Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance

by Rach Elle

  Regina smiled, “Maybe you just didn’t ask the right person.”

  38

  London, England…

  Junior felt like an idiot. The extra stock of formal attire Cooper had offered them didn’t exactly have what he needed. Kingsley looked dashing in his suit and tie; Elizabeth’s dress was flowing and modest with beaded details along the train and bodice; Awilda already looked perfect in her red and yellow sundress with matching heels; Junior’s tuxedo, on the other hand, was about two inches too short and one size too small. His black pants didn’t reach his shoes, showing off his white socks; the fabric strained to fit his thighs and he was pretty sure that if he tried to button his jacket closed it would split down the back. No, he didn’t just feel like an idiot; he looked like one too.

  He stepped out of the bathroom and carefully descended the spiral staircase. Not only did he not want to call attention to himself, but every seam threatened to bust at the slightest movement.

  Thankfully all the guests were too busy mingling and dancing to notice him. The wedding had gone off without a hitch and now the reception was well underway. The ballroom had served as the perfect backdrop for the event. Tables lined the back wall and were covered with food. A giant arch of balloons in the wedding colors cascaded over the catering and the bride and groom slow danced in the middle of the marble floor.

  Awilda stood in the corner, eyeing the large man in a tiny tuxedo standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her mind had kept replaying her rogue venture to the tower and oversized storage closet ever since Junior yanked her from the overgrown rose bushes a few hours ago. Until arriving at this castle she’d found her decision to stay with Junior to be the wrong one. Yes, he was kind and insanely gorgeous, but so many things about her past still seemed shrouded in mystery with no hope of finding any answers; and now she faced the very real threat of never seeing Simon again. When she ventured on her own and stepped into the forgotten storage room, however, she for the first time felt like she was on the verge of something awesome; like she was meant to be there. For what reason, she didn’t know. She pictured the stained glass ceiling and cringed at the thought of the devil; his large yellow eyes boring into hers from the shadows. The ominous sound of an approaching figure in the darkened stairwell seemed like a dream now; like she had imagined the entire thing. She knew she hadn’t, however, and even though the idea of returning to that submerged, dusty, forgotten space frightened her, she knew she needed to return to it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d missed something when she was there. It was taunting her; begging for her to come back.

  Awilda winced as she remembered fleeing the room; the claustrophobic feeling of losing her way in the untamed greenery that sat unkempt at the back of the rose garden. She’d heard Junior’s voice flooding her ears; a savior calling to her. She tried to answer but couldn’t and instead pushed her way toward him. He pulled her from the chaos. Now he stood at the bottom of the stairs watching over the dancing and mingling crowd like the gargoyle from Arav’s The Guardian Angel. He looked prominent and strong; and a little uncomfortable in his suit.

  Awilda averted her eyes to see Cooper approaching her in a flowing blue gown. “Thanks for holding up the wall.” She joked with her thick English accent.

  Awilda smiled, “I’m thinking of a career as a professional wallflower.”

  “Suits you,” They stood in silence for a few seconds before Cooper sighed deeply. “Do you like the ballroom?”

  “Oh yes; it’s beautiful. The whole castle is; actually.”

  “Yes, I quite like it; we offer our own decorations you know; balloons are not one of them.” She scowled at the giant arch of balloons on the other side of the room.

  “That’s what Mason said.”

  “It just seems odd, you know; spend all this money to have your wedding at a castle. A real, legitimate castle; then sully it with something as silly as those. It’s kind of insulting, really. The kind of thing that just makes you want to, oh, I don’t know,” she pretended to think for a second, “destroy the human race.”

  Awilda slowly turned her head to Cooper, trying to hide her shock.

  Cooper smiled, “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  Awilda nodded and forced an empathetic smile.

  “Is there anything that makes you feel that way?”

  “You mean anything that makes me want to commit genocide? No, can’t say there is.”

