appreciate my sarcasm, so in the end I bite it back and simply nod.
“I’m serious,” he continues. “We’ll figure this out. And on the plus side, gargoyles are totally kick-ass.”
Absolutely. Giant, hulking pieces of stone. Totally kick-ass. Not.
I whisper, “I know.”
“You sure about that?” He scoots closer, ducking a little so that his face is really close to the side of mine. “Because you don’t look like you know. And you definitely don’t sound like it.”
He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my cheek, and for a few precious seconds I close my eyes and pretend it’s four months ago, when Jaxon and I were alone in his room, making plans and making out, thinking we finally had everything under control.
What a joke that was. I’ve never felt more out of control in my life, even compared to those first days after my parents died. At least then, I was still human…or at least I thought I was. Now, I’m a gargoyle, and I don’t have a clue what that even means, let alone how it happened. Or how I managed to lose nearly four months of my life encased in rock.
Why would I do that, anyway? I mean, I get why I changed to stone—I’m assuming some latent impulse deep inside me came forward in an effort to stop me from dying. Is it really so far-fetched, considering I recently learned my dad was a warlock? But why did I stay stone for so long? Why didn’t I come back to Jaxon the first chance I got?
I rack my brain, trying to come up with the answer, but there’s still nothing there but a blank and empty chasm where my memories should be.
It’s my turn to clench my fists, and as I do, my battered fingers start to throb. I glance down at them and wonder how I made such a mess of myself. It looks like I clawed my way through stone to get here. Then again, maybe I did. Or maybe I did something even worse. I don’t know. That’s the problem: I just don’t know. Anything.
I don’t know what I did for the last four months.
I don’t know how it was possible for me to change into a gargoyle—or how it was possible for me to change back into a human.
And, I realize with a dawning horror that chills my very soul, I don’t know the answer to the most important question of all.
I swing around to stare at my uncle. “What happened to Hudson?”
6
Vampire Roulette
Isn’t the Same
Without the Blood
Uncle Finn seems to age right in front of me, eyes going dim and shoulders slumping in what looks an awful lot like defeat. “We really don’t know,” he says. “One second, Hudson was trying to kill Jaxon, and the next—”
“He was gone. And so were you.” Jaxon’s hand tightens reflexively on mine.
“She wasn’t gone,” Uncle Finn corrects. “She was just out of reach for a while.”
Once again, Jaxon looks unimpressed with his summation of events, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he just looks at me and asks, “Do you really not remember any of it?”
I shrug. “I really don’t.”
“That’s so strange.” My uncle shakes his head. “We brought in every expert we could find on gargoyles. Every single one of them had conflicting stories and advice, but none of them even hinted that when you finally made it back, you wouldn’t remember where you’d been. Or what you’d become.” My uncle’s voice is low and, I’m sure, meant to be soothing, but every word he says just makes me more nervous.
“Do you think something’s wrong with me?” I ask nervously, looking between him and Jaxon.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Jaxon snarls, and it’s as much a warning to Uncle Finn as it is a reassurance to me.
“Of course there isn’t,” Uncle Finn agrees. “Don’t even think that way. I’m just sorry we’re not more prepared to help you. We didn’t anticipate…this.”
“It’s not your fault. I just wish—” I break off as I run into that damn wall again. I push against it, but I can’t seem to get it to break.
“Don’t force it,” Jaxon tells me, and this time he gently wraps an arm around my shoulders.
It feels good—he feels good—and I let myself sink in to him even as fear and frustration continue to circle inside me. “I have to push,” I tell him, cuddling closer. “How else do we figure out where Hudson is?”