Levet (Guardians of Eternity #9.5)(9)

“Really?” Levet breathed an exaggerated sigh, feeling all cocky with his mother incapacitated. Hey, who knew how long it would last? He had to take pleasure where he could find it. “Gargoyles are tediously repetitive in their threats. You really should consider hiring a vampire to write you new material. They are the experts in terrifying their enemies.”

“You would, of course, admire your new masters,” Berthe spit out. “To think my own son has become the flunky of the leeches. It’s enough to break a mother’s heart.”

“A flunky? I am servant to no demon.” Levet puffed out his chest. “Indeed, I am revered as a legend of heroic proportions.”

“Your proportions are an embarrassment,” his mother mocked. “Just as you have always been.”

He strutted forward, refusing to acknowledge the words hit a perpetual tender nerve.

He was no longer the old Levet who allowed himself to be judged by the size of his body. He was a giant among demons, regardless of his heights.

He lifted his hands. “We shall see.”

“What are you doing?” Unease twisted her ugly features. “Stay back.”

“Frightened of your pathetic, spineless son, Maman?”

“I am weary of this game.”

He gave a flutter of his wings, proud when they captured the light to glitter with brilliant shimmers of crimson and gold.

“Then put an end to it.”

She pressed against the wall, her eyes wide as Levet halted directly in front of her.

Why?

Was she truly afraid of his dubious magic?

That seemed . . . unlikely.

It had to be something else.

But what?

His churning thoughts were brought to a sharp end as his mother glared down from her towering height.

“Stop this, Levet.”

He froze, his stomach knotting in pain. “Mon dieu.”

“What?”

“That is the first time I ever heard my name on your lips.”

She belched, attempting to hide her concern behind the more familiar disdain.

“You aren’t going to snivel, are you? I would rather you kill me than be forced to listen to you blubber.”

Levet shook his head, thinking of the vampire clan that had adopted the Dark Lord’s offspring without hesitation. They had fought to the death to protect the babies and would do so again.

And the gods knew that Salvatore, the King of Weres, was foaming at the mouth with excitement as the delivery day for his litter drew ever nearer.

Of course, Kiviet demons ate all but the strongest of their offspring at birth, so it could always be worse.

“Tell me, Maman, do you love any of your children?”

“Love is for weaklings,” she sneered. “Or humans.”

It was precisely what Levet had expected. And yet...

He swallowed a resigned sigh.

“Then why procreate at all?”

“To strengthen my power base.”

He studied the creature who’d given birth to him for a long minute. For the first time he wasn’t overwhelmed by her ginormous power. Or cringing beneath the crushing disapproval of his lack of mass.

She was still huge. Still scary. And still filled with hatred toward him.

But seeing her clearly, she appeared . . . diminished.

“You know, I thought I hated you,” he said slowly. “Now I realize that I pity you.”

His mother gave a genuine huff, as if outraged by his words. “I am the doyenne of this nest,” she hissed. “The most feared gargoyle in all of Europe.”

“Non.” Levet gave a shake of his head. “You are a lonely, bitter old woman who has nothing but an empty title and the delusion that it makes you important.”

Fury flared through her eyes before the cunning expression made a return. “If you care nothing for me then why are you here?”

“Chasing shadows, it would seem.”

“Then release me.”

Levet rolled his eyes. “Nice try.”

“I will give you a ten-minute head start before I track you down and kill you.”

“Tempting, but . . . I think not.”

“Very well.” Her lips stretched into a tight line. Was that supposed to be a smile? Sacrebleu. “I’ll give you an hour.”

Levet considered. Really and truly considered. Perhaps for the first time in his long life.

What did he want?

Clearly he would never earn his mother’s approval. Or repair the wounds of the past. Or find . . . what did the humans call it? Closure.

But he could have something that had been stolen from him.

“I want what is rightfully mine,” he stated in clear, dignified tones.

The gray eyes narrowed. “An empty title?”

“Of course not,” Levet said in confusion. Only females were allowed to inherit the place of doyenne. “Claudine is your heir.”

“But you could be a prince.”

Once, he would have given anything to reclaim his royal title. Now he gave a shrug of indifference.

“Not if I’m dead.”

Berthe silently weighed her options, her crafty brain searching for a way to convince him to release her from his spell without actually having to offer something of value.

“We could perhaps negotiate a truce,” she grudgingly conceded.