Magical Midlife Challenge, page 2
I wilted just like Edgar. For the undead, “retiring” didn’t mean sitting around in a houseboat or tapping a cane grumpily whenever anyone came near them. Retiring Edgar would force him from existence—something he asked me to do every time he felt he’d messed up.
“Mr. Tom, really?” I asked in annoyance. “I thought we talked about this. No one will be retiring Edgar. Stop goading him into asking for it.”
“First, I had hoped he’d lead with the grievance and not go straight to retiring. I apologize for that. I should’ve known better—”
“Oh, no, Jessie, in this case, he is dead right,” Edgar said, then leaned forward a little and winked at me. “See what I did there? Dead right?” He chuckled to himself before sobering. “No, there really is nothing else to be done. Aside from trying to rid Ivy House of the infestation, of course. I’ll do that posthaste, don’t you worry. I know my job, even if I did lapse on it a little.”
“A little?” Mr. Tom asked.
“Infestation?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “What has infest—”
“Tell her what you’ve done, Edgar,” Mr. Tom pushed.
Edgar regarded me solemnly again. “Miss Jessie, I regret to inform you that I have allowed a gnome infestation on Ivy House lands. I knew one of the creatures had made its home there but forgot how quickly they colonize. I should have seen to that instead of spending so much time here amongst the lovely wildflowers and few weaponized flowers while chasing the perfect doily—”
“Weaponized flowers?” I said, looking around the forest floor. “Like the ones the basajaun had to wrestle after they got out of hand and tried to kill everyone? Where are they—”
“The good news is I have gotten very close to perfection, I think. Very, very close. I’ve left a few of my very best doilies on the welcome mat for Mr. Alpha to peruse at his leisure. I think he will be very happy with—”
“For the last time, Edgar, he doesn’t want your doilies,” Mr. Tom cut in irritably. “There is a specific style of décor that can be outfitted with your doilies, and that style belongs to insufferable Irishwomen with no taste. It is rude to force doilies on the unsuspecting. A better use for them would be to give them to Hollace and Cyra. Hollace likes to throw them up like the clay targets in skeet shooting so Cyra can try to burn them out of the sky. Now that is a great use of your talents in the doily arena.”
“Here.” Austin set a second cup of coffee on the railing, glancing down at the Ivy House crew. Ulric had scooted farther away from Mr. Tom and Edgar. “Drink up. It sounds like you’ll need it.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Grabbing his apron to keep him put, I leaned into him for a moment, and we shared in the joke that was Mr. Tom and Edgar. You just had to be incredibly patient to get to the punch line.
“Breakfast in fifteen,” he said gruffly when I let him go. “Don’t invite the others.”
I laughed harder.
Mr. Tom and Edgar ignored Austin, immersed in an argument about doilies and how appropriate it was to use them as the equivalent of clay pigeons.
“Did you need something?” I asked Ulric.
His eyes were tight. He hooked a thumb at Edgar. “Just so we’re clear, I have nothing to do with…whatever is going on here. I’m not with them. I didn’t notice the gnomes when I was walking out this morning.”
“They are quite wily, I assure you,” Edgar said, quickly changing gears. It left Mr. Tom arguing with himself. “They are good at hiding in the garden. But when you least expect it—bam! Gnome attack.”
“No,” I said in a long release of breath. “Tell me they aren’t like the dolls.”
“Yes, miss.” Mr. Tom slid Edgar a narrow-eyed look. “I am afraid they are. Ivy House likes to pit them against the dolls when she’s feeling particularly…cantankerous. I do not mean to call into question your decision-making, but hiding away here, leaving behind your duties as the Ivy House heir, has created some…turbulence in the house.”
“I know about the house’s mood, Mr. Tom,” I said dryly before finishing the first cup of coffee and starting on the second.
“Um…if I may.” Ulric took another step away from Mr. Tom and Edgar. “Miss, you know how you said I had a green light to tell my mother she could gossip about my place with you? That she could feed the chatter about a female gargoyle so word would get out more quickly to prominent cairns, since she’s a world-class networker?”
