by Rach Elle
“That’s horrible,” Awilda whispered; her heart breaking as she looked upon the stoic gargoyle.
“It was; until one night he miraculously escaped and fled Egypt. Whenever he appears in an Arav original there’s always the same symbol hidden somewhere in the piece.”
“An Egyptian pyramid,” Awilda said as her eyes drifted upward to see the triangle.
Sunders nodded, “This piece is described as a gargoyle overlooking a sleeping city. But very few realize he’s actually looking over a sleeping city and staring off into the distance. He’s staring at Egypt; the home he loved but could never return to.”
Awilda continued to look upon the large painting in silence. She had never really considered the idea that Arav Dave had injected so much meaning into his work. She had overlooked and dismissed him every chance she got. But now staring at the massive oil painting she couldn’t help but feel sadness for the gargoyle on the ledge. He suddenly looked so alone and broken hearted. “Did he ever return home?” She asked.
Sunders shook his head slowly, “I don’t know. The story of this gargoyle ended with Arav’s passing. I doubt we’ll ever know what happened to him.”
“I’d like to think he went home, fell in love with a wonderful woman, got married, had a family, and lived happily ever after.”
Sunders smiled sweetly, “You know what?” He said as he looked down to the girl standing next to him, “That’s what I think too.”
Awilda looked up into Sunders’ middle-aged eyes; her face suddenly laced with worry. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to convince them to spare you.” Her lips began to quiver and a flood of tears reached the bank of her lower lids. One rogue tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. Sunders quickly lifted his hand to the side of her face and wiped away the drop with his thumb. “What ever happens, I’m at peace; and you need to be too. Besides, I’m sure they’ll realize the benefits of having me around.”
Awilda sniffled, “Benefits?”
“Of course,” Sunders forced a smile. “I know every move the DAA makes. Everyone is looking to me to find you and now I know where not to lead them. I can have those Protectors running in circles and chasing their own tails for as long as it takes. After an appropriate amount of time the trail will run cold and the Protectors will go back where they came from.”
“How long is an appropriate amount of time?”
Sunders shrugged, “Weeks, maybe months; all depends on how determined the Protectors are.”
“They won’t get mad at you for not finding us?”
Sunders chuckled lightly, “Oh dear lass; I’ve been not finding gargoyles for years. This will be just another feather in my cap of failures; they’ll think nowt of it.”
31
“There’s a lot of history here, no doubt about it; but there’s a lot of history in the south of America too.” Kingsley said as he inhaled another sausage link.
Bawli tried not to roll his eyes. He had been listening to the old man drone on about how North Carolina was just as rich in culture as London. Not that he could argue; he had never been in the states before.
Bawli watched Lizzie out of his periphery. She didn’t seem too annoyed by the old man’s rambling; but she was a classy, respectful woman. Even if she had the overwhelming urge to shut him up by taking a frying pan to the side of his head she wouldn’t let on. Bawli crooked a brow; how quickly could he get a frying pan up here? As he watched Kingsley’s lips move he wondered if the pitcher of juice would suffice. It was glass, after all. Nah, the glass would shatter and possibly land on Lizzie; besides, the juice would go all over the place and then he’d have a hell of a clean up.
“Would you like some juice?”
Bawli snapped back to attention at the sound of Lizzie’s voice. “Come again?” He adjusted in his seat to sit upright.
“You’re staring at the pitcher,” she grabbed onto the handle as if preparing to move it to his side of the table. “Would you like some?”
“Oh, no, no,” Bawli shook his head and smiled. “I was just making sure we had enough left.”
Elizabeth mouthed the word okay and let go of the handle.
“And that’s another thing,” Kingsley continued. “You eat the same stuff we do. Like this breakfast; sausage, pancakes and orange juice; breakfast of champions in the south.”
“What were you expecting,” Bawli said in a flat tone, “tea and crumpets?”
Kingsley jolted slightly at the sudden, riotous laughter coming from Elizabeth. She and Bawli looked at each other as if tea and crumpets was somehow a zing. He slowly sat back in his chair at the sight of the two. Their laughter dwindled into chuckling, which eventually diminished into silence; but they never took their eyes off of each other. Kingsley could feel a wave of jealousy overcoming him, but he suppressed it to the best of his ability. He knew Elizabeth loved him, but it seemed that now she had found another love; one of friendship. She shared with Bawli breakfast and inside jokes and it was wrong of him to try to intrude. She was right; she deserved to have friends and under the circumstances she had very little to choose from. Of course he would have preferred she spend all her time with Awilda or Cooper – or even Junior – but she chose this large shifter. He couldn’t show his jealousy. It would only drive a wedge between him and Elizabeth. Besides, at the end of the day she climbed into his bed; not Bawli’s.
“Well,” Kingsley began, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “I think I’m going to head back to the guest house. I’ve started a new book and I can’t seem to get it off my mind.”
“Do you mind if I stay and chat with Bawli for a little longer?” Elizabeth asked.
