He could hear the sounds of a scuffle, which he figured was the rest of the warlocks battling with Antoinette and Ketu and the other dragons.
The three stalking warlocks were about ten feet away now. Griffin reached out and snagged Sofia’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “This is really lousy timing, but I want you to know that I love you.”
“What?”
He glanced down at her. She was staring at him like he’d just told her the president was a warlock.
“I told you my timing sucks. But I just want you to know.”
“This is not a conversation I’m willing to have with you right now.”
“Because you love me too.”
“Because it doesn’t matter,” she snapped, and then she gave him a shove that sent him stumbling backward while she swung at the nearest warlock, catching him on the chin and sending him stumbling too.
“It totally matters,” Griffin insisted while he tackled a second warlock, grabbed his head, and slammed it against one of the steel bars attached to the shelving unit where Penelope was hiding. The entire thing shuddered, and he cursed his own stupidity. Next time, slam the guy into the wall.
“Even if we get out of this thing alive, you can’t have a relationship, remember?” Sofia said as she kneed a warlock in the groin.
Griffin winced while the guy fell to the ground and curled into the fetal position. “It’s important that you know how I feel. Besides—”
A warlock jumped onto his back, and he headbutted the guy, then shoved him into the wall. It gave under the pressure, and they both tumbled through into the front section of the antiques shop.
Sofia stepped through the hole in the wall behind them. “Why? Why would you do that to me? Why is it so important that I know how you feel when you won’t do anything about it?”
She stood there with her hands on her hips while Griffin and the warlock scuffled on the floor. After a few moments, she reached down and punched the warlock in the face, and Griffin scrambled out of his slackened grip. He stood and brushed drywall dust from his shirt, making Sofia cough and wave her hand in front of her face.
“I can’t, Sofia, not won’t. At least, I thought I couldn’t. But maybe—” He punched the warlock again, knocking him out, and then headed back toward the storage room.
“Maybe what?” she demanded, following him.
“Duck,” he shouted, and she did. A warlock went flying past, crashing into a display of centuries-old Mardi Gras decorations.
“I want to complete the dragon mating ritual,” he said.
She paused in the middle of a fist fight with a warlock. The guy took advantage of the distraction and punched her. Griffin roared, grabbed the guy by the head, and slammed him into the concrete floor before kicking him in the kidneys.
“You okay?” he asked Sofia.
She brushed off his concern. “You would seriously mate with me?”
“Are you kidding? Hell yes.”
“If you could.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to tell you—”
Something hit him in the face, and he shifted his focus to fending off the warlock who attacked him. The guy was suddenly jerked away from him; a woman with bronze skin and a long, blonde braid placed her hands on the guy’s head and twisted until a crack rent the air.
The woman dropped the dead warlock and brushed her hands together before smiling at Griffin. “Hi there.”
He stared back until Sofia joined him. “Daughter of Light,” he finally said.
Her grin widened. “I’m Becca. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Griffin said, but his attention was caught by movement behind her.
She lifted one finger. “Hold that thought.” She whipped around and made quick work of destroying the warlock who had attempted to sneak up on her.
“Damn,” Sofia said, her voice breathy.
Becca flipped her braid over her shoulder. “So, who are you two?”
“I’m Griffin.”
“From Oliver’s brethren.”
He nodded. “Yes. And this is Sofia.”
“A dragon. Part of the Rojo colony?”
Sofia shook her head.
Becca’s eyes widened. “O-o-oh. You’re the one raising a Daughter of Light.”
Sofia nodded.
“Nice to meet you. Where is she?”
Sofia pointed up. Becca followed the line of her finger. Griffin glanced up too. Penelope was still perched on the top shelf of the steel storage unit, her arms wrapped around one of the metal poles.
“Hi,” Becca said, waving. “Do you need help getting down?”
Penelope nodded.
“What about the warlocks?” Sofia asked.
Becca stabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “That was the last one. They’re all dead now. Hang on, I’m coming up.”
There was a popping noise, similar to when the warlocks appeared, and then Becca was gone. Griffin jerked his head up and spotted her sitting next to Penelope. They had a quick conversation, then Penelope wrapped her arms around Becca’s neck and they both disappeared, reappearing in front of Griffin and Sofia.
“Penelope!” Sofia cried and grabbed her daughter, pulling her into a hug until Penelope protested that she couldn’t breathe.
“Come on,” Becca said, and they followed her down the row to the open area of the storage room, where several more warlocks lay dead on the ground. Although a few of them sported cuts and bruises and were grimacing as if in pain, none of the group that had accompanied them had suffered the same fate, thank the gods.
Darius sat at Antoinette’s feet, his hands secured behind his back. He appeared to have taken the most abuse of the crowd, other than the warlocks, of course. Griffin suspected Maria may have done most of the damage.
Besides Antoinette, Ketu, Delilah, Trennon, and Maria, another dragon and another gargoyle had joined the crowd. The gargoyle was huge, with a bald head, ebony skin, and more muscles than anyone Griffin had ever experienced. The dragon had
