Betrayals
Page 80

“One night, actually. Winter solstice.”
“How the hell did you find it?”
His brows shot up. “Who says I did?”
“You found them all. Veronica told me.” I paused, and then pushed on. “That means there’s one more than when you found them. Your gargoyle.”
I waited for him to tense, but his eyes stayed that same soft and mellow blue as the corners of his mouth twitched. “Perhaps.”
“So where is it?”
“Do you really think I’d tell you?”
“Do I get a prize if I find it?”
“Perhaps.” He pointed up at the town hall bell tower. “As for this one, that’s where you’ll see it on solstice night.”
“In the bell tower? Like the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“And you just randomly found it?”
“Not entirely,” he said as we resumed walking. “We are allowed hints for the last gargoyle. I said I didn’t want them. Patrick gave me one anyway, in a roundabout way. He asked if I was coming for winter solstice. The most important day of the year for Cainsville. But an even more important night for gargoyle hunting.”
“Ah, and you got the hint?”
“I did.”
“Clever boy.”
He smiled, and we continued on. So it was a good walk. Very good. Why, then, as we approached Patrick’s house, did my breathing pick up, a pit of panic forming in my gut? Because talking about Patrick helping Gabriel find the gargoyle reminded me that I was keeping a secret from him. And the last time I’d done that had nearly cost me Gabriel’s friendship.
“Dare I offer you refreshments?” Patrick asked as we sat on his sofa.
Gabriel said no for both of us. Patrick might insist that the old stories about fae food and drink don’t apply to us, but we didn’t take any chances.
“Gabriel says you have questions, Liv. Admittedly, I might hope that someday you’ll visit for the pleasure of my company …”
“Then you would suspect we had an agenda,” Gabriel said. “You would not appreciate the subterfuge. Also, a visit for merely social reasons would bore you as much as it would me.”
Patrick said, “True …” He added something else, but I didn’t catch it, because having Gabriel point out a similarity between them, however innocuous, was like a hammer blow to the spike already driving into my conscience.
“So … questions?” Patrick said.
Gabriel motioned for me to go ahead, but I shook my head and murmured that he could start, and I got a searching look for that.
“Is everything all right?” Gabriel asked, his voice low.
I nodded.
“Oh, something is definitely not all right,” Patrick said. “You’ve barely said a word since you got here, and Gabriel is practically bouncy.”
Gabriel turned a cool gaze on him. “I am hardly—”
“You’re as close to bouncy as I’ve ever seen you. You didn’t eat enchanted fortune cookies, did you?” When Gabriel frowned, Patrick said, “Freaky Friday? Body switch?” He sighed. “It’s a sad day when the three-hundred-year-old bòcan makes pop culture references that the thirty-year-old humans don’t get.”
“You’re three hundred?” I said.
“There. Got your attention. Even in your lowest mood, your curiosity will get the better of you. Three hundred … give or take a few decades. After a while, one stops counting. Are you back with us, then, Olivia? Leaving the brooding to Gabriel?”
“Brooding and bouncing,” Gabriel murmured. “I’m not sure which is worse.”
“The bouncing is adorable,” Patrick said. “It’ll keep people on their toes, wondering what you’re up to. The proverbial cat with the canary.”
I cut in. “We’ve made significant progress solving the lamiae murders. Which we haven’t shared with the elders.”
“That’s why I like you, Liv. You know how to play the game. Very refreshing. So, in return for questions answered, I get the scoop on the murders. Which don’t interest me personally, but the fact that you confide in me is currency.”
“Even if I only confide in you because you’re useful?”
“You aren’t supposed to admit that.”
“Honesty, remember? But because your ego is so delicate, here’s a boost for you. You were right; Ioan was wrong.”
“Naturally.” Patrick leaned back in his chair. “What was I right about this time?”
“The samhail. They still exist. Which I confirmed because the guy who killed the lamiae—Ciro Halloran—also comes from a samhail family. Unlike the Madoles, his family has mostly retired from the biz. They didn’t feel they were getting enough out of it.”
“As a pragmatist and a realist, I must admit he is correct. Our skills did not hold their value well. Take the leprechauns, for example.”
“There are leprechauns?”
“Irish fae known for making trouble. Related to bòcan, but with far more press, which we are very happy to let them have. They’ve gotten a little bitter about theirs. If you ever meet one, be sure to offer him some Lucky Charms. They love that.”
“Do they grant wishes? That’s the lore, right? Three wishes if you catch one?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Pot of gold?”