by Regine Abel
I walked over to the large window overlooking the small park surrounded by high-rises in the heart of downtown. Hundreds of pedestrians hurried through the streets, some of them already wearing thick sweaters or windbreakers in the sunny but cool early October morning.
“I will meet her when she returns on Thursday.”
“Seriously?”
Looking over my shoulder at her, I smiled at her shocked expression. “Like you said, sometimes, one should seize the moment.”
Lana sobered, rose to her feet, and approached me slowly. I turned to face her. She cupped my face in her hands with the motherly look she often gave her son. My chest tightened. Despite being centuries older than she was, Lana had become a big sister and almost a mother to me.
“She still stirs that… bonding reaction in you?” she asked softly.
I nodded.
“Then do not waste time. Whatever happens, you will never have a chance unless you try. I can’t go where you are going. But wherever you end up, it would be good for me to know there’s a nice lady looking after you.”
“I’m not a child,” I said, frowning.
“You’re a man. Same thing.”
Pulling my face towards hers, she stood on her tippy toes and kissed my forehead. I snorted and shook my head. She caressed my cheek then turned and left.
The next two days dragged on forever. I reached out to the few Khargals I was still in contact with. They, too, were scrambling to recover their own sigils. Not only did we need them to find the rendezvous point but, in my case, I also had my armor, shield and weapon stashed with the sigil. While we could send a self-destruct signal to any sigil we failed to recover, that wouldn’t work with my gear. I couldn’t risk leaving them behind for fear humans would eventually stumble on them and reverse engineer all of my military-grade equipment. Over the past century, their technological evolution had been truly phenomenal and now grew exponentially every year. In their hands—at least in the hands of the less scrupulous ones—the sigils could be used for great evil.
I had expected Roc, a human-Khargal hybrid who also lived here in Montreal, to want to make the trip with me, but he was off to try to awaken his father from hibernation. Roc and I weren’t close, being completely opposite personalities. Mischievous, the unrepentant little thief had no respect for the Prime Directive. I’d actually had to ban him from my clubs for being such a womanizer. Still, back on Duras, he wouldn’t have anyone, and wouldn’t know our world.
There would be time to discuss this once we were on our way home.
For now, I had an appointment with a human female who distracted me from my duty. And a warrior never strayed from his duty.
4
Brianna
Lana ushered me inside the club. It took all my control not to look over her shoulder in search of Alkor Drayvus. I still couldn’t believe that he had agreed to meet with me, at long last. To my delight—but not Lana’s—the workers had arrived at 7:00 A.M. and the reinforcement work had already begun. Stephen, the construction manager, gave me a quick update on the progress, confirming that things were not only right on track but that, barring any unforeseen complications, we would likely finish earlier than expected.
That pleased me tremendously. The sooner we were done clearing up the rubble, the sooner we’d start building the expansion. Which meant, the more time I’d get to spend with Mr. Dark and Mysterious. While surveying the work done so far, which included reinforcing all areas of the catacomb, I edged my way towards the main room and the gargoyle statue that had become a real obsession since I’d first seen it. My hands literally ached for its unusual feel, cool with an odd mix of rough yet polished stone beneath my palms. My face heated thinking of the steamy and oh so kinky dreams involving that statue and me that had kept me awake over the past two nights.
But above all, it was that gargoyle’s face that haunted me. As a child, that face had been both a balm to my broken heart, and a nightmare that chased me. He had been the hero who had saved me from certain death from the icy cold water which kept rising, making my body numb, and threatening to steal my breath away. But he was also the face that appeared in the dark, murky water where my mother’s lifeless body had sunk. The face that reminded me that she was never coming back home, and that Dad had never recovered from her loss. And worse still, that Dad could never forgive me for looking so much like her, like the true love he’d never see again.
And yet, two days ago, it wasn’t any of those emotions that this face stirred within me. Seen through the eyes of a woman—granted, a woman with abandonment issues and strange tastes in men—his unusual beauty had mesmerized me. I’d never had a single tattoo or piercing—other than my earlobes—and I’d always thought people heavily into that stuff to be weird. But looking at that gargoyle, those facial bones and horns had been beyond sexy. The few times I’d been allowed inside The Darkest Hour during the club’s operating hours, I’d been rather turned off by some of the over the top—often poorly done—implants people had gotten. But that statue…
It suddenly made me wonder if this was why Alkor always remained in the shadows. Had the plastic surgeons done a bad job of his implants? The man that had rescued me, at least in the chaotic memory I held of that day, had looked natural. For years after that, I believed gargoyles to be real. But just like kids stop believing in Santa Claus, I eventually stopped believing in flying creatures with horns who kept watch over the helpless in the night.
As I re-entered the main room, my eyes immediately flicked to the left corner where the gargoyle pedestal still sat… empty.
“Where is it?” I whispered, panic rising.
Looking frantically around—not like there was anything to look at besides stone walls and rubble—I turned to chase after Stephen to demand to know what he had done with the statue when I hit a human wall. If not for his swift reaction, catching me by the upper arms, I would have landed on my ass.
“Ow!” I said, rubbing my face.
