“So you say,” he muttered. He barked a one-word command, and the enormous cerberus sat. Two heads continued to glower at me, but the third turned to lick a slimy trail from Gus’s collarbone to his hat. Gus shoved past the head with a grunt, crossing the kennel to unearth a small box from a niche in the floor. The cerberus tracked him with one head, the other two locked on me.
“You don’t believe me?” I asked, studying the back of my hands. In the soft overhead lights, the amethyst scars appeared to shift of their own accord. I flexed my fingers, remembering how right it had felt to use the baetyl’s power to grow crystal from my thin bones. I hadn’t admitted it to Marcus, or even to myself until that moment, but I found the scars beautiful.
The cerberus leaned a head close to sniff me, and I extended my hand, forgetting to be afraid. Moist nostrils pressed to the scars, and a soft woof escaped a different throat. When I met the cerberus’s gaze, he whined and lay down, resting all three heads on the floor in front of him. Eyes unfocused, I stared at the cerberus and stretched my shoulders, missing my wings . . .
Gus turned around with a glare, but his steps faltered at whatever he saw in my expression. I blinked, coming fully back to the moment. The memory of the baetyl faded, and I stifled a yawn. This time my lack of trepidation was unfeigned when I reached over the subdued cerberus for the wad of cash Gus held. Gus hesitated, then smacked the bundle into my palm. He started toward the door of the kennel, but I didn’t move out of his way as I counted the bills.
“This is only as much as Marcus paid you. The deal was half again as much for returning the sled.”
“It was in full working order when I gave it to you—”
“Which is exactly how we’re returning it, but you’re right; I didn’t factor in how much Marcus should charge you for repairing it. He’s an FPD fire elemental, and everyone knows they get a good salary, so if we estimate his hourly rate . . .”
“Now hang on, there, girl. That’s not what I meant.”
“But you have a point. So why don’t you hand over the full sum you said you’d pay to get the sled back, plus half of the fee you charged me to take us to Reaper’s Ridge—seeing as how you got us only halfway there—and we’ll call it even.”
Gus’s jaw muscle worked as his gaze flicked between my bland expression and the scars on my hands; then he spun on a heel to dig through his stash of money again. Oliver undulated up to the cerberus and scratched him behind one of his ears. I stepped back when the three-headed dog tried to get his back foot up to help Oliver out.
When Gus caught sight of his formerly intimidating cerberus practically rolling belly up for my gargoyle, his mouth pinched so tight I thought he’d crack a tooth. He slapped another stack of bills into my hand, and I took my time counting them, watching Oliver out of the corner of my eye and trying not to smile.
When I was satisfied Gus hadn’t stiffed us, I stuffed the bills into my back pocket, wincing when I hit bruised flesh, and signaled Oliver that it was time to leave. He reluctantly loped toward the exit.
“Useless mutt,” Gus growled. The cerberus stood and licked Gus’s face affectionately before he could close the kennel door. A chorus of whines and pants followed us out of the barn.
Marcus’s gaze sought mine the moment we emerged from the barn, his thunderous scowl softening marginally at the sight of us. Gus’s friends didn’t seem to notice the change in him, and they fidgeted nervously as we approached.
“I might have to go check out the ridge—see if you’re telling the truth about the storms being gone,” Gus mused as we stepped back into the firelight.
“Go ahead. But to shut down those storms, the gargoyles and I had to set powerful protection wards. You won’t get close to the top—or to those mine shafts, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Gus had the grace to look embarrassed that I’d seen through him so easily. “If you got up there, I don’t think I’ll have a problem,” he grumbled.
“Knock yourself out trying,” I said. Memory of the pulsing migraine and menacing presence of the baetyl pursuing us stole the flippancy from my tone, making the words come out hard. I thought I’d ruined my exit, but Gus’s troubled expression said otherwise.
We paused at the sled to collect our packs, and I handed the cash over to Marcus, expecting him to pocket it. Instead, he counted out what he’d paid Gus for the sled, then gave the rest of the money back to me. “You earned it.”
I stuffed it into my bag with a soft sigh of relief. I would be able to pay rent and have some left over, maybe enough to replace the clothes I’d ruined on this trip.
I shouldered my bag and Marcus picked his up with one hand, letting it dangle rather than slinging it across his injured back. He reached his free hand out to me, and we twined our fingers together. Oliver squeezed between us, bumping our hands with his head. His jaw cracked in a tongue-lolling yawn, and he tilted against me. Marcus caught us both when I staggered under the gargoyle’s weight.
“Do you mind if I fly ahead? I’m tired.”
“Go for it. We’ll be right behind you,” I said.
He trundled a few steps forward, then flapped heavily into the air.
Marcus and I followed, walking hand in hand down the moonlit street, and I couldn’t help thinking it would have been a lot more romantic if we both weren’t injured and covered in dried sweat, pungent ointment, and half a mountain of dirt. I lifted my shirt and sniffed, grimacing. A bath couldn’t come soon enough.
“Hang on.” Marcus jerked to a halt, his expression comically troubled. “Did this trip count as a first date?”
I cocked my head, ruminating out loud. “We did stay overnight in a very exotic location. You even made me dinner. Yeah, I think that counts as a date.”
“Well, crap. How can I possible top that?”
“You’ll think of something.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, rejoicing in the realization that our adventures together were only just beginning.