Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance

by Rach Elle

  As he rounded the corner Mason came into view. He was holding a baseball bat as if preparing to hit a homer. His eyes were locked on Awilda’s legs. He twisted his torso, winding up the bat and just as he took a swing Junior’s eyes flashed to red and he shifted instantly. He jumped in the way and stopped the force of the bat with the palm of his hand before it reached Awilda. He could feel Mason trembling at the other end of the weapon as Junior towered over him, baring his fangs and growling mere inches from his face.

  “Whoa, hold on there mate,” Mason tried to calm him down.

  Junior ripped the bat away from the boy and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He lifted him off the ground and prepared to spike him into the marble floor when a sudden force tackled him from the side.

  Both Junior and Zeff went careening into the marble. Junior landed a punch on Zeff’s jaw and the injured, shifted gargoyle reciprocated. Junior managed to push him off and get to his feet, only to slam Zeff into the wall, watching him wince in pain.

  “Junior, stop!” Awilda cried.

  Junior could barely process Awilda’s words. He took his eyes off his opponent for only a half second to see the girl calling to him before Zeff head butted him in the face. Junior loosened his grip only slightly but it afforded Zeff enough room to throw a stiff right to his ribs and clock him in the jaw with an upper cut. As Zeff went for another hook Junior dropped to the floor and whipped his tail around, knocking Zeff off his feet. He jumped onto the scarred gargoyle just as Zeff grabbed his arm and wrapped his legs around Junior’s neck, cinching them tighter and slowing the flow of oxygen to his brain.

  Junior’s vision began to blur and double as Zeff had him in the triangle choke. He knew if he stayed in this position any longer he’d pass out.

  Zeff may have had an advantage in the fight due to his knowledge of mixed martial arts; but Junior had an advantage of his own; brute strength. He planted his feet on the marble and squatted low to gain composure in his thighs. With the strength he had left he began to straighten his legs and back, lifting Zeff off the ground. With a strained groan he stood straight, still in the hold. He looked up into Zeff’s shocked blue eyes just before dropping suddenly and driving the shifter into the ground as hard as he could. Zeff’s back hit the floor. He let go of Junior and arched upward at the severe pain that stabbed his still healing wound.

  Junior stood slowly, breathing heavily, and began to move toward Zeff.

  “Junior, please,” Awilda pleaded as she latched onto his elbow and tried to pull him back. He shrugged her off and pointed at Mason, “You’re next.”

  “Junior!” Awilda’s voice was sharp and demanding as she stomped her foot as hard as she could. “I asked him to do it!”

  Junior’s red eyes flashed to blue instantly. He looked over his shoulder at her, “What?”

  Awilda recoiled and began playing with her hair nervously. “I, uh, asked Mason to hit me with a bat.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “What the bloody hell is going on?” Cooper asked as she frantically ran down the stairs toward the laid out Zeff.

  “I,” Junior started, at a loss for words, “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Alvin chimed in. “Mason and I were doing our due diligence when lover boy over here decided to fuck it up. Then he and Zeff got in an all out war. It was kind of ace, actually.”

  Cooper helped Zeff to sit up straight. “And what was your due diligence, exactly?”

  “We were going to break Awilda’s knee caps.”

  “What?” Cooper’s jaw dropped. She looked at Bawli who stood in the threshold. “And you were going to let this happen?”

  Bawli threw his hands in the air, “Why would you automatically assume I was involved in this?”

  “Why didn’t you break up the fight?”

  “Those two were out for blood. I wasn’t going to let it be mine.”

  “Hold on!” Junior demanded. Everyone stopped their bickering and looked to the large, tattooed gargoyle. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Now, someone tell me calmly and rationally why Mason was trying to break Awilda’s knee caps.” He looked to Awilda.

  Awilda shrugged, “It was Alvin’s idea.”

  Junior looked to Alvin.

  Alvin scoffed, “Oh, thanks love.” He recoiled as he locked eyes with Junior. “Alright, hear me out,” he began. “Awilda is the destroyer; the devil has chosen her. But we can’t really be under the impression that the bloke can’t just choose whoever he wants. He picked her randomly, what’s to stop him from changing his mind and picking someone else?”

