A little peek
QOTD: Keep your friends close. And your enemies so close… that you’re almost kissing.
I'm still working on my gargoyles book - it's been a bit slow going this weekend because I just started watching that new TV series Zoo and have been catching up on allt he episodes. I've been eyeing my cats very speculatively I can tell you. That part where they're all in the tree... so creepy. But I'm still hard at it and enjoying it thoroughly. Things might be a little slow because I'm going away in a couple of days on vacation - yay! - so I won't be doing any writing for a week, but I've still got my fingers crossed for the end of August for a release date.
For now, here's just a little peek about what's coming up in the book:
“Kyyyyyyyy – hic – lieeeeeeeeee!”
Kylie groaned at the slurred and almost indecipherable call. She ducked into the overgrown hedge maze and bit her lip as the twigs scraped over her bare arms.
“Kyyyyyyyyyyyyyyllllliiiieeeeeeeeeee!”
It was even louder and even drunker than before. Lord, God and Superman save her from arrogant, pervy drunks.
Gary let out a Ky but then halted, and the unmistakable sound of him hurling into some unsuspecting shrubbery replaced the wailing of her name. Kylie wobbled slightly on her heels and cursed the third glass of champagne she had indulged in. Never mind the fourth glass still clutched in her fingers. Perhaps she ought to have left that in the house.
The sound of a loud belch wound its way to her, and Kylie bit back a sigh of disgust. “Kylie, where are you?” His voice was now a plaintive whine.
At least he was drunker than she was. With dubious dexterity, she managed to slip off her shoes and delved further into the maze. Gary wasn’t a bad guy. But good guys tended not to remember this when they were hammered. And Gary wasn’t exactly a good guy – he was an okay guy, and he didn’t seem to be able to take no for an answer when sober. Inebriated, she didn’t want to find out what he thought no meant. Probably ‘take me, I’m yours’. Best not to tempt fate.
She felt her way through the maze, her legs seeming to know automatically the way, and still clutching the half-full champagne flute.
Gary called her name a few more times, before harrumphing. “Fine, bitch, plenty more – hic – fish in the sea.”
Kylie snorted. Well, he would know, being a dedicated fishmonger. She didn’t have any problems with fishmongers in general. But this one's first girlfriend was probably a sturgeon. And the sturgeon got the crappy end of the deal in that relationship. She heard his tromping footsteps retreating to the house, or perhaps to a pond to find the new object of his affections.
Her body sagged a little in relief, but her feet didn’t stop moving. As if independent from her brain, they moved, seemingly knowing where they were going. She was glad they did because Kylie had no clue. The evening had been a washout. She’d managed to spend half the evening with her skirt tucked into her panties, made an ass out of herself in front of the most handsome man to hit Devil’s Hang since probably the dawn of time and been mercilessly pursued by Gary the fishy pervert. Whatever the night had in store for her next could only be a welcome relief.
Kylie gasped as she found herself in the center of the hedge maze. There it was. Or rather, there he was. Naturally he hadn’t moved a stone muscle since the last time she had accidentally stumbled upon his resting place. He sat in the middle of the clearing, focused on cold, contemplative thought.
“We meet again,” she murmured to the gargoyle and then let out a self-conscious giggle. She wasn’t someone who was prone to talking to inanimate objects, or even pets. Her Aunt Bea was prone to talking to everything that happened to be close at hand, from her cell phone to her knitting. Kylie had put it down to the quirkiness of age, but here she was doing the same thing.
But, this was different, wasn’t it? What had Professor Hardcastle called him? Special. Too special to be placed on the house for fear that he might be damaged. So special that he had to be kept out here where few people would see him. Yet, why not keep him in the house if he was so important? Something to do with needing moonlight - Kylie hadn’t really paid that much attention to the professor.
