Butting Heads With A Gargoyle by Charlie Richards

Chapter Eight

Vermidian—being in gargoyle form during daylight hours was such a novel experience that he couldn’t resist returning to it—followed Ridger out of their suite and toward the office suites. Once inside, they headed to the room his mate had indicated was a meeting and conference area. After Ridger opened the door and stepped inside, Vermidian peered around the expansive space.

A large table with half a dozen chairs dominated the left end. A screen could be pulled from the ceiling, and from the cables coiled in a slot next to the wall, someone could probably hook up a laptop or some other electronic device to it.

The remaining area was set up similar to a lounge. There were large comfortable chairs, ottomans, and love seats. A bar with liquor decanters stood against one wall. There was even a mini-fridge as well as a wine rack with glasses hanging beneath it. A coffee table stood in the center of the furniture, and a large, three-tiered trolley was parked beside it. It was laden with many covered dishes—and a few that were uncovered.

“Morning, Ridge,” Master Krispin greeted from where he sat on one side of the love seat, a coffee mug in hand. Dipping his head with a smile, he focused on Vermidian. “Good morning, Elder Vermidian. Thank you for joining us.”

A slender, medium-brown-hided gargoyle was busy preparing a couple of plates. Upon hearing the vampire master’s words, he snapped his attention to him. His honey-brown eyes widened a smidge for just an instant.

Then the male dipped his head low and offered, “Elder Vermidian. It’s an honor.”

Vermidian nodded. “Tracker Washington, isn’t it?”

Washington straightened as he nodded. “I am.” He sounded surprised to find that Vermidian knew of him.

Vermidian smiled at the gargoyle. “While I visited Chieftain Kinsey, he mentioned your bonding with Master Krispin.” To help ease the male’s obvious uncertainty, he added, “He’s extremely happy for you, although he did lament about losing your excellent tracking abilities.”

“Oh, I—” Washington appeared at a loss for words. “Thank you.” After a second, he added, “And, please, call me Wash.”

“I’d be honored.” While Vermidian had heard that the gargoyle preferred to be called the shortened version of his name, he would never presume to do so without being asked to.

“Do you like coffee?” Ridger asked, moving toward the trolley. “There’s orange juice, cranberry juice, and a variety of teas, too.”

Vermidian began heading that way. With his stomach growling, he remembered how long it’d been since his meal at the clutch. While Vermidian figured it hadn’t been that long, he’d enjoyed plenty of vigorous exercise.

Smiling at that thought, Vermidian stated, “Black coffee is just fine, my mate.” When he scented the carafe of cranberry juice, he decided the chilled beverage on his taste buds would be fantastic as well. Vermidian picked it up and asked, “Where are the glasses?”

“Bottom shelf of the trolley,” Basques answered, announcing his presence. “Will you pour a glass of that for Dloben, too, please, Vermidian?”

While Vermidian found it surprising that Basques dropped his title, he didn’t comment on it. He figured it was fine, considering it was just them. Grabbing one glass after another and setting them on the coffee table, Vermidian filled them both three-quarters of the way before returning the carafe to its place at the cart.

“So, first things, Vermidian.” Krispin joined them around the food trolley. “As you’ve probably noticed from Bas, here, when we’re alone in our space, we don’t use titles.” He met Vermidian’s gaze squarely and stated, “Please, call me Krispin, and I will call you Vermidian.”

Vermidian processed that for a few seconds, his glass of juice halfway to his lips. Other than his head of household, Norad, he couldn’t think of anyone who ever addressed him informally, even in private.

When did I stop having friends?

That was easily answered—when he’d become an elder.

Gods, it’s kind of lonely.

“That ain’t gonna be a problem.” Basques tapped his upper arm—the one not holding his juice, fortunately—with the back of his hand. “Right, Verm?”

Snapping his gaze to the big enforcer, seeing his wide grin, Vermidian scowled at him and ordered, “Never call me that again.” He returned his attention to Krispin. “And, no, I don’t have a problem with that.” As Vermidian finished lifting his glass to his lips, he added, “And I’ll let Phineas and Keefe know.”

Ridger tipped his chin in a small nod. “Keefe does seem a bit... uptight.”

Vermidian took a deep swallow of the juice. The cold, bitter fluid lit up his taste buds just right. It was almost as invigorating as coffee, but he still took the mug from Ridger when his vampire handed it to him.

“Keefe is definitely that,” Vermidian agreed, moving to a sofa that had a side table near it. He placed both drinks upon it before focusing back on Krispin. “But he’s also very good at his job.”

“Then I know Ridger will always be safe,” Krispin stated, grinning widely and showing off his fangs. His blue eyes twinkled as he suddenly focused on Ridger. “So, should we expect you to give our little boy a buddy to play with soon?”

