Stone Lover

by A C Warneke

  “It’s not what you think,” Melanie protested, fastening her pants closed. Facing her sister, she offered a small smile, “He’s very powerful.”

  “And very protective of those he loves,” Jenna added with her unusually clear perception. “He’s not happy about Rhys going on this quest but because he loves you he will not object.”

  “Why you?” Melanie asked abruptly, ignoring her sister’s statement. “Why do you have to go on this… quest? Why can’t Rhys go on his own?”

  “Does it matter?” Jenna asked, a slight blush staining her cheeks as she avoided Melanie’s gaze. “I’m going to Greece with a gorgeous man and I get to help my sister.”

  Melanie’s grin split her face, “You like Rhys, don’t you? My sister has a crush on a boy,” Melanie sing-songed, joy bubbling up in her for her sister.

  “Shut up,” Jenna growled, but couldn’t prevent a smile from forming.

  “I am so happy for you,” Melanie beamed, taking her sister’s hands and dancing around the room. “He’s a great guy.”

  “Don’t get your hopes so far up about Rhys and me,” Jenna warned. “We hardly know one another.”

  “But you were drawn to him when he was a gargoyle….”

  Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise as the connection was made in her brain and she fell down onto the bed as her legs gave out. Melanie rushed to her side, concerned, “I thought you knew….”

  “I did,” Jenna managed. “I mean, I do know. I just hadn’t realized….”

  Melanie chuckled as she sat down on the bed next to Jenna. Taking Jenna’s hand in her own, she grinned, “You have no idea.”

  She spent the next hour telling Jenna about Vaughn. It was good to be able to talk with her sister; she hadn’t realized how much she craved Jenna’s opinion until they were able to talk openly about the true nature of Vaughn and his brothers.

  And in a few days, Jenna was going to be flying off to Greece with Vaughn’s brother. It was hard not to get her hopes up that someday soon, Vaughn would return to her.

  Twenty

  Melanie found that if she closed her eyes and held her body perfectly still, she could almost feel Vaughn, if not his physical body than his spirit. He surrounded her, embracing her and protecting her. And as long as she lay cradled in his stone arms, she could almost pretend that he was still with her. Feeling him and not having him made it impossible not to think about getting him back or how long it was going to take, or whether the insane plan was even going to work. Her doubts and fears warred with her blossoming hope and she felt as if she were going mad with conflicting emotions. Seeing the remorse on the little imps’ faces was no consolation.

  After her sister and Rhys left on their grand adventure to the Mediterranean last week, Melanie spent most of her time on the roof. She had settled into a routine of sorts, reading or having a one-sided conversation with Vaughn during the day and sleeping in his bed at night. Her dreams were… intense and they felt so damn real. It was hard to wake up in the morning knowing that Vaughn was stone and she was still alone.

  She had just finished reading one of favorite novels to him when she sighed and snuggled further into his rocky embrace. It was amazing how she was able to find a comfortable position draped over marble limbs but somehow she managed. It was nearly dusk and the sun would be setting shortly; Armand would be waking soon and that was always a bit awkward. Ever since making the offer of taking Vaughn’s place and her subsequent refusal, he had been avoiding her, which was disappointing. She had thought that after he had healed her body so completely they had formed a friendship of sorts.

  Maybe he was still a little angry that she allowed Vaughn to get in this untenable situation to begin with. But that didn’t make any sense; he seemed to have forgiven her when she showed up battered and broken and said that she had wanted to complete the ritual. If he hadn’t forgiven her, why did he spend so much time healing her? If he wanted to punish her, he could have let her heal naturally, letting the pain linger as long as possible.

  He had been particularly unsociable after the decision was made that Rhys and Jenna were going to go to Greece to find a way to get Vaughn back, which Melanie knew Armand desperately wanted. He probably felt helpless that he wasn’t the one going on the trip, something Melanie could understand. She didn’t like being left behind either, especially when there was a possibility that a cure could be found.

