Page 10 of Let Go My Gargoyle
He canted his head. “You remember where I’m from.”
She remembered a lot about that fateful night. Too much.
Elbowing him out of the way, she pulled a mug out of the cabinet. In childlike scrawl, the words “World’s Best Mom” were written across the white surface along with a bunch of terribly drawn flowers and dragons. Penelope had made it for her at daycare for Mother’s Day last year. It was a human daycare, run by the church two blocks away, and Sofia had enrolled her partially to ensure the kid had some sort of social interaction skills prior to starting kindergarten, but also so that Sofia could catch a few hours’ extra sleep three days a week.
She added a dollop of creamer to the cup and then filled it with steaming, dark liquid before lifting it to her nose and breathing deeply. She took a tentative sip and sighed.
Someone made a strangled noise, and she opened her eyes. Griffin stared at her in a way she didn’t quite recognize. Did he think she was insane? Or was that attraction in his dilated pupils?
It was hard to tell.
“Hold on,” she said, lifting a finger and taking another few sips. After another sigh, she said, “Okay, I think my brain is functioning on at least two-thirds of its cylinders now.”
His lips twitched. “Are you always like this in the morning?”
“Nope. Usually, I’m super grumpy. But I’ve just had the first full night’s sleep in four years, so I’m damn near cheerful at the moment.”
He snorted. She glowered and drank more coffee.
“We need to talk about Penelope’s protection,” Griffin said.
Sofia shook her head. “I just told you, she’s perfectly fine.”
“No, she isn’t. Do you know what a Daughter of Light is?”
She frowned and took another drink. “Nope.”
He squeezed his fists and paced from one end of her tiny kitchen to the other, which encompassed maybe three steps of his long-legged strides. “She’s very special. Way more special than you comprehend.”
“Hey. Despite the way she was left on my doorstep, I happen to love that child as if she hung the moon in the sky.”
“Her ancestors likely did,” he muttered, which made no sense and wouldn’t even if she had enough caffeine in her system.
“But your love for her is not what is in question here. Sofia, she’s a precious commodity.”
“Again, I’m fully aware. I know you don’t get it, but, well, I became a parent that day I woke up and realized you’d abandoned her with me. I’ve been raising her for four years. I fully comprehend how special she is. Way more than you do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Are we seriously going to have this battle? Because I’m fully prepared for war on this point.” She slammed her mug down onto the counter with enough force to splash pale brown liquid everywhere but not to break the ceramic.
He winced. “You are missing the point.”
“No, I’m—”
“Hey, Mommy, guess what?”
Sofia turned to her daughter, who had entered the kitchen, and, apparently, the conversation.
“I’m a god!”
Sofia stared at her child. Penelope had a hell of an imagination.
“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Griffin said.
Sofia’s gaze darted from the crazy girl to the crazy gargoyle. “Is this a game you all created this morning? Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that I don’t know the rules?”
Penelope giggled. “It’s not a game, Mommy. It’s true. I’m a god. Oh, and a witch.”
