Vincent’s cheeks hollowed as he shifted his narrow jaw, his color rising from beeswax to pale rose.
“Your human is welcome, Luc, but tell us why the two of you have come here together,” Lennier said from his usual chair before the fire, basking in the warmth.
“The gargoyle I brought earlier, Dimitrie, told us lies. He wasn’t assigned to the abbey. He’s part of the Daicrypta, and they now have one of my humans imprisoned,” Luc said, his hand a shackle around Ingrid’s wrist. He had a feeling she didn’t mind the closeness, not with Vincent’s hooded eyes watching her.
“Another angel’s burn for you, then?” Vincent said with a distinctly pleased sneer.
“He hasn’t been harmed yet,” Luc ground out.
Why was Vincent even here? Lennier didn’t keep friends, and he didn’t make allies among the other castes the way some did. Luc watched Vincent stride around the room, his head held high, as if he lived here.
“What do you need, Luc?” Lennier asked, genuinely concerned. That was what set the elder gargoyle apart from all the others, even Luc. He truly did want to help whenever and wherever he could.
“We will not help free your human charge,” Vincent said.
“We don’t need help freeing him. I’m going to take care of that myself,” Ingrid said, her voice tremulous. She was angry. Luc could hear it, feel it. She didn’t like Vincent or the way he scared her.
Vincent turned his back on her, a purposeful snub, and walked to a window that overlooked the inner courtyard.
“Luc?” Lennier prompted.
“We expect the fallen angel Axia to intercept us in some way. Either through her hellhounds or the other demons she seems to have control over in the Underneath,” he answered. “She won’t want Ingrid to reach the Daicrypta.”
Lennier rose from his chair, his long, craggy fingers tightly gripping the armrests. “Why not?”
“I’m going to let the Daicrypta drain the angel quotient of my blood,” Ingrid answered.
It was good that she still believed this.
Luc was sure Lennier believed her, too; she said it with conviction. Of course, there was no chance in hell that Luc was going to allow Dupuis to drain one drop of Ingrid’s blood. He just needed to get her there, free Lord Brickton, and then escape with both his humans.
“You ask for added protection,” Lennier summed up.
“We have some from the Alliance,” Luc said. “But we could use more.”
Vincent spun away from the window. “These are your humans. As such, they are your burden, not ours.”
“It is an opportunity to work with the Alliance,” Lennier said, his watery blue stare floating toward Vincent.
“The Alliance,” Vincent scoffed. “They would make us their pets, complete with leash and collar. Abide by their laws? Suffer their punishments? We are not on this earth to serve the Alliance, and yet that is exactly what they want. They want our obedience, our fealty, and they want to take it by force. Well, they will not have mine. I will not lower myself to assist them, either. Them or a half-breed girl.”
“That’s a relief,” Luc said. “It would have been awkward having to tell you that you weren’t invited anyway.”
Vincent’s lips thinned as he struggled to come up with a response. Failing, he crossed his long, musty-smelling cape tightly across his front and, with a curt bow toward Lennier, left the apartment.
Ingrid released a pent-up breath against Luc’s shoulder, her nose brushing against him. He let go of her wrist, feeling absurd that he’d been so worried about Vincent’s presence. The Notre Dame gargoyle was a rotten crab apple with antihuman sentiments, and just like a rotten crab apple, he could be taken care of with one solid boot stomping.
“I hear rumors that Marco has joined you at the abbey.” Lennier’s raspy voice somehow made the chilly apartment feel colder.
“He has,” Luc answered. Gargoyles gossiped more efficiently than servants, it seemed.
“I will tend to things,” Lennier said, and Luc knew that he’d succeeded, at least at this first junction.
The elder gargoyle gestured toward the open doorway leading to the inner rooms. “Rest. We will wait until night has fallen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
From his seat by the fire, Lennier closed his eyes as if he meant to nap. Ingrid knew it was a dismissal.
“But we can’t just wait. Nightfall isn’t for hours yet,” she said.
Lennier kept his eyes shuttered. After Vincent’s show of hatred, Ingrid supposed Lennier’s response was rather kind.
She knew having more gargoyles on her side was essential, and that they wouldn’t be enthusiastic about flying in daytime skies, but any number of things could happen to her father before nightfall.