  Would it be considered a cure? Vaughn wasn’t really sick so there was nothing to cure. If she were to die, he would be made whole once more. They were only looking for a way to circumvent the rules so he didn’t have to sleep for sixty or seventy years. Even though she didn’t understand most of the rules regarding gargoyles and their rituals, she was pretty sure that nothing short of a miracle or her death could bring him back. Rhys and Jenna were searching for a miracle but that seemed so fantastical as to not quite be real.

  There was no way of knowing how long Rhys and Jenna were going to take, assuming they were able to find whatever they were looking for; eventually she was going to have to return to the real world. Though she had spent some time with her family since the accident, she knew that it wasn’t enough. And she knew that her parents were worried about her but with Jenna half way around the world, their focus had to be on Ferris, which was as it should be. Besides, it wasn’t like Melanie could tell her parents what was wrong, that the love of her life had been turned to stone and would remain that way until she was gone. Who would believe that?

  Of course, she was sitting in her stone lover’s lap, watching the setting of the sun and knowing that had he never given up his nights, he would be transforming into her gorgeous Vaughn in a few minutes.

  “Oh, Vaughn,” she sighed, pressing a kiss to the hard column of his throat before resting her head against him. “I wish you were here.”

  “What would you do to have that wish come true?’

  Melanie opened her eyes when she heard the familiar voice laughing at her from only a few feet away. He should have looked outlandish in his vibrant purple robes and startling green tunic with gray and white striped trousers, but he made it work. It didn’t hurt that he was unnaturally beautiful, with his long, white hair and wise, hazel eyes. “Do you spend all of your time out here sitting like a lovelorn fool?”

  Straightening, she slid out of Vaughn’s lap and smoothed the wrinkles of her dress. She could feel her cheeks burning but she offered the eccentric man a smile, “Omari; how do you always know where to find me?”

  Instead of answering her, Omari grinned, “I told you that I’d see you soon.”

  “It’s been three weeks.” Three weeks of unbelievable depths of despair and the fragile kernel of hope that insisted on planting itself deep within her and sprouting wings. “You didn’t even say hello when you stopped by last time.”

  “And your point is?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Waving away anything she might have said, he continued, “I’m here now so you don’t have to wait any longer.”

  “Wait for what?” she asked, bewildered and unsure what he meant by that statement. He simply looked at her in disbelief and she felt the blush heating her cheeks; he was talking about Vaughn. But then, wasn’t he the one who sent Rhys and Jenna on their quest, to bring Vaughn back? Why would he do that? “Why did you send my sister off with Rhys?”

  “They would never have taken a chance had I not given it to them.” He casually shrugged his shoulders, not caring about the bombshell he had just laid at Melanie’s feet.

  She stared at him in wonder; who was he? “Why are you doing this?”

  “I look after what is mine,” he said with an eloquent smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

  “I’m not yours,” she frowned, unconsciously glancing behind her in a telling gesture; she was Vaughn’s, surely he knew that?

  “I never said that,” he said with a halted laugh. He stretched out his arm towards her and held out a vial filled with a thick, slightly sinister looking, greenish-brown liquid. “I bro
ught you something. Now, drink up.”

  Dazed, overwhelmed, Melanie took the small glass bottle, mindlessly drinking it down without questioning what it was or why he was giving it to her. The flavor exploded in her mouth, a cross between rusty nails, concrete and pus, startling her from whatever trance she had fallen into. Her face twisted into a revolted grimace as she spit. “What was it?”

  Before she received an answer, the sun sank completely beneath the skyline and the movement of Armand behind her caught her attention. Unthinkingly, she turned and watched as the stone griffin transformed into the gloriously naked Armand. She watched as he flexed his sleekly elegant muscles, oblivious of her perusal. His butt was taut and curved to perfection, his thighs were thick and solid; he could easily have been a model for the cover of romance novels.

