Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  With a great sense of anticipation, I waited, thinking the dancing had already been going on for an hour and wouldn't last much longer.

  But those girls just kept dancing.

  Of course, it didn't help when Defiance joined in; that just encouraged the girls to keep at it. And not too long after that, Dare decided to get involved. Not because he can dance like Defiance can, but because he can't bear to be separated from Mim. And because Dare was out there, Chaos moved in, finding a spot close to Torrie.

  Valor hung back, mostly because he really can't dance any better than Dare. (I'm the only one of my brothers who got the rhythm gene.) Force could probably dance just fine if he put his mind to it. But that would never happen…unless maybe it was a war dance.

  But eventually, I felt sorry for Mac out there in the middle of the patio doing her limpy dance without any help. So I decided to go and give her a hand, taking her staff from her and taking command of her waist (and most of her weight). Four years earlier, my arm around MacKenzie's waist would have driven Valor nuts. Sadly, I just wasn't a threat anymore.

  But I kept my eye on Sophie the whole time, waiting for her to make her move. And at the end of the fourth song, she bowed out and headed back to her chair. I got the staff back in Mac's hand and followed Sophie as she stepped into her shoes, arriving just in time to catch her on the way down.

  "Sophie," I exclaimed as I smiled down into her eyes. "Are you alright?"

  "Y-yes," she answered, obviously excited to find herself in my arms…though not half as excited as I was. Beneath my palm on her back, I could feel her heart fluttering like a caged bird. Mine was trying to smash a hole through my ribcage.

  "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

  "No," she answered. "You caught me before that could happen."

  "Good thing I was here, right?"

  "Yes," she answered. "Very good thing. And very convenient now that I think about it. You can probably put me down now," she added breathlessly.

  "Alright," I agreed softly and lowered her onto her chair as I dropped to one knee. "But let's take a look at that shoe."

  "It's okay," she argued, too late.

  Because I already had my hand around her slim ankle and was slipping the shoe off her foot. I frowned at the ivory pump and made a tutting sound. "The heel appears to be broken."

  "I wonder how that happened," she said, as if she might be on to me.

  "No idea," I answered. "But why don't we get it fixed?"

  "What do you suggest?" she asked, the corner of her mouth twitching.

  I removed the other shoe. "Let's look around the workshop and see what we can find."

  She smiled at me. I smiled back. I think she was definitely onto me but equally willing to go to the workshop with me to see what happened next.

  I could have told her what was going to happen next.

  But I wanted it to be a surprise when I kissed her.

  My pulse rate was through the roof as I grabbed her hand and towed her, barefoot, through the tent to the far end of the property where the old carriage house stood. Inside the cool dark building, I closed the big wooden door behind us and switched on the overhead lights. I looked around, pleased with the result. It was a comfortable and inviting space. The soft lighting and shadowed corners were perfect for a seduction. But before I worked on that angle and collected my kiss, I needed to tell her some stuff. So I carried the shoes over to the bench and worked as I talked.

  Normally, I wasn't supposed to tell any humans I was a gargoyle, not unless that human was like THE girl. Then it was okay. But as far as I was concerned, Sophie was the lass for me. I just needed to convince her that she felt the same way.

  So, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.

  "Sophie," I said as I opened a drawer and looked for the epoxy we used for our inlay work. "There's something I need to tell you. About me. It will explain why I wasn't around for the last four years. And then maybe…maybe you'll be able to forgive me."

  "Oh Havoc," she said softly, touching my arm and sending a thrill of anticipation shooting along my veins. "I've already forgiven you. I did that years ago. And we can always be friends, Havoc. Always. For the rest of our lives."

  Ugh. The "F" word. The most dreaded word you can ever hear from a girl…if you're a guy. Nobody wants to be a friend to the girl they're in love with. Nobody. And never mind the fact that I earlier claimed that was exactly the relationship I wanted with Sophie. Because it turns out I was wrong on that score. It doesn't happen often but—hey—nobody's perfect.

