The Lovely and the Lost

Luc had been guarding this place on his own ever since his first day as a gargoyle. When the abbey had been a functioning church, Luc had protected all its parishioners while they were on sacred ground. The priests usually lived alone, except for a few servants here and there. Even when the abbey fell out of use before Luc's last hibernation and an old Sorbonne professor and his blind wife had taken up residence in the rectory, Luc hadn't had much trouble seeing to their safety.
He had shaken free of a thirty-year hibernation just over four months before, and almost immediately he'd been challenged with humans who were pure disasters: in league with the Alliance, completely aware of the Underneath, two of them with demon dust and one with an appetite for demon hunting. . . . Luc did need help. And he should have been relieved to have it.
"I mean no disrespect, but it's also my territory now," Dimitrie said, giving the horse's snout a gentle rub. "And they are my humans as well."

Luc launched himself into the stall, his boots scattering fresh hay. Dimitrie jumped back and the horse whinnied and stomped. Luc curbed his temper, fast. It wouldn't be wise to show this boy just how little he wanted to share his humans. Especially one human in particular.

Ingrid.

Once Dimitrie met Ingrid Waverly and breathed in her scent for the first time, he would be able to call it up at any moment. He would be able to feel the echo of Ingrid's heartbeat, the flutter of her pulse. He would be able to know exactly where she was at all times, whether she was afraid or happy or sad or anxious. He'd feel her every emotion. Dimitrie would be connected to Ingrid just as Luc was. Luc stifled a growl of irritation.