“Yes?”
“Well, most of the gargoyle community, with my mom’s help, is in a fervor. You’re getting connection requests from all over the world. My mom has never seen gossip spread this quickly.”
“I assume—”
“Hmm, now that smells good, Miss Jessie,” Edgar interrupted me. “You are really going to enjoy today’s breakfast.”
Everyone paused to look at him. He was clearly no longer following the conversation.
Mr. Tom pursed his lips, taking up the conversational baton. “Usually, the larger, more prestigious cairns would send an invitation, wanting any new cairn to attend to them as a way of showing their status. The lower-status cairns would send a connection request. That is their way of saying they realize your status is above theirs and, if you should want to meet them, they would come to you.”
“And so far I’ve only received connection requests from the smaller cairns?” I surmised. “How long do the larger cairns usually take to send an invite?”
Ulric grinned and shook his head, his pink-and-blue-dyed hair ruffling in the breeze. “The larger cairns haven’t been sending invites. Most of them, anyway. They’ve been sending connection requests. They’re already declaring you of high status in the gargoyle community.”
“Well, of course they are.” Mr. Tom puffed up his chest. “She is the Ivy House heir. She is of the highest status.”
“It’s sounding like they will bend over backward to gain the favor of the only living female gargoyle in the world,” Ulric said. “Those who believe, anyway, and most of them seem to. I don’t think we’ve heard from the cairns with the highest status, but my mom thinks that’s because they want to make a show of their connection requests. They want to stand out.”
“Well…that’s good news, right?” I asked, my mood lifting.
Austin was working on getting his shifter pack organized so we’d be ready to help Kingsley stand against Momar. The basajaun was off visiting his family, trying to arrange a meeting between them and my crew. If they chose to support us in the coming battle, I would have to do them a favor in return.
My piece was getting the gargoyles united and into a sort of army of my own, something Ulric and Sebastian had said was the duty of a female gargoyle. To be the commander. The leader. Ulric had thought his mother would be our best bet for alerting the masses. So far, so good.
“Very good news,” Ulric said, although I could feel through the bond that his pride was tempered by discomfort. “There’s only one thing.”
I lifted my eyebrows for him to go on.
He grimaced. “She’s convinced you are going to need someone knowledgeable in gargoyle politics to help navigate the…fragile egos, she called them. Cairn leaders can be prickly, but more than that, they act a lot like shifters in that they force you to show dominance. If you don’t, they won’t respect you.”
“They are much harder-headed than shifters,” Edgar said. “Much more stubborn. And also…quite a bit stinkier. They don’t seem to know what a shower or deodorant is for—”
“Yes, thank you, Edgar.” Mr. Tom glowered at him. “The gargoyles in town are just young, that’s all. They’re bachelors. Not all gargoyles exhibit a lack of hygiene.”
“Of course, yes. But certainly much less hygiene than shifters, that’s all I’m saying. Much less washing, I think. Less soap—”
“Breakfast,” Austin said, leaning against the frame of the sliding glass door.
“Gargoyles have different rules than shifters,” Ulric continued, frowning at Edgar. He probably wondered if Edgar was talking about him. “Their politics are different. My mom is convinced that you need someone to help you navigate these meetings.”
“Dominance is no problem,” Austin growled. “As her mate and the alpha of this territory, I can take that role if she can’t.” He looked at me. “But he does have a point about politics. I can probably navigate it, but you should be in the lead when it comes to the gargoyles.”
“And that is what she has me and the miserable old woman for,” Mr. Tom said indignantly, standing up a little taller. “I can help her navigate the demands of gargoyle cairn leaders—I’ve known many in my day—and the old crone can work with the miss on politics. I hate to admit it, but Niamh has quickly gotten up to speed on the goings-on in the magical world. She used to be a political animal. Excessive drinking and an overall disregard for social conformity aside, she does know her stuff. No, we’ll be okay. Go in and eat, miss. I’ll watch over things from my dirty dwelling down here, sequestered to the plant life like some sort of wild creature.”
“Yes, you’d do the job very well…if you weren’t so far out of the loop,” Ulric said to Mr. Tom delicately.
