Chaos

by Taylor Longford

  So I helped Victor and Reason empty his pockets. A lot of the stuff was junk, like broken glass and shiny round pebbles. But there were some old gold pieces that looked like they might be valuable. And while the pack handed Vilschka's treasure around, Defiance had a chance to ask about his brothers who were trapped in a shipping van with Chaos when it crashed. Chaos confirmed that Courage had survived the accident in his living form and that Force had probably been dropped in a farmer's field. But we could tell that it was getting more and more difficult for Chaos to continue the conversation, his instincts commanding him to rip away from us and follow the harpy.

  His biceps bulged and rippled beneath the tight stretch of his skin as he fought the urge to run, and he begged us to let him return to his stone form. "Did you tell them?" was the last thing he asked me, a tortured expression in his eyes. "Did you tell them what I promised that thing?"

  I shook my head, knowing what he was talking about, but I couldn't find the words that would break the bad news to his family.

  "I promised Vilschka a family in the spring," he rasped without lifting his gaze.

  "We won't let her take you," Reason assured his brother in strong but quiet words.

  Chaos stared down at his feet for several seconds then looked up at MacKenzie. "You'll fuse me to this stone floor?"

  "When you're ready," she agreed.

  "Make it a strong bond," he growled then rested his cheek on my head again.

  I gave MacKenzie an anxious look, not sure what would happen next and not understanding how she was involved in his transformation. When she nodded in my direction, I pulled away from Chaos though it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

  "Nay," Chaos snarled, his head hanging as he glared at me, a single drop of sweat tracing down the angle of his jaw. "Not yet. Stay with me until I make the change."

  His words as well as the raw look of longing in his eyes took me by surprise. And made me bold. I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, but I took a step back in his direction and pressed my mouth against his before I could change my mind. Because I wanted it. I'd wanted it for a long time. And I never knew how to ask for the things I wanted so I usually just went without. Not this time. I might not deserve it but I was getting a kiss from that incredible mouth. And in a heated connection that blasted all thoughts from my head, I felt his mouth shape against mine.

  Gradually, his lips lost their warmth and returned to cool lifeless stone. And I leaned away from him, wanting to tell him I'd be there when he woke…like he used to tell me when we were alone in the mine. But I was too shy to say anything out loud with everyone standing around. And the chance to speak up was lost when Dare and Havoc returned to their living forms and everyone started talking again. 'Course nobody pointed out that tomorrow was the first day of spring though I'm sure that's what most of them were thinking. But his family looked so determined, I knew they wouldn't let Vilschka get her hands on Chaos again.

  Back in the house a few minutes later, everyone congregated on the two couches that faced each other across a low coffee table while Havoc brought me a cup of tea from the kitchen and placed it in front of me. It seemed funny to be served tea in a dainty china cup by a guy with a long knife hanging from his belt. But they all wore knives and it made me wonder if Chaos had originally worn one and if the harpy had taken it away from him. When I'd first seen him in his stone form, standing just inside the mine, I'd been so stunned by his good looks that I hadn't noticed what he was carrying or even wearing.

  But thinking about the day I first saw him reminded me that I'd just watched Chaos turn to stone. And I started wondering about what I had just gone down in the garage. "What just happened back there?" I asked while the pack examined the stash from Chaos's pockets spread out of the coffee table. "How did Chaos change into stone without direct sunlight?"

  "MacKenzie did it," Valor answered, slanting a proud look at his girlfriend.

  "She's a witch," Havoc said, and turned a lapis ring between his fingers.

  "A witch?" I exclaimed.

  "It's my red hair," MacKenzie explained. "I don't know if you'd call me a witch…nowadays…but evidently my red hair gives me some powers, over gargoyles anyhow."

  "Not only over gargoyles," Valor immediately argued, locking his fingers with hers.

  "What kind of powers?" I asked.

  "Well, I'm pretty good at scrying to find people," she admitted almost reluctantly.

  "And healing," Dare reminded her.

