by Rach Elle
Her heart rate spiked as the Limrid appeared on the dimly lit, heavily fogged street. It sat on its knees under the streetlamp, staring at her with those yellow eyes. Its head was bald, its ears were pointed and its wings were flimsy and frail. They didn’t look like they could carry much weight, not that the creature looked heavy. It was too skinny and its limbs were too long for its short torso. Awilda’s heart jumped with fear when the creature began to move. Slowly, it removed its hand from behind its back to reveal a small yellow flower. It held it out toward her and remained perfectly still.
Awilda slowly lowered the gun and narrowed her eyes at the creature. She scanned the hideous features of its face for any sign of menace, but found none. Her shoulders relaxed and she reluctantly smiled. To her surprise, the creature smiled back without showing its teeth; probably aware that they frightened her.
Awilda gathered her courage and willed her feet to move away from the window. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but she had to confront her demons eventually and the pistol in her hand was giving her the strength to do so. She opened the front door and stepped outside into the cold night air. She held onto the gun tightly as she cautiously crossed the littered street. The Limrid watched her carefully, but didn’t make any sudden movements.
Sunders allowed Dr. Crispin to enter through his office window. “What are you doing here? Where’s Awilda?” He asked.
“She’s in your apartment, armed. I’m here to finally find out what it is you’re planning to do.”
“What do you mean?” Sunders asked, still concerned for the girl.
“You’re using her as bait, but to what extent are you willing to go? You know that those monsters will kill her if they get their hands on her. Do you care; or is that just a risk you’ll have to take?”
“I assure you, I have no intention of putting her in harm’s way.”
“Bullshit. We both know she’s your meal ticket here. She’s already attracting Limrids; it’s only a matter of time before those gargoyles from the asylum find her too.”
“Wait, Limrids?” Sunders’ eyes widened in shock, “She found one?”
“More like it found her.”
“When; where?”
“Last night outside your apartment.”
“And you left her alone tonight?!” Sunders cried. “Are you off your head?!”
“It’s not the Limrids we need to worry about. You said so yourself; they’re harmless. It’s the ones from the asylum. The ones you’re really trying to attract that are the threat.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she’s the prophecy.”
Sunders crinkled his nose, “No, she’s not; Junior Cross is the prophesized savior.”
“And what reason would there be to have a savior without a destroyer?”
Sunders couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes remained locked on Dr. Crispin, who in the harsh shadows of his office looked maniacal. He stared at him with an intensity found on a tiger seconds before it murdered its prey. “You can’t really be suggesting that Awilda Rose is the destroyer.” He whispered. “She can’t be. The prophecy states every five-hundred years Satan would select his queen of gargoyles; Awilda is not a gargoyle. You can’t truly believe that little girl to be evil incarnate.”
“No, I don’t; but there are those that will. Her nightmares could be seen as signs of the possession; and it is, after all, the year of war. Even her grandparents believed it for god sakes; why else would they both try to kill her? If those monsters from the asylum are among those that believe then they will stop at nothing to end her life. Now you want to parade her out in the open; hang her up like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop to satisfy your own personal agenda.”
Awilda stopped mere feet in front of the Limrid. “What do you want?” Her voice quivered. She wanted to scan the rest of the street for any sign of an ambush; in her dreams there were always multiple Limrids dragging her to hell; but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
The creature held the flower out further. She hesitated before finally reaching forward and taking it from its boney hand. She brought the flower to her chest and looked at it. The petals were still a bright and vibrant yellow. It had only recently been picked. “What’s this for?” She asked the creature. It didn’t respond. She prodded further, “Is it an apology; because you tricked me?” The Limrid lowered his head and let out a small coo, like that of a woodland creature. At this moment Awilda feared the Limrid only a little more than she would a doe in the forest or a bunny in a burrow. He looked small and helpless on his knees; but most of all he looked… nice.
