Ingrid had moved even farther away from Vander’s side, but she still felt his intense stare.
“No. She isn’t,” he said.
Ingrid bristled. She knew it only came from a desire to keep her safe, but she didn’t like Vander—or anyone—making a decision for her.
“What if we do nothing?” Chelle put in. “What if we act as if Dupuis’s note never arrived?”
Constantine stood up from the raised bed edge, leaning heavily on his cane. “It would be most unwise to underestimate Dupuis, or to take his threats lightly. He will harm Lord Brickton should Lady Ingrid refuse this summons.”
“So I won’t refuse it,” Ingrid said, turning away from Vander when he took an angry step toward her.
She’d already made up her mind.
“Ingrid, stop,” Grayson said, his fingers loosening the collar of his shirt. “It’s only been a few hours. We have time.”
“And we’re wasting it right now,” she retorted. “I’m going to get Papa out of there, and then I’ll deal with whatever happens next.”
Grayson and Gabby set in on her immediately. Each pitched their voice above the other to be heard, but they were essentially saying the same thing: that she was insane and rash and making a ludicrous decision. She was simply waiting for their throats to give out on them before she attempted to make her argument.
Luc stepped away from Marco’s side and silenced them both. “I’ll take you.”
He was finally looking at her, his gaze steady and cold.
“You … you will?” She hadn’t expected the offer from anyone, let alone Luc.
“He won’t,” Vander growled. “You are not going to drop her off at Dupuis’s door.”
Luc spared Vander a withering glance. “Do you actually believe I would leave her, Seer? I’ll stay with her the entire time. If Dupuis or his occult practices threaten her life, I’ll be there to end his.” Luc returned his steadfast gaze to her. “And to take Ingrid home safely.”
Vander started to protest again, but Nolan held up a hand to interrupt. “We haven’t discussed Axia yet.”
It would have been nice not to ever discuss the fallen angel again. The mimic demon’s portrayal of Axia’s pale serpent had been enough of a reminder to last Ingrid a very long time.
“Axia won’t allow Ingrid to discard the one thing she needs to make her a full-fledged angel again,” Nolan explained. “She has to have demons watching Ingrid at all times. There must be one corvite for every ten ravens in Paris. As soon as she hears what’s happening, she’ll make her play for Ingrid.”
Damned corvites. There had been black birds roosting on every roof as far as Ingrid could see from the top of H?tel Bastian. The corvites could have been listening.
“So we should expect demon obstacles on the way to Montmartre,” Marco said with a little too much pep. “My first day as your gargoyle is certainly proving to be entertaining, Lady Ingrid.”
Luc didn’t bother to turn and look at Marco. “I am taking her,” he said.
“Two gargoyles are better than one, brother.”
Ingrid had had enough bickering. Decisions needed to be made, and she needed to get moving. Now.
“Luc can fly me over,” she said, though the last time she’d flown over Paris with Luc she had been terrified.
“No,” he said quickly. “Corvites aren’t the only demons with wings. I can’t fight with you in my arms.”
Ingrid avoided the death glares Gabby and Grayson were sending her. Gabby had taken up pacing the roof and Grayson had unbuttoned his collar most indecently. They both must have known there was no point in protesting any longer. The decision was made.
“So what do we do?” Ingrid asked.
Luc looked uncomfortable. Whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t making him happy.
“We go to common grounds,” he answered. “And we ask the Dispossessed for help.”
H?tel du Maurier was no place for a human girl, especially one most gargoyles would consider diseased with demon blood. Luc had understood the risks when he decided to take Ingrid there—only Ingrid. Vander Burke had stormed over that condition, but Luc had ignored him. He’d found it relatively easy and unexpectedly satisfying, too.
He and Ingrid had left for H?tel du Maurier midmorning, and now he stood on the threshold of Lennier’s second-level apartments looking directly into the face of the gargoyle he’d least wanted to see: Vincent, the sour-faced Notre Dame guardian.
“You again,” Luc said coolly.
Vincent saw Ingrid and flared his nostrils. “Is this your demon girl? How dare you bring her here?”
Ingrid had stayed on Luc’s heels as they’d made their way through the abandoned and dilapidated town house. Now she’d just about adhered herself to his back.
Luc pushed against the door, nudging Vincent out of the way. He kept a hand on Ingrid’s wrist and pulled her in behind him.
“I thought you protected Notre Dame,” Luc said. “And yet this is the second time I find you playing the role of Lennier’s butler.”