My loves, I apologize, one again and not for the last time, for the wait. Thank you for being wonderful 3 This is a transitory chapter rather than action unfortunately. But, action soon!
Armand and Penny had spent the rest of their Saturday in Armand's library. Armand didn't particularly like hearing the Johnsons' demon-slaying escapades, but he loved hearing Penny talk—especially when she spoke about something she was passionate toward. He asked her arbitrary questions and questions to which he already knew the answer, and he was lulled into a stupor of contentment. Penny seemed happier, somehow, now that she could talk freely about her true self. He loved the light that appeared in her eyes when she regaled her successes and the excitement of it all.
And she did too. Penny felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She hadn't been lying to Armand, but part of her had been pretending. She felt liberated.
This feeling went away the next day when she had to tell her mother the news.
Sunday evening it was just P. and Penny in the house, and Penny figured that the longer she'd wait to tell her mother about Armand the more difficult it would be. P. stood in the dining room and folded clean clothes, separating them into piles on the table. Penny felt as uneasy as the pile of pants threatening to tumble if just one more was added. Her knees began to knock; she didn't know how to tell her mother that the one secret above all secrets had been compromised. So, she took a deep breath, began with, "Mom, Armand knows about us," and poured her words out like the river Seine. She told P. all about the Gargoyles, and felt a shameful blush crawl up her neck. But, once she started talking she couldn't stop. She spoke until she had been drained of details and there was no more to tell. Penny felt as though she were going to fall over; the deluge of truth had exhausted her. P. looked at her with a gaze unwavering. Penny's heart seemed to stop, stifled by the silence, until her mother finally made a sound.
P. let out a groan. "Penny..." she said, as if she were scolding but was too tired to say any more. 'This is it,' thought Penny. She was going to be grounded for eternity. They were going to wipe Armand's memory. They were going to move. Something terrible was going to happen now.
But it didn't.
"Well," said P., "it seems the way things are going, he would've found out eventually. We will work through this. But Penny, are you sure about him? Are you absolutely sure he won't tell?"
"Mom, I trust him. I trust him more than I've ever trusted anyone before."
P. was thoughtful for a moment. "You really love him, don't you?"
Penny gave a little smile and nod, and P. smiled back. "Then I trust him. But, needless to say we will have to talk to him. Invite him to dinner Tuesday—and don't look so scared! We're just going to have a little chat, clear the air, as it were, and lay down some ground rules. It's going to be fine." P. had a way of being stern yet completely calming, the way only parents could be.
And they did chat. Tuesday evening Armand sat and dutifully agreed to the secrecy with which he was charged, holding Penny's hand nearly the whole time. If someone were to look in through the window, they would see a lovely picture of five people enjoying dinner and each other's company: a young boy who couldn't quite keep his peas on his plate, a new, young couple very much in love, and an older, wiser couple also very much in love. From the outside looking in, the conversation didn't seem so serious, the family didn't seem abnormal. One could almost use the word "perfect"—from the outside looking in. But, even from the inside, it felt that way too. After the initial tension, they were still a normal family. They might be a little special, but the parents, sweethearts, and siblings in that room behaved like anyone else might and led lives just as vivid and meaningful as the next person. It was a happy night in the Johnson home, where all was liberated and everyone could finally see each other for what they really were.
At least, that was partly true. While Armand nearly forgot who he was while he dined and laughed with the Johnsons, while he felt just as joyful as the people who surrounded him, he was still a demon. How could the smiling family know what was in store for them?