“I’m sure you remember what will happen if anyone finds out how you are connected to the former reeve.”
Yes, she was fully aware. He’d leave her alone if she swore to never go near their father, never attempt to lay claim to an inheritance that was rightfully half hers, never tell anyone what she knew about Darius and his drug business. And if she did not do all of that, he would kill her mother, who, for some unfathomable reason, he blamed for his own mother leaving his father.
Sofia had encouraged her mother to leave town as soon as the ink was dry on the contract. Just in case. Although now that he was sitting here making vague threats, she was suddenly afraid it wouldn’t be enough. Darius was clearly a resourceful guy; Sofia was now more certain than ever that he could find her mother.
As soon as she could get to her phone, she was going to call the woman and tell her to move again. Keep moving, just in case.
“I swear, no one knows. This isn’t about me. It’s-it’s…”
“About the child.”
She gasped. How did he know?
He unfolded himself from the couch and towered over her. And then he smiled. “I like this look on you. Fear.” He slapped her cheek harder than a friendly pat, but not so hard as to send her reeling. “You know what? I’ve decided to forgive this particular transgression.”
“Y-you have?”
He nodded, his beady eyes glittering in the dim light cast by the nearby lanterns. The wind abruptly picked up, catching the lock of hair that always draped over his eye and lifting it for a moment, giving him the appearance of wearing a toupee.
A branch snapped, and he whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder. “Time’s up. I need to leave. But I’ll be in touch. You living here could actually have its uses.”
And then he grabbed her neck, directly under her chin, forcing her to stare him in the eye. “Do not breathe a word to the old man, do you understand me?”
She gasped and shook her head as much as she could, given his grip. As quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let go, and Sofia struggled not to sag to her knees in front of him. She had only a shred of dignity when he was around, but she clung to it like a lifeline.
Another sound kicked him into gear, and he leaped off the wooden platform and ran toward the fence, shifting into his dragon form and soaring over the ten-foot tall barrier. A moment later, a dragon Sofia did not know stepped into a pool of light next to the carport. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
She cleared her throat and said, “Sofia. I-I’m Antoinette’s friend.”
She saw the guy nod. “She told us about you and your daughter staying here. Are you out here alone?”
Glancing at the spot where Darius had disappeared, she said, “Yes.”
“Storm’s coming. I’d consider getting inside before it hits.”
“G-good idea. Thanks.” She stuffed the cushions back into the storage container, her hands shaking. And then she snagged the wineglass and hurried toward the house, relieved that she could sense the other guy’s presence the entire time.
She didn’t want to be out in that yard alone ever again.
Chapter Thirteen
Oliver’s stone platform in the City of the Dead was empty.
Griffin tapped on the foot of a nearby statue until the gargoyle apparently grew annoyed enough to shift into her human form to bark down at him, “What is your problem?”
“I’m looking for Oliver.”
She waved her hand at the empty perch. “He isn’t here.”
Griffin bit his tongue and swallowed his snide retort. “Do you know where he is?”
“I am not his keeper.”
“I didn’t say you were. I really need to talk to him. It’s important.”
“The seeker always believes it is important.”
Griffin ground his teeth. The female gargoyle canted her head and said, “You are the newest member of our brethren.”
He nodded and hoped that knowledge would encourage the damn woman to become loose lipped.
“Have you failed at your first assignment already?” She sounded smug.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Oliver told me about you. How you believe you are not good enough to be one of the elite.” She nimbly leaped down to the ground. She had arched, black brows, a straight nose, full lips, dark skin, and a chin-length bob with a severe side part.
She patted her sleek strands and glanced at the sky, which had filled with thick, heavy clouds. “It’s so hard to maintain a straightened hairstyle in this humid city.” With a wave of her hand, she conjured a brightly colored scarf, which she wrapped around her head.
“I am Nikki,” she said with a nod.
“Griffin. What do you mean, I don’t believe I’m good enough to be one of the elite?”
“Well, do you?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because your confidence in yourself will make or break your assignments. Let me ask you this: do you think Oliver would choose someone for his team that he was not 100 percent sure could do the job?”
Griffin scoffed. “How would I know? I’ve only spoken to the man three times in my life.”
“But you are as aware of his reputation as any other gargoyle out there.”
Okay, she had a point. “Still, everyone makes mistakes.”
“This is true.”
She didn’t say any more, and he shook his head. “Can you just tell me when you expect him back?”
“I expect nothing of Oliver beyond him managing his brethren.”
Was it his imagination, or did she sound resentful? “Okay, let’s try it this way: is he in the city?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good. And do you believe
