That was when.
And the fact that this man had done so should have annoyed her, not made something warm and mushy bloom in a secret part of her unbeating heart.
Infuriated with her peculiar behavior, with the Sylvermyst who was making her freaking nuts and the situation that she couldn’t control, she leaned over her unconscious companion and laid a hand against his throat, allowing the steady beat of his pulse to reassure her nagging concern.
“Ariyal,” she hissed. “Dammit, wake up.”
Nothing.
Not so much as a twitch.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Her fingers moved to trace over his starkly beautiful features, something perilously close to fear churning through her stomach as she wondered just how badly he was injured. “I should leave your sorry ass to rot here.”
Even as the words left her lips, Jaelyn was scooping her arms beneath the Sylvermyst. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t linger at the townhouse.
Not when the Three Stooges might decide to make a sudden reappearance.
She rose to her feet with a fluid motion. Ariyal was heavy, but her innate strength gave her the ability to sling him over her shoulder as she headed out of the room and down the curved staircase. Unfortunately, he had a good eight inches on her, and considerably more bulk, which was going to make toting him around London more than a little awkward.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Jaelyn paused as she caught the unmistakable scent of granite coming through the front gate.
Gargoyle?
It wouldn’t be that uncommon in London. There was a large Guild in the city. But they didn’t usually stroll up to the door, did they?
Hastily Jaelyn cloaked herself as well as Ariyal in the thick shadows only a Hunter could create. So long as she didn’t move there was no demon who could detect her presence.
Prepared for a lumbering monster, Jaelyn froze at the sight of the tiny demon who stepped across the threshold.
Well, she’d gotten the gargoyle part right, she wryly conceded. There was no mistaking the gray, grotesque features and stunted horns. Or the long tail that was lovingly polished. But she wasn’t sure the Guild would claim this three-foot version with large, gossamer wings in shades of crimson and blue.
Levet.
The last time that Jaelyn had seen the miniature gargoyle had been in Russia where he’d helped Tane rescue her from the cave where Ariyal had left her tied and guarded by Yannah while he went to destroy the babe.
Perhaps sensing that he was being watched, the gargoyle halted in the center of the foyer, his tail twitching as he peered through the gloom.
“Hello?” he called softly, his voice laced with a French accent. “Ma cherie? Where are you, you tiresome demon?”
Jaelyn lifted her brows at the realization that it wasn’t coincidence that had brought the gargoyle to this particular house.
“Searching for someone, Levet?” she demanded, allowing the shadows to dissipate.
“Eek!” With a tiny jump, the demon turned to study her with wide gray eyes. “Oh! Jaelyn.”
“Who were you expecting?”
He wrinkled his tiny snout. “I thought I smelled ...”
“Smelled?” she prompted.
“Yannah. Her scent is lingering on you.”
She grimaced, still annoyed with Yannah and her powerful mother.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen her since she shoved me through a portal and I landed face-first in the gutter.”
Levet cleared his throat, looking oddly uneasy as he rubbed one of his horns.