  And yes, I was in love with Miss Sophie Kowalski. Completely. Irrevocably. Hopelessly in love. I might consider myself a rake and a rogue and all that stuff, but when I fall, I don't mess around. I fall all the way.

  I pulled on a pair of green latex gloves and used a wooden stick to mix the epoxy on a piece of cardboard. "You know I promised to wait for you," I started.

  "Yes."

  "And I did," I continued with feeling. "I kept my word. But I didn't want to be twenty when I took you to prom. I wanted to be sixteen."

  She looked confused. Like she wasn't following me.

  I spread the glue on the top of the heel and pressed it against the bottom of the shoe. "And the thing is, I'm one of the few guys on earth who could do exactly that."

  "I…don't understand," she said.

  "I'm trying to tell you that I'm not like other…people. I'm different. I can stay the same age for as long as I want." I moved down the bench a few feet and put the shoe in the clamp, then looked back at her.

  She hadn't moved. Her eyes were wide as she tried to deal. "Okay," she finally said. "I don't understand how you could do that. But let's say you could, for argument's sake. It still doesn't explain why you disappeared for four years of my life."

  "Because, in order for me to stay young, I had to turn to stone."

  She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "Stone?"

  I took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm a gargoyle, Sophie."

  Chapter Ten

  I'd like to say Sophie took the news well. But that would be a lie. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked down at the little patent leather purse in her hands. "See, that's the problem, Havoc."

  "Sophie?" I said softly, stepping toward her and reaching for her face.

  But she backed away from me, and my fingers never made it to her cheek. She lifted her head and a tear fell from her lashes, splashing down onto the purse. "You don't take anything seriously. You just think everything's a big joke."

  "Joke?" I managed to get out, almost choking on the word. "Sophie, no. It's not a joke."

  "Really?" she cried, her voice breaking. "The prom stunt wasn't a joke? The after-prom party at the hotel when you set off the fire alarm? That wasn't a joke? A crazy, dangerous, irresponsible joke? And what about the broken heel on my shoe? Wasn't that a joke, Havoc?"

  I felt like I was standing in quicksand that had me by the ankles, sucking me down to a dark place I could never come back from. The thing is, I can be serious when I need to be. I mean, I was pretty damn serious when I killed those mountain lions that attacked her back when she was twelve.

  "N-Nay!" I stammered. "Aye. Maybe. But when it comes to you, I'm serious, Sophie. Dead serious. And what I said just now is true. I-I can prove it!"

  I fought out of my jacket and worked frantically on the buttons of my shirt. But I think maybe it was too late. Sophie blinked back her tears and smiled up at me. It was a loving smile. The kind of smile you give to someone you really like but think is incredibly hopeless.

  "Stop it," she said gently. "Stop it, Havoc. There's no way you can prove to me that you're a gargoyle."

  "Just let me get this shirt off," I argued. "Then we'll see about that."

  She continued quietly. "Don't you see what you're doing, Havoc? Don't you see how insulting this is? To me? How dumb do you think I am?"

  I clutched the shirt in my hand and stared down at her, horrified that she would come to that
conclusion. "Nay. Nay, Sophie. I don't think you're dumb at all."

  "Then please don't treat me like a silly little girl. You say I don't belong with Ian. And maybe I don't. But at least Ian doesn't think I'm foolish."

  Ian again. Ian didn't pull crazy stunts like starting avalanches and setting off fire alarms. Or painting his cousin's horse black. Or putting mustard seed in his brother's hot posset. The guy was so…normal. And nice. And probably reliable.

  She moved across the room toward the door. "I'd better get going," she said with that completely-disengaged smile I'd seen on the night of the prom. And as I stood there with my shirt clutched in my hand, it finally occurred to me that maybe—just maybe—Sophie actually really didn't love me anymore.

  That was a novel idea. My head filled with an empty silence. Staring at her, I pawed the air behind me, reaching for the stool that was just out of reach. When I found it with my fingers, I dragged it under me and fell onto it. I don't know what kind of look I had on my face, but I can say with all confidence that it wasn't a happy one. It was hard to wrap my head around the idea but…once it had taken root, it spread into every inch of my brain like a voracious weed. I couldn't dig it back out.

