Bite of the Gargoyle

BITE OF THE GARGOYLE by H.P. MALLORY & J.R. RAIN Other Books by H.P. Mallory PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FICTION: Haven Hollow Trailer Park Vampire Midlife Spirits Midlife Mermaid PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Witch and Warlock Vampire Esquire Ever Dark Academy FANTASY ROMANCE: Dark Destinies Gates of the Underworld Lily Harper Dulcie O’Neil PARANORMAL REVERSE HAREM: My Five Kings Happily Never After SCI-FI ROMANCE: The Alaskan Detective TRILOGIES: Crown Of Lies Chasing Demons Dungeon Raider Here to There Arctic Wolves Wolves of ValhallaLucy Westenra Other Books by J.R. Rain VAMPIRE FOR HIRE Moon Dance Vampire Moon American Vampire Moon Child Christmas Moon (novella) Vampire Dawn Vampire Games Moon Island Moon River Vampire Sun Moon Dragon Moon Shadow Vampire Fire Midnight Moon Moon Angel Vampire Sire Moon Master Dead Moon Lost Moon Vampire Destiny Infinite Moon Vampire Empress Moon Elder Wicked Moon Winter Moon Moon Blade Sasquatch Moon Wild Moon Moon Magic Moon World Vampire Deep (coming soon) SAMANTHA MOON ADVENTURES Banshee Moon Moon Monster Moon Ripper Witch Moon Moon Goddess Moon Blaze Golem Moon Moon Maidens SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES Moon Bayou Blood Moon Parallel Moon SAMANTHA MOON ORIGINS New Moon Rising Moon Mourning Haunted Moon Bite of the Gargoyle Published by Rain Press Copyright © 2023 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory All rights reserved. Ebook Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Reading Sample: Lone Wolf About H.P. Mallory About J.R. Rain Bite of the Gargoyle Chapter One I throw the bloodied rabbit carcass onto the table and watch as a few drops of blood fly off the unfortunate thing and soil the cleric’s vest. The woman sitting at the table (beside the cleric) screams, the cleric’s mouth drops open and the third of their company, a round and blubbery man, glares at me. “What the bloody ‘ell,” he starts and stands up. The man, whom I suppose is one of the cleric’s parishioners, is quite fat and even more bald. He may or may not be a husband to the woman. Regardless, he has an inch or two on me in height and more than twenty inches in girth. Currently, his beady little eyes are doing a fine job of revealing his absolute ire. It’s just a matter of seconds before those eyes stray down to my bust. Given the fact that my vest is a tad too tight and the mountains on my chest are a tad too big, I suppose I can’t fault him for his obvious interest. Men—they are forever subject to the wiles of the snake living within their trousers. “Girl!” the man of the faith bellows as he remains seated, but frowns before turning to face the barkeep, after apparently realizing I’m not about to remove my bleeding dinner from the table before him. For his part, the rabbit appears quite contentedly dead. “We are supposed to meet someone important!” the woman cries, throwing her hands up, obviously perturbed to find the nearly severed rabbit’s head facing her. It actually appears to be smiling. I imagine it’s the only creature of the male persuasion to ever have smiled at the rather cantankerous woman, given the fact that she is very unimpressive to look at. Except for her chin hairs—those are impressive and plentiful! “That’s so! We are meeting someone important!” the bald fat man says, while insistently nodding. “You can’t just leave that… that thing on the table!” “You’re meeting me,” I answer with little interest. The cleric turns from attempting to wave down the barkeep and faces me again, his bushy eyebrows reaching for the thatched ceiling. He’s one of those people you wouldn’t be able to pick out in a crowd, other than his black and white ecclesiastical getup. Otherwise, his face is an expanse of bland nose, bland mouth, and even blander eyes. “Meeting you?” he drawls. “She’s quite daft,” the woman says under her breath as she shakes her head. “Yes, you’re meeting me.” I try to conceal my smile but every time this situation repeats itself, I always find it to be humorous, and it repeats itself quite often. “We most certainly are not!” the bald fat man bellows, agitating all three of his chins. “We’re meeting a… a Joe…” the cleric starts. “Delevigne,” I interrupt on a yawn. Because they’re civilized townsfolk, I do cover my mouth. All three of them pause—clearly, they don’t know how to respond. So, I respond for them. “I could hardly have used my real name, Joanna, because then you never would have hired me.” “This is an outrage!” the fat man yells. “Then this girl is… is Jo Delevigne?” the woman asks her companions. Clearly, she isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “She most certainly is,” I answer with a smile as I pull the chair out beside her (the one they’d presumably been saving for ‘Joe’) and take a seat, placing my knee-high boots on the table before me. “Jo Delevigne, monster hunter, at your service.” I would have bowed, but I’m now sitting so the moment has passed. I’ll have to add that little theatrical bit next time I introduce myself to my bewildered employers. “I don’t… I don’t understand how this is possible,” the cleric hiccups and appears to be close to tears. “She’s a fraud!” the roundest of the three intones. “She most certainly is not,” I answer, sounding affronted. Then I turn to face the barkeep and waving at him, shout across the room, “One ale!” Then I point at the cleric. “On his tab!” “How can a girl so young and small…” the woman starts, shaking her head again as she takes stock of me. “It’s simple,” Baldy answers. “She’s a