  "Her scrying probably saved Whitney's life," Defiance added.

  "And her healing probably saved mine," Reason said.

  "That's…amazing," I murmured.

  "Not to mention convenient," Elaina laughed. "She turned Chaos to stone and that's how we got him away from Vilschka."

  "What about Vilschka?" I asked tentatively. "Is she going to come looking for Chaos?"

  "We're too far away for her to track us here," Dare answered.

  "So Chaos is safe and her treasure is ours," Havoc drawled.

  "Some of this stuff is really old," Dare remarked, picking up an old gold buckle worked with Celtic designs. "Older than us."

  "It looks like the kind of stuff you'd see in a museum," I murmured. "It must be worth a fortune."

  "Would you like to keep any of it, m'dear?" Victor asked me, and swept his hand over the table.

  "No," I answered right away, shrinking away from the small pile of glittery stuff. "I don't want anything of Vilschka's."

  "I'm not surprised," he answered quietly and looked up at MacKenzie. "We'll try to sell it and see what we can get for it."

  "We'll probably have to go through an art dealer to get anything like its full value," MacKenzie pointed out.

  "Do you think your stepfather might know someone we could use?" Victor asked.

  "I'm not going to ask him!" she exclaimed. "He'll start wondering what I have, and start snooping around, looking for his cut."

  So yeah, MacKenzie didn't seem to trust her stepdad very much.

  "Do you think we can get enough to buy some new furniture?" Havoc asked hopefully.

  MacKenzie paused long enough to share a grin with the rest of us girls. "I think we can probably get enough to buy a new house," she laughed.

  "Good," Havoc declared. "Because with the way the pack's growing, we're gonna need a bigger kitchen table."

  "And a bigger kitchen," Elaina added, laughing.

  I watched them quietly, thinking how nice they all were and how great it would be to have friends like them. But I wasn't expecting anything like that to happen because I'd just always been such an outsider.

  "I know all of this must seem strange to you," Victor ventured, watching me from the opposite couch. "Harpies as well as gargoyles."

  "The harpy was strange," I admitted. "And horrible."

  Victor sent me a gentle smile, leaning forward and dropping his hands between his knees. "Do you have any questions, m'dear?"

  I hadn't been expecting that and searched my mind for a question that wouldn't sound dumb. Victor has to be at least five years older than me and he's just such an authority figure. So I didn't want to make a fool of myself. "Chaos never told me how long you'd been in America and if there were more of…your kind…back in England."

  "We got here in October," Victor answered.

  "Just before Halloween," MacKenzie added. "So they've been here about five months."

  "And we don't know of any other gargoyles still alive," Victor continued. "But back in our time, we were part of a large community in York."

  I shook my head and questioned him with a frown. "Your time?"

  "Didn't you know?" he asked, looking surprised. "We'd been locked in our stone forms for eight hundred years before MacKenzie's stepfather found us and started shipping us here to Colorado."

  "Eight hundred years?" I echoed, stunned.

  "They couldn't even read or write when they got here," MacKenzie pointed out.

  "And now some of th
em are reading Dickens," Mim chirped happily, squeezing Dare's hand.

  "Dickens," I murmured, still kinda in shock over the whole eight hundred years comment. "I love Dickens."

  Dare's eyes lit up and he looked like he was going to say something but the sound of a vehicle on the driveway brought the casual conversation to a halt. And getting to his feet, Havoc scooped the stuff from the coffee table, carrying it to the kitchen, while Reason strode toward the entry. When he reached the door, he hesitated with his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "That's strange," he murmured, just before we heard a knock echo through the house. "It feels like…"

  He opened the door. Just outside, the brilliant sunshine fell on a tall young man neatly dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and red tie. His crinkly black hair was trimmed short and there was an apologetic expression in his brown eyes.

  "Federal Agent Simpson," Reason growled. "What are you doing here?"

  "Can I come in?" he asked, glancing into the house. He smiled at Elaina before his gaze finally settled on me. But I'd never seen him before so I didn't know why he would single me out for attention.

