by Sunny
The creature's eyes alighted upon me — upon Mona Louisa, actually — and I felt the caress of those dark eyes stroke across our skin. As dead as the rest of him looked, his eyes were stunningly alive, dark and intense, gleaming with intelligence and cold calculation. A perfect match for Mona Louisa, those eyes, I would have said before… before I'd gotten to know her more intimately than I ever could have imagined. I'd called her the Ice Queen for her cool cunning, for her cold and heartless beauty. But she was me I now. We shared the same body, felt one another's thoughts. I did not want her to be a match in any way with that repulsive grotesquerie sitting upon the throne, looking at us like a tasty dessert that had just been brought before him.
"Ah, wonderful," the gargoyle said in a deep rumble, rising to his feet, looming tall as a tree over us, as they lined the prisoners up before him. "Fresh dead you bring me. Enough of them to spare you my touch." He lumbered heavily over to stand before them, looking like something out of a nightmare, a creature horrific enough to frighten even the most calloused warrior or hardened criminal.
All he did was stretch out a finger and touch the first man. But that one touch was horrible enough. The surface of that thick barnacle growth on his skin crumbled, melted off him and moved like visible black sludge down his hand, onto the skin of the prisoner he touched.
The gargoyle moved his touch onto the next prisoner before the first man realized what had been done to him. Looking down at his hands, seeing the dark bumpy growth coating his skin, he gave a horrified screech.
"Unless you wish more of my touch," the gargoyle said with sinister menace, turning back with raised finger, "cease that noise!"
The scream shut off abruptly, and painful, throbbing silence filled the chamber.
Mona Louisa looked at Miles and wondered if he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. If he had chosen this terrible way to repay her for his death.
He shook his head, a slight bare movement. Just the men, he mouthed silently.
The roped line of prisoners swayed to the left, away from the gargoyle and his poisoning touch. No screams, no squeaks of sound. But they could not help that instinctive move away from his reaching hand.
Instead of just the bare touch of one finger, the gargoyle grabbed the next cowering man with both hands. Grabbed him and lifted him back into place, jerking the rest of the roped prisoners upright once more. With the greater contact, a darker, heavier layer of sludge moved off the gargoyle onto the prisoner he held, smearing the prisoner with an even thicker layer of crust than the previous man. The second prisoner stared at his changed hands, the defiled skin, and opened his mouth in a silent scream.
"That's right," the gargoyle said in a voice so deep that it resonated in the chamber. "Do not move, do not scream, unless you wish me to share a harder touch with you."
The next man in line bore the gargoyle's touch with a trembling but straight body. The rest stayed stoically still. Or as still as their shivering, shaking bodies allowed them. One touch, and a thin layer of dark sludge covered Juan, and then Charles.
With each layer shed, the gargoyle's skin became smoother, less ugly. When he finished touching the last prisoner, the gargoyle had only a thin surface bumpiness remaining. Even more startling than the smoothing of his skin was the lightening of his spirit, as if the deformity had burdened mind and soul, as well as body. He was lighter, freer in his steps, graceful now in his movement. Turning, he strode lithely to the beginning of the line. To Pietrus. Stopping before the bull dheu, I saw then what I had not seen before: the uncanny resemblance of the bull dheus to the gargoyle, their maker. Their bigger, bulkier build. The darker color of their skin. The broadening of their features. Even the little horns sprouting on top of their head. He was slowly transforming them, making them take on his more powerful build and features bit by bit, blending it with their own.
The gargoyle gazed at Pietrus's smooth face. "What interesting thing did you find out there in the desert, my hunt captain?" he asked in a deceptively idle voice.
"We captured these prisoners and a Monère Queen, Lord Gordane."
"A Queen, most interesting. But tell me, what else did you encounter in your hunting raid today?"
Pietrus swallowed hard before answering. "A small child like yourself, my lord."
