Magical Midlife Meeting (Leveling Up #5)(62)

Turned out, it could shake and roll and drop a few pebbles. Basically, theatrics. Mr. Tom hadn’t understood the point, other than to freak out their captors, and the basajaun could have just roared to achieve that much. Mages these days seemed a very fragile sort. Quite different from the ones he’d battled back before flushable toilets.

It was probably for the best, since mages currently dominated the magical world and kept bothering Ivy House and the miss. All the better if they were cowards.

“The violence portion was why she waited so long for him to prove himself,” Ulric said. “Gargoyles have always been on the front lines. They are strong and sure and powerful, and she must be their alpha. Which means she must be capable of handling violence. And, if necessary, thwarting it. Her beast wanted proof that her mate would do the same.”

“You don’t think an alpha shifter knows about being on the front lines and handling and thwarting violence?” Kace laughed and shook his head. “No gargoyle is going up against Austin Steele and winning, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Well, clearly one gargoyle is, ye donkey.” Niamh went back to her magazine. “She’s in there right now, going up against him. Surely enjoying herself while she does.”

“I wondered if she was hesitating because she worried about repeating the pattern of the past heirs,” Edgar said, standing and backing farther into the corner. It was very creepy in an endearing sort of way.

“I wondered that meself,” Niamh murmured. “Did she give him that protector’s magic yet? Do we know?”

“He couldn’t harness her magic.” Ulric leaned forward again as another pulse of magic moved through the air. “He’s not a mage.”

“He couldn’t harness the bulk of her magic, but the protector’s magic can be used by anyone, including someone non-magical,” Edgar said from his corner, still analyzing his handiwork. “The magic will customize to the recipient.”

“I wonder what that will look like with a shifter,” Ulric said, frowning.

“But he does get that protector’s magic, doesn’t he?” Mr. Tom asked.

“I guess we’ll see soon enough,” Ulric said.

“I wonder if he were to harness that magic,” Edgar said, scratching his head. “Could he use it to kill her?”

“Glass half-full, aren’t ye, boy?” Niamh said.

Ulric and Nathanial exchanged a look.

“He could’ve killed her ten times over by now,” Niamh said into the silence, not concerned. She was correct. “He could kill her with or without that magic. She’s given him ten opportunities since breakfast, and he’s a man that would know how to make it permanent. But he won’t, because he’s loyal to her, and that’s that. More magic will just make him better at his job.”

“He doesn’t know about the magic, does he?” Kace asked. “Not that I am trying to get into the alpha’s business.”

“He wanted to go blindly into the gargoyle mating ritual.” Mr. Tom turned a page, going back a page to read something he’d missed, then realized he’d missed all of it and just closed the book. “He wanted to experience it as it came. It sure made things awkward after he saved the day and then carried her through the halls in that…state.”

“He’s been in that state loads of times,” Niamh drawled. “He’s well aware that if he turns around too fast, with the size of that willy standing on end, he’s liable to take out a building.”

“Saving her was part of the ritual?” Kace’s brows pinched together.

“I’ve always heard that when female gargoyles are locking in a mate, they wait for the male to prove his ability,” Ulric explained. “What better way than to bust into an enemy stronghold and save her, huh? She was right on the cusp—if he’d known more about the dance, he would’ve known that would set her off.”

“Not like it would’ve changed anything.” Kace walked closer and plopped into a cushy sage chair.

“Oh. Here you go.” Edgar bustled forward, his doily outstretched. “Here, this will help.” He took away the malformed doily currently graffitiing the arm of the chair and exchanged it for the newly finished monstrosity, three sizes bigger than a normal one. “This one is better.”

“Than what?” Ulric asked in bewilderment, watching.

Kace somehow ignored the disastrously crocheted item. “She handled things the right way. She stepped back so Broken Sue could confront his demons—”

“Are we all calling him Broken Sue now?” Edgar asked. “I worried that he might take offense and rip my arms off if I called him that without any of the enemy around.”

“It’s a good name.” Niamh nodded. “He wouldn’t rip off your arms because you offended him, though. That would be his reaction to the way ye always lope around like a gobshite.”

“Yes. I can see that,” he replied, retreating to his corner.

“Speaking of Brochan, how’s he doing?” Mr. Tom asked. “Does he need something to eat?”

“He’s got whiskey. He’ll be grand.” Niamh leaned forward and tossed the magazine onto the nearest coffee table. “Hard not to believe fate played a role in sending him here, eh? After wandering around the country, he found himself in the one place where he could confront the person that tore down his life.”