“He probably doesn’t even know there is a loop,” Edgar added, not so delicately. “Even in his prime, he probably wasn’t aware of the loop.”
“Right.” Ulric’s lips twitched, probably with the effort not to laugh. “I, myself, don’t know the politics of cairn leaders. Nathanial was being groomed to take over a cairn, but he wasn’t there yet. He only has the broad strokes. Even just to go through the connection requests, you’ll need someone who can read nuances. I wouldn’t know what to look for.”
“So what do I need to do, then?” I asked. “I’d rather not try a summons. I’m not…in the right frame of mind just now. I worry about what I’d call.”
Ulric tensed. “Um…well…my mom decided that since you don’t have anyone trustworthy to help you…” He cleared his throat. “She volunteered. Then just…accepted her own invitation and made plans to come here and help.”
Mr. Tom turned just his upper body in Ulric’s direction. His wings fluttered in agitation. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, Jessie,” Ulric said, wariness and anxiety rolling through the bond now. He was usually the happy-go-lucky member of our team. I wasn’t used to this change in demeanor. “I told her that you’d need to be consulted before she just turned up and took over. But…you see…my mom is a really hard woman to say no to. You can try, but she just doesn’t listen. So…she’s on her way.” He put out his hands in a stop motion. “But don’t worry! I got her a room at the hotel. I’m sure the alpha can scare some sense into her. I mean, no cairn leader has been able to yet, but…well…” He shrugged helplessly. “Or Ivy House can keep her from bombarding you. You won’t have to be the bad guy, Jessie, I promise. I have a hard time saying no to her, but I’m sure someone else can figure out how so that you don’t have to.” He wilted like Edgar had earlier. “I’ll probably need to join Edgar in asking to be retired after this.”
“Yes, that sounds like something worthy of retirement.” Edgar nodded solemnly. “At least in our final hours we’ll have each other.”
Ulric looked over at the vampire. “Awesome,” he said flatly.
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. No matter what happened, or how much power I had, or how many problems I had with that power, I could always count on my team to be the most absurd bunch of weirdos in the history of the world. How could anyone take us seriously? The mages certainly hadn’t…until we scared the crap out of them. I doubted the gargoyles would be so easy to intimidate. Regardless, this was now my lot in life.
“Sure, fine.” I took up both mugs and turned for the kitchen. “If she can help us unite the gargoyles, she’ll be welcomed.”
“I just hope she won’t be bringing her own cooler full of food?” Mr. Tom asked as I crossed the threshold.
I laughed again. My parents’ visit had clearly scarred him.
Taking a deep breath, I set the mugs on the counter and saw that the table had been set. Given we almost always sat at the island, this was unusual.
I quirked an eyebrow at Austin.
He refilled one of the mugs. “I thought the table might ground you more,” he said by way of explanation. He motioned me toward it.
I didn’t budge, waiting for the real reason.
If controlling his expressions weren’t part of his role as alpha, he’d absolutely be giving me a sheepish grin right now. “I can’t hear Mr. Tom and Edgar bickering as well from the table.”
“Hmm,” I said noncommittally, a smile threatening, then took a seat. “Was my discussion with my crew just now how your meetings with your advisors go?”
He snorted. “My territory would be in a world of hurt if that’s how my meetings went.”
He lowered a plate in front of me. Eggs Benedict took up the center focus, the sauce whipped up to perfection. Chives provided a pop of green against the glistening, lemon-colored sauce. Fresh fruit was clustered to the side, far enough away that none of the pooling liquid touched it. I was weird about food touching on my plate unless it was supposed to, like a child. Another plate held two sausage links bathed in maple syrup and crispy hash browns beside a glop of ketchup.
“Wow,” I said, picking up my knife and fork and just looking over everything.
He took his seat next to me at the round table, a setup that allowed him to watch my reaction to each bite. He loved seeing me enjoy his handiwork.
“A Sunday morning breakfast on a Tuesday? What’s the occasion?” I cut into the egg and was rewarded with the delicate ooze of yolk over the Canadian bacon and down to the fluffy English muffin below it. “My God, you are good at cooking. The egg is perfect.”
