Trouble with Gargoyles: an Urban Fantasy (Moonlight Dragon Book 3) by Tricia Owens Page A
Authors: Tricia Owens
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of the bar and surveyed the room with pale blue eyes. The bartender was too busy with other orders to notice us which was fine. Melanie and I weren't here for a good time.
Our entrance had garnered a longer look from the patrons this time since it wasn't our attire that anyone here cared about, only our magick. Melanie was always kind of squirrelly, so maybe the more perceptive shifters might have guessed that she was a monkey shifter. None would be able to guess that I was a dragon sorceress except maybe those who were also descended from dragons (read: Chinese) or older magickal beings who seemed to have a knack for sensing things like that, such as the host of the room, the person we were here to see.
Kleure was pretty unmistakable as a magickal being. For one thing, he was a huge black dog, larger even than a Great Dane. For another, he had leathery wings and a halo of blue flames around his head. Oddly, a little yellow canary perched on one shoulder.
Panting happily in the booth around him sat half a dozen dogs that looked like mutts, though I assumed they must also be shifters.
"Remember what I said," I murmured to Melanie. "Let me handle it and keep an eye on the room."
"Okay," she whispered back nervously. I think she would have held my hand had I allowed it, but I trusted her to watch out for us. A monkey might be small, but they could be scrappy little buggers.
We sidestepped hooves and paws and carefully tiptoed over flickering tails, all while being watched by dozens of eyes. Was it my imagination or had the volume in the room dimmed as we made our way across the room?
If you look like you're paranoid, they'll think you're up to no good.
I pulled back my shoulders slightly, trying to project both confidence and nonchalance. No easy feat when things were growling around you. Finally we reached Kleure's booth. To my relief, he transformed into a wiry, black-haired man with bright blue eyes. Well, eyes with blue flames in them, which was close enough. Of course he was naked, but the table hid everything from the waist down so I was fine with being subjected to his hairy chest. His had nothing on Rodrigo's.
"I know you," he said in a straining voice, like he was unused to pushing air out of his mouth in ways that didn't form barks or howls. The canary continued to sit on his shoulder, watching me with tiny black eyes. "You're Anne Moody, proprietress of the Moonlight Pawn Shop. Daughter of Iris and Jacob, long deceased."
My smile was forced. Being known, even within my own community, wasn't ideal when your magickal familiar was an apex predator with a storied history of burning villages to the ground. You kind of wanted to fly under the radar on that one.
"Hello, Mr. Kleure. I’m flattered you know who I am," I lied. "Of course I know all about you . Everyone does."
"Everyone in the casino business," he agreed, baring his teeth in a smile reminiscent of a dog's snarl. It wasn't a threatening action, just not particularly pleasant to look at.
"Business has been good lately, yes?" I prompted.
Kleure inclined his head. "Better than ever. More casinos are being built every year. More casinos mean more gaming tables and slots, which mean more gamblers and more demand for my pets."
The pit-terrier seated at the end of the booth licked its chops and went back to panting with its wide, sloppy grin. I tried to imagine what sort of person the dog shifted into and decided it was some muscle-y Jersey type.
"That's right. You rent 'pets' to the casinos," I said. "As lucky charms."
"Correction, my pets are influential."
"Right. Because they make people lucky."
"Correction again, Anne: they make people feel lucky. A very big difference where the Oddsmakers are concerned." Kleure growled softly for a few seconds and then licked his lips like he was licking his chops: with his entire tongue. "They bind us with rules like we're children. They tell us we are prohibited from affecting the gaming odds in any way. Why do
Our entrance had garnered a longer look from the patrons this time since it wasn't our attire that anyone here cared about, only our magick. Melanie was always kind of squirrelly, so maybe the more perceptive shifters might have guessed that she was a monkey shifter. None would be able to guess that I was a dragon sorceress except maybe those who were also descended from dragons (read: Chinese) or older magickal beings who seemed to have a knack for sensing things like that, such as the host of the room, the person we were here to see.
Kleure was pretty unmistakable as a magickal being. For one thing, he was a huge black dog, larger even than a Great Dane. For another, he had leathery wings and a halo of blue flames around his head. Oddly, a little yellow canary perched on one shoulder.
Panting happily in the booth around him sat half a dozen dogs that looked like mutts, though I assumed they must also be shifters.
"Remember what I said," I murmured to Melanie. "Let me handle it and keep an eye on the room."
"Okay," she whispered back nervously. I think she would have held my hand had I allowed it, but I trusted her to watch out for us. A monkey might be small, but they could be scrappy little buggers.
We sidestepped hooves and paws and carefully tiptoed over flickering tails, all while being watched by dozens of eyes. Was it my imagination or had the volume in the room dimmed as we made our way across the room?
If you look like you're paranoid, they'll think you're up to no good.
I pulled back my shoulders slightly, trying to project both confidence and nonchalance. No easy feat when things were growling around you. Finally we reached Kleure's booth. To my relief, he transformed into a wiry, black-haired man with bright blue eyes. Well, eyes with blue flames in them, which was close enough. Of course he was naked, but the table hid everything from the waist down so I was fine with being subjected to his hairy chest. His had nothing on Rodrigo's.
"I know you," he said in a straining voice, like he was unused to pushing air out of his mouth in ways that didn't form barks or howls. The canary continued to sit on his shoulder, watching me with tiny black eyes. "You're Anne Moody, proprietress of the Moonlight Pawn Shop. Daughter of Iris and Jacob, long deceased."
My smile was forced. Being known, even within my own community, wasn't ideal when your magickal familiar was an apex predator with a storied history of burning villages to the ground. You kind of wanted to fly under the radar on that one.
"Hello, Mr. Kleure. I’m flattered you know who I am," I lied. "Of course I know all about you . Everyone does."
"Everyone in the casino business," he agreed, baring his teeth in a smile reminiscent of a dog's snarl. It wasn't a threatening action, just not particularly pleasant to look at.
"Business has been good lately, yes?" I prompted.
Kleure inclined his head. "Better than ever. More casinos are being built every year. More casinos mean more gaming tables and slots, which mean more gamblers and more demand for my pets."
The pit-terrier seated at the end of the booth licked its chops and went back to panting with its wide, sloppy grin. I tried to imagine what sort of person the dog shifted into and decided it was some muscle-y Jersey type.
"That's right. You rent 'pets' to the casinos," I said. "As lucky charms."
"Correction, my pets are influential."
"Right. Because they make people lucky."
"Correction again, Anne: they make people feel lucky. A very big difference where the Oddsmakers are concerned." Kleure growled softly for a few seconds and then licked his lips like he was licking his chops: with his entire tongue. "They bind us with rules like we're children. They tell us we are prohibited from affecting the gaming odds in any way. Why do
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