Awilda couldn’t help but smile. She lowered to her knees. “Thank you.” She said. The Limrid looked up and smiled. She was only slightly taken aback from the reveal of tiny, sharp brown teeth; but she willed herself to get past it. “That was a pretty nasty trick last night; pretending to be Sunders,” she began, “Why did you do it?” The Limrid looked to the ground, ashamed. “You weren’t trying to hurt me, were you?” The creature shook his head. “Then why did you call me out here?” The creature shrugged. “Why did you reach for me when I was trying to get away?” The Limrid didn’t respond. He sat on the cold ground, staring at the pavement with slumped shoulders. Awilda thought back to Sunders’ explanation of Limrids; they were harmless, ugly stepsister versions of the real thing. She felt sorry for the vulnerable creature that sat before her. He looked sad and alone. “Is it because you want to be friends?” The Limrid looked up at her with hope pouring from his large citrine eyes. Awilda thought for a moment. “That was a pretty good impression of Sunders; you had me fooled. Can you do anyone else?”
The Limrid furrowed his brow before straightening his posture and lifting his chin. “Awilda,” he began in a smooth, American accented voice, “I don’t like Sunders; and I don’t like shopping.”
A large smile spread across Awilda’s face as she burst into laughter. “That was Simon; it was perfect!” The Limrid puffed out his chest with pride. Her laughter softened, “Can you do me?”
“Can you do me?” The Limrid mimicked her voice perfectly.
“Amazing,” Awilda breathed. “What’s your name? I need to know what to call you.”
The Limrid opened its mouth to speak when Awilda was suddenly knocked to the pavement by a massive force barreling past her. She barely had time to get her balance before recognizing the large, tattooed gargoyle that now pinned her Limrid to the building wall. She violently gasped and reached for the gun she’d dropped on the sidewalk. She latched onto the weapon, stood with shaking hands, and aimed it at the monster. She was about to pull the trigger to save the frail creature when another hand appeared from nowhere and snatched the gun from her. She wheeled around to see the old gargoyle standing before her. He shook his finger from side to side and crushed the gun in his other hand. “That won’t be necessary.” He growled.
“I have no plans to put Awilda in danger.” Sunders tried to reassure the blonde doctor.
“You’ve lied to us from the very beginning. How am I to believe you now?”
“You don’t have to; my only concern is the girl and right now she’s on board.”
“On board with what?!”
The two men in the dimly lit office stopped suddenly at the sound of a young girl’s scream four blocks away. Their hearts simultaneously raced as their eyes shot to the open window. “What was that?” Sunders whispered.
Crisp ran to the fire escape. “No,” he cursed, “it can’t be!”
Sunders followed him as he climbed through the window. “What?!” He called.
Crisp ran down the metal steps of the fire escape and yelled over his shoulder. “They found her!”
18
Junior had the Limrid pinned by the neck against the brick exterior of an old apartment building. His eyes were burning red as he held the scrawny creature, wanting nothing more than to snap its neck. Its huge yellow eyes bored into his as it hissed in his face
. He growled in return and tightened his grip even more. He’d never seen a Limrid before. Until now he thought they were merely fantasy; but when he saw one so close to the girl his first instinct was to protect. Now he was threatening to kill. He didn’t know why, but his gut told him not to trust the ugly bastard.
Kingsley reached out and snatched Awilda’s arm. He pulled her to him and heaved her over his shoulder as she screamed. She struggled and demanded again, “Let me go!”
Kingsley rolled his eyes and growled. “Hey kid!” he called. Junior’s eyes shot to their normal blue at the sound of his friend. He turned his head to see Kingsley reluctantly letting go of the girl. She stumbled backward and fell to the ground, whimpering slightly as she hit the pavement with a small thud. Kingsley looked to him with pleading eyes. “She did it again,” he grumbled. It annoyed him greatly, but all he could do was stand there and watch as Awilda struggled to get to her feet and turn to run away. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.” Kingsley told her.