Kingsley wondered if she would actually obey if he said he did mind. “No, not at all,” he stood from the table and leaned down to her. He lifted her chin with his finger and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t open her mouth for him; to be polite in front of the other shifter, he figured. He compensated by lingering on her lips; marking his territory before leaving her alone with another man. When he finally pulled away he smiled as he stared into her eyes. “I’ll see you later, my love.”
32
Awilda and Sunders stood in the middle of the rose garden, watching Junior and Zeff converse under the wrought iron alter. Awilda had asked Junior to speak to Zeff and try to reason with him in regards to Sonny. She figured he’d do just about anything for her. He’d made it pretty obvious he was infatuated with her. She felt bad for using him like this, but a man’s life was at stake. The other request she’d made to Junior was that he speak with Zeff alone. As in; without Cooper. That shifter may be short and scrawny but she had a lot to say and made sure everyone listened when she said it. She was highly opinionated and had already made it clear that she wanted to dispose of Sonny.
Awilda stiffened as the two shifters turned and headed toward them. They closed the distance and stood before the two humans like giants; even though Sunders was just as tall as Zeff and barely shorter than Junior. They’re presence was overwhelming, even to the Scotsman.
“I still don’t fully trust you,” Zeff said sternly as he looked Sunders in the eye. “But there’s no denying the fact that you could prove to be very useful to us; at least for the time being.” He narrowed his eyes and studied the Finder. “I’ll talk to Cooper and we’ll let you go.”
Sunders’ shoulders relaxed and he exhaled a breath of relief.
“But on one condition,” Zeff continued, “You’ll have an escort for the rest of the day.”
“An escort?” Sunders repeated.
“Yes; Bawli and Mason will follow you everywhere you go. They will survey the situation and make sure you are as reliable as you claim.”
Sunders creased his brow. “Okay,” he drew out the syllable. “Then what happens after today?”
“If all goes well,” Zeff answered, “you’ll live to see tomorrow.”
Cooper emerged from her bedroom fresh and dressed. Her soft blow drie
d hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulder and her long lashes framed her big brown, doe eyes. She rounded the corner to descend the staircase into the living room when her eyes caught sight of something lovely. In the middle of the living room, sitting on a tall, oval table, was a huge bouquet of sunflowers. A smile reached her lips as she hurried down the steps and approached the arrangement. It was massive; larger than she. The flowers were bright yellow with auburn centers and they filled the room with the smell of spring, even though the weather outside still screamed winter. She lifted her hand and gently stroked a petal, feeling the velvety smoothness on her fingertips. Her chest swelled with admiration for the display. Who went through all this trouble, she wondered. Zeff? Bawli? It had to be someone who knew her favorite flower.
“Fore!” She heard Alvin calling from the ballroom only half a second before a hockey puck seared through the air and smashed into the vase mere centimeters in front of her. She threw her hands up to shield her face as the vase shattered; water dumping onto the floor and flowers collapsing. When the sound of ceramic shards ricocheting off the stone floor stopped she hesitantly lowered her arms from her eyes to see the most beautiful bouquet she’d ever seen in pieces all over the ground at her feet. Her eyes focused on one lone petal that floated gracefully downward and landed in a puddle of water.
“You say ‘fore’ in golf,” Mason said as he and Alvin entered the living room with hockey sticks.
“Then what do you say in hockey?”
Mason looked up to see Cooper, “Oh bugger.”
“That’s weird,” Alvin said before following Mason’s line of sight. Soon he too realized what they had just done. “Bloody hell,” he breathed.
“Boys!” Cooper exploded.
“We’re sorry Cooper!” Mason tried to cut her off.
The two boys dropped their hockey sticks and held up their hands to protect themselves. “Yeah,” Alvin chimed in, “we didn’t mean it. We’re really sorry.”
Cooper was still breathing heavily, but she listened to their apologies, realized it was truly an accident, and tried to regain her composure.
“I mean, it’s kind of your fault anyway.” As soon as Alvin spoke those words he wanted to punch himself in the face. He could feel Mason look at him with shock.
Cooper’s blood began boiling again and her eyes flashed bright red, “What?” She snipped.
“Uh, I mean,” Alvin stuttered, “we’re just really bored. If we were allowed to leave the castle then this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Shut up mate!” Mason urged him.
Cooper tried not to fly off the handle. As calmly as she could, through huffing and a clenched jaw she spoke, “First you two are going to clean this up. Then you’re going to find the person who had this bouquet made and apologize profusely. And then you’re going to spend the rest of the day weeding the garden without a single complaint; got it?”
Alvin and Mason cowered from the girl in front of them. She may be small, but she was intimidating as hell. They both nodded their heads in silence and watched as she turned around and stormed back up the stairs.
Tauggle stood in the shadows in the back corner of the room, having fashioned him a tailored suit complete with pocket square. His white hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and his tie was the color of Cooper’s blush; as well as the nightgown she’d worn the night before. He didn’t fully understand why he’d bothered to clean up his appearance, but as he held a sunflower between his fingertips and viewed Cooper from the shadows his heart sped and his breathing caught for just a moment.
The idiocy of the two boys jarred him and he watched with defeated eyes as she marched back up the staircase. His shoulders slumped and he exhaled as he looked down at the sunflower he held in his hands. He was unsure of what this wave of inexplicable sadness that overcame him meant, but he knew he didn’t like the feeling. With a heavy sigh he blinked and the flower disappeared; then so did he.
