Page 5 of Gryphon’s Fire

“You wish he’d keep out of your personal belongings,” I surmised.

“Yeah. This wasn’t really a problem when he first started poking around.”

I could believe that and had a theory. “I think Grayson’s found most of the truly dangerous items. Or, at least, I hope that is the case. Those louder, more persistent songs no longer call to him. He’s found that treasure, allowing quieter strains of music to sing its siren song.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Jima rested his chin on his folded knees.

“Have you spoken with Grayson?”

Jima shrugged. “I tried to, but I think I kinda yelled at him more than spoke with him.” Jima’s cheeks flushed crimson with his embarrassment. “Grayson’s probably upset with me.”

I had a feeling that was the true worry festering within Jima’s chest. “I doubt it. I have a feeling Grayson’s used to that kind of thing.” I’d meant my words to be soothing, but Jima flinched.

“I know. I thought I was better than that.”

There was nothing so internally damaging than self-disappointment. Considering that very emotion was a constant yolk around my neck, I understood the feeling well. “You reacted instinctively.”

“I don’t think that makes it a lot better.” Jima chewed on his bottom lip.

“What it does is make your actions understandable. If you go back and speak with Grayson, I believe you’ll find there are no hard feelings. There may even be a way for Grayson to recognize the songs attached to your things.”

Jima’s gaze snapped up, laser focused on me. “Do you think so?”

“I don’t know for certain, but Grayson has alluded to such things in the past. I think it would be worth asking about. Grayson is very fond of you, Jima. I don’t believe he would do anything to intentionally upset you.”

“Neither do I.” There was a well of relief in those brief words. “Do you think Grayson would mind if I⁠—”

A knock sounded at the door. It may sound odd, but Jima and I both recognized it as a different cadence than Martin’s sure and heavy knock. It wasn’t the light rap of Tabitha or the impatient pounding of Grayson. Henry never bothered asking permission to enter any room, and Elvira was used to popping in on either her or Tabitha’s whim.

Jima went unnaturally still, his nose twitching as he scented the air. I didn’t require the extra effort. The scent accompanying the individual on the other side was all too familiar.

“He’s back,” Jima said, voice soft and a little breathless. “He’s really back.”

“It would appear so.”

Heart hammering, I pushed myself out of my chair. My fingers raked through my hair, attempting to tame the untamable. I had no idea how my feathers were always so perfectly placed when I was in my gryphon form and yet my humanoid hair seemed to have ideas of its own.

Smoothing down my button-up shirt, I pushed the rolled sleeves up my forearms as I made my way to the door. I had no idea what to expect when I opened it. Elvira had told me that Lazarus looked better, but that there was extensive scarring. I didn’t care about the visual implications, only the reason that had caused such extensive damage.

I’d barely made it halfway to the door when it eased open on its own. Given the surprised look on Lazarus’s face, he hadn’t been the one to instigate the movement.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Lazarus muttered, his sapphire eyes fixated on the doorknob.

My breath caught and I had to fight back the gasp begging for release. Elvira had mentioned there was extensive scarring, but I hadn’t thought… I hadn’t imagined… Thick ropes of pink, puckered skin wrapped itself around Lazarus’s neck, trailing down and hidden by his shirt. There were roughened areas of skin on his chin and eyes. The backs of both hands wore similar wounds. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of lounge pants, most of Lazarus’s body was covered. His thick, black hair was just as sleek as it had been prior to the fight, although it was much shorter, as if his scalp had been shaved and the growth was new.

But those eyes… They were the same shimmering jewels they’d always been. Stained glass lit from within.

In a word, Lazarus was still beautiful, perhaps even more so. Knowing what he’d been through, the bravery it took to withstand every single one of those acidic attacks, was awe-inducing.

“That bad?” Lazarus stood just inside the doorway, fists clenched and blackened claws scraping against each other, creating a wounded sound. His jewel-toned eyes dimmed ever so slightly.

“Huh?” I intelligently asked.

“The face.” Lazarus made a circling motion with a finger around his face. “You’re staring. You’ve been staring. I haven’t really looked in a mirror yet, but if your response is anything to go by, then⁠—”

“Oh! No.” I waved my hands in the air like a lunatic. “That’s not… It’s not bad. It’s…” Breathtaking, arousing, stunning… So many words, and yet I did not feel as if I could say any of them. “You look good,” I lamely settled on. “I was so worried. When you went underground, things didn’t look good.” I wanted to slap my forehead. Repetitive much? Couldn’t I come up with another word besides good? “It’s good to see you.” Evidently not.

The edge of Lazarus’s lips twitched. “It’s good to be seen.”