Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance

by Rach Elle

  “Yep.”

  Cooper rolled her eyes, “Ugh, I hate that show. Well if you get bored you know where to find us.” She continued down the hall toward Bawli’s room, passing Awilda along the way.

  The boys watched as Awilda smiled nervously in their direction then disappeared into her bedroom. They looked at each other with devious grins and approached her door. Alvin raised his knuckles and knocked three times.

  Junior finished his descent into the ballroom and began cutting across the marble floor toward the study that would lead into the storage room.

  “Junior!”

  He stopped immediately and turned to see Elizabeth walking toward him. His throat tightened as she neared.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” she began, “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Junior tried to act nonchalant, “About what?”

  “You know what; you…”

  “Oh, hold on Lizzie,” Junior interrupted. He suddenly dropped to the floor and started doing one-handed pushups; his back muscles contracting and releasing with each pulsing motion. She looked over her shoulder to see Zeff entering the ballroom with a cigarette in his mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two boys who stared at each other intensely. Zeff approached Junior, took the cigarette from his mouth and squatted down to his eye level. Junior stopped mid-pushup to hold the stare. Finally, Zeff’s lips parted and he blew out a puff of smoke into Junior’s face. He smiled and winked before standing up and heading into the study.

  After a few seconds Junior stood up and placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the door to the study as if contemplating his next move.

  Elizabeth had no idea what the hell just happened. Finally Junior snapped himself out of it and turned back to her, “You were saying?”

  She was speechless and confused, but forced herself to continue the original discussion, “You didn’t say a word to me after I told you about my illness…”

  “Cancer,” he cut her off.

  Cautiously, she continued, “Yes, cancer. I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

  “Of course I’m not,” his eyes bored into hers, “you’re dying; and what’s worse – you don’t have to be. They can operate and…”

  “And how much more time will that buy me? I’m seventy-six years old; I don’t have my whole life ahead of me anymore. If this is the way the good Lord wants to take me then I will abide.” She waited for him to say something; anything; but instead he averted his eyes to the floor. She sighed, “It wasn’t an easy decision to make, contrary to what you may believe. I spent many sleepless nights and anxiety-ridden days thinking it over; considering every possible pro and con.”

  “And you decided that, what, you don’t care to live anymore? You have no problem with leaving everything and everyone who loves you behind?”

  Elizabeth scoffed, “What is it with you men? Why can’t you get it through your thick skulls that I’m dying every day whether it’s from a brain tumor or old age; either way my time on this earth is limited.”

  “You could have at least talked to me about it first,” he said quietly.

  Elizabeth’s eyes hardened, “When it comes to my life and my body it becomes my choice; whether or not I make the popular decision in your eyes. You don’t have to like it, Junior. You don’t have to agree with it; but you do have to respect it.” When he didn’t say anything again she softened her voice, “Please baby,” she watched as he raised his eyes to hers, “please don’t hate me.”

  Junior’s shoulders slumped, “I could never hate you.”

  She nodded, “Because I’m your Responsibility.”

  “Because I love you; unconditionally.”

  She smiled as a tear gathered in the corner of her eye, “I love you too,” she whispered.

  Junior wanted to embrace the elderly woman in front of him. For a moment he forgot just how old she was. The warm smile on her face and the innocent, glistening look in her eyes transported him to a time when they were both young and in love. He could remember the smell of her shampoo as she rode in his passenger seat for the five hours it took them to get to the beach. He could see her writing their names in the sand and the blue Atlantic waves crashing behind her, calming and dissipating by the time they reached her bare feet. The wind would blow through her long, blonde hair as they walked along the shoreline, collecting seashells she would later make into a necklace. Then at night they would sit in his parked car looking out onto the ocean, which was nothing more than a vast nothingness with only a hint of moonlight to see by. They would make love in his car until she was too tired to keep her eyes open. Then she would sleep in his arms until the sun came up. He would look down at her sleepy eyes as they flittered open and lifted to see him. She would smile, parting those thin, pink lips and in her sultry morning voice she’d say, “Good morning baby.” For too many years after their separation he longed to hold her again; to watch her wake up again; for her to call him ‘baby’ again.

  But now, even though the memory was beautiful and sweet, he would give anything to create new ones with another woman; the one he was about to fight another man for. It made him feel a little guilty as he looked into Elizabeth’s soft blue eyes.

  “Oi!” A blunt, female voice called from the top of the stairs. “Are we ready to get this party started?”

  Junior and Elizabeth looked up to see Bawli and Cooper descending the staircase.

  “I’m going to make some popcorn; you want some Lizzie?” Bawli asked.

  “Popcorn for what?”

  “For the big fight!”

  Elizabeth looked to Junior, “What fight?”

  He shrugged, “Zeff and I are going to see who the better man is.”

  “Oh,” she smiled in revelation, “so that’s what all that showboating was about.”

  Junior smirked and flexed his large arms; the muscles suddenly popping and sculpting on top of one another. “It’s not showboating if you can back it up,” he said as he playfully kissed his left bicep.