  “Oh,” Cooper rocked back and forth from heels to the balls of her feet, “good.”

  After a moment of carefully considering her words, Awilda spoke, “I’m sure they’ll take the balloons down after the reception.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Cooper left Awilda confused as she made her way across the dance floor to the man she trusted more than anyone in this world.

  “Zeff,” she called. Zeff turned to see the petite young woman approach him, “Everything going alright?”

  He quickly surveyed the room one more time. “No one’s stepping out of line; night’s not over yet though.”

  “Oh good,” she ignored that last part, “hey listen, I talked to Awilda; I don’t think she’s as bad as the old man says; well, as bad as he thinks she’ll become.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Cooper shrugged, “A hunch; call it woman’s intuition. But I was thinking you should probably talk to her too, you know, gather your own opinion.”

  Zeff looked uninterested. “I’m busy.”

  “We don’t have much time to make a decision. Just go over there for a few minutes. If anything starts getting out of hand I’m sure Junior can handle it.”

  A small growl vibrated in Zeff’s throat. Finally, he conceded and headed across the ballroom floor.

  The DJ switched the slow song to one comparable. Awilda’s shoulders slumped as all the couples huddled even closer to one another.

  Her brow furrowed as the crowd of dancers began stepping to the side without missing a beat, creating a walkway; like the Red Sea parting flawlessly for Moses, Zeff sauntered toward her; his hands in his pockets and his icy blue eyes staring at her from behind his scar. He reached the young wallflower and stood in a perfectly tailored suit. He cracked a crooked smile and held out his hand.

  Terrified to dance, but not wanting to decline, Awilda timidly placed her palm on his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. He pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her waist and swaying from side to side. Before she could get a hold of the steps he broke the contact and twirled her once before bringing her back into him and bending her backwards into a dip. She couldn’t help but giggle. Dancing with him was amazing. He glided along the floor with perfect ease and if she lost her footing he just picked her up and spun her around before she could fall. She looked like she knew what she was doing in his arms. His eyes bore into hers and never once checked his feet to make sure he was doing everything correctly. Even with his raised, flesh tone scar vandalizing the right side of his face he was the epitome of debonair and it made her head spin. Finally, he let go of her hand and allowed his other arm to wrap around her waist. Her arms laced over his shoulders and they danced cheek to cheek.

  “I hear you spoke to Cooper.” He spoke softly; his English accent flowing and melodious.

  “Yeah,” Awilda thought for a moment, “don’t take this the wrong way, but is she alright?”

  “Of course, why do you ask?”

  “She mentioned having feelings of genocide.”

  Zeff cringed slightly. “I’m sure she was joking.” He parted their bodies and dipped her. “She’s an understanding person though; we all are.” He pulled her into him again. “We understand that there are circumstances beyond our control and we cannot be blamed for our actions in some cases.”

  “I hope you’re not; but it sounds like you’re defending mass killing.”

  “No; but if one were to have feelings of the sort, it would behoove them to tell those around them before those feelings be
came too strong to handle on their own; understand?”

  Awilda creased her brow in confusion. “I guess.” Her right heel slipped from underneath her and she lost her balance. Without hesitation Zeff cinched his hold on her tighter and lifted her from the ground, swinging her around a hundred and eighty degrees before carefully lowering her back down to the floor.

  Awilda’s feet landed and she could feel her head swoon over the man that held her in his arms. She lightly rested her cheek against his and closed her eyes, forgetting what ever it was they were talking about. She whispered, “You smell amazing.”

  “I know.”

  Junior stood on the bottom step of the spiral staircase; his eyes locked on the two dancing in each other’s arms. Zeff was not as tall as him. He wasn’t as muscular and if it weren’t for that scar his face wouldn’t carry any intimidation at all; but he was still enormous compared to Awilda. Her thin frame was engulfed by his and if it weren’t for her high heels she would barely be able to see over his shoulder.

