“Yeah, true. None of these people have probably seen gargoyles before. Even the Dicks who are used to turning a blind eye will talk about that. If Momar has people monitoring the towns bordering Kingsley’s territory, and he’d be a fool not to, they’ll know we’re here in no time at all.”
“I’ll shower first,” Nessa said, putting her suitcase on the double bed nearest the little table in the corner. “I need to do hair and makeup and all that. It’ll take forever.”
When she’d finished showering, he quickly rinsed off the airport cooties and dressed in smart attire. He’d asked around to find out what everyone else planned on wearing before picking out his threads. No flashy dressing this time around. He needed to fit in.
“Which watch—” Nessa pulled the curler away from her hair, cocking her head to look at his bare wrist. “No watch at all?”
“A watch on me would be a dead giveaway. It’d be like a fan in the hands of a debutante. I’ll
unconsciously give subtle cues without meaning to, and any mage even remotely worth the air they breathe would clue in. No, I’ll bring it with me and slip it on right before we meet Austin’s brother.”
“And which watch will you be slipping on, pray tell?”
He reached into his case and brought it out, a classic diamond-studded Rolex, a brand everyone knew with the added bling to make a statement. It was a watch meant to wow people who knew nothing about watches.
Nessa’s eyebrows climbed. “A bit much, no?”
“Naomi told me to dress like I was going to a mage function and I was the most important mage there. In shifter terms, the alpha. I can’t very well change my clothes in the car—that would be too awkward—and not even Tristan is planning on wearing designer attire, so I figured I’d add the bling with the watch.”
“So you’re going to strap on the Elliot Graves persona for the shifters?”
“Yes.”
A knock sounded at the door. Sebastian opened it to find a gargoyle with a thick chest and unruly hair.
“Shower free?” he asked in a collection of grunts. “I won’t interrupt you banging your girl. We just have a lot of people—”
“It’s free, it’s free.” Sebastian stepped away, waving the gargoyle in. “She’s just getting ready.
Both of us are.”
The gargoyle grunted again as he headed into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the bathroom door behind him.
“I swear.” Sebastian closed it for him. “These guys are so blasé about sex and nudity.”
“Yeah. It’s nice. I like how open they are. Anyway, Sabby, I know Naomi isn’t trying to steer you wrong, but she doesn’t really know you, either. Donning that persona will make you a target.”
“That’s what I told her. I was going to wear something simpler, but then Niamh, who was eavesdropping, told me that I’d stand out regardless, being the dirty mage, and this way they’d know it didn’t bother me.”
“Did she mention that you’d be inviting trouble?”
“No. I think Niamh hopes it’ll catch me by surprise and plans to laugh at the fallout.”
Nessa sighed. “You willingly went along with this plan?”
“When those two women gang up on you, you do what they say.”
She smiled as a lock of hair slid from the curling iron. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into. If you play high-level mage with those shifters, you need to be Elliot Graves down to your core, something you’ve had trouble with around powerful shifters. You can’t let them see your weaknesses if you present yourself as having none. They’ll rip you apart.”
He looked in the somewhat crooked mirror hanging on the outside of the bathroom door, working on a magical face that was entirely new. It was the blandest one he could construct. It would hopefully ensure eyes slid right by him, especially since he wasn’t particularly tall or muscular.
Just as he was finishing, the bathroom door swung open, revealing cut muscles, shimmering wings, and way too much skin.
“Pardon me,” Sebastian muttered, peeling away from the mirror.
The gargoyle stepped out after him. “You’ve got a different face. How the hell—”
“Magic,” Nessa said drolly.
The gargoyle blinked a few times. “Why wouldn’t you make yourself better looking instead of worse?”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Nessa said in the same tone.
“Not with that face.” The gargoyle shook his head.
Sebastian prevented the frown that was budding about the quality of his new face. He’d been going for boring, not “monster on the hill.” Too late now—he didn’t have time to dream up and magically work out another.
“Anyway,” the gargoyle said, apparently air-drying, “I heard your conversation through the door.
Don’t worry about those shifters. You do you. Walk the walk. Show them clowns all the swagger. If they try to push back, me and my boys got your back. Ain’t no shifter going to be messing with you, we’ll make sure of it. I don’t care whose territory it is.”
“Thanks, bro,” Sebastian said awkwardly, grateful and relieved, and wondered if he should offer to tap knuckles or something.
“Just don’t say ‘bro,’” the gargoyle said, turning back for the bathroom. “Stick with what you’re good at.”
“Solid advice,” Nessa said.
“All right. I think that’s me leaving.” Sebastian grabbed his suitcase. “I’ll be out by the vans, looking bored and trying to fit in.”
“Good luck, brother,” the gargoyle said within the steamy space. He was pulling on some briefs.
“Won’t be too easy with that face.”
Sebastian closed the door behind him, still able to hear Nessa’s laughter as she finished with makeup and hair.
Niamh waited beside the van Sebastian had ridden in. She wore a black pantsuit with a sparkly bumblebee broach on her lapel, simple yet chic, and held a swatch of black fabric under one arm.
“Um.” He pointed at the van, then swung his finger to the one behind. “Did you want to switch rides, or…”
“Don’t be daft. C’mere.” She shook out the fabric, a thick, shiny black cape. “Put this on.”
“Wh-what?” He pushed her away as delicately as he could.
She shoved his hands to the side, swung him around, and fastened the cape around his neck.
Grabbing his shoulders, she jerked him until he was facing her again and then tightened it.
“Why is this happening?” he asked as Edgar walked up.
“Now.” She stepped back to survey him. “Presto-change-o, you’re a gargoyle. How d’ye like—”
“Them apples,” Edgar said. He had on the same pantsuit as Niamh, but with a sparkly ladybug broach. The twinning would have been weird regardless, but the pants had not been designed to accommodate an appendage. They were much too tight, showing an outline of something no one wanted to see. “You look nice, Sebastian,” he said. “Except for the face, of course. But you must know that, since you put it on.”
“Why are you wearing…” Sebastian cleared this throat. “Who dressed you?”
“Oh.” He looked down at himself. “Mr. Tom accidentally ordered the wrong type of suit for me.
It’s okay, though. I fit in!” He scooted a little closer to Niamh, looking between them.
“Back off,” she growled.