“Oh, never mind,” I tell her. “I forgot you had somewhere to be. Jaxon, Flint, and I can totally handle it.”

Macy shoots me a “stop talking now” look, then fires off a series of quick texts. “Too late,” she says, and then she’s darting in front of us to lead the way to the library.

It doesn’t take us long to gather what we need, partly because Amka has the books ready for us—at Jaxon’s request—and partly because she’s willing to loan us two of the library laptops so we can access the magic databases from anywhere in the castle and not just the library.

Flint helps by grabbing a few books on dragons that he thinks will help, while Macy runs back down to the cafeteria to gather snacks for our “marathon research sesh,” as she keeps calling it. In the meantime, Hudson just lounges around on whatever open chair he can find, calling out book titles that he thinks might help us.

“Where was all this information last night?” I ask him after my third run to the stacks at the back of the library.

“Last night I was too busy—”

“Trying not to vomit,” I fill in for him. “Yeah, yeah, I know the routine by heart by now.”

“Just because I’ve used it a few times doesn’t make it any less true,” he tells me with a definite tone to his voice.

“True, but it does make it lose its impact. At the moment, I’m pretty convinced you have the weakest stomach of anyone I’ve ever met, which is particularly interesting considering you don’t even have a stomach.”

“Sure I do,” he responds, and to prove it, he lifts up his T-shirt, revealing—not going to lie—one of the best sets of abs I’ve ever seen. Seriously. Which…I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. I mean, it shouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t. But…wow. Just wow. I’d have to be blind not to notice.

Hudson shoots me a smug look but doesn’t say anything as he lets his shirt drop back down. Then again, he doesn’t have to. The argument over whether or not he has a stomach has most definitely been settled…and I most definitely lost.

“You ready?” Jaxon asks as he comes up behind me with a giant armful of books.

“Yeah, of course. Can I help carry some of those?”

“I’ve got them,” he says with a grin, and he does—at least partly because his abs absolutely give Hudson’s a run for their money.

“I call bullshit,” Hudson grumbles as we leave the library. He’s walking a little bit ahead of us, but he’s turned around to face me as he walks backward. Not going to lie, there’s a part of me that would love nothing more than for him to trip and fall on his ass.

Petty? Yes. Mean? Absolutely. But I’d still pay good money to see it. Maybe landing on his ass will take him down a peg or ten, which is something he definitely needs. Arrogant prick.

“Don’t hold back,” Hudson says, and in the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly right behind me, his arrogant, smarmy voice right in my ear. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I always do,” I shoot back as a shiver runs down my spine.

By the time we get to Jaxon’s tower, Macy is already there with a bag full of the least nutritious stuff Katmere has to offer. Chips, popcorn, and even a pack of ten-dollar Oreos.

“I stole them from my dad’s stash,” she says as she drops them on the table in the antechamber to Jaxon’s bedroom, where he does most of his studying.

The last time I saw the place, it was a total mess—Lia made sure of it before she dragged our drugged asses to the tunnels so she could torture the both of us. But sometime in the three and a half months I was gone, Jaxon not only put it back together, but he actually redecorated the place.

I stroll around the room, vaguely paying attention as Jaxon explains to Flint and Macy fully about what the Bloodletter said we need to do to get Hudson out of my head. Flint has some succinct words about the Unkillable Beast—and the Bloodletter, for that matter—but he’s obviously into it. He’s hanging on Jaxon’s every word and even offering a ton of suggestions.

For once, nobody’s paying any attention to me as I run a hand along Jaxon’s bookshelves and take in all the new decor. And can I just say I like it? The lack of attention and his decorating choices…

Now, instead of a couple of big, comfy chairs dominating the sitting area, there’s one big, comfy chair and a huge, overstuffed black couch that is definitely large enough for two people to stretch out on. There’s a new coffee table—which looks a lot sturdier than the one he turned to kindling during one of his telekinetic losses of control—and in the corner, under the window that nearly killed me when it shattered, is a big table with four black upholstered dining chairs positioned around it. Because of course everything in Jaxon’s tower is black. Of course it is…

Except for the books. They’re every color under the sun, and they are still everywhere—on the bookcases, stacked on the floor in the corners, stacked on the coffee table and underneath the big table, piled up in random places throughout the room—and I love it.

