“Huh?” Sofia gave the half-full carafe a longing look.
“I know as a gargoyle my main job is to protect those who both need and deserve it, and you and Penelope certainly qualify, but-but I…that’s not been my main focus for the last few years. At least not, well, not to this extent.”
Why was he telling her this? “We’ve been managing by ourselves for four years, so if that’s your reason for returning, you can go ahead and fly back to New Brunswick now. We’re fine.”
He canted his head. “You remember where I’m from.”
She remembered a lot about that fateful night. Too much.
Elbowing him out of the way, she pulled a mug out of the cabinet. In childlike scrawl, the words “World’s Best Mom” were written across the white surface along with a bunch of terribly drawn flowers and dragons. Penelope had made it for her at daycare for Mother’s Day last year. It was a human daycare, run by the church two blocks away, and Sofia had enrolled her partially to ensure the kid had some sort of social interaction skills prior to starting kindergarten, but also so that Sofia could catch a few hours’ extra sleep three days a week.
She added a dollop of creamer to the cup and then filled it with steaming, dark liquid before lifting it to her nose and breathing deeply. She took a tentative sip and sighed.
Someone made a strangled noise, and she opened her eyes. Griffin stared at her in a way she didn’t quite recognize. Did he think she was insane? Or was that attraction in his dilated pupils?
It was hard to tell.
“Hold on,” she said, lifting a finger and taking another few sips. After another sigh, she said, “Okay, I think my brain is functioning on at least two-thirds of its cylinders now.”
His lips twitched. “Are you always like this in the morning?”
“Nope. Usually, I’m super grumpy. But I’ve just had the first full night’s sleep in four years, so I’m damn near cheerful at the moment.”
He snorted. She glowered and drank more coffee.
“We need to talk about Penelope’s protection,” Griffin said.
Sofia shook her head. “I just told you, she’s perfectly fine.”
“No, she isn’t. Do you know what a Daughter of Light is?”
She frowned and took another drink. “Nope.”
He squeezed his fists and paced from one end of her tiny kitchen to the other, which encompassed maybe three steps of his long-legged strides. “She’s very special. Way more special than you comprehend.”
“Hey. Despite the way she was left on my doorstep, I happen to love that child as if she hung the moon in the sky.”
“Her ancestors likely did,” he muttered, which made no sense and wouldn’t even if she had enough caffeine in her system.
“But your love for her is not what is in question here. Sofia, she’s a precious commodity.”
“Again, I’m fully aware. I know you don’t get it, but, well, I became a parent that day I woke up and realized you’d abandoned her with me. I’ve been raising her for four years. I fully comprehend how special she is. Way more than you do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Are we seriously going to have this battle? Because I’m fully prepared for war on this point.” She slammed her mug down onto the counter with enough force to splash pale brown liquid everywhere but not to break the ceramic.
He winced. “You are missing the point.”
“No, I’m—”
“Hey, Mommy, guess what?”
Sofia turned to her daughter, who had entered the kitchen, and, apparently, the conversation.
“I’m a god!”
Sofia stared at her child. Penelope had a hell of an imagination.
“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Griffin said.
Sofia’s gaze darted from the crazy girl to the crazy gargoyle. “Is this a game you all created this morning? Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that I don’t know the rules?”
Penelope giggled. “It’s not a game, Mommy. It’s true. I’m a god. Oh, and a witch.”
“Yeah, Griffin told me that last night.”
“He told you that I’m a god and a witch?”
Sofia frowned and chanced a glance at Griffin, who gave her a stony stare in return. “No, just a witch.”
“And I’m a god, too. See? Feel my fingers.” The little girl grabbed Sofia’s hand and pressed the tips of their fingers together. Sofia definitely felt magic, but she had no idea how to differentiate between hers and Penelope’s.
Griffin shook his head. “She can’t tell, Penelope. She doesn’t have enough experience with other beings to be able to separate the various kinds of magic. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure most dragons don’t even know the story of the Daughters of Light.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Sofia said, reluctantly. Very reluctantly. “Tell me the story.”
Griffin hesitated. Oh, so he wasn’t quite ready to confide the rules of this game, huh?
“Come on, out with it.”
He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Sofia took the time to study his face, the serious set of his jaw, the fine lines around his eye, which was when the first niggling of concern wormed its way into her brain.
“Basically, Daughters of Light were created to destroy warlocks after they damn near decimated the witch population a couple of centuries ago.”
Sofia remained still, waiting for more, but Griffin did not expand on his incredibly brief description.
“Warlocks are bad,” Penelope piped up.
Sofia glanced down at her daughter. “How do you know that?” They’d never talked about warlocks, mostly because Sofia didn’t know anything about them beyond that they were bad dudes who did not have a conscience.
“Uncle Mitch told me.”
She was going to have a come to Jesus conversation with her boss about what he talked about in front of her little girl.
“Who is Uncle Mitch?” Griffin asked. “Your brother?” He gave Sofia an