She dropped her shoes to the ground and circled around the statue. Her eyes took in the ridged horns on his head on the large head, much more square and solid than a human’s. His body was much bigger too and not just because massive wings framed his body. It was like he was designed to be at least an eighth bigger than a regular human. His hand and feet ended in sharp looking talons and his tail curled around his feet. She probably shouldn’t have noticed – lord knows why her mind even went there – but she saw that he was wearing a loincloth and nothing else. She called herself a deviant and moved on.
Gingerly, she placed a hand on a stone bicep and bit her lip. “Why are you so fascinating?” she mused, aloud.
She shook her head. She was doing it again. Talking to herself, or rather talking to him like he was real. Maybe she was losing it. Maybe all the stress of losing her fiancé, her job and her home was all finally coming crashing down on her, and she was finally cracking. She’d been strong and stoic about everything up until that point. Taking everything with grace and dignity, but now, finally it appeared that she was up the crazy creek without a paddle.
Kylie felt tears welling in her eyes and desperately tried to blink them back. She didn’t want to cry and mope, and not just because her mascara wasn’t waterproof. She just wasn’t the type to lament her poor fortune – she always tried to make the best of things.
But damnit, why should she? Wasn’t she deserving of some self-pity? Her little lot in life hadn’t been all that much, but it had been hers, and it was so… so… unfair that she had lost everything. How could her asshole fiancé and best friend have done this to her? Didn’t they feel any love for her? Any compassion? Clearly not.
Hell, what had she ever seen in that dickhead? “You’d never do that to me, would you?” murmured Kylie to the statue before gulping back the almost forgotten champagne still clutched in one fist.
She dropped the flute to the ground; it dropped harmlessly into the overgrown grass. She felt a lightheaded giddiness that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, it was quite soothing. It made her wonder why she didn’t drink alcohol on a regular basis if this was the freeing effect it had. All the crushing sadness that had reared its ugly head a second ago was being drowned by the bubbles of the champagne.
“Screw them!” she declared. “They don’t deserve me. No, I deserve better,” she babbled, in a convinced voice that could only come from someone who was verging on totally wasted.
Kylie stood in front of the statue and stifled a hiccup. He wasn’t handsome in the way you would call human’s handsome, but he was certainly striking. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks; the cool stone was pleasant under her touch. “No fiancé to kiss me,” she slurred, slightly. “And Holling thinks I’m a lunatic. No kisses for Kylie. Haven’t been kissed in over six months.”
She smirked as a silly idea formed in her head. Silly but not one she rejected immediately due to her inebriated state. “Might as well kiss you,” she whispered into his stern face. “At least you can’t complain about my bad breath.” They couldn’t arrest her for fondling a gargoyle, right?
He didn’t object so, laughingly, and obviously drunkenly, she pressed her lips up against his for the briefest of moments. Kylie chuckled at herself as she pulled back, but she gasped as the gargoyle let out a groan.
No, that wasn’t possible. Stone statues don’t groan.
It did it again, and she jumped back, her bare foot tangled in the grass and fell on her ass with a thump that reverberated up her spine.
Kylie watched, frozen to the spot and her mouth open in a silent scream as the gargoyle stirred. His whole body came alive, his skin brightening as life flowed through him. He stood up, straightening, stretching his limbs and wings. He must have been almost seven feet tall, eight feet including those towering wings. A growl shuddered out of his throat as his eyes turned from blank stone to piercing yellow that glowed in the dark of the night.
Slowly, he looked around until his gaze alighted on her. Up until this point, Kylie had been gaping at him as if it was all just a product of her overactive and alcohol affected imagination. But then he did something that downright terrified her.
The huge beast cocked his head on one side. “Hello,” he rumbled.
Kylie paused for a beat as her heart caught up with her mouth, and she screamed before scrambling to her feet and fleeing. Or at least trying to flee; she made it two feet before she tripped over her own shoes and hit her head on one of the stone steps.
The last thing she remembered was rolling over and the statue looming over her.
Ps - quote of the day from 30 Rock.