"A young gargoyle." He smiled. The scary sight made Pietrus blink nervously. "That's right. You can use the proper name in front of me. You found a young gargoyle and you touched it, obviously."
Pietrus gave a jerky nod.
"You had it in your hands? In your grasp?"
"Yes, I–I touched the child before I knew what it was, my lord," Pietrus said, falling to his knees. "Forgive me. I shot down an imp carrying the boy, and the imp claimed that the child was his own young. I would not have touched it otherwise."
"Rise," Lord Gordane commanded.
Pietrus rose hastily, standing with his back straight at attention.
"Your error was not in putting your hands on the young gargoyle," his sovereign informed him, "but in not bringing him back to me. Please do not tell me that you simply let the gargoyle child go?"
Pietrus shook his head. "The Monère woman… the other one… she fought us and ran away with the child."
"Speak clearly, Pietrus. What are you blubbering about? Where is this other woman?"
"There," Pietrus said, pointing at me, or rather Mona Louisa. "The woman who rescued the gargoyle child shares the same body as this one, my lord."
Gordane arched a thick brow. "What wild tale have you concocted to try to save yourself, Pietrus?" he asked softly, causing the big captain to tremble wildly.
"It is true, my lord," Pietrus said desperately.
"Pietrus speaks the truth, Lord Gordane," said the bull dheu whose teeth Pietrus had sent flying. "This woman is like none we have ever seen. She changes entirely — face, hair, voice, and body — and becomes a completely different woman than the one before you now."
"You say that she rescued the gargoyle child?"
"Yes, my lord. She ripped off the lower half of her gown, wrapped the child up in the fabric, and ran off with him."
"Where is the child now?" Gordane demanded.
"Another gargoyle, an adult male, flew off with both the child and the woman," Pietrus said. "We managed to pierce one of his wings with an arrow, but the woman, the other one, released the gargoyle and fell away from him. Without her weight burdening them, the gargoyle managed to escape with the boy."
"He dropped the woman, you mean," Gordane corrected.
"No, my lord. The woman… the other one, not the one you see here… she let go of him. He tried to grab her but she twisted out of his reach and told him to save his son."
"What a strange tale you bring me. Not the typical actions of a dheu," the gargoyle mused, looking at Pietrus. "But before I turn my attention to this interesting woman — or women, if I believe you — I have one last touch to give. One last touch I saved just for you." Reaching out, he laid a gentle finger against Pietrus's smooth cheek, and the last layer of blemish swirled off the gargoyle and onto the bull dheu. Pietrus shuddered, his eyes dulling a fraction as the defilement coated him.
"That small taste of me is to impress upon you to never fail me like this again," Gordane said, lifting his finger away. "Should you ever come across a young gargoyle again, you are to keep him in your possession. Touch the child as little as you can, and bring him here to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord" came an echo of voices.
"Good. Because should any of you fail me in such a manner again — " His eyes swept with quiet malice over each one of his men. " — my touch shall be the last thing you feel. And it will not be light or gentle like this."
All the soldiers dropped to their knees. "Yes, my lord!" they chorused. At his gesture, they rose again. There was a silent sigh of relief when he turned his attention to me and Mona Louisa.
I trembled inside. Cringed when he walked toward us. Rupert, Demetrius, and Gilfo
rd backed respectfully away at his approach, and had I been able to, I would have backed away also, but I was stuck inside Mona Louisa. Stuck in our body. Miles stayed by our side. Gordane shot him a hard, considering look as he came to a looming stop before us.
Mona Louisa stood straight and tall. Coolly serene before the huge creature. No use trying to run from him came her voice inside me. When escape is not an option, you face your enemy with dignity. But despite her brave words, I felt fear, both hers and mine, flutter through us like butterflies. Frankly, I thought we should have tried to run away instead of putting on a useless brave front.
