Page 11 of Gardening and Gargoyles

I rear back and knock over three high stools with my tail and talon-like feet. “He’s exiled you here, away from your rightful place at his side as lady of the castle?” My eyes blaze, and my wings flap out to their full extent, taking down the wine bottle and glasses, making Lady June yelp and pick up her typing picture box. “To sin against his love and troth with you?”

“Uh. Troth?”

I don’t care that Lady June seems puzzled by my words. Some of hers confuse me, too. “The centuries have passed, but a gargoyle’s job remains the same.” I bow. “I will protect you. That is obviously why I was sent—an exiled gargoyle to care for the exiled lady. Fear not. I am here now.”

Lady June nods slowly, as if she has grave doubts.

“I may not be able to fly on this wing, but I can still hunt, and if there are still highwaymen—”

“Can you sweep up? Because I’m barefoot, and there are bits of glass everywhere, Duncan.”

“Oh. Does the maid not do those menial things?” I look again at her meager clothing, and rage boils up within me. “Did he send you away like that, with nothing to wear? No servants?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t do servants, I don’t need protecting, and I live by the code of ‘if you break it, you clean it up.’ There has to be a broom around here somewhere, and then we’ll find the vacuum.”

“The vacuum?”

“This is going to be a long night.”

“No servants? No gowns?”

Lady June groans. “A very, very long night.”

“Forgive me for saying it, but your man is a bastard.”

Lady June actually laughs, and for all that it is a harsh sound, it is still beautiful. “I think so, too. Looks like we have something in common, Duncan.”

“Thank you, Lady June.”

“Just June.”

“No, no, I cannae call the lady of the castle—”

“If you call me Lady June, I have to call you Sir Duncan. Like a knight. My brave, protective friend.”

My tail tip tingles at her praise and her smile. “Gargoyles do not usually receive titles, my lady.”

“Well, if I’m like the royal boss babe, I can knight you, right?” Lady June finds a broom in the narrow cupboard in the kitchen and taps me lightly on each shoulder. “I dub thee Sir Duncan, Protector of Pine Ridge.”

“Ooh. I like that.”

And even though I’m bloody confused about everything around me, I quite like Lady June, too.

Chapter Three: Knights and Ladies

When dawn comes up, I’m left staring at a stone figure clawing the air, looking fierce and deadly—with his tail frozen in mid-threatening lash. In the middle of the garden.

Next to the azalea bush he just knocked down.

It was a long, miserable night.

Duncan, AKA Sir Duncan, AKA the Protector of Pine Ridge, is a nice hallucination, don’t get me wrong. He’s outraged at Daniel for buying the family castle to turn it into a money-making operation, and for leaving me, and apparently for not ensuring I at least had a maid, cook, gardener, and a full wardrobe. He wields a mean broom, but he tried to punch the big screen television when he stepped on the remote, and NASCAR reruns roared and blared into the lodge.

He doesn’t understand women’s fashion, and a “Visit Florida” commercial with girls living it up in bikinis almost gave him an aneurysm.

I pat his stone body gently and then slap myself much harder.

He’s still there. Not in the same position he was when I unpacked him... I think.