Becca suggested.
Oliver chuckled. Rahu glanced at Argyle. He didn’t look happy that his boss had shown up. In fact, he almost appeared ill.
“It would be my honor to explain,” Oliver said with another bow.
“Witches and warlocks, as you have recently learned, are similar species, controlling the same sort of magic, generally speaking. The key aspect that separates them is a total lack of conscience. This is what marks one as a warlock.
“In the beginning, witches and warlocks warred constantly. Eventually, the witches began to lose the battle, their numbers dwindling, to a point where their leader feared their species would become extinct. And if that occurred, warlocks would have free rein of their destructive ways.
“The witches knew that if they lost, so, too, would all of humanity eventually, as, without a sense of conscience, warlocks would feel no need to maintain the balance between the various species. Destroying even one type would offset that precarious balance and be akin to what the humans refer to as nuclear war. We could destroy our world in a matter of a few generations.”
He paused, possibly to let that little nugget sink in.
“End of world, got it,” Becca said.
“The leader of the witches and her mate approached the gods—”
“Gods? Plural?” Becca asked.
Oliver nodded.
“And they just, like, walked up to them?”
“Well, it is a great deal more complicated than that. The gods must be willing to see you, of course, or else your pleas fall upon deaf ears. In this particular case, they were open to listening to the witches’ request.”
“Huh,” Becca said.
