Need that emergency brake!

“I was just kidding,” I whispered, my mouth suddenly dry, my stomach flipping.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a money clip stuffed with cash. “Let’s move on. I’ve got what I needed. Let’s day drink down the way, then we’ll go pick out that TV. When are your parents coming again? I want to make sure I’m around to watch the fireworks.”

Three

“Please, miss, stop obsessing. Everything is going to be just fine.”

I laid a blanket across the seat of the comfiest leather chair I could buy. Well…that Mr. Tom could buy. He had wrestled me away from the cashier again so he could pay. He was starting to give me a complex by not letting me buy things for myself.

The chair faced a large TV mounted on the wall, the cords hidden within a little white plastic strip running down to the ground. Eventually I’d get an electrician in here to put a plug in that spot so the cables would be hidden.

The rest of the furniture that had already filled the room, not matching the new leather chair, was resituated so other people could sit in here and watch TV, too.

We hadn’t been able to get a quick enough appointment for proper cable, but Niamh’s bar connection had outfitted us with a somewhat obscure black box. Given these were desperate times, I hadn’t asked questions, just hoped it was magical rather than illegal. I’d go the traditional cable route when there was time.

I’d deliberately chosen a sitting room close to the kitchen so my father wouldn’t have far to go for a snack.

“I know, I’m just…” I straightened up to make sure the furniture looked okay and not like a collection of flea market items haphazardly placed around the room.

“It’s not cold enough for a blanket anyway.” Mr. Tom moved to grab it.

“No, no.” I put out my hand to stop him. “It’s the fart blanket.”

Mr. Tom yanked back his hands. “I beg your pardon?”

“I think he uses a blanket so he doesn’t stick to the leather, but it also contains all the farts.”

A look of horror crossed Mr. Tom’s face. “Who are these people?”

“These people are my parents, and they’ll get weirder, don’t worry.”

I clicked on the TV, nodded when the picture came on, clicked it off again, and laid the remote on the chair arm. I pointed at the empty space to the right of it. “Where’s that end table? He needs a place to put his drinks. And the iPad. Put the iPad on the table.” At least we had Wi-Fi. It was one less thing to worry about.

I made my way to the kitchen and found Jasper loitering near the wall. He wasn’t on duty, but he also didn’t have a life other than watching over me. He could be found hanging around most times.

Jasper’s brow furrowed when I pointed at him. “We need to come up with a reason you’re always just standing around.” He watched me silently. “Or maybe you can just stand around outside? Normal homeowners don’t have bodyguards loitering around.”

“You are not a normal homeowner,” Mr. Tom said, catching up to me.

“Yes, Mr. Tom, I know that. Magical people know that. Do you know who doesn’t know that? Non-magical people, like my parents. How many times have we been over this?” I sighed. “My parents won’t be okay with learning magic exists—if they would even believe it. We have to pretend we’re Dicks and Janes, which is going to be incredibly difficult with so many magical people hanging around all the time. Honestly, you should all just join the hotel gargoyles in town for a few weeks. Take a break. I could call for backup whenever I leave the property.”

“A break?” Mr. Tom said, clearly affronted. “As if I would need a break. What a thing to say to me! Kicking me out of my home? Turning away all your help and protection? Isolating yourself?” He shook his head. “No, miss, my place is here. Your parents will understand, don’t worry.”

I opened my mouth to ask if he’d missed what I’d just said about my parents, then closed it again. What was the point? We’d just go round and round.

Ulric, another of the live-in gargoyles, sat at the round kitchen table, eating a sandwich and looking at his phone. The midmorning sun highlighted his pink and blue spiked hair, the same colors as his gargoyle form. He looked up when we came in and straightened with a smile.

“Counting down the minutes, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, they should be here anytime.” I pulled open the fridge doors, checking the snack supply. My dad had to have his cheese and salami.

A little thread of excitement wormed through the stressful anticipation of their arrival. Despite their hang-ups, I missed them. I hadn’t gone back to Los Angeles for Christmas because Jimmy had decided to stay in New York City with his new girlfriend, probably so he wouldn’t have to choose between Matt and me. Another reason I’d stayed was because I’d been told in no uncertain terms that my gargoyle entourage would be going with me if I traveled. (Even people as strange as my parents would have questions if I showed up with an entourage of men.) I didn’t call as often as I probably should, so this would be a nice chance to catch up.

