The hot angelic glow abruptly went out, leaving the loft in cold blackness. The weight on Luc’s shoulders lifted, but he stayed bowed over, knees on the floor. Beside him, Marco’s laugh rumbled low.
“I told you not to trust the boy,” he said, and then sprang to his feet. “Don’t bother looking for him—he was gone when I arrived. Irindi came to me earlier and instructed me to join you.”
“Then who is Dimitrie?” Luc rose slowly, his mind racing with tangled thoughts. The sharp edge of panic brought a wash of gooseflesh over his skin.
“He doesn’t belong here, that much I know,” Marco answered, strolling to the loft door and shoving it open once again. “He lied and took on a territory that wasn’t his. He’s either a glutton for punishment or”—Marco looked over his shoulder at Luc—“someone else wanted him here.”
Marco peered out toward the rectory. “Where is Lady Ingrid?”
Luc went to his cot and sat down. He needed to think. He needed to know why Dimitrie would have come here, or who would have sent him.
“Forget Ingrid for a moment.” A demand for Marco to stay away from her rolled to a halt on the tip of Luc’s tongue. Receive him accordingly.
Hell and damnation.
“We need to find out who Dimitrie is,” Luc said.
“And we will,” Marco replied. “The very moment he returns. Though I can’t promise I’ll ask very nicely.”
Whatever the reason, Luc suspected it had to do with Ingrid. Perhaps even with Axia—could she have sent Dimitrie here somehow? And all this time Luc had allowed him to be close to Ingrid. He closed his hands into fists and surfaced her scent.
She filled him with alertness. She wasn’t asleep. Luc went to the loft door and saw something he hadn’t before: the lights were on in the rectory’s front sitting room and in the servants’ ell. And Ingrid was crossing the churchyard for the carriage house.
Marco saw her coming.
“This will be much better than hibernation,” he murmured.
At least Marco couldn’t harm her now. Luc wouldn’t have to worry like he did before. But what if Marco felt something … more for her, the same way Luc did?
“You’re a Wolf,” Luc said, thinking of all the dog gargoyle statues scattered along the abbey roof. “Only Dogs should be guardians here.”
Marco held up his hands. “Then there must be a handsome wolf gargoyle hidden somewhere amongst all those ugly dogs.”
Ingrid’s call traveled from below just then. “Luc?”
Marco moved toward the loft stairs in anticipation.
“Are you here, Luc?”
She appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes landing on Marco first, then on Luc’s half-dressed form. She stood inert, as if both sights were unexpected hazards.
“Lady Ingrid,” Marco greeted her, his eyes a touch too intense.
He was scenting her. The angels had to be laughing at Luc just then. Your human charges are now his. Irindi had given Marco exactly what he wanted, and there was nothing Luc could do to change it.
“Where were you?” Ingrid said to Luc as she edged carefully around Marco, clutching the top of her cloak around her throat. “Grayson’s missing from the rectory and my father wanted the carriage. Dimitrie said he couldn’t find you.”
Luc took up his shirt and began to pull it on. “Grayson had a run-in with Léon.”
Ingrid gasped. “Oh God, is he hurt?”
“Léon just tangled him up in a bit of silk webbing and gave him a warning for you to stay away from the Daicrypta. Grayson’s on his way back right now.”
She watched him button his shirt. “Wait. You went out.”
“Of course I did,” Luc replied, tucking his shirt into the waist of his trousers.
“Dimitrie didn’t,” Ingrid said thoughtfully, almost to herself. “Not until ten minutes ago, at least. He took my father out in the carriage instead.”
Luc crossed a glance with Marco. He didn’t care for Lord Brickton, but he also didn’t want the imposter anywhere near one of his humans.
“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said. “If you were called to Grayson’s side, why wasn’t Dimitrie?”
Luc didn’t want to tell her that he’d been taken for a fool. Marco, on the other hand, had no reservations. He sauntered away from the top of the stairs, arms crossed.
“Because the boy lied to all of you,” Marco said. “He isn’t your gargoyle.”
Luc’s chest felt air-light when she looked to him first, and not Marco. Luc nodded.
“It’s the truth. Irindi knew nothing about Dimitrie. He was never assigned to the abbey.”
He belonged somewhere else. A gargoyle always had a territory, even shadow gargoyles. The question of where Dimitrie’s territory was pricked at Luc like a warning.
“But you do have a new gargoyle,” Marco added.
Ingrid held Luc’s gaze. Her corn-silk brows furrowed, and a twist of apprehension knotted itself deep in Luc’s stomach. Her apprehension, not his.
She knew who it was, and she gasped his name.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Marco.”