  Junior crooked a brow, “Go on.”

  “So,” Alvin continued, “we thought that if Awilda was somehow incapacitated then the devil wouldn’t want her anymore, you know? If you had the choice would you choose some petite chippie with two broken legs or would you choose, say, an Olympic athlete?”

  Everyone remained still, processing Alvin’s explanation. Finally, Cooper broke the silence, “Have I just been around him too long or did that actually make sense?”

  Junior shook his head and whispered, loud enough for Awilda to hear, “I can’t believe you went along with it.”

  Awilda looked to him with scared eyes that made his heart break in half. “I can’t just sit and wait,” her voice cracked. “I have to at least try to stop it.”

  “I already told you, I’ll stop it.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to play the role of ‘damsel in distress’. I don’t want to just wait around for you to save me. Because if you fail,” she watched him cringe, “I want to know that at least I tried too.” She waited for him to object. When he didn’t she turned toward Alvin and Mason, “Now, if no one else has any suggestions I’d like to break my knee caps now.”

  “I have a suggestion.” Everyone turned to see Tauggle appear next to Awilda. Without looking at her he continued, “I suggest you not waste your time.”

  Awilda suppressed the quivering in her voice, “Are you saying it won’t work?” When Tauggle didn’t respond she asked, “But why would he want me if I’m not one-hundred percent?”

  Tauggle’s laughter was melodious as it filled the expanse. “You humans and your loopholes,” he mused. When no one laughed with him he turned to Awilda. “My dear, even at one-hundred percent I’d hardly call you worthy of leading a massacre of the human race. Look at you,” he sized her up, “No offense, but you don’t exactly strike fear into my soul.” He held his hands clasped behind his back as he looked around the room. “Do any of you really think the devil himself cares about what state his victims are in when he takes them? If so you are sorely mistaken. He does not discriminate based on strength, gender or capabilities. He simply needs a beating heart; a warm blooded body to inhabit.” He watched as Awilda lowered her head and tried to control her heavy breathing.

  “So short of dying, there’s nothing I can do,” she whispered. “And even if I do die he’ll just find someone else. Does that about sum it up?” She asked, trying not to cry.

  Tauggle could feel a strain in his chest, “Oh, come now,” he cooed, “if it makes you feel any better you alone won’t be responsible. The other destroyer is as much to blame.”

  Awilda lifted her head and looked at the Limrid, “What other destroyer?”

  “Well the man, of course.” He looked around the room to see everyone listening to him intently. “You didn’t know? I’m sorry; sometimes I forget I’m the only one who’s actually seen it happen. Yes, there is a second destroyer; a man, needed for his strength, commanding sex and brutality. The woman is chosen merely for her fertility so she can breed.”

  “Who is the other destroyer?” Awilda asked.

  Tauggle shrugged, “There’s really no telling until you get there. The man isn’t prophesized, nor is he chosen. He volunteers. I suppose its Lucifer’s way of imposing gender roles. He was never a big fan of women’s lib.”

  Junior lifted his chin, “If you’ve seen it firsthan
d then you must know how to stop it.”

  “Your hand must be the one that ends the prophecy, but I could lend my services as somewhat of a liaison if need be.”

  “Has the destroyer ever survived?” Awilda’s small voice commanded everyone’s attention. “After the savior stopped the prophecy, I mean.”

  Tauggle looked upon the thin girl. Her big brown eyes shivered as she stared into his. With an apology he shook his head, “No.”

  Awilda wrapped her arms around her torso and lowered her eyes to her feet.

  “What will happen to you?” Cooper asked from the other side of the circle. She watched as Tauggle lifted his head and met her eyes. “Since she claimed you; if she doesn’t make it,” she spoke her words carefully, “where will that leave you?”