“Sorry,” a deep, gravelly voice said. “I hadn’t expected you to try to tackle me out of the blue.”
I couldn’t tell if he were making fun of me or not. Tall, broad, and muscular, he clearly wasn’t one of the construction workers. There was something familiar about his face, yet I had never met him before. Square jaw, the strangest hue of yellowish-brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair, he was ruggedly handsome. I should have been all weak in the knees, but all I could see was the gargoyle’s face.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said, taking a couple of steps back. “I need to find Stephen. There was a giant gargoyle statue here and—” I said pointing at the bare pedestal.
“I moved it,” the man interrupted.
I stared at him, mouth gaping. “Excuse me?”
“I moved it,” the man repeated. “It wouldn’t make sense to leave it here in harm’s way during the construction work, don’t you agree?”
My heart skipped a beat as I finally realized who was standing before me. Too stunned to respond, my gaze roamed over him, lingering on his face. Yes, the size and height matched the man I had seen from a distance, but no horns, no wings, no implants.
“You’re normal,” I blurted out, my voice hiding none of my disappointment.
He recoiled in surprise while my cheeks all but burst into flames.
“I mean… Oh wow, I’m so sorry. I… It’s just…”
Mortified couldn’t even begin to describe how I felt right now.
“What is normal? And why so disappointed?” the man I assumed to be Alkor asked. “How did you picture me, Ms. Brent? Walking around day and night looking like a creature straight out of the Underworld?”
“Well… yes?” I said with a bit of an embarrassed shrug.
“I’m sorry not to live up to your expectations then,” he said, teasingly. “Should I go put on a disguise?”
“Of course not,” I said, wondering if I could make things any worse. “Can we… can we start this whole mess over?” I asked. “Hi
, my name is Brianna Brent, your engineer. Pleased to meet you at last.”
I extended a hand, hoping he wouldn’t leave me hanging.
To my relief, he smiled and took my hand. His grip, firm but gentle, baffled me. While callused popped to mind, it didn’t quite fit the feel of his palms. There was a harder, grittier edge to it. Not unpleasant, but definitely strange. Still, it remained far preferable to sweaty, clammy hands. The mere thought of that gave me an icky sensation.
“Alkor Drayvus at your service,” he says, his gravelly voice sounding almost like a purr. “Do you—”
The drilling sounds resumed as the workers ended their pause, interrupting Alkor. With a slightly amused smirk he gestured with his head for me to follow him. I gave him a grateful smile and shadowed him as he walked back up the stairs.
“Let’s go to my office,” Alkor said. “We’ll be more at ease to speak.”
I nodded, excited at the thought of visiting the upper floor which I’d only ever peeked at from the ground floor, or through pictures posted online by the ‘cool’ people with access to the VIP sections. However, instead of heading towards the small elevator at the back of the church, he opened a heavy, wooden door a few meters from the stairs to the catacombs. It opened on a room which I guessed used to serve as a small chapel for private services.
Curiosity soon pushed aside this second disappointment. The natural light through the original stained glass windows lit the room with a special aura. The eclectic furniture within came from different eras in an oddly artistic mishmash. From medieval to Victorian, modern to tribal, some of the pieces looked like they belonged in a museum. A few dark, wooden shelves displayed various objects that once again resembled original artifacts. I knew Alkor to be wealthy—at least, so stated all the rumors about him. But the value of his collection looked like it would range in multiples of millions. Why would he have such treasures so easily accessible?
“Have a seat, Ms. Brent,” Alkor said, indicating a dark red couch that could have come right out of a vampire movie. “May I offer you something to drink?” he asked when I complied. “Water? Coffee? Soda? Something stronger?”
“Water would be fine,” I said, although I could have used something stronger. But I needed to keep my wits about me, and my nerves couldn’t handle any caffeine right now.
He pulled out a bottle of water from a mini-fridge cleverly hidden by what I had originally assumed to be a decorative wall carving.
“Oh, no need for a glass,” I said when he reached for one on his minibar. “I’m not a very formal kind of girl.”
His pleased smile told me I’d earned some brownie points. Why that mattered, who knew? But for some reason, it did.
“I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to do the work for you, Mr. Drayvus,” I said, remembering the ‘always butter up the important client’ rule my firm insisted upon.
“Alkor, please,” he said, taking a seat in the matching chair across from me. “You’ll find that I, too, am not particularly formal.”
I believed it, and yet, there was something solemn about him. He used common words when he spoke and, still, he managed to come off as… not necessarily stuck up, but definitely of another level of society. I couldn’t tell if it was the way he subtly dragged certain syllables, that gravelly voice of his, or how he pronounced words as if they had different flavors he savored. Princely came to mind…
“Certainly. But then I must insist you call me Brianna.”
He gave me the bottle, which I accepted graciously, and then resumed his seat.
“Brianna it is,” he said, resting his ankle on his knee, his smile stretching. “And you only got the contract based on your own merit. You came prepared, with a clear plan, your team ready to go. You met my needs where others failed. I should be the one thanking you for delivering on such short notice. I am pleased with the progress so far.”
