Here is another exclusive excerpt from our other equally amazing March release, Divide and Conquer by Carmen Fox. eBook $5.95 available for order on:
Champagne Book Group http://goo.gl/SV3kw6
Once I’d paid and exited the cab, I raced inside as if the hounds of hell snapped at my heels. I dropped the bag on my sofa and retreated into a corner of the living room. From there I glared at it. What was I supposed to do with a speaking gargoyle?
Sure, it wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened in my life. It didn’t even top the list of strange things that had happened this month, but it sure qualified as one in a long line of issues for which my future therapist would charge double.
The zipper moved and the gargoyle peeked its head out. His gray fedora hat perched on a grotesque, yet oddly adorable face, and pointy ears projected through its wide brim. “Good, we’re alone. Now, where’s the john?”
I pointed to the hall. “Second door on the left.”
“Thanks, kid. ’ppreciated.” He hopped out of the bag and dropped from the sofa onto the ground with a loud bang. He waddled off, his coat dragging along the floor. In a previous life, it might have been a children’s raincoat, but it had since been shortened to about half-length.
I took a deep breath. Yuck. The air smelled staler than the bread I’d probably left in my fridge. I opened the windows and inhaled again. Better. In the kitchen, I filled the coffee machine with water and enough coffee grounds to make my hair even curlier. I wanted it strong enough to burn its way through the mug, strong enough to jolt me out of this bizarre dream.
Three minutes later, the gargoyle returned.
Flapping his wings, he lifted himself onto the table and sat, crossing his stumpy legs in front. “How ya doing there, kid?”
I opened my mouth, blew out the beginning of a consonant, and closed it again. If I began a conversation with him, I’d be admitting to myself he was real.
I recalled a famous thought experiment about a falling tree in the woods. If I talked to a gargoyle and nobody heard it, would I still be crazy?
“I’m good. Who are you?”
“Kirk.” The gargoyle slapped his chest then his waist, extracted a phone and finally a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.
“Don’t even think of lighting up in here.” I raised a warning finger.
“Kid, I’m gonna give you so much info, you’ll wanna marry me. But you ain’t my wife yet, so don’t start nagging.”
After rummaging through the recycle bin, I picked up an empty green bean can and placed it in front of the gargoyle. “Use this.”
“Neat. Now, where’s the hooch?” Kirk pivoted his heavy stone neck and spied a bottle of bourbon I kept for emergencies. He pointed with a stubby, claw-like hand. “Don’t be stingy.”
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