  If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that he was probably even more perfect than Vaughn, though it seemed impossible to be more perfect. Didn’t perfect imply, well, perfection? How could someone be more perfect? And yet, Armand’s body was flawless, with his gleaming skin and sculpted muscles. When he turned and caught her staring, she blushed to the roots of her hair and quickly turned away, but not before noticing that he was as physically well-endowed as Vaughn. Armand was perfection but Vaughn was perfect for her.

  “Who are you talking to?” Armand asked. She could hear the rustling of material and knew that he was putting on his robe that he now kept nearby since she moved in and started spending all of her time on the roof.

  Melanie looked around and realized that Omari had disappeared. Bemused, she shook her head and faced the now-robed Armand. “I guess no one; but I thought you had normal hearing when you were stone?”

  He smiled slightly, “I wish to give you privacy with Vaughn so I… close my ears.”

  “Ah,” she nodded, not quite understanding but appreciating the gesture none-the-less. He started to go inside but suddenly she didn’t want to be alone on the roof anymore with the reminder that Vaughn was still stone. “What are your plans tonight?”

  “I have some business to take care of inside,” he didn’t quite meet her eyes when he talked to her anymore, as if he was slightly uncomfortable around her. The thought was enough to make her laugh, though she kept it to herself. Armand was the most self-possessed person she knew; he would be comfortable standing naked in a roomful of nuns. “Will you be staying with Vaughn?”

  “Yes.” Her stomach was starting to rebel at whatever that concoction was that Omari gave her but she ignored the grumblings. She wanted to ask Armand to stay with her but he obviously didn’t want to be near her so she had to let him go.

  Armand dipped his head once in acknowledgement and turned around, taking a step away from her. Feeling a sense of urgency and a need to have closure with the man who healed her, she called out, “Armand?”

  He paused but didn’t face her. Licking her lips, she said, ‘Thank you – for everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all of this without you.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was everything,” she countered emphatically, her belly groaning. “Thank you.”

  His back stiffened faintly before he disappeared into the apartment. The moment the door closed, Omari simply reappeared, as if he hadn’t left at all. She jumped but he was looking at her with a soft expression in his eyes. “That was nice of you and I’m sure it means a great deal to him that you care for him.”

  “Of course I care,” Melanie affirmed, pressing her hand to her belly. “He is an amazing man.”

  “He’s not a man,” Omari countered. He always seemed to be laughing at her, as if he knew something that she didn’t. Of course he knew things that she didn’t; he was a powerful sorcerer or wizard or something. She was a mere human. “He’s a gargoyle.”

  She was about to speak when searing pain ripped through her abdomen. The agony was rapidly spreading outwards and she was feeling worse by the moment. Her temples were pounding out a savage beat and she felt hot and cold all over. Were her muscles turning to jelly or were those her bones? Slumping against Vaughn, she breathed out slowly. “He’s incredibly amazing, whatever he is.”

  “And I am sorry,” Omari sighed regretfully, observing her with watchful eyes. He crossed his arms across his chest, the flowing material of his robes billowing out around him, making him look even more like a wizard, powerful and terrifying. How conceited had she been to assume he was her friend? That she wasn’t a mere plaything to him? “But this is the way it has to be.”

  Melanie gasped as her body decided to pull itself inside out. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she leaned more fully against the cool stone of Vaughn’s body, her belly tearing itself apart from the inside. Another rippling cramp pulsed through her abdomen, slicing her in half as she clutched at Vaughn’s thigh to remain standing. Had Omari poisoned her to hasten her death, to get Vaughn back? Was the quest he sent Jenna and Rhys on a wild goose chase, merely a distraction? Did he lie about wanting to give them a chance?

  Who was Omari?

  Her stomach was on fire and it felt as if someone had taken a burning hook, plunged it into her gut and started yanking out her intestines. Crumbling to the ground, she curled up into the fetal position, hoping that it would hold her stomach together. Sharp, piercing pains continued to spasm through her belly, spearing further and further outwards until everything was screaming in misery and torment.

