Read Online The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series by Pauline Gruber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pauline Gruber
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does this have to do with Camille?
I force myself to sound upbeat. “Did you have a good time together?”
Marcus plucks a leaf from the step and twirls it between his fingers. I catch his smile in profile. There’s no happiness in it. “During our walk, Camille filled me in on her life. She and Garret moved around a lot. They lived in Alaska and Vancouver for a while. Switzerland, too.”
“Switzerland? It sounds pretty exotic.”
“Camille loved the chocolate there. She said my grandmother, who was French, used to complain about how bad American chocolate was, but that the Swiss knew how to do it right.”
“I never knew you were French.”
He laughs and his body relaxes. “When I was little and had trouble sleeping, my mother used to sing me this silly French song.”
I wrap my hands around his arm and snuggle against him. “Sing it to me?”
He laughs again. “It’s a stupid song, but I used to beg her to sing it over and over.”
“Come on. I want to hear it.”
“If you laugh…” he warns.
“I won’t. I swear.” To make my point I cross my heart.
“Okay.”
I don’t believe him. I’ve asked him to play his guitar for me, to sing for me, and he never does. He’s private when it comes to his music. But sure enough, his rich, deep voice rings out as he sings the words. I catch only a few words, like alouette , plumerai , and le bec .
I hold it in until he’s done, and then I burst out laughing.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he says before he bursts out laughing, too.
The sound of Marcus’s laughter jars me. I try to recall the last time I heard that wonderful sound, saw the brightness in his eyes. “It’s the song. I recognize it. I heard it years ago, but I don’t know what it’s about.”
Marcus rolls his eyes and nods. “It’s a dumb song about the body parts of a bird. Something about plucking the bird before cooking it.”
“Seriously? And she sang it to you to sleep? Nightmares anyone?”
“Never. Probably because I didn’t know any French.” He laughs again, but it ends with a sigh. “It sounded fun the way the words…the way my mom sang it to me.” Marcus shrugs, and I sense the happiness is fading.
I imagine Marcus as a four-year-old, his mother lying next to him, stroking his hair as she sings to him. “I can’t believe you remember it.”
Marcus twirls the leaf in his fingers, then tears it in half and tosses it. “It’s the last memory I have of her.” He blinks, and the beautiful brightness is gone from his eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “Is she—are they—moving back here? Or just visiting?”
“I don’t know.” Marcus frowns as he stares at the sidewalk. “Camille’s going to arrange for me to meet Garret. After that, I don’t know.” He sniffs the air. He turns to me and raises a handful of my hair to his nose. “It’s not my imagination. Why do you smell like smoke?”
Uh-oh. “It’s nothing.”
“When I ask Aiden about it, will he agree it’s nothing?” Marcus asks.
So, I tell him about torching the tree and how Dylan and I merged our powers.
His expression turns stony.
“There was this deer, you see…I didn’t want to kill it—but as far as Dylan and me? That’s nothing.” Why is this coming out all wrong?
“And your hug with Dylan at the curb when he dropped you off? That was nothing, too, right?” I hate his gruff tone.
“We’re friends, Marcus. We hug. It’s not like when you and I hug.”
How can I explain to him how much I relish hugs, whether they’re from him, Dylan, my uncles, even Dylan’s younger brother and sister, Ethan and Brandi. I need to know people care about me, that I’m not alone.
“I think hugs mean something different to Dylan,” Marcus says.
I recall the feelings coursing through me earlier, while Dylan and I were merging our powers. I ignored it then, but could Marcus be right?
No. It was all about our powers. Marcus is
I force myself to sound upbeat. “Did you have a good time together?”
Marcus plucks a leaf from the step and twirls it between his fingers. I catch his smile in profile. There’s no happiness in it. “During our walk, Camille filled me in on her life. She and Garret moved around a lot. They lived in Alaska and Vancouver for a while. Switzerland, too.”
“Switzerland? It sounds pretty exotic.”
“Camille loved the chocolate there. She said my grandmother, who was French, used to complain about how bad American chocolate was, but that the Swiss knew how to do it right.”
“I never knew you were French.”
He laughs and his body relaxes. “When I was little and had trouble sleeping, my mother used to sing me this silly French song.”
I wrap my hands around his arm and snuggle against him. “Sing it to me?”
He laughs again. “It’s a stupid song, but I used to beg her to sing it over and over.”
“Come on. I want to hear it.”
“If you laugh…” he warns.
“I won’t. I swear.” To make my point I cross my heart.
“Okay.”
I don’t believe him. I’ve asked him to play his guitar for me, to sing for me, and he never does. He’s private when it comes to his music. But sure enough, his rich, deep voice rings out as he sings the words. I catch only a few words, like alouette , plumerai , and le bec .
I hold it in until he’s done, and then I burst out laughing.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he says before he bursts out laughing, too.
The sound of Marcus’s laughter jars me. I try to recall the last time I heard that wonderful sound, saw the brightness in his eyes. “It’s the song. I recognize it. I heard it years ago, but I don’t know what it’s about.”
Marcus rolls his eyes and nods. “It’s a dumb song about the body parts of a bird. Something about plucking the bird before cooking it.”
“Seriously? And she sang it to you to sleep? Nightmares anyone?”
“Never. Probably because I didn’t know any French.” He laughs again, but it ends with a sigh. “It sounded fun the way the words…the way my mom sang it to me.” Marcus shrugs, and I sense the happiness is fading.
I imagine Marcus as a four-year-old, his mother lying next to him, stroking his hair as she sings to him. “I can’t believe you remember it.”
Marcus twirls the leaf in his fingers, then tears it in half and tosses it. “It’s the last memory I have of her.” He blinks, and the beautiful brightness is gone from his eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “Is she—are they—moving back here? Or just visiting?”
“I don’t know.” Marcus frowns as he stares at the sidewalk. “Camille’s going to arrange for me to meet Garret. After that, I don’t know.” He sniffs the air. He turns to me and raises a handful of my hair to his nose. “It’s not my imagination. Why do you smell like smoke?”
Uh-oh. “It’s nothing.”
“When I ask Aiden about it, will he agree it’s nothing?” Marcus asks.
So, I tell him about torching the tree and how Dylan and I merged our powers.
His expression turns stony.
“There was this deer, you see…I didn’t want to kill it—but as far as Dylan and me? That’s nothing.” Why is this coming out all wrong?
“And your hug with Dylan at the curb when he dropped you off? That was nothing, too, right?” I hate his gruff tone.
“We’re friends, Marcus. We hug. It’s not like when you and I hug.”
How can I explain to him how much I relish hugs, whether they’re from him, Dylan, my uncles, even Dylan’s younger brother and sister, Ethan and Brandi. I need to know people care about me, that I’m not alone.
“I think hugs mean something different to Dylan,” Marcus says.
I recall the feelings coursing through me earlier, while Dylan and I were merging our powers. I ignored it then, but could Marcus be right?
No. It was all about our powers. Marcus is
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