“Enough already,” Hudson growls as I can’t help remembering the last time Jaxon did that to me. “You don’t have to be so graphic. We get it.”
“I wasn’t being graphic at all,” I answer. “What is your problem today, anyway?”
“I don’t have a problem!” he snaps back. “I just think some things should remain private.”
“Yeah, well, me too. But here you are.” I glance back at Jaxon, who’s got his eyebrows raised, like he wants me to tell the whole room what Hudson is saying. I give a quick shake of my head. I just want this entire conversation over.
As if sensing how embarrassed I am by his nondisclosure disclosure, Jaxon pushes us back to the original topic with sheer willpower and a whole lot of royal attitude. It’s funny how I forget how well he plays the prince because he does it so rarely—unlike Hudson, whose whole demeanor pretty much shouts, I’m royalty and you’re not fit to lick my boots.
Hudson’s voice is as dry and British as my mother’s favorite shortbread cookie when he answers, “To be fair, a lot of people aren’t.”
I roll my eyes and flick my gaze back to him. “You need to be careful, or people are going to start believing you mean the ridiculous things you say.”
“Good.”
I just roll my eyes again, then focus on Jaxon, who is quizzing people in a round-robin format on what they’ve found so far. Not for the first time, I’m grateful that I’m mated to someone like Jaxon, who not only doesn’t try to insert himself into my conversations with Hudson but who also steers attention away from the fact that a hundred-years-old vampire is yammering in my head whenever I need him to. Some of these conversations are bad enough the first time—I couldn’t imagine having to repeat them to Jaxon. He doesn’t need to know all the weird little side trips my brain makes, especially with Hudson egging me on.
Feeling like I’ve dodged a bullet, I settle back down on the couch and continue reading. Sadly, I haven’t really learned anything new at all. Certainly nothing of the scintillating “mayhem” I’d been promised. In fact, the most exciting thing the book has mentioned so far is that gargoyles can stand as sentries for months on end, without a need for food or sleep as long as they are stone.
Just as I suspected, I make an excellent garden gnome. Paint me pink and stand me on one leg and I might even be able to pull off yard flamingo. Fantastic.
I’d feel useless, except Flint hasn’t learned anything yet, either, about the actual Dragon Boneyard that he didn’t already know.
“The only other thing I learned,” Macy says when Flint is finished, “is that gargoyles are supposed to have the power to channel magic. It’s weird. Magic doesn’t work on them, but they can—supposedly—borrow magic from other paranormals and use it themselves.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, intrigued at the idea of having some power, any power, that actually does something. I mean, turning to stone is cool and all if you want to spend your life as a tourist attraction, but it’s not very exciting. Neither is being immune to other powers.
Yeah, it’s a great defensive gift, but it doesn’t let me actually do anything. And considering the company I’m keeping, that seems totally unfair.
“I think it means that if I share my power with you, you’ll be able to use it,” Jaxon tells me.
“If that’s the case, we have to try it!” Macy says, jumping out of her chair. “Me first!”
51
Get Your Magic On
Jaxon shakes his head, amused, but does a go-ahead hand gesture as he settles into the couch to watch what happens.
“Okay, cool.” She looks at me. “I’m going to send you some fire energy. See if you can light one of the candles on the bookshelf.”
I look at her like she’s gotten a little too close to her own fire and singed a few brain cells. “You don’t actually think I can light a candle without a match, do you?”
“Of course you can! It’s easy.” She holds an arm out—palm facing up—and focuses on a black candle on the top shelf of the bookcase. Then she curls her fingers into her palms, and the candle wick catches flame. “See? Easy-peasy.”
“Easy for you,” I tell her. “If I try that, one of two things is going to happen. Either nothing will happen or I’ll set the entire bookcase on fire—neither of which seems like the outcome we’re going for here.”
“Yeah, well, better here than at the Dragon Boneyard, don’t you think?” Macy says, a rare hint of exasperation in her tone as she looks at me, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. “Now, come on. Hold your hand up and let’s try it.”