  Sweat or blood glistened on her skin, drenching her dress and matting her hair to her head. Her internal organs were melting and she knew how those men felt at the end of the movie when their faces melted and their heads exploded. She was going to die and she wasn’t going to be able to see Vaughn. The hope that had been growing steadily within her turned to acid, burning even more holes in her aching body, leaking vital fluids and faith.

  She had been a fool to have put her trust in Omari. He was probably the one who ordered the demon imps to terrify her, to delay her, so he could be perceived as a hero. And she played right into his diabolical hands, telling him all of her secrets and blindly obeying him when he handed her a bottle of poison and told her to drink. Dots were dancing behind her eye lids and she finally, blessedly gave in to unconsciousness.

  * * * * *

  When she opened her eyes, she had no idea how much time had passed and she realized that she didn’t hurt as much as she had, that her guts weren’t spilling out and she was still in one piece. Weakened, but still very much alive, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and glared at Omari, who continued to stand there looking serene and detached. His eyes watched her carefully and when she pushed the hair out of her eyes, his face split into a beaming smile.

  “You survived!” he rejoiced, coming towards her and pulling her to her feet. Her legs still felt rubbery but she couldn’t bear being touched by him. Pulling out of his grasp, she stumbled backwards, landing hard against Vaughn’s rocky knee. He winced on her behalf but made no move towards her. “I never said you weren’t mine, either; a gargoyle holds your heart therefore you are mine to shelter. And I am sorry about that.”

  Melanie continued to glare at the mad man in front of her, trying not to think of the bruise that she could already feel forming in the middle of the back. Her strength was quickly returning and she felt… different somehow; stronger, a little less mortal, a little more resilient. She wasn’t sure how she felt; simply… altered. What did it mean to have such a powerful shepherd that would watch over her while feeding her poison? Was it a blessing or a curse to be one of Omari’s flock? “What did you do to me?”

  “Did you know that most of the gargoyles’ mates don’t make it back in time to complete the ritual, to accept the gargoyle’s gift?” he asked without explanation. “And even fewer have the overpowering need to have returned what was lost?”

  “I don’t even know what you are talking about,” she growled, still angry at him for making her drinking something that nearly killed her. Of course, she was the idiot w
ho drank it.

  “Of course you don’t.” He sighed, walking over and picking up the glass vial that had dropped when she fell to the ground and lost consciousness. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get blood from a gargoyle? I mean when they are in their stone form?”

  Obviously she had fallen asleep and this was a bizarre dream. Standing directly in front of her, Omari ran the tip of his finger along her jaw, “First you have to have the gargoyle’s permission, and then you have to drill a miniscule hole, stick in a titanium needle and extract the thick blood. As you can imagine, it takes a great deal of time to extract the viscous fluid with such a thin needle and when you need an entire vial full? It can take days.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, feeling queasy, but for a different reason. She had the dreadful feeling that she knew where this was heading.

  “Medusa’s blood,” he chuckled, taking the empty vial and making it disappear into his robe.

  She glanced at the space where the vial had disappeared and could feel the color draining from her face, “You mean to tell me that you just made me drink… blood?”

  “Medusa’s blood,” he corrected, nodding his head with satisfaction. “Yes.”

  “But… why?” her head was full of cotton stuffing and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to remain standing. No wonder she became so violently ill; she had just drunk…. “Did you say it was Medusa’s blood? As in… Medusa? The ‘I-turn-mortals-to stone’ Medusa?”

  “You sound surprised,” he seemed baffled by her bafflement. “And really, she only turns to stone those who refuse to leave her in peace. She’s really quite… wonderful.”

  There was a wistful quality to Omari’s expression when he talked about the mythical creature, a softening about his eyes, his mouth. Melanie didn’t want to think about why he spoke with such fondness about a creature able to kill a man with a look. She was having a hard enough time believing that Medusa was real. And apparently still alive. “Um, didn’t Perseus kill Medusa and take her head to turn Atlas to stone?”