Groaning, Ridger rolled his eyes as he grabbed a pair of plates from the bottom of the trolley with one hand. “I know we talked about having kids together,” he muttered while removing the lids from the remaining trays. “But you totally jumped the gun, man.” Ridger tipped his chin toward Basques, who was preparing his own cup of coffee. “You’ve been mated the longest, Bas. When are you having a hatchling?”

“Y-You want kids?” The softly squeaked question came from near the door. “N-Now?”

Vermidian turned and spotted a pale-blue, wingless gargoyle standing near the door. The small male glanced around uncertainly, his focus flitting to Vermidian and away again. Still, he never actually met his eyes, peering at him covertly through his lashes, instead.

Basques held out his hand, palm up, and waggled his fingers. “Come on, Dloben,” he urged. “Breakfast is ready. I already had Vermidian pour you some juice.” Basques set down his coffee and picked up the glass of cranberry juice.

Dloben hurried across the room. In a hushed whisper, he hissed, “You had Elder Vermidian pour me juice?” His body appeared to practically vibrate with tension. “He’s an elder. You’re not supposed to ask him to do that. We should be serving him!”

“Relax, babe,” Basques crooned, handing a clearly distraught Dloben his juice. “He’s the beloved of our buddy, Ridger.” With one arm around his waist, Basques threaded the fingers of this free hand through his long, white hair. “We’re all friends here. No hierarchy on this floor between us. Remember?”

After another nervous glance around, Dloben whispered, “Does the elder know that?”

Vermidian’s heart nearly broke for the small, sweet gargoyle. He’d known that their kind had been abused under Grecian, but he’d never had the chance to see the outcome in action. Needing to help the small male, Vermidian moved toward Dloben slowly.

“I know there’s no hierarchy on this floor,” Vermidian stated. While it hadn’t been explained quite like that, that simple explanation made everything clear. These three vampires were family—brothers. “We’re all friends here. Family by bond.”

Once again, Vermidian made a mental note to imprint that on Keefe. Phineas wouldn’t give a shit.

Smiling at the small male while slinging his arm over Ridger’s shoulders, Vermidian stated, “You’re Dloben, right?”

Dloben gripped his juice in a white-knuckled grip. Cuddling into Basques’s side, he focused on Vermidian and nodded. “Yes, Elder.”

Vermidian shook his head as he smiled kindly at Dloben. “Just Vermidian here amongst us,” he corrected gently. Then he added, “And it’s just as easy to pour two glasses of juice as it is to pour one.” Vermidian pointed at his own glass behind him. “It’s delicious.”

“Y-You like cranberry juice, too?” Dloben asked, as if that was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard.

Nodding, Vermidian added, “Almost better than coffee to wake up first thing in the morning.”

“Better,” Dloben declared. Then he must have realized what he’d done—counter an elder. “Um, I mean—”

Vermidian chuckled softly. Lifting a hand, he bit back his wince as he spotted Dloben cringe, as if the little gargoyle thought he was going to hit him.

Shit!

He didn’t miss Basques’s glare, either.

“It’s totally okay, Dloben.” Vermidian took a chance and closed the distance between them. Knowing the dominant and protective vampire wasn’t going to release his beloved, Vermidian wrapped them both in his arms. Then he began to trill as he rubbed up and down Dloben’s back with a light hand.

After a few heartbeats, Vermidian felt Dloben relax. A couple of seconds later, Basques did, too. He continued to trill for another moment, even though he knew he was making a bit of a spectacle.

Finally, Vermidian ceased and took a step backward. He smiled down at Dloben, hiding the sadness he felt upon seeing the wonder in the blue gargoyle’s eyes. While Vermidian didn’t want to draw attention to the male’s past, he couldn’t totally leave it alone, either.

“I will never raise my hand against you, Dloben,” Vermidian told him honestly. “And I’ll make certain my enforcers will know that rule, too.”

Even as Dloben nodded, he asked, “What if I deserve it?”

Vermidian chuckled softly as he moved back to his own mate. “I can’t imagine anything you’d do that would warrant hitting you.” Deciding to leave it, he focused on Ridger. “My stomach is growling, my mate. What do you recommend?”

Ridger took the switch in stride. “Unfortunately, Praerna has a secret ingredient that he adds to his hashbrown casserole. A spice, I bet.” He pointed to a potato dish. “But the ones the kitchen here makes isn’t too bad. There’s also sausage links and bacon.” Handing over one of the plates he still held, Ridger asked, “How do you like your eggs? We have scrambled with bits of peppers, onions, and bacon bits in it. Or there’s some over-easy, too. Pancakes and French toast.” Lifting the last lid, Ridger grinned. “And of course, they never forget Krispin’s favorite. Potato cakes.”