  Grudgingly, Reason stepped aside. "Guys, you remember Agent Simpson," he said looking none-too-happy about the situation.

  "Hello boys," the agent said with a grim smile. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this but I have some news that involves you."

  "What…kind of news?" Elaina asked cautiously.

  Agent Simpson was still looking at me when he said, "Your file has been reopened."

  I had no idea what was going on so I sent a questioning look in MacKenzie's direction. She briefly explained that Agent Simpson and his partner had been following up on sightings of winged beings when they'd discovered a small amount of indestructible material in a barn in Limon, Colorado. By indestructible material, I assumed Mac meant the stuff that gargoyles are made of when they're in their stone forms. Anyhow, the FBI was very interested in getting their hands on some more of it. But Simpson had managed to get the file closed to protect the young gargoyles from becoming lab rats in a government facility.

  "So what went wrong?" Elaina asked. "Why has the file been reopened?"

  The agent had been standing there for several minutes without removing his gaze from my face, and I had this horrible feeling that I was to blame for the FBI's renewed interest in the gargoyles. And that eerie feeling of premonition didn't get better when he said, "I've been assigned to follow Miss Evans."

  Everyone turned and stared at me while Havoc dragged a chair in from the kitchen and moved it in front of Agent Simpson.

  The young man pulled the chair beneath him and looked around at the concerned faces. Then he dropped the bomb and said, "Torrie's father works for the bureau."

  Chapter Twelve

  "The FBI?" Elaina exclaimed, her blue eyes going wide.

  Ugh. I didn't know how my father was involved but I wasn't surprised he'd messed up my life. And I felt terrible because somehow I'd caused trouble for the pack. The worst part was that I'd never seen it coming. I'd been so careful not to mention gargoyles to anyone. "I'm sorry," I wailed, looking around at the pack and feeling like I'd betrayed this wonderful group of people that I would have liked to be my friends. "But…but my father's just an accountant!"

  Simpson chuckled. "Most federal agents are accountants. That's because most crimes involve money. And at the FBI, we 'follow the money' to catch criminals. Your father's an agent just like me, and his job is just as important."

  "Does he know you're here?" I cried.

  Simpson shook his head. "No. He has no idea that the file has been reopened or that the file even exists. He went in for a review because of your runaway status and gave his supervisor your story about the…harpy. As the report climbed the ladder within the bureau, somebody at the top noticed the story about the winged creature; it wasn't the first time she'd heard something like that. There'd been earlier sightings. I'd been assigned to the project before and had managed to get the file closed without too many questions being asked. But now I'm back on the job."

  My heart started pounding and I thought I was going to hurl. "But I made…phone calls. From my home. And from my cell. They can be traced!"

  He nodded. "I'll be the one tracing them. I can cover your tracks."

  I looked around at the serious faces of the pack then back at Simpson. "Why would you do that?"

  He lifted one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. "I committed myself to this course of action several weeks ago when I first got involved with Reason and Elaina. I understand my employer's interest in the material but I didn't like the way they decided to pursue it or the lengths they were willing to go to in order to secure it."

  "Simpson's on our side," Elaina interpreted.

  A wry smile appeared on the young agent's mouth. "I'd like to deliver the goods to my superiors. But only if I can do it without involving you guys."

  "Deliver the goods?" I asked.

  "The FBI wants a sample of the material," Simpson answered. "It would be immensely valuable. The stuff is both lightweight and incredibly dense. If we could recreate it in our labs, it could be used to protect military vehicles. Airplanes. Spacecraft. The possibilities are endless. It could spur the growth of an entirely new industry here in the United States."

  The guys looked at MacKenzie, probably because they were used to going to her for advice. Naturally, she looked worried about the potential for exposure.

  Simpson's expression turned solemn. "This time it will be harder to convince my superiors that there's nothing out there. But I want to make sure all of this crap doesn't lead back to you guys. Can you…throw me a bone?"

