Page 25 of Fated to the Gargoyle

“Okay!” I holler after him. “You better find me! Or I’ll find you!”

He banks over the rooftops until the clouds take him, and I stand there grinning at the empty sky.

The happy gets to be too much to hold still in, so I do a little shimmy right there on the cold balcony. Somewhere in LA my roommates are filming another club night that can’t touch this.

I go inside, slide the door shut, and flip the latch, laughing at myself while I do it.

Then I dig out my sewing kit, because my mate needs pants.

12

TREASURE

The first thing I do when I get to the shopping center is check the diner roof, and it gives me nothing but shingles and gutter. The spot by the front door where he spent all day yesterday sits empty too. I scan the rest of the strip on my way across the lot, from the rooflines down to the shadowed gaps between the buildings.

I stand in the middle of the parking lot with my apron over my arm, frowning at nothing, and then I shake it off. He said he’d find me tonight, and the sun is still up. He’s stone somewhere until it goes down, and no amount of searching this lot will wake him early.

I barely slept, and I’m not even mad about it. Every time I closed my eyes, my brain got to planning, so I gave in, dug my old Singer out of a bedroom box, and set the machine up on my kitchen table where a normal woman would keep a fruit bowl.

There’s a measuring tape riding in my apron pocket right now. If my mate shows up tonight the way he promised, I’m getting his measurements, and that loincloth situation is getting handled. Tonight I’ll be running on excitement and whatever that outdated coffee pot at work can squeeze out for me.

I head for Lena Crafts with my whole jelly-jar fund in my pocket. I saved that money to make my apartment look like someone lives there, and now it’s buying fabric for a gargoyle instead. I’m not sorry about it.

The bell over the door chimes, and that paper-and-glue smell meets me at the threshold. A few faces I recognize from my last visit nod my way, and I wave back, grab a basket, and head for the fabric section.

“Hey, Treasure.”

Lena comes around the counter in her work apron, tall and brown-skinned, her curls gathered up in a puff and reading glasses swinging on a beaded chain she probably made herself.

I smile up at her. I had a feeling all I needed to do was roam this town a little, and sure enough, here comes a friend.

“Yesterday it was picture frames,” she says. “Today it’s fabric?”

“I’m a true crafter. I broke out my old Singer last night.”

She pulls a small square of paper from her apron pocket and holds it out. “Here’s a coupon, twenty percent off. How much do you think you need?”

“Thank you, Lena.” I take it and get to hunting through the rolls for anything with stretch. “How are you liking Shadow Wolf Creek?”

“It’s really good for business, I’ll say that.” She straightens a bolt I knocked crooked. “But the people here keep to themselves. It gets kind of lonely.”

I nod at her. “Not much to do around here besides the festivals.”

“Yep. But I’m not denying the business. It’s good. Like, really good.”

I set down the roll I’m holding and sigh at the shelf. “You know, I bet this town could use a seamstress. All these big shifters walking around.”

Lena giggles. “And the gargoyles too.”

My head snaps over to her. She shrugs, easy about it. “I haven’t seen one personally, but that Shadow podcast last night said there was one parked outside Stanley’s.”

That’s my gargoyle she’s talking about. I keep my face friendly and my ears sharp. “And how do you feel about them being in town?”

“I don’t see any problem with it.” She tips her head at me. “What about you?”

“I think it’s awesome,” I tell her.

Lena huffs a little laugh. “Well, I hope they’re nice. And not as standoffish as every other shifter around here.”