He laid his hand upon us, and we both felt it, his touch and something more. Something that reached down and found me hidden deep within Mona Louisa. Found me, grabbed ahold of me and pulled, yanking me out. I fought against it, but his hold was relentless, his power ruthlessly strong. I screamed inside her, long and echoing. Then found myself screaming with true voice as I exploded out in a quick and brutal transformation.
It hurt, dammit! My entire body felt bruised, beaten. And I was coated with a wet and sticky substance. My first thought was that it was blood, but it was clear fluid. Plasma maybe. It might as well have been blood, so severely weak was I, barely able to stand. Looking up into those black baleful eyes, I shivered.
"What do we have here?" Gordane rumbled. "Indeed, another woman sharing the same body… no, an entirely different body. Much less attractive than the other one."
If I wasn't so tremblingly weak, I would have lunged at him and tried to hurt him. Anything to chase away the fear of what he had just done so easily to me. But since taking a swing at him required more strength than I had at present, I used the only other thing left to me — my mouth. "Fuck you and the bat wings you flew in on."
His hand shot out and grabbed me. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have mouthed off like that, I thought, as he lifted me off the ground with barely any effort. It was highly uncomfortable, dangling like that, but it didn't really hurt. His hand was a loose collar around my neck, not squeezing yet as we both waited for each other's next move. It was only when Miles dropped to his knees before Gordane, begging, "My lord, release her please, she does not know who you are," that I began to have an inkling that maybe this wasn't about me at all. That maybe it was a test to see how Miles, standing so protectively nearby, would react. A test that Miles had just spectacularly failed.
Anger pulsed like hot lava through Gordane, and that big hand collaring my neck squeezed down, more a reaction, I think, to Miles's telling reaction than from any real intention of hurting me. But whatever the reason, I began to feel a highly uncomfortable choking sensation. I don't need to breathe, I don't need to breathe, I told myself. But even so, I felt like I was choking. My eyes bulged and my body gathered itself to fight. Before I could move, a bright light flashed between us and heat blasted against my neck, coming from my necklace. It was hot enough that it should have seared my skin, but it didn't. It burned Gordane instead.
The gargoyle gave a roaring bellow of pain, and released me. I dropped like a brick, sprawling on the floor next to Miles. Smoke drifted up from Gordane's hand. I smelled burned flesh, and saw a long angry welt seared diagonally across his fingers.
A very big, very angry gargoyle grabbed Miles around the neck — it seemed to be a favorite hold of his — lifting him up as easily as he had me.
"What did you do to me?" Gordane snarled. His face was a frightening mask of fury.
Miles choked out a strangled sound. Nothing understandable. Everyone in the room was deathly still, like rabbits freezing motionless when sensing a lethal predator.
"He did nothing. It was my necklace, I think, that injured you," I said in a husky croak, picking myself off the ground. A part of me wondered what the hell I was doing, trying to save Miles, a man who had been my enemy! But he'd tried to protect me. I couldn't leave him out to hang like that — no pun intended.
"Show me!" Gordane snarled.
With shaking hands, I pulled my silver necklace out from beneath my dress, spilling it into view. Gordane's eyes fell on the cameo dangling at the end, and all that thick swirling anger suddenly dissipated.
"Um…" I looked at Miles, dangling helplessly in Gordane's hand. Reminded — he seemed to have forgotten him — Gordane tossed Miles away, and he went sailing into the line of prisoners, knocking them all down like a house of cards.
That great horned head lowered frighteningly close to me as the gargoyle bent down to examine the image carved on the cameo. A dark gray hand reached out toward the necklace but stopped just short of contact.
"I think the silver must have burned you," I said, my voice husky from that brief, accidental (I'd like to think) moment of strangling me.
"I am not Monère," Gordane said, all the furious rage drained from him. "It is not the silver but something mixed into the metal that hurt me, reacting when it sensed harm to you. I have heard of this but had never seen it before."
