Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance

by Rach Elle

  Bawli laughed, “Is that all you know about the English? That we like crumpets?”

  “And tea.”

  “Do you like tea?”

  “Not really.”

  “I guess we won’t be having tea then. And to have a crumpet without tea is a bloody crime in my book.”

  Elizabeth chuckled, “What exactly is a crumpet anyway?”

  “They kind of look like English muffins. But they feel more like a sponge.”

  “Sounds tasty,” She said flatly.

  He nodded, “When toasted just right and topped appropriately, they in fact are.”

  25

  Junior Cross sat on the rooftop of the Vanderburen castle. He had watched the sun set well over an hour ago. His stomach ached from hunger but he refused to move from his crouched position. He looked to his left to see a large stone gargoyle in a fighter’s stance; his fangs bared and his wings stretched upward. He looked to his right to see another stone gargoyle in the same crouched position he was. How appropriate, he thought. He slowly and quietly returned his gaze into the far distance; into the trees that stood just beyond the Vanderburen property line.

  “You’re boring me,” Tauggle’s melodic voice rang in Junior’s ear. Without turning around to see the Limrid he asked, “Is he the one you were talking about?”

  “Who?”

  “You know damn well who.” Junior nodded into the distance, his eyes focusing on a small Limrid that sat perched in a tree. “He’s been there for at least five hours.”

  Tauggle crooked his brow. “I take it you’ve been here for just as long?”

  “Answer the question. You said others have come for Awilda.”

  “Many have sought her; he appears to be one of them.”

  “Why hasn’t he moved?” Junior narrowed his eyes at the creature.

  “Why would he? Awilda has already claimed yours truly; what benefit would he receive by pursuing her?”

  “Then why is he here?”

  Tauggle shrugged gracefully and walked to the ledge, “I suppose he wishes to keep an eye on things. You know, in case I can’t handle it; which is very offensive by the way. I’m perfectly capable of…”

  “Handle what exactly?” Junior cut him off. He turned his head to finally look at the Limrid standing next to him. His pale skin and stark white hair seemed to glow in the darkness. Tauggle slowly looked down to him with his black eyes. “He’s afraid I won’t be able to keep Awilda alive.”

  Junior couldn’t stop himself from baring his fangs. “And who does he think is going to kill her,” he growled.

  Tauggle smirked, “You, of course.”

  Junior quickly got to his feet so his six-foot-six frame would overpower the petite Limrid. “I would never hurt her,” he said emphatically.

  Tauggle angled his head to the side, “Who are you trying to convince; me or you?”

  Junior clenched his fists and did all he could to resist the urge to punch the little bastard’s head in. “You tell your friend out there that Awilda is safe with me. And if I see him casing this place again I’m going to show him just how ruthless of a killer I really am.” He pushed past the Limrid and headed for the door.

  “He’ll be glad to hear it,” Tauggle began, “since she is imperative to the prophecy.”

  Junior stopped suddenly. He looked over his shoulder with bright red eyes and elongated fangs. A deep growl escaped his throat. “If you mention the prophecy again I don’t care how much she likes you I will kill you with my bare hands, got it?”

  Tauggle’s eyes softened and his lips drifted upward in a small smile. He looked at the savior with sadness and nodded once.

  “And don’t you dare mention the prophecy to Awilda,” Junior threatened.

  “I would never do that. She does not deserve to know her fate. She is a good person; this I truly believe.”

  Junior narrowed his red eyes, “Then why do you take it so lightly? If you really care about her then why don’t you care about what you believe to be her fate?”

  Tauggle’s black eyes bored into the savior’s. “We are all living with an expiration date. She is no different from the masses that will meet an untimely end tomorrow and the next day and the next. She is no different from you and me. But just as the father who is hit by a bus as he crosses the street; or the sister who is robbed and left for dead on her way home from work; Awilda will not be privy to her timeline. She has been nothing but kind to me in spite of you and the old shifter. I see the heavy, dark cloud that hangs above her but I will be damned if I force her to see it too. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

  Junior headed down the hall toward his room as Tauggle’s words kept ringing in his head. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the Limrid so he wouldn’t have to hear about this prophecy shit anymore; but he had a feeling that would only cure a side effect, not the disease. He reached his door and decided to continue moving. He descended the staircase and found himself entering the living room. The space was empty except for one presence sitting at the bar in the corner.

  Junior stopped at the bottom of the stairs and clenched his teeth as he stared at the back of Zeff’s head. He didn’t feel like having a drink with the man. It was clear he too was interested in Awilda. Junior liked to think if it was a fair fight she’d pick him; but Awilda hadn’t exactly been his biggest fan as of late, giving Zeff the home court advantage.

  “Are you going to have a drink?” Zeff asked without turning around.

  Junior exhaled slowly then headed to the bar. He rounded the counter and fetched a glass and a bottle of whiskey before settling into a stool next to the English shifter. In silence he filled his glass to the rim while Zeff watched him out of the corner of his eye. “Another rough night, I take it,” Zeff said.

  Junior took a swallow, “You could say that.”

  “And what about the rest of your clan; everyone adjusting well I hope.”