  A dainty ridge formed between Sophie's eyebrows. "Havoc…are you okay?"

  I just stared back at her. Sophie didn't love me anymore.

  "Havoc?"

  Sophie didn't love me anymore.

  "A-Aye," I stammered. "I'm fine. Wh-why do you ask?"

  "You just look…like you're not well."

  Some corner of my mind prompted me, telling me it was time for damage control. Spearing my fingers into my hair, I forced out a laugh. The rubbery gloves caught hold in my dreads and I pulled my hands away, staring down at my green-clad fingers as I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I'm such an idiot. I didn't realize…"

  "Didn't realize what?"

  "I didn't realize the whole Ian thing was for real. I didn't realize that you…really like him."

  She looked away then found my face again with her eyes. "It's just that…he was there, Havoc. He was there when I broke the county record for the girls' 3200. He was there the next week when I twisted my ankle and had to drop out of the race. He even carried me to his car! And he was there on the night West Side Story opened. Getting the part of Anita…was a big deal for me. He's a wonderful guy," she finished a little tentatively.

  "I'm sure he is," I managed to scrape out. "And you deserve someone like that. I'm sorry if I messed things up between you."

  "You didn't mess anything up," she said. "Ian wasn't angry about what happened on prom night. He was just concerned for me."

  "Of course he was," I muttered. Good old perfectly normal Ian.

  "I'd better get going," she repeated, looking suddenly very young and vulnerable, reminding me of the little girl I'd taught to clog all those years ago.

  "Aye. Certainly. Just let me get your shoe out of this clamp and you can be on your way."

  "Is it fixed already?" she asked, edging toward the door across the room.

  "Five-minute epoxy," I explained shortly as I slipped off the stool.

  Grinding my teeth, I fought back a wave of nausea, and silently cursed myself as I wondered what the rest of the pack would think when they found out I'd told Sophie we were gargoyles. But maybe it didn't matter since she hadn't believed me.

  She hadn't believed me!

  It doesn't matter, I told myself. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.

  But deep down, I was angry—angry that Sophie hadn't believed me. That she hadn't even tried to believe. She hadn't given me a chance to show her my barbs…or open my wings. I was angry that she thought I was the kind of guy who didn't keep his promises when nothing could be further from the truth. I was angry that she didn't think I took things seriously. Why? Why did nobody ever take me seriously?

  I told myself I was wrong about her and had been wrong all along. She wasn't the right lass for me, at all. And I was determined to believe that lie. Because below the anger that rose up inside me like a living darkness was an even stronger emotion that I didn't even know how to deal with. I felt broken and crushed and destroyed. Because Sophie wasn't in love with me, after all. She was in love with someone else. It didn't even matter who it was. It was just someone else. Not me.

  Nothing had ever rattled my confidence before.

  Nothing.

  But that sweet little girl with the adorable vibe and the big green eyes had stripped me clean and picked me bare. And while she was doing it, she'd broken my heart.

  "Here you go," I said, faking a grin as I plucked her shoe from the clamp. I crossed the room and put the shoes in her hands. Reaching behind her, I gave the door a hefty shove and waved her through the opening. "And just forget about that whole gargoyle nonsense I talked about earlier. You must think I'm flippin' insane."

  She stepped through the doorway in her bare feet, and I expected her to hurry off, eager to get away from the madman who'd just ripped off his jacket and shirt in an effort to prove he was…some kind of impossible being—an almost forgotten fragment of myth and legend. But she hesitated on the other side of the door and looked back at me and opened her soft, adorable, ultimately kissable lips to say something.

  And maybe she said something but I didn't hear it.

  Because my ears had picked up noises coming from the other side of the property. A distant scream. A far away shout. And a receding cawing screech that sounded like…

  Harpies!

  But how could that be? Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And I knew I needed to act quickly. I needed to get to my family and help them. But before I could act on that impulse, instinct kicked in like gangbusters, urging me to protect Sophie before I worried about my pack.