  Tauggle’s heart expanded in his chest as he listened to Cooper’s words. She looked so small as she sat on the floor next to Zeff. She wore a peach colored dress that reached her knees and exposed her shoulders beneath spaghetti straps. Her hair was twisted and lifted upward and pinned in the back, revealing the delicate curvature of her neck. He took a deep breath, “I don’t know. Awilda is the source of my power. I suppose if she dies, then I shall follow.” He furrowed his brow slightly as Cooper lowered her eyes to the floor. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was almost saddened at the prospect of his demise.

  The thought suddenly occurred to Tauggle. He had never cared much about dying. The idea never frightened him and witnessing death had never fazed him. But that was before. As he stood in the ballroom gazing upon the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen he realized – for the first time in his life he had something to lose. And even more startling; something to live for.

  10

  Las Vegas, Nevada…

  BeStone stood in the middle of an abandoned construction site. The workers were off duty at such an early hour and not a soul dared to wander this far out into the desert without a purpose. He waited patiently, flanked by Parag to his right and both Viattrice and Amelie to his left. The brothers were procuring arrangements in preparation for their arrival overseas.

  In the distance, on the other side of the construction site, they could see two figures approaching. One was a giant man; muscular, broad, and absolutely enormous. While he rivaled Parag in height he completely outshined him in mass. The other was an older gentlemen confined to a wheelchair with a blanket draped over his lap and legs.

  Viattrice leaned over and asked in a hushed voice, “Are you sure we need this bloke?”

  Without looking in her direction BeStone responded, “Absolutely.”

  “Why do they call him The Concierge?”

  “Because he gets you wherever you need to go.”

  The large brute pushed the man in the wheelchair closer and closer, stopping only a couple of yards in front of the gargoyles.

  The old man looked at the clan through his dark sunglasses and smiled, “It’s good to see you again BeStone.”

  “You as well, my friend. I see you made it out of the facility.”

  “I assume I have you to thank for that.”

  “No thanks are in order,” BeStone said, “Just business.”

  The Concierge took a deep breath and shook his head, “Are there no random acts of kindness in this world anymore?”

  “Not today.”

  “Very well, where is it you wish to go?”

  Without missing a beat BeStone answered, “Paris, France.”

  The Concierge’s brows popped over his sunglasses, “Paris? I thought she was in London.”

  BeStone narrowed his eyes, “How did you know?”

  The Concierge smiled, “I know many things BeStone.” He turned and looked at Amelie, “Many; many things.”

  Amelie recoiled as The Concierge stared at her. Viattrice stepped in front of the female. “Are you going to get us there or not?” She snapped.

  The old man’s smile grew even wider as he looked back to BeStone. “She’s feisty,” he mused. “I see why you keep her around.” He watched Viattrice sneer at the comment. “Don’t worry my dear,” he waved her off. “Gargoyle sex is hardly my cup of tea.”

  Viattrice clenched her fists and stepped toward the old man, only to stop short as the giant behind him stepped in her path. She strained her neck to look him in the eye as a growl rumbled in his throat.

  “Boulder,” The Concierge called to his young friend calmly, “Did we not have a talk about unprovoked aggression?”

  Boulder nodded.

  “And what did we agree was the correct course of action?”

  Boulder looked away from Viattrice and stepped back behind the wheelchair.

  “Very good,” The Concierge smiled. He looked at BeStone, “The Creators really did a number on him. They tried to make him hard as steel and in doing so removed some vital areas of his brain. He’s basically like a trained monkey,” The Concierge chuckled.

  After a moment of silence the old man conceded, “Alright then, Paris it is. I’ll arrange a transport by ship and as always my contact will be the one to stress the details to you. Now if that’s all I think there’s a buffet with my name on it somewhere in this town…”

  “One more thing,” BeStone interrupted.

  “And that is?”

  “Once there I need a meeting with Hasmukh.” He could feel Parag tensing beside him.

  The Concierge laughed, “Well then I suggest you knock on his front door and ask for one.”

  “He won’t agree to it if he knows I’m the one with the request. I need you to set it up anonymously.”

  The Concierge narrowed his eyes from behind his sunglasses, “Alright,” he drew out the last syllable, “but I do believe that makes two favors against your one.”

