"I have a good imagination."
"Ah." He gave a ridiculous wiggle of his thick brow. "In that case, I do not suppose you are imagining I'm Brad Pitt?"
Shay smiled wryly. "I'm good, but not that good, gargoyle."
"A pity."
Her brief amusement faded. "No, the pity is that it was a table and not Evor smashed to pieces."
"A delightful notion, but a mere dream." The gray eyes slowly narrowed. "Unless you intend to be stupid?"
Shay deliberately widened her eyes. "Who me?"
"Mon dieu," the demon growled. "You intend to fight him."
"I can't fight him. Not as long as I remain held by the curse."
"As if that has ever halted you." Levet tossed aside the pillow to reveal his tail furiously twitching about his hoofs. A sure sign of distress. ""You can't kill him, but that never keeps you from trying to kick his fat troll ass."
"It passes the time."
"And leaves you screaming in agony for hours." He abruptly shuddered. "Cherie, I can't bear seeing you like that. Not again. It's insane to battle against fate."
Shay grimaced. As part of the curse, she was punished for any attempt to harm her master. The searing pain that gripped her body could leave her gasping on the ground or even passed out for hours. Lately, however, the punishment had become so brutal she feared that each time she pressed her luck it might be the last time.
She gave a tug on her braid. A gesture that revealed the frustration that smoldered just below the surface.
"You think I should just give in? Accept defeat?"
"What choice do you have? What choice do any of us have? Not all the fighting in the world can change the fact we belong—" Levet rubbed one of his stunted horns. "How do you say... lock, stock, and jug. -."
"Barrel."
"Ah, yes, barrel to Evor. And that he can do whatever he wants with us."
Shay gritted her teeth as she turned to glare at the iron bars that held her captive. "Shit. I hate this. I hate Evor. I hate this cell. I hate those pathetic demons up there waiting to bid on me. I almost wish I had let those witches bring an end to all of us."
"You will get no arguments from me, my sweet Shay," Levet agreed with a sigh.
Shay closed her eyes. Dammit. She hadn't meant the words. She was tired and frustrated, but she was no coward. Just the fact she had survived the past century proved that.
"No," she muttered. "No."
Levet gave a flap of his wings. "And why not? We are trapped here like rats in a maze until we can be sold to the highest bidder. What could be worse?"
Shay smiled without humor. "Allowing fate to win."
"What?"
"So far fate or destiny or fortune or whatever the hell you want to call it has done nothing but crap on us," Shay growled. "I'm not going to just give in and allow it to thumb its nose at me as I slink into my grave., One of these days I'm going to have an opportunity to spit fate in its face. That's what keeps me fighting."
There was a long silence before the gargoyle moved to stand near enough so that he could rub his head on her leg. It was an unconscious gesture. A quest for reassurance that he would rather die than admit.
"I am uncertain I have ever heard such an inelegant speech, but I believe you. If anyone can get away from Evor, it's you."
Absently, Shay shifted the horn poking into her thigh. "I'll come back for you, Levet, that much I promise."
"Well, well, isn't this touching?" Abruptly appearing before the iron bars of the cell Evor smiled to reveal his pointed teeth. "Beauty and the Beast."