“From there.” He pointed toward a claw near the top of the tree. “I have been waiting for you to leave the island.”
“How did you . . .” Roke gave a sharp shake of his head, pausing as if he were silently counting to ten. Sally was fairly certain he’d better make it a hundred. Levet seemed to aggravate the vampire without even trying. “I thought you were chasing after your female?”
“Yannah sent me back to you.”
“Why?”
Levet sniffed, a petulant expression on his ugly gray features.
“Who knows why a woman does anything? The workings of the female mind are beyond comprehension.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Roke muttered.
Sally smacked him in the middle of the back.
“Careful,” she muttered, glancing around his shoulder to peer at the gargoyle. “You said you could help?”
“Oui.” Levet’s expression brightened. “I am acquainted with an imp who might be of service.”
“What imp?” she asked.
“Troy, the Prince of Imps. He resides in Chicago.”
Chapter Ten
Roke once again had Sally in his arms as they dashed over the rocky ground, stoically ignoring Levet who struggled to keep pace beside him.
His first impulse had been to run off the miniature gargoyle.
There was no way in hell he could endure his presence for another road trip.
But, he was vampire enough to admit that Levet’s unexpected arrival had worked in his own favor.
After all, there was no way in hell he would ever have convinced Sally to return to Chicago without the gargoyle suggesting the imp could be of assistance. And while he was no happier about the thought of allowing her anywhere near the fey, they would at least have the protection of the King of Vampires and his Ravens.
That Roke would insist on.
They were nearing the edge of a small town when Sally stirred restlessly in his arms.
“We can’t run all the way to Chicago.”
“I don’t intend to.” He sent his winged companion a stern gaze. “Gargoyle?”
Levet wrinkled his heavy brow. “What?”
“You took off on our only source of transportation.”
“Ah . . . oui.”
His wings seemed to droop. No doubt the little thief hoped that Roke was too distracted to remember he’d taken off with his precious bike.
“This way.”
Surprisingly, Levet headed directly toward the town. Roke assumed he would have hidden the bike in the thick underbrush at the edge of the woods.
Why risk leaving it so close to the humans?
Then, halting at a small house that was nearly hidden in the shadows of an abandoned gas station, the gargoyle stood in front of the attached garage and gave a dramatic wave of his hands.
“Ta-da.”
Roke moved forward only to come to a baffled halt at the sight of the battered Fiesta that consumed the cramped space.
“What the hell is this?”
Levet shifted from foot to foot, clearing his throat.
“I should think it is obvious. You desire transportation and I have provided it.” He gave another wave of his hands. “Ta-da.”
Roke carefully set Sally on her feet, already knowing the gargoyle was about to piss him off.
“Where’s my motorcycle?”
Levet managed a sickly smile. “A motorcycle is not precisely built for three. This is far more sensible.”
“It’s a piece of shit.” Roke narrowed his gaze. “Now where is my bike?”
“I can locate another vehicle. . . .” Levet’s eyes widened as Roke yanked him off the ground by one horn. “Eek!”
Holding the creature at eye level, Roke spoke with a cold precision.
“Where. Is. My. Bike?”
The gargoyle turned from gray to a strange shade of oyster.
“There might have been a teeny-tiny accident.”
The nearby garage creaked as Roke’s temper threatened to explode.
Only another bike-man could understand his rising fury.
“If you put so much as a scratch on my bike, I’ll rip off your wings.”
The idiotic demon folded his arms over his chest, trying to pretend he wasn’t dangling by one horn.
“I will have you know I did you a favor. That . . .” He struggled for the proper word. “Death trap was not fit for the road.” He waved a hand toward the Fiesta. “While this is obviously a classic.”
“I’ll kill you—” Roke began, knowing beyond a doubt the jackass had destroyed his pride and joy.
But even as his power swirled through the air there was a light touch on his arm. Instantly he was distracted, his entire being focused on the exquisite woman at his side.
It was . . . unnerving.
As if she had become hardwired to his emotional grid.
“Could we fight about this later?” she asked softly.
“Oui,” the gargoyle hurriedly agreed. “Later.”
He met Sally’s dark gaze, giving a slow nod of his head. “Fine. We’ll take this until we can find something better.”
He moved to pull open the passenger door of the sorry excuse for a car, settling Sally before moving to the driver’s side. He was about to slide behind the steering wheel when he halted to grab the gargoyle who was hopping into the backseat.
“Not you,” he growled.
“Roke,” Sally chastised.
This time he refused to be distracted. The damned pest had destroyed a quarter-of-a-million-dollar bike.
He was lucky he was still in one lumpy piece.
“He can stay behind and disguise our trail,” he said, holding Levet’s gaze so there would be no misunderstanding.
“But—”
“I am, as ever, delighted to play the role of knight in shining armor,” Levet interrupted Sally’s protest, backing away with a speed that revealed he wasn’t entirely stupid. “It does appear to be my destiny.”
“Christ,” Roke muttered, stuffing his six-foot-plus frame into the car.
“Au revoir, mademoiselle, I shall rejoin you in Chicago,” the gargoyle called as Roke swiped his fingers over the steering column, sparking the engine to life.
They chugged out of the garage, Roke cursing the pathetic vehicle while Sally automatically fastened her seat belt.
Once away from the town, he pressed the accelerator to the floor, not surprised when the car barely managed to hit the speed limit.
Still, they were headed in the right direction, and at least for now there wasn’t a fey or weird-ass demon in sight.