leg still make absolutely no sense.”
“Can’t people still hear you?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Though I’m still unclear on what we’re doing. Other than failing to blend into the stone.”
“Just shh.” I moved slowly, digging down deep inside of me, bypassing the sorceress magic to access the gargoyle part of me. The part with the wings, tough skin, and ability to fly. I called it up, glowing with the feeling. The desire to change form and take to the skies overcame me. To rise above the buildings and hunt…
That was probably a good sign.
“Can you see me?” I whispered.
“Shh,” Sebastian replied.
I rolled my eyes, halfway down the alley now, focusing on the street. Someone passed by, straight and tall, muscular. Definitely not Sasquatch.
Farther along, I caught sight of the vacant wine-tasting room. The empty barrels had all been cleared away, the area swept. Once I signed the paperwork, I’d own half of a winery. Austin and I would need to settle on a winemaker, update the tasting room, and get the word out. It would be a lot of work.
Why didn’t that scare me as much as officially transferring Ivy House into my name?
Because you could sell the winery, but Ivy House comes with a blood oath and a contract term of “forever unless killed.”
“Oops. Where did your mind go?” Sebastian whispered. “You’d nearly done it. You’d blended in for the most part. If I hadn’t been watching, I probably wouldn’t have noticed you.”
“Sorry,” I said, pushing the thought of my duty away. But it refused to release its grip. The time had come for me to become the leader my people needed, the leader they deserved. I had to do what Austin had done and claim my position fully, balls to the wall. Only it was easier said than done.
I reached the edge of the alley, fighting to keep my focus, and losing.
Jasper waited just down the way, Mr. Tom was behind, and Ulric was…in the air?
I looked back, catching a glimpse of him just as he jumped from one rooftop to the next, his wings snapping out so he could soar the last few feet before his feet touched down. He held his clothes in his hand, and the second he landed, he disappeared into the wall next to him, his bright pink form blending in effortlessly.
Why hadn’t he just followed behind Mr. Tom?
I turned back to the street, my gargoyle magic pulsing, as if I’d unburied it earlier and made it easier to access. Actually, it felt like when I was in the middle of changing, the power surging.
Ready to grab it up and drape it over me like a cloak, hoping for more than just nearly working this time, I froze.
Sasquatch stood right in front of me, an evil smile curling his lips. Triumph lit his eyes.
“Dang it!” I yelled.
Sixteen
“Missus high and mighty can’t use the magic she was given,” Sasquatch said, his mustache moving as he spoke, the motion wiggling a clump of food stuck on the end.
“You couldn’t be grosser if you tried.” I spread out my arms. “Go ahead.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I lifted my eyebrows, my mood blackening, which was saying something, because it was already in the dumps. “Hear what?”
“That I won.”
“You get to stab me. Isn’t that proof that you won, you dangling dingleberry?” I spread my arms wider, aggressive now. “You won. So go ahead, claim your victory.”
His smile widened. “Get back into the alleyway more. The alpha said we can’t do this where people can see.” He pulled a pocketknife from his back pocket, a different one than before, and extracted the blade before motioning me on. “I’ll follow.”
“If you stab me in the back, so help me God, I will tear it out and fill you full of holes. I am not in the mood.”
“I can stab you wherever I want. That’s the deal.”
“I didn’t make that deal.”
“Your man did. Quit stalling.”
I huffed, the sound turning into almost a growl before I trudged to the back steps of the vacant tasting room and faced him again, out of patience. Sebastian, his interest clearly piqued, stopped a couple of feet away, still undetected by Sasquatch.
“There.” I spread my arms once again. “Go for it. Also, your knife is stupid. Have a little pride in your weaponry.”
His bushy eyebrows dipped and his gaze slipped down to the plain brown handle peeking through his chubby fingers, the dull blade about five inches long. If it had a name, it would be Pat.