  "Throw you a bone?" Havoc echoed like he wasn't familiar with the expression.

  "He needs something to give his bosses," Elaina translated.

  Simpson shrugged. "They're growing more convinced that something's out there and if I don't deliver, they're liable to give the job to someone else."

  "That wouldn't be good," Elaina commented.

  "Nay," Victor agreed.

  "Why don't we just give them something?" Mim suggested quietly.

  "What!" Dare started.

  "Why don't you just…turn something to stone and give it to them so that they can study it and reproduce the molecular structure," she asked reasonably.

  "That might be possible," Victor said but sounded like he had some reservations about the idea.

  "I don't want to do anything that would lead the bureau back to you," Simpson hammered the point home. "We need to make this look like it came from the harpies. If we could kill off the last one and make it look like she left something behind…" He let his voice trail away.

  "Vilschka," MacKenzie said suddenly. "We could give you Vilschka."

  "Vilschka?" he questioned.

  "The harpy that kidnapped Torrie," Valor explained.

  Simpson frowned at him. "We already have a harpy," he pointed out. "The one that you guys killed out in Limon. The bureau thinks it was planted as part of a hoax. Because it's not made of the material we're looking for."

  MacKenzie shared a significant look with Valor and said, "This one is."

  Victor seemed reluctant to get started but eventually explained, "Vilschka has our venom in her bloodstream."

  "Venom?" Simpson questioned.

  Pushing his sleeve up his arm, Victor made a fist and exposed his barbs. "With our venom in her bloodstream, her armor turns into the stuff we're made of."

  "Whoa," Simpson breathed as he stared at the sharp spikes on Victor's knuckles.

  "We fought the harpy in Idaho Springs last week but lost her in a mine," Victor explained. "We hoped she'd be easier to handle after the effects of the venom had worn off. We didn't know she had a bottle of the stuff. She'll use it to extend her strength."

  As I watched Simpson, I couldn't help but notice that—so far—nobody had mentioned anything about Chaos. So even though the pack appeared to trust the federal agent—to a point—I could tell they didn'
t want the FBI to know they had a perfect specimen of what they were looking for standing in their garage. Simpson must have suspected they were leaving something out. But he didn't call them on it.

  "That would pin the goods firmly on the harpy," Simpson murmured, looking like he was starting to get amped. He pulled a thin tablet from a pocket inside his jacket. "What can you tell me about these creatures? How do we destroy Vilschka?"

  So the pack explained a lot of stuff to Simpson, most of which was also news to me, like how harpies avoid bright lights and make their aeries in high places. And how they can normally be destroyed with a sledgehammer. Of course, that doesn't work after they have the venom in their bloodstream. But they can still be killed with a sharp blade if you can slide it between the plates of their armor and hit something vital.

  "They're way strong," Reason added. "And they have exceptional eyesight."

  "Any other weaknesses?" Simpson asked as he typed.

  "Their wings," Defiance pointed out. "Their wings are always vulnerable, even when their hide isn't. But the leather's tough and a few bullet holes wouldn't slow them down much."

  "And they can't swim," Havoc said. "They're too heavy."

  "What else?" Simpson kept asking while he took notes.

  "They're attracted to the smell of venom," Whitney reminded the pack.

  "But we can mask the scent with latex gloves," Defiance added, giving his girlfriend a smoldering look of gratitude.

  "They don't like music," I suggested tentatively, thinking it probably wasn't useful, but Simpson typed it into his notes like it might be important.

  "They're not too fond of mirrors either, or things like mirrors," Havoc mused thoughtfully.

  "Really?" MacKenzie reacted like that was news to her. "Why's that?"

  "Because they're so ugly, they hate to see their reflections," he answered with a smirk. "I fought one off once with a polished—" He stopped himself, probably realizing he might give something away to Simpson if he continued.

  Simpson eyed him for a moment then gracefully dropped it. He leaned back in his seat and smiled. "Good work," he said.

  "So, what's next?" MacKenzie asked from her perch on Valor's knee.