Bawli and Elizabeth exited his room and headed down the hall. They had had a nice time together after Kingsley left. But Lizzie felt it was time to go back to the house. She said she had some cleaning to do and she had to sort through the bags of clothes Cooper had sent her. As they walked side by side Bawli had the feeling she really wanted to get back to Kingsley. Knowing her she probably felt guilty for spending time with another man.
They rounded the corner and headed down the stairs into the living room. Their eyes widened at the mess that spread all over the floor; and then at the two boys with large yellow rubber gloves, garbage bags, and mops leaning against the wall waiting to be used.
“What the hell happened here?” Bawli asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Spring cleaning,” Alvin said flatly. He reached under the end table to retrieve a ceramic shard that had slid underneath. He latched onto it and pulled it out along with a Sudoku activity book that was now drenched. “I guess I’m throwing this away too, just so you know,” he said as he held the book up for all to see.
Bawli grabbed the book and looked at it with sadness. “Might as well,” he said somberly as he handed it back to Alvin. “It’s bloody ruined.”
“Aw, come on Bawls,” Mason said as he picked up another petal. “You can always get another one.”
“Yeah,” Alvin chimed in, “besides, it’s not like they do you much good anyway.”
“I already told you,” Bawli said, with slight aggro. “It helps to sharpen the mind. You’d know that if you gave it a go.”
“I know you’re unbearable to be around when you’re playing that game. It may help to sharpen your mind but it also helps to dull your appeal.”
“I find Bawli fascinating to be around.” Everyone’s head turned and landed on the elderly, silver haired woman. “He’s very intelligent and intuitive,” Elizabeth continued.
Alvin smirked, “Look, I’m the first person to sign up for the Bawls Fan Club. All I’m saying is that if he got his nose out of these books and into some other activity he might have something a little more interesting to say from time to time; that’s all.”
“Premonitions aren’t interesting?” She could see Bawli cringe out of the corner of her eye as both Alvin and Mason looked at her, stunned.
“Oh, Bawls,” Mason began, “you didn’t tell her about your dreams, did you?”
“And you actually called them premonitions?” Alvin asked. “Just because you have a hair fetish doesn’t mean you see the future.”
“He saw me coming,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly.
“Did he tell you about his redhead?” Mason asked cynically.
“Let it go,” Bawli warned.
“Come on Bawls,” Alvin said, “don’t take it personally. Every superhero has a weakness. Just like Superman has Kryptonite; you have redheads.”
Elizabeth jumped back as Bawli did his best to suppress a growl, pivoted and charged past her. He headed back up the stairs with clenched fists and the rumbling emanating from his throat. “Bawli?” She called to him. He didn’t respond and continued his ascent. She looked back at the two boys on their knees.
“What?” Alvin asked. “Was it something we said?”
Elizabeth scoffed and charged up the stairs after her friend.
Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hall. Bawli had passed his bedroom and reached the end of the corridor. He opened a door and closed himself inside. She picked up her pace and followed. Once she reached the door she hesitated for only a moment before turning the knob and slowly poking her head into the darkened room. “Bawli?” She called to him before opening the door even further. “May I come in?” She peered around to see his silhouette in the far corner. The light of day barely seeped through the heavy curtains, but provided just enough light for her to realize she wasn’t in a bedroom. She took his silence for an answer and closed herself in.
The small click of the door echoed and filled the space. She looked around, squinting through the dark and trying to distingu
ish the odd shapes that surrounded her. Before long she began to notice bins of art supplies, canvases leaned against the walls, and odd sculptures made of random objects sitting on shelves in the corner. “What is this room?” She asked as she slowly moved toward the large shifter.
“It’s my art studio,” Bawli replied.
“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
Bawli shrugged, “It passes the time.”
Elizabeth approached him. “I’m sorry for bringing up your dreams.”
His green eyes met hers, “It’s alright.”
After a moment of silence she gathered the courage to ask, “Who is the redhead?”
Bawli took a deep breath and slowly opened the heavy curtain. The room suddenly flooded with natural light. He motioned to the canvas that sat on an easel in the corner, “Her.”
Elizabeth looked at the painting in progress. It was the back of a woman’s head; long, flowing locks of red hair. The background had bright colors running in circles; overlapping one another like a dozen suns made of rainbows.
“I’ve been seeing her for years,” Bawli continued. “I’ve never met her. I don’t know who she is or why she comes to me in my dreams.”
“Could she be your Responsibility?”
“Perhaps; it would make sense. I can’t seem to shake this feeling that wherever she is; that’s where I’m meant to be.”
Elizabeth turned back to her friend. “You don’t feel like you’re meant to be here?”
A sad smile reached Bawli’s lips and then his eyes as he shook his head. “Here I’m only the fifth wheel. Alvin and Mason are the Responsibilities, and Zeff and Cooper were mates long before I met them. I’m either alone or lumped in with one of the two pairings. If I’m a part of the shifters then I’m inferior; if I’m a part of the humans then I’m perceived as a tosser. I can’t win.”