I preened under his approval. This contract could make my career. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. Although I’d met my mystery man, I still needed answers. But how could I bring it up without tipping my hand?
“I’m very happy as well,” I said, hiding none of the pride I felt. “Stephen is my go-to person whenever I need work done fast and well. We’ve collaborated on many contracts, and he’s always delivered on my plans. I’m sure you will be very satisfied with the results.” I shifted on my seat and nervously licked my lip. “This is why I almost panicked when I saw the gargoyle statue missing. Like everything you possess,” I said waving at all the artifacts in his office, “it seemed of tremendous value. If something had happened to it...”
“It is invaluable to me,” Alkor said with a nod when my voice trailed off. “Therefore, leaving it in the middle of a construction site seemed ill-advised.”
“Right,” I said, tucking a strand of my golden-brown hair behind my ear. “I have to admit that I’m fascinated by it. It is in such great condition, I’m assuming it’s been recently made. Do you know the model?”
Alkor tilted his head to the side and gave me an unreadable look. “Why do you ask?”
I fiddled with my bottle of water, screwing and unscrewing the lid in an obvious tell of how nervous I felt. “He… he reminds me of someone special. Someone who played a major role in my life.”
Alkor raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh?”
“He…” I stopped and took a sip of water, my throat suddenly feeling utterly dry. My gut told me Alkor knew exactly who the model was. “He saved my life many years ago. I never had a chance to thank that man. If it’s him…”
“A man with horns and facial bones saved your life?” Alkor asked.
My face heated, knowing what kind of thoughts had to be crossing his mind right now. “His features are the same,” I said, dodging the actual question. “The eyes, the nose, the mouth, the square jaw, and that wavy, fluffy hair. You are well-known for your amazing disguise as well. And yet, right now, you couldn’t be more…”
“Normal?” he said, teasingly when my voice trailed off.
My cheeks burned again.
“Would you like to see me with horns and wings, Brianna?”
“Yes!” I blurted out way too quickly.
Alkor burst out laughing. “Well, someone is certainly eager.”
“I’m sorry. Wow,” I said, mortified. “I’m usually more controlled and—”
“Do not fret,” Alkor said. “Your spontaneity is refreshing. Come back tomorrow night, when the club opens. You’ll be allowed up the elevator to my box to see, first-hand, the Lord of The Darkest Hour.”
“Really?” I asked, leaning forward in my excitement. “I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t want to make you feel like… You know. I…”
“Yes, really,” Alkor said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And no, you won’t make me feel like a freak show any more than I normally do. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”
I hesitated, not quite knowing how to answer that.
“All right, then,” I said lamely. “Thank you. I would like that very much.”
“Don’t forget the dress code,” he added.
My stomach dropped as I mentally reviewed my wardrobe. I didn’t have anything hardcore gothic. But I did have a bohemian blouse with puffy sleeves, and a long black skirt. I could buy myself a gothic necklace and dark lipstick on the way home today. This was too great an opportunity to miss. I’d make it work.
“I won’t,” I said, feeling giddy.
It struck me then that Alkor had deftly shifted the topic away from the man who had modeled for the gargoyle. Taking a sip of water, I contemplated bringing back the topic but couldn’t think of a way to do so that wouldn’t make me stalkerish or creepy. There would be other opportunities.
Forcing myself to focus on the reason for my presence here, I turned my attention back to my mandate. “Now, about the contract, I would need more details about what you want to do with those rooms so that I can start drawing some first drafts for your ap
proval. I was also wondering what type of event you are planning in that first room. It is fairly small. There’s still time to open up one of the other, more spacious rooms instead while respecting your deadline.”
“No,” Alkor said sharply. The finality of his tone took me aback. “I need this specific room done. No other.”
“Okay,” I said in a careful tone. “It was just a suggestion.”
“And a thoughtful one. Thank you,” Alkor replied in a conciliatory voice. “But it needs to be this room. It is… special.”
“All right,” I said. Sensing that he wouldn’t welcome me prying further, I dropped the topic.
Alkor then proceeded to tell me his plans for the twelve rooms in the catacombs. Thankfully, the mortal remains had been moved before he bought the church, so we wouldn’t have to deal with that. The project sounded ambitious—definitely a career defining undertaking for someone like me. Each room would be set up to allow themed private parties, from vampires to shifters, to necromancers and demons. But they would also be used as escape rooms, so various nooks and crannies to hide clues would be required. And last, but not least, he also wanted a few hidden passages that allowed access between rooms.
I would need to work with Elisa, one of the best interior decorators I’d ever met. Between the two of us, and the basically unlimited budget he was allowing, we would knock Alkor’s socks off. By the time I finished taking down notes, my fingers felt sore, but my imagination overflowed with ideas.
As Alkor escorted me back to the entrance, I stole a few furtive glances at him. Having overcome my initial disappointment, I had to admit his charm was steadily growing on me, not to mention he had a body to die for. Tomorrow night would prove quite interesting.
“Goodbye, Brianna,” Alkor said, with that crazy, sexy voice of his. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow evening.”
“Believe me, no more than I do,” I said, that wretched eagerness rearing its annoying head again.