  He wanted to cut in. He wanted to take her into his arms and sway side to side to the music. Trouble was; he wasn’t a very good dancer; especially when compared to twinkle toes over there. Oh, and there was that whole thing about her hating the very sight of him. Yeah, that would probably put a damper on their floor routine.

  As Junior thought more about Zeff having what he couldn’t he could feel the urge to bash the guy’s head in creeping up his spine. He controlled it though; suppressed it as much as possible and tried to distract himself by pretending to check out the spread at the food tables. Truth was, if being in Zeff’s arms made Awilda feel more comfortable with the new potential arrangement even in the slightest; then it was worth it to him to keep his cool and let her be. She needed to be safe and Kingsley was right; there were people out there who probably believed in this whole prophecy thing and they might try to hurt her over it; or worse. He tried to shake off the thought of anyone laying a hand on her and started tapping his foot to the music to look nonchalant. The thing was, as defiant as he was he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to the legend. The Limrid, the signs King spoke of; there were a lot of coincidences that were making his defiance harder and harder to justify.

  His eyes drifted to the couple just as Zeff bent her backwards in a low dip.

  Carefully, so as not to tear the tiny suit he was wearing, Junior crossed the dance floor and exited the ballroom. He needed a drink and he knew exactly where the bar was.

  Kingsley danced slowly with Elizabeth. In his left hand he held hers and let his right hand rest on her hip. She looked beautiful in the floor length, light purple beaded gown. The structured shoulders made her look elegant and the V-neck was just low enough to give him dirty thoughts. Her hair was up with only a few silver strands hanging loose to frame her face. He had never imagined seeing her like this. They weren’t exactly formal people. They never got dressed up and went dancing; let alone in an old English castle. He was happy she was here with him. He would hate for her to miss this adventure. In a way it was sort of a getaway for the two of them.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Junior walking awkwardly out of the ballroom; like he was holding an egg between his ass cheeks. He sighed softly. As much as the kid infuriated him from time to time he had him to thank for the woman in his arms. As he held Elizabeth closer he thought back to the phone call that finally gave his life meaning again.

  Kingsley had run into the kid in a cemetery about a year prior. They had agreed to keep in touch and Junior held up his end of the bargain; calling him from time to time just to “catch up”. He figured the kid just felt sorry for him. He was, after all, whining like a little girl about his pitiful life in that cemetery; but a year later when his phone rang everything changed. He could remember Junior’s voice on the other end quivering uncontrollably.

  “We need to meet.” He said darkly.

  Kingsley met his young friend in that same cemetery in the middle of the night.

  “I need your help.” Junior started.

  “Name it kid.”

  “I need to kill someone, but I won’t be able to.”

  “Whoa, slow down there.” Kingsley held up his hands. “When I said ‘name it’ I didn’t mean murder was on the table.”

  “I’m not asking you to do it for me.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  Junior paced back and forth for a moment, almost too upset to form words. “My Responsibility; her name is Elizabeth, and she’s in trouble.” He paced some more. “Her rat bastard of a husband put her in the hospital today.” He choked on his own words, clearly blaming himself for the circumstance. That was the burden of a shifter; your Responsibility’s safety was, well, your responsibility. “Goddamn,” he breathed, “I had no idea he was doing that to her. She never told me; never let on. Probably because she knew I’d kill him.”

  “Okay, try to calm down; what do you need from me.”

  “When I saw her lying there on that hospital bed,” he began shaking his head frantically, “bruised with dry blood all over the right side of her face, I just about lost it. I didn’t say anything to her, but I didn’t have to; she knew what I was thinking. Before I could leave her room she said, ‘Don’t you hurt him Junior. Don’t you dare hurt him’; can you believe that? He put her in the fucking hospital and she’s still protecting him.