I love even more that there are books I’ve never heard of mixed with books that are old favorites of mine mixed with classics I’ve always wanted to read. Add in the artwork on the wall—the Klimt sketch that made me swoon the first time I came up here along with a few other haunting paintings—and this room is pretty much my favorite place on earth.

Then again, how could it not be? Jaxon is here.

I expect Hudson to make a ton of snide comments about the decorating, but he’s strangely quiet, staring intently at something on one of Jaxon’s shelves, a carving of a horse from the looks of it. It’s not a super-intricate carving, but clearly it’s something Jaxon loves, the edges smooth and shiny as though his fingers have spent hours rubbing each curve of the horse’s neck or body.

Just when I start to wonder what’s so interesting about the horse, Hudson shoves his hands deep into his pockets, shaking his head as he walks away. I think I hear him mutter, “Loser,” but it’s so faint that I can’t be sure.

Hudson has been in a weird mood since breakfast, and I refuse to let him ruin my focus again. I’m determined to not wait for Jaxon to take care of me anymore. I need to step up and figure out how to solve my own problems.

Jaxon piles the books on the main table, and I pick one up called The Myth and Mayhem of Gargoyles. I don’t know why I chose it, except for the fact that I like the idea of causing a little mayhem—me, Grace Foster, pretty much the most un-mayhem-like person on the face of the earth. As I flip it open, I can’t help but wonder for a second—or several seconds, if I’m being honest—what it would feel like to just give in to the havoc. To say whatever I want instead of always filtering it, to do what I want instead of what I think I should do.

Then again, now’s not exactly the time for that. There’s too much going on right now to shake things up just to do it. So I stretch out on Jaxon’s very inviting couch and start reading, while everyone else claims their own separate corner of the room.

Flint settles at the main table and flips open one of the laptops, announcing he plans to start researching the Dragon Boneyard—how to get there, the best time of day to go, and how to get out alive, because apparently not getting out alive is an actual thing. Yay.

Macy picks up a book on the magical nature of gargoyles, curls up in the comfy chair across from me, and dives in while nibbling on a giant stack of Oreos.

And Jaxon—Jaxon grabs the other laptop after offering it to me and settles down at the end of the couch to do more research on the Unkillable Beast.

I look around at my friends, all of whom are spending their Saturday cooped up inside looking for information to help me, and my heart swells. They could be doing anything right now, and instead they’re doing this.

Hudson can call me emotional, he can call me naïve or overly sentimental or any number of other things, but I still have to blink back tears of gratitude that these people have found their way into my life. I came to Katmere Academy at the lowest point in my life, desperate, miserable, sad. I figured I would just get through the year and then get the hell out.

And while nothing here has been what I expected—I mean, a gargoyle, really?—I can’t imagine going back to a life without Macy’s enthusiasm or Jaxon’s intensity or Flint’s teasing (though his murder attempts I can definitely do without).

Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game. Losing my parents the way I did will forever be one of the most horrible and traumatizing experiences of my life, but sitting here with these people makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a chance of coming out the other side of it.

And that is more, so much more, than I imagined just a few short months ago.

“Hey, look at this!” Macy sits up abruptly. “I think I just figured out why the glamour didn’t work on you this morning. It wasn’t me. It was you!”

“Why? Can’t do glamours on stone?” I guess, because that feels about right.

“No.” She shoots me a “you’re being a dork” look, then flips the book she’s reading so I can see. “It didn’t work because it says right here that you’re immune to magic!”

50

It’s Getting Crowded

Under the Bed

“Immune to magic?” Flint asks, closing his laptop and coming over to check out Macy’s find. “Really?”

“And to dragon fire, vampire and werewolf bites, siren calls—the list goes on and on. Basically, gargoyles have a natural built-in resistance to nearly all forms of paranormal magic. That’s—” She holds her hand up to her temple and mimes her brain exploding.

“No wonder Marise always had such a hard time healing you,” she continues. “We put it down to you being completely human, but it must have been the gargoyle thing all along.”