His smile was soft as he watched me pop the bite into my mouth. After that, I lost track of him as my eyes drifted shut of their own accord and the flavors exploded across my tongue.
“You need fuel for your challenge later this morning,” he said, and nervousness fluttered in my belly at the reminder. Austin had been challenged plenty of times, but this would be my first. “Magical creatures who shift require more sustenance than those who don’t.”
“If it were anyone else’s cooking, I’d be too nervous to eat.” I cut another bite. “But it would be a pity to let this go to waste.”
He chuckled softly before attacking his own meal. “Can I speak to you about Kingsley or should we…wait?” he asked.
Nervousness was replaced by another swirl of anger and motivation—the urge to inhale this meal and take to the sky. To go to war.
My spinning emotions, like a disco ball of violence, were exhausting. They were so much worse since the mating. Or since Elliot Graves’s meeting, at least. It was like the gargoyle within me had fully woken and now wanted a reign of terror.
“It’s fine,” I replied.
Austin nodded as he speared a piece of sausage. He didn’t share my love of coating them in maple syrup. “Kingsley forwarded an email detailing a mage attack on a smaller pack. The pack wasn’t completely wiped out, but they were essentially chased off their land.”
“Another one?” I asked, because that had been increasingly happening. We had a lot of people in our territory who had lost their homes to something like that. They’d come here looking for a safe haven.
“Yes. It doesn’t sound like Momar, though. Too small-scale. I think instead that mages are taking the cue from Momar and seizing desirable land. Or maybe they’re just flexing their power. I haven’t had a chance to look over the report in detail yet.”
“If it doesn’t sound like Momar or relate to Kingsley’s situation, then why did he send it?”
Austin looked at me silently for a moment. “It’s his subtle way of saying we have to work together and push back against the mages.”
“He already tried to unite everyone, though. It didn’t work.”
“He was initially met with resistance, correct. Alphas are used to making the rules. If someone wants leadership over them, they expect to be challenged. Kingsley wasn’t trying to structure the league in that way, though. He wanted to organize it more like a company, with a board of directors and someone like a CEO.”
“Right, right,” I said, remembering talking about this here and there. With mages, gargoyles, and shifters, there were a lot of balls in the air. “They all wanted the big role.”
“Yep. And while most of them didn’t dare challenge Kingsley, knowing he’d dominate, a few are on his power scale. They were ready to challenge for placement. He was trying to decide how to best navigate it when the mage attacks on shifters started ramping up. At that point, the shifters realized Kingsley’s logic made an awful lot of sense. It was too late, though. Packs started falling—especially the ones willing to work with Kingsley.”
“You’re already planning to step up into that CEO role,” I told him. “I thought Kingsley knew that.”
“He does.”
“So is he trying to get you to hurry up about it, then?”
Austin took a bite, quiet for a moment. “I think so. That’s what I wanted to get your opinion on. I don’t see how I’ll have the time before we need to help Kingsley—assuming things keep progressing like they have been. We need to get your gargoyle team up and running. That’s a priority, especially because we can do it while I make this territory more cohesive. Another priority. A good portion of our new shifters are coming from these fallen packs, and they’re shellshocked. Like Brochan.”
Brochan, whom a lot of people called Broken Sue because of a naming issue at Elliot Graves’s meetup, was new to the pack. He was a powerful alpha in his own right, nearly at or equal to Kingsley’s level. His ferocity, though, was in a league of its own. You couldn’t blame him for that. Mages had come through and wiped out his pack, including his pregnant mate and children. Loss like that left a scar.
He was finding purpose again in Austin’s pack, with Austin’s confident and patient guidance. He’d challenged for beta—and won—soon after arriving home from Graves’s meetup. Mostly, he was thriving. The one exception was the night he’d attempted to drink as much as Niamh at the bar. They’d verbally sparred, and he ended up staggering out in a black mood, leaving her not even a little perturbed. He should’ve known better than to tangle with a Master Grump.
