Chevalier - Mary Calmes.pdf

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Chevalier
By Mary Calmes
Sequel to Romanus
Fireman Mason James thought finding out he is a Romanus—a rare class of gargoyle
—would be the surprise of a lifetime, but he’s proven wrong when he discovers he is the
son of a comte and goji nobility. But his newly discovered siblings don’t think his
gargoyle warrior lover, Luc, is good enough for a goji of Mason’s stature. Despite the
Moreaus’ uncertainty and elitism, they are Mason’s only chance to unravel the mystery
behind his mother’s death, find a solution for the class divide that might separate him from
Luc, and discover what it truly means to be a Romanus.
Acknowledgments
THANK YOU
to Lynn, for making sense of the madness, and to Ariel, who always has
time to translate the craziness. And finally, a shout-out to Beany, who never forgot about
her boys.
Chapter One
IT WAS
a cold and surprisingly wet instead of snowy January night that left the asphalt
covered by a slick sheen of ice. It made keeping the wide ass of the tiller truck where it
belonged near impossible at high speed. We were lucky to get to the scene in one piece.
Even though we weren’t battling a fire, the captain still required us to suit up. He
didn’t want us to get cut up by branches, so it was pants and jackets, helmets, and even
face guards. It made sense with what we were doing. What didn’t make sense was us
being there to begin with.
I think the people who reported the whereabouts of the body called us instead of the
cops because between the two, police or fire, we had the ladder to get up to the body. It
was the whole kitten stuck in a tree thing. Firemen got pets down from trees, so a corpse
qualified as well. All I knew was it was a gory mess I could have gone my whole life
without seeing.
By all accounts, the man had been hang gliding when his equipment failed and he
crashed. All of his limbs were broken and twisted at some grotesque angle, impaled by the
branches, which in a fall from considerable height had become wooden harpoons into soft
flesh. It wasn’t the gore but the sight of the poor bastard’s neck twisted around 180
degrees that made me grateful I’d skipped dinner.
“Jesus, Ty, be careful,” I growled at the guy to the left of me on the platform when he
bumped me again, the second time even harder than the first. If I hadn’t kept my balance,
he would have knocked me right off the hydraulic lift hovering more than seventy-five
feet off the ground. Goddamn rookie. Urgency I respected, but not eager-beaver
showboating—especially for a corpse that was just a retrieval job.
“Fuck you, Mace,” he snarled at me. “I’m being just as care—”
“The fuck you are!” I barked. The point was moot as I watched the rookie sail out of
the basket into space only seconds later, after leaning out too far.
Of my two choices to grab—the hotshot rookie or the corpse—it was an easy
decision. Firemen saved lives, even annoying ones. Tamping down my anger, I lunged for
Tyler Cantrell, managing to catch his hand before he plummeted to a waiting death some
three stories down.
Time slowed. I heard the cracking of the branches and watched as the blood-soaked
body sank through the canopy and out of my view. I yelled for everyone to take cover
instead of crying out in pain as I felt my left shoulder wrench violently from its socket
when I flipped out of the bucket. My flailing right hand somehow managed to find a hold,
saving us both from the concrete below.
I heard yells from underneath us as the platform shuddered and slowly begin to lower.
“Fuck me,” Tyler cried out, trying to reach for the bottom of the basket, but dangling
too far beneath it to get a grip on anything but my wrist and arm. “Don’t let go, Mace!”
Like I would let him go. The guy was a fucking idiot for not watching what he was
doing in the first place, but good or bad, the job made us brothers. I closed my eyes,
ignoring the stretch on my tendons that threatened to give way because of Tyler’s 175
pounds, and concentrated on keeping my grip. There was still enough equipment below
that if the fall didn’t cripple us, the gear on the ground damn well would.
What felt like hours blessedly wasn’t longer than a few agonizing minutes that caused
me to break out in a sweat. The second I felt hands on my legs, I let go of the thin metal
rail I’d been holding on to.
It was a fast tumble down as I was lowered roughly to the ground.
“Goddamnit!” Captain Ryers yelled, and when I opened my eyes, he was standing
over me. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my friend Frank Miller put a hand up to
stop me.
“What the fuck did you learn in training? Anything?” Ryers snarled with sufficient
rancor to pucker many an asshole.
His tirade was not directed at me, but instead at Tyler, who was panting for breath
beside me.
“Aww shit,” Frank groaned as he helped peel me out of my jacket. “Brother, your
shoulder is fucked up. I’ll bet you money you dislocated it.”
“That’s a sucker bet,” I said, smiling through gritted teeth.
AN HOUR
later at University Medical Center, the ER doctor confirmed Frank’s
diagnosis. It was, in fact, a separated shoulder, and it would be at least two weeks before I
could even think about carrying equipment, pulling people from burning buildings, or
lifting a fifty-pound hose.
“You know, of course, that Ryers is gonna transfer that fuckin’ probie back to fuckin’
Louisville, right? He’s a goddamn menace.”
It was hard to argue. Ty was young, younger than the rest of us, and basically a cocky
asshole. I made it no secret that I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want to see him forced out,
either. “I should talk to Ryers.”
“Talk to Ryers about what?” The man himself asked as he stormed into the ER
cubicle. “The job’s dangerous enough without some rookie running over experienced line
men to be first up the ladder.”
When people met Kevin Ryers, they had the distinct impression that he was big. He
seemed tall, he seemed loud, and he sort of filled the space around him. In actuality he
was shorter than my own six-one frame, and rounder, but whenever any of us, any of his
crew, described him, we always started with “He’s really big.”

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