Well, that made one of us. Halcyon hadn't mentioned anything special about the necklace when he had given it to me. But then we never really had the chance to talk privately. Maybe he'd been planning on telling me later.
"You are the chosen mate of Hell's ruler," Gordane said. "The one whose name means darkness."
"Actually, I'm Halcyon's mate. Not Blaec's."
"This proclaims you to be the royal consort. Does the Dark One not rule Hell anymore?"
The Dark One. I presumed that to be Blaec, whose name meant darkness.
"No, his son, Halcyon, does now." It felt really weird discussing realm politics with Gordane. Especially after he'd just thrown us around like rag dolls.
"Your actions are peculiar," Gordane said, frowning. "So unlike the dheu who come to this realm."
I thought what was really odd was that such obvious intelligence could coexist with such primitive rage.
"If I may touch you once more," Gordane asked, lifting his uninjured hand.
I didn't shrink back, but I really, really wanted to. "Why?" I asked in a small voice.
"To examine you."
I really didn't want him to, after seeing and feeling what he could do with just a touch. But from Gordane's expression, I doubted I had any choice. I could run screaming away from him and have him chase me down. Or I could hold still with some shred of dignity. "Will it hurt?" I asked, unable to keep the little quaver out of my voice.
"No, it will be a harmless touch."
I nodded, giving my permission — no other choice but to.
His touch was harmless, as promised. No pain, no ugly crusting of my skin, no shoving me back inside and yanking Mona Louisa out of our body like a poorly played game of musical chairs.
He drew his hand away, much to our relief. "This part of you is not dead," he said.
"What?" I asked, not sure I had heard him correctly.
"You still live."
"But… but I'm not breathing. And my heart isn't beating."
"I feel your living essence," he marveled, then frowned. "You should not be here. But the other woman, the one inside you, she is true dheu, meant for this realm."
I was alive! My heart gave a great big giant leap of hope. "Can you take me back to the living realm? Or to Hell?"
"No."
One word and I felt all that buoyant hope come crashing down. "But you said I do not belong here in this realm."
"Apparently more than I ever imagined. But the Dark One himself sealed shut the gate between our two realms, an act that they say fractured our sky and split our sun into two broken halves. None who comes here now can leave."
A wild, silent scream rose up in my throat. Noooo! I wanted to scream, to cry, to break down in despair. But had to push that aside for later when Gordane suddenly asked, pointing at Miles, "What is this bull dheu to you?"
"My enemy," I said in an empty voice, numbed by that brief wild yo-yoing of hope and crashing despair.
"You lie."
I was heartsore. Achingly weary. "I have no reas
on to lie," I said in a dull, flat voice. "He detests me and I him. He was Mona Louisa's guard. It was her he was trying to help, not me."
"Does she speak true?" Gordane asked Miles.
"Yes. Forgive me, my lord," Miles said, dropping to his knees. "I feared harm to my Queen if you damaged this one."
"Your Queen." Menace seeped back into Gordane's voice like an ominous black tide. "You have forgotten who you serve now."
Miles flushed and I winced at his slip of tongue. Even in my half-numbed state, I was aware of the verbal damage Miles had just committed on top of his damning physical actions.
"Loyalty is admirable," Gordane said. "Nay, an essential requirement to me, but only if it is to me" He sought out Pietrus, standing with the other soldiers, all of them uncomfortable silent witnesses to this drama. "Take Miles and prepare him for tonight's games. He is to fight in the arena."
The punishment must have been worse than it sounded, because Miles threw himself at Gordane's feet, prostrating himself. "My lord, please. A slip of the tongue, old habit. It is you who I serve."
"Words can lie," Gordane said with chilling coldness. "Actions never do. Take him away!"
Miles didn't fight when Pietrus and the other bull dheus seized him. Just looked at me with a mournful intensity that made me ask as he was dragged out of the chamber, "What will happen in the arena?"
"He will fight against the werebeasts."
It didn't sound like a joyride but neither did it sound like final death.