  “I can’t be around her; not as long as he’s alive. I can’t control myself. I don’t trust that I can just sit by knowing what he has done to her and what he’ll probably continue to do to her. There’s no way King; there’s just no way.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  The next night Kingsley followed Junior to a quaint house in a suburb of Charlotte, North Carolina. They walked in the shadows and crawled through an open window to a back bedroom. Junior’s Responsibility was still in the hospital, leaving the abuser home alone.

  The two snuck through the dark hallway toward the light that emanated from the kitchen. They rounded the corner to find that son of a bitch, Randy, making a sandwich. Junior pulled a gun from the waist band of his jeans and cocked it; the sound slicing through the silence like a butcher’s knife. Randy pivoted around instantly to see a gun pointed in his direction.

  “Junior, what the hell are you…”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Junior growled. Kingsley could tell he was fighting the urge to let his eyes burn red.

  Randy put his hands in the air. “Look man, I didn’t mean to hurt her. You know I love her.”

  “Goddamn shit head if you keep talking I’m going to blow your fucking brains out, understand?”

  Randy nodded vigorously.

  “She asked me not to hurt you, you know.” Slowly, he handed the gun to Kingsley. “She didn’t say anything about him.” On cue, Kingsley lowered the gun and shot the guy in his left thigh. As Randy grabbed at the wound and howled he raised the gun slightly and shot him in the right shoulder. His body flung backwards from the speed of the bullet. For good measure King shot two random bullets into the cabinetry just above Randy’s head. He handed the gun back to Junior without saying a word.

  Junior allowed Randy to whimper as he slunk to the ground in pain. “You’re going to call the cops,” he started, “and when they get here you’re going to tell them I tried to kill you. I won’t deny it; but if you so much as utter one syllable about my friend here I’ll make sure he has better aim next time. And God help you if you hurt Elizabeth again; because I’ll break out of whatever holding cell they’ve got me in and kill you myself. Are we clear?”

  Randy nodded his head as sweat dripped down his forehead. He didn’t dare open his mouth for fear of agitating the man with the gun any further. He heaved rapidly as Junior grabbed the phone and dropped it in his lap. “Call them.” He demanded, “And for all intents and purposes you will only know me as Toby Pierce.”

  Junior and Kingsley exited the house the same way they came in. They stood in the backyard and basked in the sil
ence that would soon be destroyed with sirens. “I know this is a lot to ask,” Junior began, “but I can’t watch over her from prison. Will you help me, my friend?”

  Kingsley didn’t have a lot to think about. It had been a long and grueling year since watching his last known relative die of old age; still with no timeline in regards to his own death. Perhaps this was the only way to continue living. This Elizabeth person wasn’t his Responsibility, but she was someone he could get out of bed for in the morning. She gave him purpose, at least. He nodded his head in response and watched as Junior smiled with sadness in his dark blue eyes.

  The sirens sounded from a couple of miles away. Without a word Kingsley turned and ran; removing himself from the scene and leaving Junior to forgo his freedom in the name of a misguided love.

  The song ended and a new, fast paced one began playing. The couples all parted and began dancing to the beat. Elizabeth took Kingsley’s hand and led him to the food table. He followed her, watching her hips sway from side to side as she walked. She looked over her shoulder and said something in regards to the selection. He didn’t hear her though; his mind was too busy remembering the day he’d finally met her. She was coming home from the hospital and her friends, under the impression she’d had an ‘accident’ had gathered in her house to welcome her home. He could still remember the look on Randy’s face when he helped her through the front door and looked up to see one man standing in a grouping of old ladies. His face went white and his jaw dropped. Kingsley could see his eyes lowering, perhaps trying to gauge whether or not he had a gun.

  Randy helped the battered and bruised woman to the couch. Her friends approached her one by one, giving her hugs and showering her with cards and gifts. Finally, it was Kingsley’s turn. He lowered to one knee in front of her and took her soft hand. “Elizabeth”, he began, “my name is Kingsley Leon; I’m a friend of Junior’s.”