Blowing a raspberry at her retreating back, Levet slowly followed in her wake. A task made easy by the cramped size of the tunnel that had been chiseled deep in the ground.
Taking full pleasure in watching his mother smack her head into the ceiling as she wrenched her large body through the doorway that protected the inner sanctum, Levet waddled in behind her.
The cavern was large, but empty beside a number of torches that spread a soft glow over the gray stone and the lone desk just a few feet from the door.
“Doyenne.” Rising from his seat behind the desk, a gargoyle several inches shorter than Berthe and built on far more slender lines, hurried forward.
Levet skipped out of the way as Emery performed a bow, deliberately ignoring Levet’s presence.
Ah . . . the pleasure of being shunned.
Not that Levet wanted to be acknowledged by the fussy bureaucrat who always acted like he had a stick stuck up his derrière.
“Emery.” She waited until the Protector of the Wall straightened, her expression impatient. “I have an official pronouncement.”
The gargoyle blinked, his wings fluttering in sudden agitation.
“But . . . the elders.”
Berthe grabbed her companion by the horn, dragging him until they were snout to snout.
“Do you question my right to rule this nest?”
“Non, Doyenne,” the peon said anxiously.
“Then stand aside.”
Emery hastily scrambled back to his desk, his leathery wings pressed tightly against his body as he tried to make himself as small as possible.
Levet knew the feeling.
His mother was an expert at making a man wilt.
With a suitably dramatic motion, Berthe turned to face the far side of the room. She gave a wave of her hand, causing the torches to flare higher so the smooth wall was revealed.
Levet felt a tingle of ancient power rush over him, in awe, as always, at the sight of the ancient artifact.
An object of magic, the Wall of Memories defied all laws of physics to soar through the ceiling into an endless darkness. Not that Levet glanced up. Infinity always made him dizzy.
The names etched into the stone shimmered in the light, pulsing as if in time to each individual heartbeat.
Berthe waved her hand and the names shifted, as if she’d turned the page. Another wave, another page.
Silence filled the cavern as Berthe continued to search through the names, at last squeezing her hand shut to freeze the Wall.
Then, stepping forward, she pointed her claw at an empty space on the stone.
“I, Doyenne of the Ascaric nest, do hereby un-shun Levet, son of Berthe, to the Guild of Gargoyles. From this night forward he is to be accepted within the Guild with full rights and voting privileges.”
There was a faint gasp of disbelief from Emery, but Levet’s attention was focused on the Wall as an unseen power skimmed over the stone, leaving behind his name etched in elegant script.
His chest swelled as pride filled his heart to overflowing.
He might be stunted. His magic might be . . . unpredictable.
And he might need a Dr. Phil intervention when it came to Yannah driving him batty, but he had done the impossible.
He was once again a full-fledged, card-carrying (okay, there wasn’t actually a card) member of the Gargoyle Guild.
Life was good.
Valla allowed Elijah to escort her back toward her apartment with conflicted emotions.
On one hand, she was disappointed they’d been unable to find Levet. As good as Elijah might be at tracking, he couldn’t fly, and while they’d hit most of the usual hangouts for gargoyles, they hadn’t managed to catch Levet’s scent.
She was desperately worried for the tiny gargoyle.
On the other hand she was breathlessly giddy with the transformation in Elijah.
She didn’t know how or why, but for the first time he truly seemed to see her as a woman, not a victim. And not just in a physical sense, although his determined seduction had been spectacularly wonderful.
He’d actually listened to her when she’d complained he treated her as a child. And even gone against every instinct he possessed to allow her to enter the seedier parts of the city in an attempt to find Levet.
Oh, she wasn’t an idiot.
She knew he could never share the intensity of her feelings.
He might genuinely desire her, but she would be nothing more than a passing distraction who would be swiftly forgotten when his attention was caught by a new lover, or by his true mate.
She ignored the pain that knifed through her heart.
She’d waited a long, long time for Elijah to even acknowledge her as a woman.
Why shouldn’t she enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted?
They’d reached the boulevard that ran past her apartment, when Elijah grasped her elbow to pull her to a halt.
“Valla.”
She tilted back her head to study his pale, perfect face.
“What is it?”
He paused, as if considering his words. “It’s growing late.”
Valla frowned. She didn’t have the superior senses of a vampire, but she could tell time.
“There’s still a couple of hours before dawn.”
“True, but—”
Hmm. Something weird was going on. But what?