Levet (Guardians of Eternity #9.5)(8)

She trailed a claw over a scarlet pillow, her expression devoid of regret.

“It was obvious you were permanently deformed. It was my duty to rid the nest of such a blatant weakness. Every doyenne understands the necessity of pruning the deadwood from the family tree.”

Enough.

He hadn’t come here to resolve his childhood trauma. He might be immortal, but not even an eternity would be enough time to work through his mommy issues.

It was time to get down to business.

“So what if I was to prove that I am more than deadwood?” he challenged. “That I am a prince in the truest sense of the word?”

“Impossible.”

Having expected scorn, Levet wasn’t prepared for the sudden unease that rippled over his mother’s ugly features. As if she was afraid of what he might say.

And he most certainly wasn’t prepared for the lethal flames that she burped in his direction.

“Sacrebleu,” he cried, diving behind his mother’s favorite Moroccan chest. She would never fry the camel leather inset with enough precious gems to rival the crown jewels. “What are you doing?”

She was on her feet, her tail quivering with an unreasonable fury.

“Finishing what I began when you were young.”

Levet hunkered behind the chest.

Merde. This could be going better.

It was time to pull out his only weapon.

“I demand a tribunal,” he said in shaky tones.

A tribunal was the gargoyle equivalent of People’s Court. Or a pirate’s parlay.

“Denied.” Another belch of fire, nearly singeing the tips of his stunted horns.

Levet tucked his wings tight against his shivering body. Had he once said that vampires were the most unreasonable creatures to walk the earth?

He clearly owed Viper and Styx and all the rest of the bloodsuckers an apology.

Not that they would ever hear it from his lips.

He did have his pride.

Even if it was a little scorched.

“You cannot deny me,” he said, as the fire died. “I am a pure-blooded gargoyle despite my . . . deformities.”

“I shunned you.”

Levet was prepared.

“Ah, but I am a prince.” He peeked around the corner, meeting his mother’s infuriated glare. “Those of royal blood can demand a hearing regardless of their sentence.”

Berthe was forced to hesitate.

Gargoyles might be savages in many ways, but the Guild was ruled by a strict code of laws.

There was a long silence as his mother ground her teeth, smoke still curling from her nostril. Then, her eyes narrowed with a cunning satisfaction.

“The elders are not in Paris. There can be no tribunal without them.”

Levet made a sound of disgust. How many demons had stood shoulder to shoulder to battle the Dark Lord while the gargoyles had been MIA?

“You mean the cowards are still in hiding?”

Berthe stomped a massive foot, making the entire building shake.

“They don’t answer to you.”

“Bon.” Cautiously Levet moved from behind the chest. He didn’t want to become a charred briquette, but then again he was tired of cowering. He was now a bona fide hero. Wasn’t he? Straightening his spine, he tilted his chin to meet his mother’s glare. “Then you will stand as judge.”

There was a low hiss as his mother snapped her wings to their full width. An impressive sight meant to intimidate.

“This is a trick.”

“No trick,” Levet denied. “You are doyenne. It is within your powers to pass judgment.”

“I did,” she growled. “You were banished.”

“I was banished without a fair hearing.”

“Because you fled like a spineless Guttar demon.”

Levet waved his hands at the absurd accusation. “You were trying to kill me.”

His mother curled back her lips to fully expose her tusks. “And now I shall finish what I began.”

“Non.”

Without giving himself time to think, Levet held up his hands and released a blast of magic.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his skill . . . non. That was not true.

He did doubt his skill.

For all his bluster, he could never be certain what his magic would do.

One day it might be nothing more than an embarrassing fizzle.

The next it would explode out of him with the force of a nuclear blast.

Tonight, however, it did exactly what he desired.

Shimmering strands of magic flew from the tips of his claws, slamming into his mother with enough force to pin her to the wall.

It was . . . a miracle.

Clearly as astonished as Levet that his spell was working, Berthe struggled against the delicate filaments that were holding her captive.

“What have you done?” she screeched.

Levet took a bouncing step forward, regarding the spiderweb of magic with a smile.

“I tried to tell you that I have grown into a warrior with batty skills. Hmm . . . or is it mad skills?”

The powerful gargoyle tried to breathe fire, only to discover the bonds holding her also suppressed her magic.

Yeah. Go, Levet.

“Release me,” Berthe snarled.

“Not until you’ve given me my hearing.”

The gray eyes smoldered with the promise of death. “You will pay for this.”