Serial Story: Under His Wing, Part 11
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Dunning Manor, Book 1
Under His Wing
Part 11
Katie tapped her foot against the stone floor of the dining room that evening, waiting for Thomas to join her. She leaned forward in the too-big chair, took a sip of mead from her goblet, cringed at the taste, and then sat back again.
She shifted to the side, leaning on one thick armrest, and pulling her feet up on the seat beside her. Glancing at the serving platters where her attempt at two individual meat pies sat, she put her feet down and sat up straight again.
Would the man never come? Or would it be the gargoyle? Had she really seen him change last night?
Heavy footsteps approached, and she shifted in her chair again, looking over the table one more time before his shadow fell through the doorway and into the room.
“Good evening,” he said, taking his place at the head of the table. “Have you recovered from your ordeal earlier today?”
She nodded. “Hi. I mean, hello. And yes, thank you. Are you...” she wasn’t sure what to ask, but it seemed polite to make small talk. Unfortunately not one of her strong suits. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
He inclined his head as he reached for a pie. “It was...relaxing. And yours?”
Katie reached for the second pie with part dread and part curiosity. Would it be magically edible like the meal last night, or would it taste as bad as it had looked just out of the oven?
“It was okay,” she said, spearing a bit of crust, meat and gravy on her fork and lifting it to her lips. It smelled surprisingly good, and she was relieved when the flavors on her tongue bore no resemblance to what she’d been expecting.
“You are a good cook,” Thomas said.
Katie choked at his comment, gasping for air and pounding on her chest as she coughed in an attempt to continue breathing. Thomas didn’t even look concerned, just continued to eat until she could speak again.
Nice.
“Honestly, I’m a horrible cook,” she finally admitted after gulping a too-big sip of mead. “I burn water. I have no idea how it happens, but somehow the food just...turns into something good when it’s served. It’s like magic or something.”
Sitting back in his chair, Thomas laughed. “I doubt that very much. But humility is a rare trait in someone so young, so perhaps I should take you at your word.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes, like someone who knew the veiled insult would sting, and looked forward to the eruption sure to follow.
Men. They were all alike, aside from the whole turns-into-a-monster thing.
“You’re right - I’m not being humble. I really can’t cook. Even with a recipe, I can screw pretty much anything up. I have to ask though - have you ever had a bad meal here?”
He thought for a few seconds, his brows drawing together in a way that did peculiar things to her insides.
“No, now that you mention it, I haven’t. To be fair though,” he rubbed his chin with one hand. “I haven’t exactly eaten here much either. If I’m not assigned to a case, I’m usually sleeping.”
It was Katie’s turn to frown. “How long have you been here, anyway? And I want to know about the whole gargoyle thing too. How does that work?”
He poured himself more mead, and then topped off her glass. “I don’t know the exact number, but I’ve been here for over two hundred years now. As for the other...well, there’s a curse on this mansion, commissioned by its first owner, a wealthy aristocrat named Alfred Dunning. He caught his brother trying to seduce his wife, and forced a local group of druids to cast a spell that would serve as punishment. Unfortunately the druids weren’t happy with someone using them for something so banal as revenge, so they cursed the entire mansion, and the Dunning brothers with it. Those two are the only gargoyles who can never leave this place.”
Katie’s eyes went wide, and she sat up straight. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me the original owner of the mansion is still here, along with his cheating brother? Where? Do they ever just...walk around? Say hi? How old are they?”
Thomas grinned, draining his goblet and then rising to his feet. He held out a hand to her.
“Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Dunning Manor, Book 1
Under His Wing
Part 11
Katie tapped her foot against the stone floor of the dining room that evening, waiting for Thomas to join her. She leaned forward in the too-big chair, took a sip of mead from her goblet, cringed at the taste, and then sat back again.
She shifted to the side, leaning on one thick armrest, and pulling her feet up on the seat beside her. Glancing at the serving platters where her attempt at two individual meat pies sat, she put her feet down and sat up straight again.
Would the man never come? Or would it be the gargoyle? Had she really seen him change last night?
Heavy footsteps approached, and she shifted in her chair again, looking over the table one more time before his shadow fell through the doorway and into the room.
“Good evening,” he said, taking his place at the head of the table. “Have you recovered from your ordeal earlier today?”
She nodded. “Hi. I mean, hello. And yes, thank you. Are you...” she wasn’t sure what to ask, but it seemed polite to make small talk. Unfortunately not one of her strong suits. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
He inclined his head as he reached for a pie. “It was...relaxing. And yours?”
Katie reached for the second pie with part dread and part curiosity. Would it be magically edible like the meal last night, or would it taste as bad as it had looked just out of the oven?
“It was okay,” she said, spearing a bit of crust, meat and gravy on her fork and lifting it to her lips. It smelled surprisingly good, and she was relieved when the flavors on her tongue bore no resemblance to what she’d been expecting.
“You are a good cook,” Thomas said.
Katie choked at his comment, gasping for air and pounding on her chest as she coughed in an attempt to continue breathing. Thomas didn’t even look concerned, just continued to eat until she could speak again.
Nice.
“Honestly, I’m a horrible cook,” she finally admitted after gulping a too-big sip of mead. “I burn water. I have no idea how it happens, but somehow the food just...turns into something good when it’s served. It’s like magic or something.”
Sitting back in his chair, Thomas laughed. “I doubt that very much. But humility is a rare trait in someone so young, so perhaps I should take you at your word.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes, like someone who knew the veiled insult would sting, and looked forward to the eruption sure to follow.
Men. They were all alike, aside from the whole turns-into-a-monster thing.
“You’re right - I’m not being humble. I really can’t cook. Even with a recipe, I can screw pretty much anything up. I have to ask though - have you ever had a bad meal here?”
He thought for a few seconds, his brows drawing together in a way that did peculiar things to her insides.
“No, now that you mention it, I haven’t. To be fair though,” he rubbed his chin with one hand. “I haven’t exactly eaten here much either. If I’m not assigned to a case, I’m usually sleeping.”
It was Katie’s turn to frown. “How long have you been here, anyway? And I want to know about the whole gargoyle thing too. How does that work?”
He poured himself more mead, and then topped off her glass. “I don’t know the exact number, but I’ve been here for over two hundred years now. As for the other...well, there’s a curse on this mansion, commissioned by its first owner, a wealthy aristocrat named Alfred Dunning. He caught his brother trying to seduce his wife, and forced a local group of druids to cast a spell that would serve as punishment. Unfortunately the druids weren’t happy with someone using them for something so banal as revenge, so they cursed the entire mansion, and the Dunning brothers with it. Those two are the only gargoyles who can never leave this place.”
Katie’s eyes went wide, and she sat up straight. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me the original owner of the mansion is still here, along with his cheating brother? Where? Do they ever just...walk around? Say hi? How old are they?”
Thomas grinned, draining his goblet and then rising to his feet. He held out a hand to her.
“Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
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