Page 9 of Stone Lover
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When the appointmentwas over Malin left the building, stepping out in the bright, morning sun with a suppressed hiss. Putting his darkened lenses back on, he got into his ground transport–a humiliation he gritted his teeth and bore—and drove downtown to his offices. What did the young humans say? ‘Another day another problem?’ Or something similar, but highly apt. He’d learned to enjoy his businesses, valued the life he’d crafted for himself outside ofcourt.
He’d even grown to appreciate the humans in his employ. One could only hear about children, and leaky faucets, and sports competitions for so long without becoming sucked in. They wanted the same things Malin’s people wanted, for the mostpart.
When he arrived at his offices and stepped through the sliding glass doors into the lobby, he knew immediately something was off. He locked eyes with the uniformed man at the front deskimmediately.
“What’s wrong, Benson?” heasked.
Benson remained stiff, narrow shoulders straight despite his advanced age. But Malin had hired the man because he’d been ex-military, and precise during his interview. Malin likedpreciseness.
“There is no problem, sir,” he replied, perfectly correct. “You have guestsupstairs.”
Malin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t have any appointments, and anyone else would have been tossed out on their asses, so thatmeant….
“Gargoyles.”
“I would say so, sir. In human form. They wereinsistent.”
Malin tensed. “Did youresist?”
“No, sir. I did as you instructed during the protocol training, escorted them upstairs and put them in the waiting room withrefreshments.”
A bit of malice peeked through an otherwise neutral expression. Likely because the ‘waiting room’ was equipped with a lock from the outside, which could be activated at the desk. Just for these instances. It was designed to allow his employees a way to protect themselves without being aggressive. Contain a threat without the threat understanding it was being contained. Though, by now, whoever was waiting in that room probably had a damn goodidea.
“Verygood.”
Malin didn’t waste another moment, allowing his man to punch in the elevator code for him. At the top, the doors slid aside silently, revealing another small, lushly carpeted lobby with a young woman at the desk, a round, brown face surrounded by tight, dark curls. Her normal smile was gone, replaced by a pinched mouth and slightly flared nostrils. Malin’s office was down the hall, but the guests would be waiting in the locked room right beside thereceptionist.
“Mr. Ioveanu,” shegreeted.
He paused. “Did they give names,Bea?”
“They felt introductions were unnecessary, Mr.Ioveanu.”
He studied her—and knew he would ask his secretary to send Bea a small gift later. She hated rudeness, and he hated unhappy employees. “Where they polite?” She was a pretty young woman, and he knew what the males of his species tended to think about human woman. That they were available for thetaking.
“As polite as one would expect from men with rocks for brains, Mr.Ioveanu.”
Malinwinced.
She proceeded him down the hall and unlocked the door and Malin stepped in, senses fully alert. Three gargoyles rose, Kausar, Nikolau and Tomas, facing him with varying degrees of annoyance on their faces–but no anger. Bea’s agitation made sense. Malin glared at Nikolau, who raised a brow. Niko rarely came into the city, preferring the company of gargoyles. But when he did, he always managed to offend a human. Especially a human woman. He seemed alternately fascinated and repulsed bythem.
“What did you say to her, Niko?” Malin asked, a hint of a growl in his voice. Niko was one of his oldest acquaintances—nearly a friend in the last few years—but Malin wouldn’t have the warrior insulting femalestaff.
Niko crossed his arms. “Nothing. You should ask her what she said tome.”
Kausar glanced between them both, then subtly inserted himself in Malin’s line of vision. “I’d heard about your locking door, boy,” his former sword master said. “Good call,there.”
Humor shone in dark eyes for a split second, before disappearing back behind an old warrior’s stoicism. His long hair was braided and bound at the neck, and he wore the vest and loose pants of his rank. The humans would think him a middle-aged man, albeit in excellent fighting condition. They would be right. But middle-aged for a gargoyle was several centuries longer than for ahuman.
Malin studied him. “Kausar, why are youhere?”
“May Isit?”
“Of course.” Malin gestured, taking a seat himself, eyes sweeping over a tray of untouched refreshments: little shortbread cookies and small bottled waters and sodas. “How long have you beenwaiting?”
“Themorning.”