  BeStone nodded once, “You’ll be repaid.”

  “See, I don’t really like the way you said that.” When BeStone didn’t respond the old man smiled, “Now, now BeStone; you know what I like to hear.”

  “I owe you.”

  The Concierge rejoiced at the sound of those words. “Hot damn you do.”

  11

  London, England

  1 Week Later…

  Sunders emerged from his loo having just splashed his face with cold water from the tap. He opened his chest drawers hoping to find clean clothes. He had neglected to do the wash for a couple of weeks now and he was running out of options. He scowled as he pulled out the only shirt he had left; a plain black v-neck tee with a pocket on the chest. He opened another drawer to find a blue zippered fleece and decided that would have to do. Maybe he could claim he was implementing Casual Friday.

  Before turning to change into the only clean clothes he had left he stopped short at the sight of his reflection in the mirror that hung just above his dresser. The lighting in the bathroom was different and didn’t highlight his bloodshot eyes nearly as well as his overhead lighting. He grabbed his bottle of lubricating eye drops and popped in a few, hoping they would help clear the signs of his hangover. His drinking binges had become more frequent and he knew exactly who was to blame; Protectors.

  Since the arrival of half a dozen more Protectors, the faction had taken control of the Finders headquarters. They’d even packed themselves into the gym on the seventh floor, leaving Sunders without a haven for releasing aggression and self angst and therefore driving him to rely more heavily on his biggest vice; alcohol. Whenever he wanted to unleash on a heavy bag and feel the sting of sweat in his eyes all he could do was reach for another bottle of scotch, or whiskey, or rum. Hell, he’d settle for a swig of cough syrup; anything to take the edge off. He knew he had a problem when even he knew he had a problem.

  No matter, he wouldn’t be at work for more than a few hours today. He had promised someone his time this morning and he intended on keeping his appointment.

  Sunders finished dressing and heard some mumbling from his neighbors outside. He checked his watch and quickly made his way to the large picture window at the front of his flat. He opened the bl
inds just in time to see her.

  Sunders exhaled deeply as blood rushed to his groin at the sight of the female jogger. She had been passing by his flat every morning for almost a week now. Everyday; same time. A smirk played across his lips as he watched her lean and toned body bounce with every step. She was an athlete; he could tell by her muscular biceps and her strong thighs. She always wore a pair of small shorts revealing her pale skin and a tank that lay perfectly over her flat stomach. As usual she sported a baseball cap that sat low over her brow and her long brown hair was held together in loose hanging pigtails that shielded her profile. He didn’t know what her face looked like, but perhaps it was better that way. She probably had a dead tooth and a hairy mole or something. No, he liked the anonymity of it all. He liked to imagine her in his bed; him on top; holding onto the pigtails like a set of reigns.

  She passed by his flat and continued down the street without slowing her strides. He followed her and watched her tight ass as she moved further and further away. She was definitely the highlight of his mornings. And judging by the fact that his neighbors were all conveniently retrieving their papers at this time, he wagered she was the highlight of their mornings as well.

  Normally he wouldn’t worry too much about the competition. He wasn’t planning on pursuing his jogger anyway; but this was different. He lived in a shady neighborhood. The people that surrounded him were not the most upstanding citizens. The way they watched the jogger; eyed her; smiled at her; it made him want to bash their heads in. But then again, that could just be the lack of gym time talking.

  Sunders shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He needed to do something. He couldn’t go on like this. He felt like a ticking time bomb ready to explode in a monsoon of rage and alcohol.

  As he put on his jacket he thought of an idea he’d had during his drunken spell last night. He wanted to get rid of the Protectors and there was only one man that could do that. Well, one man that he knew and trusted, anyway; Bill Maines. If he could convince Bill to send the Protectors packing then everything could return to normal again. But in order for Bill to agree he’d have to see proof that the Protectors were doing more harm than good; which meant exposing the clan. It was risky. Although, the risk lied less with Bill and more with pitching the idea to the clan without getting his head ripped off. On second thought – maybe he should just forget the whole thing and join AA.