  “I guess.”

  Zeff took a sip of his coconut rum. “Awilda’s neck seems to be healing quickly.” He could hear a small growl vibrating in Junior’s throat. He continued, “And what about your doctor friend? How is he coming along?”

  Junior thought about Crisp who hadn’t left his bed since arriving at the castle. He shrugged, “Not sure, I haven’t seen him.”

  “No?” Zeff crooked a brow.

  “He’s not exactly my friend; he’s Awilda’s. I don’t really know him.”

  Zeff took another sip. “I ran into Kingsley earlier. He and Elizabeth seem to be doing well. I must say, it’s rather valiant of you to allow them to share quarters; being that she’s your Responsibility and all.”

  Junior resisted the urge to clench his jaw. Despite the ease with which he seemed to give the go-ahead for Lizzie and Kingsley to share a bed in a separate guest house, the idea didn’t sit well with him. A shifter didn’t like to give up control over their Responsibility. Watching them fall in love with someone else was like watching your wife having an affair. He knew if given the choice Lizzie would choose Kingsley over him; that alone was enough to drive him to drink. Story of his life, he supposed. He raised the glass to his lips and took another pull. “Lizzie is a grown woman,” he began, “she can do what she wants.”

  “Good for you mate,” Zeff said. “You don’t mix your human emotions with your shifter ones; I wager you’ve always kept yourself in check, though. You strike me as the strong willed type.” When Junior didn’t respond Zeff turned his head to look at him. “Or would I be wrong?”

  Junior took a deep breath and looked down at his now half glass of whiskey. “You’d be wrong,” he said. “Lizzie and I used to be more than friends; but that was a long time ago.”

  “It all went south, yeah?”

  “You could say that. I met her only a year after I first shifted. I pursued her and we started dating.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  Junior thought for a moment, “Almost fifty years ago. Anyway, we were together for six years.�
�� He smiled nostalgically, “I must have proposed about a dozen times but she kept turning me down. She said that I didn’t deserve to be married to an old woman, which is what she would become eventually. Of course I told her I didn’t care about that but she never gave in. She was always so stubborn.”

  “So who ended it?”

  “She did,” Junior said as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. “I guess I should have seen it coming, but at the time I was blind to just about everything around me. I remember the look in her eyes as she told me she’d met a man by the name of Randy Tucker. She was on the verge of tears as she spoke but all I could do was watch my world falling all around me; crashing into piles of rubble at my feet as she kept talking about how she didn’t want me to regret being with her after she’s gone. She had, and probably still has this delusion that the moment she dies I’m just going to stop caring for her; and if I had spent all my shifting years married to her then once she’s gone I’d be angry that she wasted my time. I tried to tell her a thousand times that that would never happen, but like I said, she’s stubborn.” He sighed softly. “She married Randy a year later.” He lifted his glass again, “Anyway, that was a long time ago. I’ve had many, many years to get used to the fact that she has moved on. At least this time it’s with someone who would rather take his own life than hurt her.” Literally.

  Zeff smiled lightly, “I suppose female troubles are the worst kind.”

  Junior looked to the blonde Englishman. His layered hair hung just over his shoulders, almost long enough to hide his face and the scar that sat prominently atop it. “I take it you’ve gone through something similar.”

  “Not really, but I was in a relationship once.”

  “Once?”

  “Since my first shift, yes. I as well, thought she was the one.”

  “What happened?”

  Zeff shrugged, “Circumstances beyond our control; and then it was over.”

  “Wow,” Junior said flatly. “Thanks for opening up to me like that man. You really poured your heart out. I’ve never seen anyone so vulnerable.”

  “Alright, I get it,” Zeff chuckled.

  Junior smiled, “That had to be the vaguest story I’ve ever heard. I don’t even think you used a noun.”

  “Alright, you’ve made your point.”

  Junior raised his glass to his lips, “So what really happened?” He took a drink.

  Zeff looked down at his rum, “She found her Responsibility.”

  “She was a shifter?”

  “Aye, we were together for five years before she found him. I had already found Mason at that point but I guess the whole Responsibility concept hit her harder than it did me. She said I deserved to be with someone who could, oh, how did she put it; ‘love me one-hundred percent of the time’.”

  “Man, that’s rough.”

  “Of course I asked her to reconsider. You know, take some time to get used to things before making such a rash decision, but she too was stubborn, and pig-headed, and over dramatic. She looked me in the eye and said I had a choice. I could either stand by her side as a mate or not stand by her side at all.”

  “Geez,” Junior mumbled. “What did you do?”

  Zeff lifted his glass and downed the rest of his rum in one gulp. “I moved in with her.” He looked at the American to see the realization in his eyes.

  “Cooper?” Junior whispered. He couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping as he watched Zeff nod slowly. “Wow,” he said as he turned his head to face forward. “So you got dumped for Alvin.”

  “Aye, imagine how I feel every time that little tosser makes an arse out of himself. No matter what I achieve or what he doesn’t achieve he will always have one thing on me; and he didn’t even do anything to earn it.”

  “Wait, do you still have feelings for Cooper?”