I just wished they weren’t planning to stay so long.

“What about the salami?” I picked through the drawer in the fridge. “I don’t see any.”

“It’s here.” Mr. Tom pointed at the log hanging underneath one of the cabinets. “Please, miss, stop obsessing. I have everything. We are prepared.”

“I get it.” Ulric went back to his sandwich. “My parents are nuts. My mom has a cleaning complex. If she shows up at my place, she is cleaning within half an hour. Hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, you name it. It’s like she is a dirt crusader. You can never rest easy for fear you’ll make a mess and send her scurrying for the cleaning supplies. Don’t get me wrong, not having to clean for myself is amazing, but still, it’s a little much.”

“There is nothing to clean around here,” Mr. Tom said as he followed me out.

I scanned surfaces and shelves for anything I didn’t want the parents to notice. I’d already hidden a bunch of random wooden carvings of magical creatures and artifacts, locked the doll room, and ensured all of the weapons were put away in the attic, up a whole lot of steps I doubted my parents would climb. I hoped they wouldn’t, at any rate. The decorative wooden carvings above the archway in the foyer changed as I glanced around, shifting from a lovely scene of a meadow to a gruesome battle with dragons, tigers, and centaurs—swords drawn, heads rolling, and bodies piled high.

“Very funny, Ivy House. Change it back. Come on, you have to help. Try to be normal.”

“This is a magical house,” Cedric said as he walked down the stairs. One of two gargoyles who’d responded to my first summons for magical help (the other one had been dismembered), he was still here despite having fallen behind the others in flying prowess and protection. Austin hadn’t said it outright, but he’d hinted that maybe Cedric shouldn’t make the final cut. He wouldn’t say it, either. He offered his help and guidance when asked or when something was dire, but he left the major decisions regarding the team up to me, just like Ivy House did.

I kind of hated it. I always felt bad when I had to let people go. No one had lashed out, but somehow their disappointment was worse than anger.

“By definition,” Cedric said, “it is not normal.”

“Yes, thank you for the lesson on stating the obvious,” Mr. Tom said.

He was clearly jumping aboard the send-Cedric-home train, but I didn’t know what he was taking issue with—Cedric had just said exactly what Mr. Tom had been repeating for three days.

“I don’t feel like you all are giving this the weight you should be,” I muttered, entering the front sitting room and giving it a final once-over. “My parents are square. Do you know what square means?” I re-entered the foyer as Ulric joined us from the kitchen, Cedric now waiting at the bottom of the stairs. It felt like I was giving a pre-battle pep talk. “It was a term applied to the young people who followed the rules when the hippie scene was exploding. My parents have never done hallucinogens. They don’t watch fantasy-type shows, nor do they read fantasy-type books. They are so firmly entrenched in reality, and have been for so long, that none of this magical stuff will compute. They don’t have the imagination for it. They won’t understand an alternative lifestyle. We have to try to stay mainstream.”

“I like all these hot-button words you’re using.” Ulric laughed. “Alternative lifestyle? Staying mainstream? You got it, daddy-o.”

“Respect her, but do not encourage her in this,” Mr. Tom said out of the side of his mouth.

I caught movement through the window and then a flash of sun on metal. My heart stutter-started, and I quickly went to look, watching as the rusty red Cadillac pulled up to the curb.

“They’re here.” I turned to face everyone. “Quick! Hide!”

“What?” Cedric cocked his head in confusion.

“Sorry, no…” I waved the thought away. “Sorry, reflex. But…actually, yes, go to your rooms. Get out of sight. Let’s work them in slowly. Quick! Go! If you need anything, use the secret passageways. Ivy House, help them navigate those. They have my temporary permission.”

“Don’t lock them in for fun,” Mr. Tom said.

“I’ll just stay in my room, then,” Ulric said softly.

I heard voices outside, my parents already bickering as they emerged from the car. I just hoped my dad had pants on.

“You heard her: essential personnel only. Go to your rooms. I will get you when you’re needed.” Mr. Tom motioned everyone away. Apparently he’d dubbed himself essential personnel.

I opened the door as my parents loitered by the trunk, my mom gesturing toward the house while my dad fiddled with the keys.

“We’re not guests, Martha,” my dad was saying. “She won’t mind if we bring something in with us. We’ll have to make fewer trips this way.”