Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
The doorbell rang, an eerie series of gongs that had Naomi stepping out of the room behind me.
“What in the world is that?” she asked, looking around at the walls. “That can’t be the doorbell. Can it? Is that the doorbell and no one thought to tell me?”
I frowned at her as Mr. Tom glanced back. “Didn’t you ring the bell when you first came?”
“No. I never got the chance.” She started forward. “Well, that’ll have to go. You can’t have a beautiful interior, like this is shaping up to be, with a gong bell! Disgraceful.”
“It still matches the exterior.” I shrugged. “It’ll give it a little authenticity until we paint.”
“What is all this commotion?” Patty asked from the top of the stairs, Nessa’s electronic notepad in hand. Her reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose. “It sounds like we’re preparing for a raid.”
Without another word, Naomi removed herself to the back of the house and her makeshift office. She was still a little offended that Patty had tried to hug her.
Mr. Tom opened the door, straightening his back and lifting his chin.
“You rang?” he said, and I was pretty sure he didn’t realize he was mimicking Lurch from the Addams Family.
“I want a word with the female,” a gruff voice said, the arrogance of the speaker evident in his tone.
“The female?” Ivy House said, clearly annoyed and borderline angry.
“May I ask who is calling and what this is in reference to?” Mr. Tom asked, his wings fluttering.
“I’ve got it, Mr. Tom,” I said, putting my hand on his arm.
“Well now, Jessie…” Patty started down the stairs.
“Of course, miss.” Mr. Tom stepped out of the way.
A man in his late sixties stood at the top of the steps, his gray hair parted down the middle and his big frame a relic of the power and strength he’d once possessed. Wrinkles now heavily lined his face and drooped at the corners of his hard brown eyes. He wore a navy blazer buttoned over a white dress shirt without a tie, and navy slacks that ended at brown suede shoes.
I recognized his face from the studying I’d done. Withor, leader of the Nikken cairn, a little older than the picture I’d been given.
Behind him, parked by the curb, waited an empty sporty Mercedes. No guardians stood beside it or seemed to have accompanied him here. I didn’t feel anyone in the air above Ivy House and couldn’t see anyone in the blue sky over the street. He appeared to be alone.
I was almost positive I knew what this was regarding.
“Can I help you?” I asked evenly, stepping just outside the door.
He surveyed me for a moment, his gaze taking in my face, hair, and then my jeans and plain T-shirt.
“You’re the female gargoyle, correct?” he asked as Patty joined Mr. Tom behind me.
“Yes. And you’re the leader of Nikken.” I stepped forward and put out my hand. “Jessie Ironheart.”
He looked at my hand but made no move to shake it. I’d been told he was a hand shaker or occasionally a fist bumper. Apparently not with me.
“Ironheart is the name given to you by the shifters,” he said, his wings fluttering in obvious disapproval. “It has no relevance here.”
It took everything I had not to allow my eyebrows to drift up to my hairline.
“Who in the hell does he think he is talking to?” Ivy House said, and I could feel her deep well of power start to rise. “You are his queen. He should be bowing to you, not condescending about your choice of name. The Ivy House heirs were ruling his kind long before his cairn was even established. Teach him a lesson!”
I took a deep breath, trying for calm. Even still, a blast of magic rocked the front porch, my annoyance teaming with Ivy House’s anger.
He tensed, and his eyes slowly narrowed.
“I am going to excuse that lapse in judgment,” I told him. “I will warn you, however, that you’d be wise not to tell me what does and does not have relevance while standing on my property and within my territory.” I paused for a moment and pretended not to notice the sky darkening around Ivy House. She was not so eager to excuse his lapse in judgment. “Checking the calendar might also be wise, since you are a day early for the welcome dinner. What is it you want, Withor?”
“You may call me master or lord. My given name is reserved for equals, of which I cannot imagine you will ever be.”
The house rumbled, as though from a small earthquake. I’d probably need to get this guy out of here before Ivy House took matters into her own hands. As it was, I was still trying desperately to keep my eyebrows out of my hairline.