  Elizabeth chuckled, “Well, I’d love to watch but I promised Kingsley I’d have dinner with him in a few; I think it’s time he and I had a long, rational, talk.”

  “Suit yourself!” Cooper said as she and Bawli headed into the kitchen to grab drinks and popcorn.

  Junior’s smile faded, “Have you forgiven him?” He asked somberly.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Awilda’s forgiven him, you know.”

  Elizabeth nodded, “I know, she told me when we spoke about my illness. She has a big heart.” After a few seconds she asked, “What about you? Have you forgiven him?”

  Junior took a deep breath, “I suppose if Awilda has then I probably don’t have the right to hold a grudge.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He looked at her with earnest eyes. The corner of his lips twitched upward slightly, “I mean, it’s going to be a while before we start wearing our friendship bracelets again,” his heart jumped at the sound of her laughter, “but I think I’m heading in that direction.”

  She nodded, “I hope I will be soon, too.” After a moment of silence, “Well, I better get going. I don’t want to be late for dinner,” she said flatly. She crossed the ballroom and just before her hand reached the glass door he called to her, “Lizzie.”

  She stopped short and looked over her shoulder at him, “Yeah?” He looked awkward, like a teenage boy too nervous to ask a girl out to prom.

  “Uh,” he began, “I know I’m not the perfect picture of emotional health, but I kind of figure that hate and disappointment and regret – that’s no way to live a life.”

  She took a deep breath and smiled, “I agree.”

  49

  The room was shrouded in darkness. The sun had completely set a couple of minutes ago and the windows weren’t facing the moonlight. Not that it would have mattered; the heavy drapery was closed. The only sound that filled the silence was soft, regulated breathing.

  Crisp’s
eyes shot open; he wasn’t alone. Slowly, he turned his head on his pillow and squint his eyes to see through the dark. A figure stood in the back corner of the bedroom; silent and still; watching him.

  James had left Awilda earlier that day, but he never left the castle like he said he would do. Instead he had ducked into the powder room on the first floor and waited for the opportune moment. When the sounds of individuals going about their everyday lives drifted away and there was no more presence of life he quietly snuck from the powder room and headed upstairs where he eventually found this room. He had been standing in the corner, watching the sleeping Dr. Simon Crispin for almost half an hour now. A smile crept across his face as the doctor woke. Slowly, and casually, he began to cross the space.

  “Hello there,” he said in a low voice.

  Crisp couldn’t see the distinct features of the man approaching but he knew who he was. He wanted to jump to his feet and confront him man-to-man; but his loathsome, weak body was still too shaken from the incident in the park. His limbs weren’t moving on command; more like, receiving the orders and obeying whenever they felt like it. Instead, he remained in bed, managing to push himself up to a seated position.

  “You probably don’t remember me,” the man continued as he reached the bed. He pulled a chair forward and sat down.

  “What do you want James?” Crisp asked without any inflection. He could see the man’s features now; the tired, aged eyes; Awilda’s cheekbones and nose; and a beard that looked to have been grown out of neglect rather than intent.

  James’ eyes widened and gleamed, “You do remember me!”

  Crisp shook his head, “No, I know of you; your daughter was a patient of mine for many years. She has shown me a lot of photos and has told me all about you.”

  “Fascinating,” James said flatly, “and while that all may be true, you know that’s not what I’m referring to; is it, doctor.” He watched Crisp for a moment. When the man didn’t respond he continued, “I remember you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit; you were there.”

  “Where?”

  “In the hospital the day Awilda was born and my wife died. You patted me on the back and gave me your card in case I ever needed to call someone.”

  Crisp pretended to think for a moment. “I suppose that could be true. I did used to work in a hospital as a grief counselor; but I assure you, if I was there, it was all coincidence.”

  “See,” James leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, “there was a time when I would have accepted that as an answer; but not now. Right before my wife lifelessly collapsed in her hospital bed she spoke a series of words directly to me. ‘Every five-hundred years; the prophecy has begun’. You told me she was out of her mind and speaking gibberish and I believed it until I started researching prophecies. You know what I found? I found a shit load of them. But there was one in particular that stood out to me; and guess what? It was one that was set to happen every five-hundred years.”

  “I’m failing to see what all of this has to do with me,” Crisp cut him off.

  “You know about the prophecy.”

  “Other than the research I’ve done as a result of working with Awilda, I know nothing.”

  James cracked a smile and shook his head, “See, I think you do; I think you know a lot more than you’re letting on.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the fact that Awilda is the prophesized destroyer.”

  Crisp forced a laugh, “You actually think your daughter is going to kill us all?”

  James’ face went grave, “Not if I don’t stop her first.”

  Crisp’s smile faded and he pushed himself to straighten his posture, “Wait, what are you talking about?”

  “Someone has to stop her.”

  “Alright, let’s just calm down,” Crisp began, “Even if Awilda is the destroyer the prophecy states there will be a savior; unless you think that’s you?”

  James thought back to all the research he’d done; all the crudely drawn timelines and family trees trying to locate the savior. He hadn’t reached the end before giving up and being kicked out of the house by his father. Two years later when he returned for his father’s funeral he had found another family tree in his dad’s handwriting trying to come to the same conclusion, but he had never finished it either.

