Chapitre 19: Chapter 19
And suddenly there it was. She ground her hips down one last time just as she felt the hot rush of Damien's orgasm. Her consciousness fragmented as every cell in her body seemed to convulse. Her entire universe centered on the hot wash of Damien's seed and his hard fullness inside her core. Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on the skin of his chest as she came. Colored lights burst behind her eyelids leaving blackness in their wake. Vaguely she felt herself collapse on Damien's broad chest, gasping for breath. Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, but it didn't matter. Everything in her world - in the universe - was perfect.
"Katie? Cherie, are you all right?"
Damien's voice was shaky with concern. She nodded into his shoulder. "Wonderful."
His arms closed gently around her, shifted her slightly to the side so she was pillowed against his throat. "That you are, mon ange. That you are."
That evening, Damien parked his Harley in front of the inconspicuous looking building that housed his new office. He'd much rather be back at Katie's loft tucked into bed with her, but duty called. Hers had called even earlier. Somewhere around noon she'd gone off to her job. Turned out the mayor had two paranormal task forces. One for law enforcement - the supernatural cop squad as Katie called it - and one for policy purposes. Katie was an architect and served as a housing issues consultant on the policy team.
He took his helmet off and went into the building. After passing a surprisingly tough-looking desk sergeant - a troll, perhaps - he was ushered into a large office area, scruffy but comfortable and clearly designed for people bigger and heavier than average. He was greeted by a guy almost as tall and broad as he was, with long bronze-colored hair and eyes to match.
"Hi. I'm Bram Logan, your partner for the next few weeks. Welcome to Philadelphia."
Logan seemed a reasonable sort. He was friendly, though there was watchfulness in his expression that boded well for his skill as a cop. Damien shook his hand and let the other man show him around the place.
"This is Frank McAuley. He's in charge of surveillance for the unit." Damien held out a hand, then realized his mistake and pulled it back with a grimace.
Frank gave a rueful smile as Damien's hand passed right through Frank's. "Sorry about that."
"My fault," he told the incorporeal ghost. "Pleased to meet you, Frank." This time he affected a brief respectful bow.
He went on to meet several other interesting people before Logan showed him to a pair of face-to-face desks and told Damien to settle in. Damien immediately noted a photo on the other man's desk - a beautiful blonde with delicately pointed ears.
"Your wife?" Logan sported a wedding band, so it was a safe bet.
Logan nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yep. That's Twyla."
"Pretty."
"Th - " this time the yawn erupted. Logan shook his head. "Sorry. Not much sleep in the past few days. Pixie morning sickness is a bitch."
"Ah. Well, congratulations, then." It took a second for Damien's brain to process the connection. "Pixie? Was she by any chance Katie Calhoun's previous roommate?"
Logan nodded. "Yeah, the mayor said he was going to see if Katie could put you up for the interim. Everything okay there?"
Damien swallowed hard. It was easy to see that his new partner was fond of his wife's friend. He'd have to tread carefully. He wasn't sure exactly what sort of being Logan was, but he looked tough enough to be a threat, even to a gargoyle. "Everything's fine. Ms. Calhoun seems like a very - special woman."
And wasn't that the understatement of the year, he thought after his shift. There was something remarkably comfortable about sitting across from Katie at her kitchen table eating lasagna.
"You never did tell me why you were here in Philadelphia," she remarked. They'd gone at it like minks on her living room floor the moment he'd walked in. Now they were taking a break for much needed sustenance.
"The job?" He thought he'd try the easy answer but he wasn't surprised when she shook her head.
"The real reason."
"Okay. The gargoyle population has been having some problems. Our seers claim that they can be fixed by the recovery of certain magical artifacts. And according to the most recent vision, one of the artifacts is here in Philadelphia. So I was sent to try and find it."
"What kind of artifact?" She sipped her red wine and played with the long antique necklace she always wore. With her dressed in nothing but an oversized hockey jersey and him in his boxers, it was hard to keep his mind on anything but sex, even the survival of his own race.
"A belt," he told her. "Part of the original regalia of our ruler. When the gargoyles were created, we were given four talismans to protect our people. Over the years all four have been lost." And without them, his people were dying.
"Created?"
He should have known her agile mind would seize on that. He sighed and started at the beginning. "Originally the gargoyles were one of the many tribes known as Goths. When we lost a major battle to another tribe, my people were given a choice - either be completely eradicated, or be transformed."
"Transformed?"
He nodded. "Into guardians of a sort. By night we would be our natural selves, but by day, we would take on the aspects of demons and be set as stone statues on the cathedrals and castles built by our conquerors. We were granted four powerful objects to sustain the magic - a belt, a crown, a ring and a cup, each representing one of the four elements. In the hands of our chieftain and his mate, they balanced the negative power of our demonic curse."
"Over the centuries our sentence was lightened as we performed acts of valor and mercy. We still transformed by daylight, but were only required to turn to stone to heal from an injury or illness. Later, even that change was only forced for a small portion of our lifespan as an encouragement to renew the population. Now we make our first transformation at puberty instead of in infancy and after we've reproduced the change becomes optional."
"But somewhere along the way, the four artifacts were scattered and lost. Without them, our people are suffering. Babies are far less common. More and more of our children fail to survive the first change. And even adults in their prime are beginning to succumb to disease."
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone