by Rach Elle
“Fortunately Mason hasn’t noticed any traces of your recent movements.” Cooper explained.
Mason nodded. “Which means the bug is somewhere in the hotel; not on any of you.”
Cooper’s face went grave. “Still, I’m sure you can appreciate the great risk we’re taking letting you into our home. The DAA are not to be fooled with; especially the Protector Division, if the stories are true.”
Kingsley shook his head. “We have reason to believe the Protectors have dissolved in this area; if not all across the board. We haven’t heard or seen any traces of them.”
“That’s not entirely true.” Junior cut in, his face stern. He could see Awilda’s head whip toward him through his periphery. “She told me about them.”
Kingsley stared in shock at Junior. The Protectors did exist? Junior turned his head to make eye contact, his line of sight going directly over Awilda’s head. “They’ve been called to the city to aid in the attack; that’s why the DAA hasn’t made their move yet.”
Awilda felt sick to her stomach. Simon was still looking for her. Somehow he had traced her whereabouts and was simply waiting for the right time to get her back. If only she hadn’t blurted out the original plan to Junior; maybe there would still be a chance for rescue; but now her kidnappers knew what to expect and undoubtedly would be overly prepared for the onslaught. Her stomach churned as she considered the possibility of Simon and even Sunders getting hurt; all because she couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.
“Bloody hell,” Cooper breathed, “Mason; keep monitoring and watch for anything out of the ordinary. The last thing we need is Protectors kicking down our door; bad for business, you know.”
“Why did you come to us?” Zeff cut in; his voice smooth and even. Awilda watched him from across the table. He sat upright with squared shoulders and a dipped chin; observing them through the tops of his blue eyes. He appeared to be unfazed by the prospect of Protectors; but she got the impression that that wasn’t unusual for him. He carried himself with a confidence that made him look ready for anything; an action hero that excelled in jujitsu, karate, semi-automatic weapons and throwing stars.
Kingsley glanced at Awilda, “It’s a matter for shifters only.”
Cooper leaned back in her seat. “You know what that means Vin.”
“You can’t be serious.” Alvin folded his arms.
“You and Mason show the ladies to the living room.”
With a huff and a scoff both Alvin and Mason got up from their chairs and motioned for the other non-shifters to follow them.
Elizabeth reluctantly stood, but followed the orders.
Awilda slowly rose from her seat, looking to Junior and hoping he would insist she stay. She needed to know what they were planning, if anything. She needed to warn Simon somehow. When Junior refused to look at her she grinded her teeth, tightened her lips, clenched her fists and stormed out of the dining hall.
She entered the living room where Alvin had already turned on the television. She folded her arms and stood defiantly next to the sofa. “I can’t believe it.” She spoke to herself; still shocked to learn she was so close to rescue.
“You’ll get used to it.” Alvin said as Mason sat on the opposite side of the sofa. “Grab a drink and have a seat with the rest of us humans.”
Elizabeth was already at the refrigerator at the wet bar, retrieving a beer. She grabbed a second one for Awilda as the girl sat down on a barstool; resting her arms on the cool, granite countertop and hunching over the long necked bottle. She had never had a drink before. She wasn’t sure if she’d like it. After tracing the label with her thumb she looked to her right, past the boys on the sofa and into the dining hall. She could see Junior and Kingsley talking quietly to the three across the table. Simultaneously, the three Londoners turned their heads and locked eyes with her. Quickly, she returned to her beer and took a drink before the smell of alcohol even reached her nostrils. The liquid stung her taste buds and made her cringe as it flowed down her throat and into her gut.
“Are you aware of the prophecy?” Kingsley asked. The three across the table returned their attention to the old man.
“Aware of it, yes; believe it, no.” Cooper answered.
“Well, there are those that do, and that’s why we’re here. Awilda Rose, whether or not you choose to believe, may in fact be the prophecy in the flesh.”
Cooper looked to Zeff and Bawls before all three of them cracked smiles and began to chuckle. “I’m sorry,” Cooper regained her composure, “you’re telling us that that girl is the prophesized destroyer of the human race?”
“She’s showing the signs.”
“And what signs are those?”
“Endless winter, revealing to the masses, and true minions will flock.” Kingsley’s expression was grave.
“I’ve never heard of any of these signs.” Zeff said.
“They’re chronicled by B. Soltan’s The Ultimate Warning.”
“Who?” Cooper asked.
“He was a poet who wrote a companion piece inspired by Arav’s The Ultimate War.”
Zeff crooked a brow, “I wasn’t aware of a companion piece.”
“Actually, there have been dozens of Arav inspired works,” Kingsley began. “One of which tells of the signs that prelude the fruition of the prophecy. The first is an endless winter; we’re well into spring and the temperature has yet to rise.”
“Well, that could just be a coincidence.” Cooper countered. “I mean, the Americans look to a groundhog for weather advice so I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. Unless, gasp, the devil is a groundhog!” she mocked. “Or perhaps groundhogs are devils? I mean, what is their purpose in this world, really?”
“I think they build dams.” Bawli chimed in.
“That’s beavers.”
“Maybe they chuck wood?”
“That’s a woodchuck.”
“Aren’t woodchucks and beavers the same thing?”
“Can we please get back to the point?” Kingsley interrupted, now agitated. “She has revealed herself to the masses; that’s the second sign.”
“How did she reveal herself?” Zeff asked.
“Inadvertently through an article in the paper.”
“Tabloid,” Junior cut in.
“Oh, so it’s reputable.” Cooper quipped. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read, you know.”
Kingsley exhaled deeply, trying to keep calm, “True minions will flock.”
“Well of course, because they’re all barmey like you and think an article in a magazine is a sign of the apocalypse.”
“Not barmey like me; Limrids.”
Cooper, Zeff and Bawls sat at attention, their shoulders squaring and lips tightening. Quietly, Cooper asked, “What did you say?”
“Limrids; the true minions; they’re seeking her out.”
Junior nodded to confirm his friend’s words. “We found one in her hotel room last night.”
“You saw it?” Cooper leaned forward.
Junior nodded again. “It jumped out of the window before we could catch it.”
“Wait,” Bawls interrupted, “what’s a Limrid again?”
“The gargoyles that didn’t join the revolution against hell,” Kingsley explained.
“They’re supposedly doomed to live forever as beastly little things.” Cooper said. “I always figured it was a myth to scare us into behaving. You know, like Santa Claus; if you’re good you get a present; but if you’re bad you get a lump of coal. Only in this instance the lump of coal is wandering the earth for eternity looking like an anorexic chicken; same principle.”
“You’re saying you saw one in this city?” Zeff narrowed his eyes.
Both Kingsley and Junior nodded.
“I’ve lived here my whole life and have never seen one.”
“That’s because they stay unseen,” Kingsley explained, “unless they have a reason.”
“And what reason do they have now?”
Kingsley sm
iled, “The year of war.”
“Bloody hell,” Bawls breathed.
Zeff dead panned to his friend. “Bawls, you can’t possibly be scared of Awilda; you eat meals bigger than her for lunch.”
Junior leaned forward, “Look, even if she is showing signs of a prophecy that some crazy dead guy wrote about years ago it doesn’t mean she’s the so-called destroyer.” He wrapped the title in air quotes.
“Some crazy dead guy?” Kingsley turned to him. “Arav was a great artist.”
“Who poisoned himself with hemlock.”
“That’s what they want you to believe.”
“Another conspiracy?” Junior rolled his eyes.
“Awilda is not a conspiracy, she’s my Responsibility; and that’s something I take very seriously.”
“Then why am I the one with babysitting duty?”
“I think you know exactly why.” Kingsley scowled. “I may not be in a maximum security prison but that doesn’t negate all I did while you were.”
“Boys, boys,” Cooper interrupted, “as enthralling as this little love spat is; and it is enthralling, makings of a soap opera, really; I think we need to get back to the point. The DAA is hot on your trail and we may or may not have a mini Satan on our hands. What is it you need from us?”
Kingsley brushed off Junior’s die hard doubts and looked to the three sitting across the table from him. “We need you to help us hide her until this whole thing blows over.”
“How long will that be?” Bawls asked.
“If it’s truly the year of war then I’d like to suggest one year.”
“And where exactly would we hide her?” Zeff furrowed his brow.
Kingsley looked around at the dining room they sat in. “This castle looks pretty nice. Lord knows you have the room.”
Cooper’s eyes popped. “You want us to keep her here?”
“I don’t think Alvin and Mason would mind.” Bawls joked. He pointed into the living room. Everyone’s head turned to see the boys surrounding Awilda as she sat at the bar. They both leaned into her, smiling and talking softly. “They’re working their magic.” Bawls continued.
Junior could feel his blood beginning to boil at the sight of those two intruding on her personal space. He wanted to break their necks for being so close to her. The fact that she smiled and paid them her full attention upset him even more. “What magic?” He heard himself ask.
“They can get any chippie they want.” Bawls explained. “No matter the circumstance or the girl; they work their charm and she never says no. I swear they have 100% success rate. It’s like magic.”
Junior could hear Kingsley growling next to him. He was feeling overprotective; a natural reaction for a shifter to have for their Responsibility. “I’ll handle it,” Junior growled. He stood and headed into the living room.
Junior passed Elizabeth sleeping on the couch without saying a word. He reached the trio at the bar and allowed his eyes to flare red. He glared at Mason. The boy reacted immediately; backing away from the girl and heading in the other direction nonchalantly. Alvin noticed Mason’s reaction. “Hey mate,” He snarled at Junior, “we’re around ‘goyles all day; we’re not intimidated by that bullsh…” Junior bared his fangs and growled, only slightly aware of growling emanating from the dining room; Cooper and Zeff warning him not to go any further. Alvin threw his hands up in the air. “Whoa, whatever mate; she’s all yours.”
The boys left the room as Junior allowed his eyes to return to blue and his fangs to dull into typical canines. “You’re welcome.” He said to Awilda.
“For what?” She asked, clearly agitated, “For scaring away a couple of guys who might actually be interested in me?”
“They’re not interested in the kind of relationship you are, trust me.”
“And how do you know what I’m interested in; because we played a game of Chess together? In case you’ve forgotten I’ve spent the last five years in a mental hospital and formative ones before that in therapy. I’m socially inept and couldn’t have a normal relationship if I wanted.” She stood from her stool, “So you can stop trying to destroy any semblance I may have to a normal life. There’s nothing left; I’m already damaged.” She turned and cut across the floor, quickly heading into the ballroom.
Junior wanted to follow her; but what would he say? He seemed to have trouble saying anything right whenever she was around. He didn’t know what upset him more; that Awilda was so determined to hate him, that for the first time he didn’t know how to handle a woman; or that she thought she was damaged. He figured if he tried to talk to her again he’d only make matters worse; so instead he headed behind the bar and located a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He took a seat on Awilda’s stool and began drinking.
Kingsley waited patiently for Cooper and Zeff to calm down. They were ready to pounce if Junior crossed the line with their Responsibilities. Thankfully, the kid reigned in his temper and the boys left the room unscathed. “This isn’t just about running from the DAA anymore,” he continued. “This is about hiding her from all those who think she’s a danger.”
“Do you think she’s a danger?” Zeff asked. “You seem to believe in the prophecy.”
“I do believe; but I don’t believe that circumstances are beyond our control. Besides, the legend not only speaks of the destroyer, but the savior as well; the blessed bloodline that will deny the prophecy’s fruition.”
“Whoa,” Cooper cut him off, “let’s just say this is all real. I’m not saying I believe it, but if I were to entertain the idea I’d have to question whether the bloodline even still existed; and if so, how would we know that the current generation could shift? Not all generations shift, you know.”
“What if I could guarantee that not only does the savior exist, and not only can he shift, but I could hand him to you on a silver platter?” Kingsley asked with raised brows.
“And how could you guarantee that?”
“He’s sitting on your barstool.”
The three Londoners slowly turned their heads in the direction of the living room to see Junior knocking back an entire glass of whiskey in a single swallow.
Kingsley smiled wildly, “Lady and gentlemen; I give to you the prophesized savior of the human race.”
Zeff’s eyes flattened in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
Ignoring the revelation, Cooper’s jaw dropped, “There goes my Jack.”
Kingsley looked to Zeff. “He’s a direct descendant of David the First and as long as he’s under the same roof as Awilda he’ll neutralize any threat she may pose.”
Cooper looked back at the old man. “So now both of them are moving in?”
“Awilda is my Responsibility; I can’t leave her side.”
“So that’s three of you.”
“As you know, Elizabeth is Junior’s Responsibility.”
“I think that makes four new roomies.” Bawls chimed in.
“Alright, slow down,” Cooper held up her hands and tried to sort through the proposal. “This is a lot of you to ask, especially since you’re on the DAA’s most wanted list. We can’t make any decisions right now; we need time.”
Kingsley nodded. “I understand, but unfortunately time is something we are incredibly short on; especially, as you just said, the DAA has tracked us.”
“Alright,” Cooper took a breath, “We’ll try to have the answer by the end of the night. You’re more than welcome to stay for the knees up so you don’t have to go back to the hotel.”
“Thank you for your generosity.” Kingsley bowed his head slightly.
“But since it is a formal celebration you will need proper clothing. Awilda seems to be the only one properly fitted. We have access to more formal attire but there won’t be any time for tailoring; I’m sure you’ll find something though.”
“You’re much too kind.” Kingsley tried not to grit his teeth too much. He didn’t like kissing someone’s ass for a hand-out.
Cooper looked to Zeff and B
awls. “We really should get back to the preparations, yeah?” They both nodded and all three rose from their seats.
Kingsley sat alone at the dining room table. He looked to Junior as he drank the one drink Mason specifically told them not to partake in and wondered how long it would be before the kid finally came around. He was still dead set against anything that had to do with the prophecy. He still needed time and this castle seemed like the perfect place to hide and wait out the process. But come hell or high water Junior would have to see things Kingsley’s way eventually; and it would undoubtedly be the hardest thing the kid would ever have to do.
36
Awilda stood in the center of the ballroom; the light marble floor stretched under her feet wall to wall and golden chandeliers hung overhead, soon to be cleaned by the crew that hustled to prepare the space in time for tonight’s wedding. She had stormed out of the living room in an overdramatic fit; and why? She had no interest in Alvin or Mason. They weren’t even her type. Well, to be fair, she didn’t exactly know what her type was; but she had a feeling they didn’t qualify. No, she was more into the tall, dark and handsome type, she supposed; broad frame, piercing blue eyes, tattooed arms. Goddamn it. She cursed. She needed to stay mad at Junior. Because of him Simon was somewhere out there conspiring with others to forge an attack on creatures that could undoubtedly kill him. It was bad enough when there were only two gargoyles, but now there was a whole clan. She figured Cooper wouldn’t be of much concern. Hell, she could probably take her; but Bawli looked strong and Zeff – well – Zeff looked dangerous. Awilda pictured his face; so soft and charming without the scar. Unfortunate, she thought. Whatever happened to him; human, gargoyle or mountain lion; vandalized his handsome features and robbed him of any boyish good looks he may have had.
The sound of the helium tank hissed behind her and made her jump. These people really love balloons, she thought as her eyes followed the lengthy string tied to dozens of them.
A number of crew members rushed to the main wall and set up two ladders flanking the large painting of The Guardian Angel. Two men climbed to the top and gently removed the artwork from the wall, lowering it to three more men below. Once they had a firm grasp on the canvas they carefully removed it from the ballroom altogether. Awilda frowned at the empty wall space. It seemed so naked now. The helium tank hissed one last time and the final balloon was tied to the end of a string. Two men moved an elongated table with a cheap tablecloth directly underneath where Arav’s painting once was and tied both ends of the string of balloons to either side. The helium that floated upward in each and every bulb created a large arch; hardly an appropriate replacement for Arav; even in Awilda’s eyes.