After a few rapid footsteps Awilda slowed to a stop and turned to look at the old monster with a furrowed brow. He wasn’t chasing her and this was the second time he’d obeyed her command. After a second of biting her lower lip in contemplation, her eyes hardened and she squared her shoulders in a bout of courage. “Sit down.” She said. The old gargoyle growled and his eyes turned red. She wanted to run again, but forced herself to stand still. After seconds of the monster grinding his fanged teeth and clenching his fists, he bent at the waist and knees and sat down in the middle of the street.
Awilda’s eyes widened as she turned her attention to the large gargoyle attacking her Limrid. He was shirtless; every muscle casting shadows under the yellowish hue of the streetlamp. To her surprise he was watching her. His expression was harsh; with a strong, hard jaw and narrowed eyes. The tattoos that covered his arms and wrapped around his back ranged the spectrum of dark colors and contoured his large muscles. He stood completely still with a writhing Limrid under his left hand and stared at her; as if waiting for her to speak. For a moment Awilda was lost in the sheer size of him; his wings wrapped around his collarbone, draped over his shoulders and hung to the ground where his massive, clawed feet looked like they could rival the power of a lion’s strike. His tail extended from the base of his spine. It was long and thick and looked as though it had sliced through a pair of tight, black shorts that hugged his bulging thigh muscles perfectly. Her eyes returned to his to see his stare hadn’t wavered. They bored into hers as every muscle screamed for her to run; but she wouldn’t listen. He was fear and intimidation personified but she wasn’t going to stand down; not now. “Let him go,” She demanded. The gargoyle scoffed and his lips twitched upward in a devious smile. He lifted the Limrid away from the wall in compliance and threw the poor little creature off to the side. The Limrid barreled into the sidewalk and skidded to a stop. He managed to scramble back to his feet and disappear into the dark alley. Awilda breathed a sigh of relief that he was okay. Now she just had to figure out what to do with two gargoyles at her disposal.
Awilda jolted slightly as the large monster began scaling the brick wall with ease. He was up two stories before spreading his wings and leaping outward, allowing the wind to catch his span and giving him the ability to glide. He circled around and headed downward toward Awilda.
She backed away a few steps. “Stop,” She demanded. When the gargoyle didn’t obey she screamed at him, “Go away! Don’t touch me!” She turned and ran as fast as she could but the monster swooped downward and snatched her off the ground. She screamed as she wriggled and squirmed and bicycled her legs through the air.
“Awilda!” She heard her name and looked to the ground to see Simon and Sunders running to her rescue.
“Simon!” She called to him, hoping he’d find some way to get her down; but as the ground moved further and further away she realized there was nothing he could do. She was at the mercy of her monsters, just as she always knew she would be. The creature adjusted her in his arms; swooping his right arm under her knees and wrapping his left hand around her waist. “Put me down!” She cried. “Now!”
The monster looked at her with his deep blue eyes, tight lips and a small dimple on his chin. “That won’t work on me.”
Awilda wanted to look away from the monster but the wind was too harsh in her eyes. She had to turn herself into the creature, affording him an even firmer grip on her body. She could see his skeletal, bat-like wings as they glided through the air. His tail trailed behind them in the wind and not far back she could see the old gargoyle following them; his eyes menacing as he flew with his arms outstretched, as if reaching for her. She didn’t know why, but the old one frightened her even more so than the young one. There was nowhere she could go, nothing she could do to break free. As she watched the old one reach his strong hands out toward her she could do nothing but cling tighter to the broad shoulders of her kidnapper.
19
Junior landed gently on the rooftop of a hotel. He set Awilda down and allowed her to balance herself on wobbly, frightened knees. Shortly after, Kingsley hit the flat tarred roof and pulled out a cell phone. He tapped a few keys and returned it to the pocket of his torn slacks.
Awilda couldn’t stop her body from shaking. She didn’t know what to make of the monsters that stood before her. They were large and strong and when angry their eyes glowed red like demons. At first glance she would dismiss them as barbaric savages, but they were clearly educated. They spoke with ease and used modern conveniences.