  Guard her. Shield her. Keep her safe.

  I clawed onto her shoulder and dragged her back inside the workshop.

  "Havoc," she shrieked. "What the heck?"

  Ignoring her protests, I dragged her over to the lockers on the back wall of the workshop. With one arm wrapped around her slender waist, I opened a narrow door and tossed out three bows. The long pieces of wood clattered to the floor as I stuffed her inside.

  By then, she was angry. Her eyes were spitting fire as she glared at me. "Havoc, what are you doing?"

  I pressed my finger against her lips, hard. "I want you to listen to me," I commanded in a harsh whisper. "I want you to stay inside this locker and do not move or make a sound until I come back for you. Do you understand?"

  "Havoc, if this is another one of your…"

  "Be quiet!" I hissed. "Stay here. Do not come out. Not for anything. Not unless you hear my voice. Do you understand?"

  She looked uncertain. Like she wanted to argue because she thought I was just messing with her…again. And I could have kicked myself for pulling those stunts when I should have been earning her trust.

  "This isn't a joke," I gritted, then banged the locker closed and took off, slamming the heavy workshop door behind me.

  As soon as my feet touched the grass outside the workshop, I knew things were not good. With my sensitive gargoyle's ears, I should have been able to pick up the presence of my family behind the house. Music. Laughter. Conversation. Instead, I heard nothing. Nothing but the deep menacing snarl of a dog.

  "Hooligan," I whispered, racing for the side door of the house. "What's wrong?"

  I ripped open the door and sprinted down the hall between the bedrooms, detouring into Valor's room long enough to grab his knife hanging from the bedpost. Then I swung through the kitchen and barreled out of the tent onto the patio.

  On the flagstone pavers, I came to a sliding halt, staring at the mayhem that had recently been the site of Mim and Dare's engagement party. The faint glow of moonlight revealed what looked like a war zone—chairs strewn across the entire length of the property, the wicker arch smashed among the trampled flowers, the fairy lights tangled and broken on the ground.

  And my family—my entire pac
k—was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scattered throughout the scene of devastation were several harpies, frozen in death. I couldn't make sense of it. I couldn't comprehend. My brain refused to deal with the reality of the situation. My first reaction was to search the house for my pack. But I knew I wouldn't find them and I couldn't afford to waste the time. Harpies had attacked our home and carried off my pack.

  I sprinted across the patio, past the lifeless harpies, over the stone pavers splashed with blood while trying not to think about whose blood it was, blinking when I saw Lorissa's wooden bracelet lying in the grass. The one Courage had made for her.

  "Lorissa," I whispered. They'd separated the lass from the wood she wore.

  But the harpies would have known exactly what she and MacKenzie were when they saw the girls' red hair. And they'd have known what to do about it—how to remove the source of the witches' power. Still, before the harpies were able to do that, Lorissa must have taken down at least some of the harpies that lay dead behind the house. Because none of the gargoyles were wearing the knives we'd brought with us from the thirteenth century, and they couldn't have put up much of a fight. It had been so long since we'd worried about a harpy attack, we had been lulled into a sense of security. And, even if we had been more alert to danger, our knives were hardly appropriate fashion accessories for a garden party.

  Aye, I thought. Lorissa must have been responsible for most of the harpy deaths. But the one with the broken neck had probably died at Force's hands while the one with the cake knife buried in her heart…was a mystery. Hooligan was probably responsible for the one with the torn throat. "Hooligan," I shouted, my eyes scanning the darkness at the end of the property. "Where are you?"

  The place stank of harpies. Not their smell but their evil vibe—ugly and dark. It was everywhere. And that wasn't right, I realized. Unless…

  They were still there.

  A small waft of sound warned me—the rustle of wings. I wheeled around to see a massive harpy swoop from the roof, bearing down on me with her talons reaching for my shoulders. The moonlight glinted on her hairless skull. A few stiff sprigs of dust-colored hair sprouted from the top of her ears. Her hideous face was split in a monstrous grin. The wretched creature thought she had me in the bag.