Ingrid had felt the difference the moment she’d entered Luc’s loft. Before, Marco had tended to look at her as if she were something to eat. Now, his eyes looked upon her with a fierceness that reminded her of Luc’s.
“At your service,” he murmured, and she imagined him making a low, mocking bow. A quick glance over her shoulder showed him doing just that.
“But then why has Dimitrie been here?” she asked, a cool glove of worry sliding down her ribs, enclosing her stomach. Luc’s chest expanded, as if he felt her worry, too. “Why has he pretended to be our gargoyle?”
“I plan to ask him as soon as he returns.” Something in Luc’s voice told Ingrid she didn’t want to be there when the inquisition occurred.
She drew her cloak tighter. It was freezing outside and in, and yet there were Luc and Marco without coats. Luc, without shoes.
“It won’t be for a while yet. My father and Dimitrie will likely be out until dawn searching for Grayson,” she said. Luc looked away, turning his ear as if he’d heard something.
“Your brother is back, but he’s alone,” he announced.
“Excellent. The sooner I scent him, the better,” Marco said, striding toward the open loft door.
“What do you mean?” Ingrid asked.
Luc avoided her eyes, joining Marco at the door. “He can’t trace any of his human charges until he’s scented them.”
“I’ve had the rapturous pleasure of meeting your brother before, Lady Ingrid, but at that time I wasn’t guardian of this territory,” Marco explained.
Luc’s whole body had gone rigid. He hadn’t liked Dimitrie telling Ingrid about their scenting abilities, and he probably still felt that the less she knew, the better. He didn’t want her to be a part of his world. The realization shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
“I don’t like that my father is with Dimitrie,” Ingrid said to Luc. “If we don’t know who he is or why he’s been here, we can’t trust him.”
“I know,” Luc said, ripping his shirt free from the waist of his trousers again. “I’ll find them.”
His fingers weren’t fast enough to satisfy what must have been an overwhelming need to flee, because two of his buttons popped off as he was shucking his shirt.
Ingrid saw a swath of pale skin along Luc’s chest and stomach before she spun around.
“Keep her safe.” Luc’s whisper hadn’t been for her, but it was so quiet in the loft she had heard anyway.
“Do I have a choice?” Marco returned.
Ingrid ticked off the seconds. She would give Luc ten before taking a peek. Less than half of that had passed when she heard the distinct sound of wind filling a pair of massive featherless wings.
“He’s gone,” Marco said. “And rather put out, if you ask me.”
Of course he was. This was Luc’s territory. His home. Having to share it with Dimitrie had been difficult enough for him. Now Luc had to share this place with Marco. For an eternity. Ingrid would have wanted to fly away, too.
She turned back around and saw Luc’s clothes on the floor, his shirt atop his trousers, looking as if he had simply vanished.
“I’m a Duster,” she said softly, glancing up from Luc’s clothes. “You want me dead. You want my brother dead.”
Marco straightened and pulled a frown. “I never wanted you dead, Lady Ingrid. If I had, would I have helped you escape the Underneath? I was too curious about you to wish for your death.”
And now he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. She let her shoulders relax. There was nothing to fear anymore; at least, not from him.
“Who is this Duster you call Léon?” Marco asked.
“He has arachnae blood. He had said he was going to the Daicrypta. I thought it was to have his demon blood removed,” Ingrid answered, recalling Monsieur Dupuis’s offer to do the same for her. But Léon couldn’t have had his blood drained. Not if he could still make silk webbing.
“If I had found him cocooning your brother in silk, I would have gladly killed him,” Marco said.
“Then I am relieved you didn’t find him.” She turned for the stairs. Marco might not be able to lay a finger on her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
“My lady,” he said in parting, and she thought how strange it was for him to address her by her proper title all the time.
She held still on the top step. “Why did Irindi choose you?”
“I was slipping into hibernation,” he answered. “Maybe the Order understands I’m more useful guarding a territory than turning to stone upon another one.”
She gripped the banister and faced him. “But why you?”
“Would you rather have Dimitrie?” he countered.
She would rather have only one gargoyle to sense her, to be able to locate her and feel everything she happened to feel. Irindi had been right, though: Luc did need help. The Waverlys weren’t easy humans to protect.
“Does it matter what I want?” she asked.