  The most jarring realization came when he went to his mother’s house in search of Awilda and found it empty and dark. Gayle had died just days before and James took the liberty of breaking into the house where he found that his mother had completely lost her mind. The walls were covered in frantic writing that he could barely see through the dark; there were no light bulbs in the lamps and he didn’t have a flashlight, but he could see that the true horror was in the kitchen. There he saw pictures; dozens of them hanging from the cabinetry and appliances. They were all labeled and connected with lines of yarn. They all led to one empty spot on the wall; the spot where the prophesized savior should be. But he wasn’t there. There wasn’t a name or a picture; nothing. James pulled out his phone and looked up the name just before the savior – Kate Cross. He found her obituary from decades ago and learned she had a son named Junior. He then looked up Junior Cross and found his obituary; also decades old. There wasn’t any listing of children. The trail was dead.

  As James sat in the dark room directly in front of Dr. Simon Crispin he could feel his blood run cold at the thought of that moment. That moment when he realized the savior didn’t exist. For a brief moment after arriving at the castle and learning that his daughter’s new friend was named Junior he considered the possibility that perhaps there could be a connection; but he quickly shrugged off the idea. Even if the obituary he read was faked that man was far too young to be the real Junior Cross. No, the bloodline was extinct.

  “You don’t really think you’re the savior, do you?” Crisp asked again.

  James slowly lifted his head and stared at the doctor through the tops of his eyes, “Someone has to be; might as well be me.” He stood and pulled the chair back into its original position in the corner.

  “You can’t be serious!” Crisp snapped, “You can’t kill your own daughter!”

  “Who’s going to stop me? You?”

  Crisp wanted like hell to scream yes! He wanted to get to his feet and kick the shit out of James for even thinking about hurting the girl. “No, but the others will,” he said, “When they find out what you’re planning they’ll kill you before you ever have a chance to go near her.”

  Casually, James reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, thin object. “I kind of figured that,” he said just before pivoting and lunging at the doctor. He punched the man in the face and jumped on top of him. Crisp tried to fight back but his limbs were too weak to carry much force. James uncapped the needle in his hand and jabbed it into the side of Crisp’s neck. He pushed down on the plunger and drove the fluid into his bloodstream as Crisp tried to push him off of him. James released the plunger, leaving only a quarter of the anesthesia in the tube and pulled the needle out of the man’s neck. “That’s why I can’t have you telling anyone what I’m going to do,” James finished his sentence as he watched the doctor’s eyelids grow heavier and heavier until they finally closed and his head fell limply to the side.

  50

  Kingsley tried his damndest to follow an old family dinner recipe; but everything in this kitchen used the metric system. He grabbed a small dosing spoon, five milliliters? He grabbed another, fifteen milliliters? He needed a teaspoon, for crying out loud. Finally, he shrugged and went with the smaller spoon; it looked about right.

  As he stirred the homemade batter with which he would later fry two chicken breasts, he felt a tinge of nervousness creeping up his spine. Elizabeth was sitting at the dining table watching him cook. The candlelight he had provided flickered and lit her pale skin beautifully. God, she took his breath away. He wished this could be a romantic dinn
er for the two of them; no obligations; no concerns or cares – but that couldn’t be further from reality. Elizabeth wanted an explanation from him; and he was going to give one to her. She was the most rational and patient woman he’d ever met. He hoped she would listen to him and process what he had to say before jumping to any conclusions. He took a deep breath. Tonight, for the first time, he was going to tell the real truth.

  51

  “I don’t know, you guys,” Awilda said as she sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m going to get in so much trouble if we get caught.”

  Alvin and Mason were standing in front of her. “We’re not going to get caught,” Alvin assured her. “Besides, we’ll be the ones in trouble, not you.”

  “Yeah right; if Zeff and Cooper find out that I snuck their Responsibilities out of the house against their orders then they’ll probably kick me out altogether.”

  Alvin shook his head, “Don’t you worry about Cooper; she’s all bark no bite. And Zeff – he expects us to do this. The moment Cooper laid down the law he knew we were going to break it; it’s just what we do.”

  Mason nodded, “It’s true; he’s probably shocked we haven’t done it already.”

  “Really?” Awilda said as she bit her bottom lip.

  “Really,” Alvin answered, “in fact, he’d probably love it if we got into some sort of shenanigans that he has to bail us out from. The worst we ever get is a shake of the head and a slap on the wrist. We bring excitement to his life. He practically begs us to get into trouble.”

  “I don’t know,” Awilda twiddled her thumbs in her lap.

  “Please mate,” Alvin began, “It’s no fun being cooped up all day. We’ve been dying for some social interaction with people that don’t sprout wings and tails.”

  Awilda looked at Mason, “Didn’t you just leave to follow Sonny around for a few hours?”

  Alvin scoffed, “Fine, I’m dying for it.” When Awilda still looked a little unsure, he lowered to his knees in front of her. “Please love,” he cooed, “please?”