  Zeff shook his head slowly, “No,” he lied, “but it doesn’t take the sting away.” He stood from his stool. “Well, I better be turning in. It was nice talking to you mate.”

  “Yeah, you too,” Junior said, surprised to hear those words come from his mouth; and even more surprised to mean them.

  Zeff began walking to the staircase before stopping and turning to face Junior. “Oi,” he called and watched as Junior swiveled on his stool to face him. “I have a small workout space set up in that storage room you saw earlier. Maybe you and I could workout some time. You know, train and spar; it’s a good way to get the aggression out and Bawls barely puts up a fight; might be nice to have a real challenge.” He motioned to the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. “And a whole lot healthier, I’d wager.”

  Junior thought for a moment and took a deep breath. Just a half hour ago he hated this guy’s guts. Finally he smirked, “Yeah, sounds good.”

  26

  “Thank you again; for everything,” Elizabeth smiled as Bawli led her to the front door of the guest house.

  “My pleasure,” the shifter nodded. “It was fun.”

  “So, I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Yes, just come up to…” Bawli stopped short and his head whipped to the right. His eyes bored through the darkness and shadows as he listened intently to the silence.

  “Bawli; are you okay?” Elizabeth asked.

  Bawli snapped back to attention and forced a warm smile. “Of course, but it’s getting late; time to turn in yeah?”

  Elizabeth tried to hide her yawn as she nodded.

  “Alright then, get inside; I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He watched as Lizzie entered the guest house and shut the door behind her. The moment she was out of sight his smile disintegrated. He turned to face the castle as his eyes burned to dark red and he slowly walked across the manicured lawn of the Vanderburen property.

  Sunders Harper had spent the last hour or so studying the Vanderburen lot. He knew he wouldn’t be able to just walk up the driveway and knock on the front door. If this was in fact a dwelling for gargoyles then he needed to do his research in the shadows. He needed to stay out of sight and undetected. Unfortunately stealth was never his middle name, but he hoped like hell that tonight would be the night he discovered cat-like reflexes he never knew he had.

  The sun had set a couple of hours ago and from a distance it looked like all lights were off in the castle. He figured whoever – or whatever – was inside had long since tucked themselves in and drifted off to sleep.

  Sunders emerged from the wooded land that sat behind the Vanderburen property line. He was dressed in black from head-to-toe complete with a ski mask perfect for bank thieving and gargoyle hunting. He quickly made his way to the small apple orchard that overlapped onto the property. He stood behind a tree trunk and retrieved a pair of small binoculars from his backpack. After surveying the castle once more for any sign of life – and not seeing any – he picked up his pace and swiftly ran across the veranda. He reached the castle and pressed himself against the stone exterior, hiding in the shadows of a balcony that hung one story above. He took a moment to steady his breathing and listen for anything out of place before slowly making his way around the nearest corner.

  Sunders found himself walking down a very small corridor created by the castle wall to his left and wild, untamed greenery to his right. He had a feeling that was where the property line ended. He continued to walk parallel to the castle and soon the tiny pathway opened up to reveal the famed rose garden.

  His feet landed on a cobbled path that weaved through the garden, splintering off into different directions and creating designated walkways for tourists to enjoy the roses of all colors and sizes. Sunders considered briefly sticking close to the castle and cutting through the bushes, but he figured that would not only make more noise than he intended, but it would also become apparent tomorrow morning that someone had taken a jaunt through the garden. Instead he crouched down as to hide himself behind a bush and moved down the cobbled pathway. He reached the first fork and straightened his posture just long enough to see which path he needed
to take. This place was like a damn maze when this low to the ground. He came upon another fork, then another and another before approaching what appeared to be two small white crosses sticking out of the soil. They had something written on them but he didn’t have time to inspect. He turned to the left to see the entrance to the rose garden. As he moved closer and the large, wrought iron alter came into view he realized it would lead him directly to the ballroom that was plastered all over the website he visited earlier. His eyes widened and his heart sped with excitement as he looked upon the wall that was made up entirely of windows.

  Sunders peered around the last of the rose bushes to make sure the coast was clear before standing straight and walking up to the glass French doors that were of course locked for the night; but he didn’t care. He stood for a moment, staring in awe of the enormous painting hanging on the wall before him. The Guardian Angel hung beautifully like the master piece that it was, flanked by tapestries and sconces. Sunders breathed in reverence and suddenly the glass mere centimeters in front of his face fogged from his chilled breath. It woke him from his trance and he got to work. He opened his backpack and pulled out a metal pick. He dropped to his knees and began working on the lock on the French doors.

  His eyes focused intently on the lock in front of him when a low growl sounded from the garden. He stopped instantly; the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he slowly looked over his shoulder toward the sound. His breathing and heart rate sped even faster with fear as he stared into the darkness, unable to blink. Another puff of chilled air escaped his lips and as the cloud evaporated a pair of red eyes appeared in the distance. Without looking away Sunders reached into his pack and wrapped his fingers around the gun he had brought, just in case. Slowly, as to not alarm the creature, he stood. “I’m not here to harm you,” he said, his voice shaking uncontrollably.