“Wow.” Vermidian stared at the impressive spread. “I can’t remember the last time I had French toast,” he admitted, eyeing it. “And it’s covered in powder sugar.” Grabbing a fork, Vermidian stabbed into two of the thick wedges. Focusing on a grinning Ridger, he asked hopefully, “Syrup?”

Laughing, Ridger handed over a heated, glass carafe. “There you go, my beloved.”

The next twenty minutes were filled with eating and chatting.

Vermidian enjoyed the laidback atmosphere. The vampires did most of the chatting. They razzed each other about anything and everything they could think of.

Basques and Krispin also did their best to slip in embarrassing Ridger stories. When that happened, Ridger countered with tales about each of them.

“You know, Bas,” Dloben piped up suddenly. “You never did tell me why everyone was talking about us having kids.”

“Uh...” Basques began to reply, ever-so-eloquently.

Krispin laughed. “I asked Ridger when he was going to have a kid,” he stated. Grinning, he pointed at Ridger. “And Ridger tried to misdirect, since you all had been mated the longest.”

Dloben’s blue eyebrow ridges were furrowed as he nodded. “So, you don’t want kids?”

Looking like a deer in the headlights, Basques sat frozen with his refilled coffee cup halfway to his lips.

Patting Basques’s thigh, Dloben told him, “It’s okay. We have centuries to think about having kids.”

Basques set down his coffee mug and took Dloben’s hand. “Do you want kids someday, Dloben?”

Dloben nibbled his bottom lip as he peered at Basques through his lashes. “I think I’d like to wait until I’m not a basket case first.” Glancing toward Vermidian, he silently made it clear that he was referring to his earlier freak-out. “Then... maybe someday. But I kinda like having you all to myself right now, too.”

Nodding once, Basques smiled lovingly at his gargoyle. “You got it, my gorgeous gargoyle.”

When Basques dipped his head and claimed Dloben’s lips, Vermidian turned his attention to Ridger. He threaded his fingers into his vampire’s, catching his attention. When Ridger arched one blond brow at him, Vermidian winked.

“For the record,” Vermidian began slowly. “I do want a hatchling or two someday, but I’m willing to wait on your timing.” Grimacing, he added, “And I’d prefer it not be while we’re in the middle of being targeted by paranormal haters.”

Ridger’s expression turned pained. Except, when he answered, his words weren’t the response Vermidian expected.

“My handsome gargoyle,” Ridger crooned, squeezing his hand. “There will always be hunters out there. That’s just human nature.” Grimacing, Ridger amended, “The nature of any species. There will always be those who choose to hate.”

Vermidian hesitated over that answer. “Then... does that mean you want a hatchling... soon?”

Clearing his throat, Ridger leaned forward. He placed his half-full mug on the coffee table. Straightening, he clasped that palm around their twined fingers.

Ridger smiled up at Vermidian. “Yes, I’ve always wanted kids. Did I expect to be the one carrying them? No.” Chuckling softly, he added, “But I’m willing.” Clearing his expression, Ridger stated, “What we really need to figure out is if we want them soon or if we want to have a few years of just us together.”

Humming, Vermidian nodded slowly. “You’re right. Seeing as we just met, that is a big decision.”

“Yes, it is.” Ridger smirked as he cut a glance Krispin’s way. “Those two had a contraceptive mishap.”

Wash snorted as he shook his head. “Yeah. We forgot to use it.”

Vermidian gaped. “You... You forgot to discuss birth control?” Shaking his head, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “How old are you again?”

“Old enough to have known better,” Krispin answered evasively. Then he shrugged with a smile. “Still, I’m looking forward to my little eggling hatching, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Eggling?” Vermidian hadn’t ever heard that term before.

Krispin nodded. “Well, he hasn’t hatched, yet, so he’s not a hatchling.” Grinning, clearly pleased with his logic, the vampire master finished, “So, he’s an eggling.”

Scoffing, Vermidian nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, just so you’re aware.” Krispin pointed at the last, half-eaten piece of French toast left on Basques’s plate. “There’s cinnamon on those.”

Vermidian nodded. “I tasted it. It was good.”

“Well, now that we’ve had a wonderful breakfast and have gotten to know each other a little better.” Krispin rose to his feet and crossed to the nearby table. He picked up a file and returned to his seat. “Time to get to business.” After sitting, he opened his file across his thigh. “According to Kraymer, there are two more coven vehicles with tracking devices on them.”

Basques demanded, “Which ones?”

“The first is one of our SUVs that has to be signed out by whoever takes it,” Krispin revealed. After a pause, he met his head enforcer’s gaze. “The second is my personal car, which hasn’t moved in almost a month.”

As Basques growled, Ridger mused, “So now we need to figure out if it was an inside job, or if it was done prior to our new security cameras.”

“Exactly,” Krispin agreed.