She had a feeling these creatures weren’t planning on hurting her. The larger one had held her – although against her will – with a gentleness that seemed odd for anyone who intended to cause harm. She finally swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke with a quivering voice. “What do you want with me?” The gargoyles looked at her and didn’t say a word. With every passing second Awilda could hear her heart beating louder and louder. She couldn’t take their silence. “I know you can talk.” She tried to lift her chin and hide her intimidation.
The gargoyles both glanced at the door to the stairwell as if hearing something she couldn’t. The old one looked back at her. “There will be plenty of time for that,” he said. The two clenched their fists and bent at their waists and knees. They began convulsing slightly and every hair on their bodies stood on end. Their chests heaved and their wings strained as if being extended beyond their capabilities. Awilda covered her mouth with her hand to conceal any nervous, heavy breathing. Her eyes widened in horror as the wings and tails of the two monsters suddenly receded into their backs. They both fell forward as if punched from behind. Their flesh continued to roll and mold over their entire bodies like clay as their feet morphed into that of a normal human’s. The rolling waves of their skin tapered off and flattened; stretching over their bodies like it had never been disturbed in the first place. After a moment of catching their breaths, the two gargoyles stood as mere men, barefoot and nearly naked.
“Oh my god,” Awilda breathed. The image of her monsters flooded her mind. The only solace she’d had in the last decade was that she’d never actually seen her demons. She could live day to day knowing they’d only appeared in her dreams. Now she couldn’t be sure. She never fathomed they could transform into humans. How many times had she been in the presence of one and not even known? She began to back up, “Stay away from me.” She could feel tears beginning to well in her eyes. The big one took a step toward her. “We’re not going to hurt you.” He reached his hand out, expecting her to take it.
“Go away!” She cried. “I’ll scream at the top of my lungs and someone will hear.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He growled.
Even through her rigid breathing Awilda could hear a low grumble circling in the air. The old one was eyeing the big one and clenching his fists. She remembered how he obeyed her commands. For what reason, she didn’t know, but at the moment she didn’t care. She looked to him, “Take me back to
my friends.” She demanded.
Junior could hear Kingsley take two steps toward him. He turned to the side and shot his arm out; wrapping his hand around his old friend’s neck. Kingsley stopped immediately and fought the urge to attack his friend for stepping between him and his Responsibility.
Junior didn’t apply too much pressure to Kingsley’s throat, he didn’t want to hurt him, but he could tell he was in pain regardless. He wanted nothing more than to appease his Responsibility. If Junior didn’t intersect he would shift in an instant, swoop her up in his arms and return her to the flat unharmed.
Kingsley wouldn’t try to fight Junior if he could help it; especially since he knew the kid would win. He stood in one place, allowing his friend to hold him by his neck, hoping their contact wouldn’t escalate. He would fight the giant only if it was a matter of his Responsibility’s life or death; but until then he would bear the pain of disobedience.
Junior looked to the girl who stood on the ledge of the building and willed his eyes to burn red. “If I were you I’d consider my next words very carefully.” He warned. Kingsley’s growling grew louder at the threat. Junior was getting dangerously close to a fight.
Awilda looked into the red eyes of her kidnapper. She could feel the cold wind swirling around her head and blowing strands of hair behind her. Her eyes wandered to her left to see the rooftops of nearby buildings. They lowered to her feet and glanced beyond the ledge she stood on. The ground seemed so far away and made her feel dizzy with the fear of falling. She quickly lifted her head and looked into the red eyes of the large man that stood in front of her. She didn’t think he would truly hurt her. He would have done so by now if that was his intention; still, she had always thought of death as the only alternative to being at the mercy of her monsters. She’d had ample time in the asylum to contemplate her own suicide. Slowly, she began to take a step backward, feeling the heel of her foot stretch past the ledge. She didn’t know what a freefall to her death would feel like, but she always imagined it as a poetic, graceful end to her traumatic life.