by Rach Elle
Awilda watched in horror as Simon’s orange stare continued over his shoulder toward the second clan, the animalistic growl forcing his upper lip to curl backward to reveal his teeth.
“Fazal,” BeStone commanded, “I claim…”
Crisp opened his mouth and screamed; the sound too loud and piercing for human ears; let alone shifter ones. Everyone covered their ears and cringed in pain. Awilda watched in horror as Simon’s blonde hair suddenly shot to white. His ears lengthened and his body frame morphed; as if his screech was exhausting all semblance of Dr. Simon Crispin.
Once the frequency had officially brought the two clans to their knees, Fazal stopped his screaming and took off running toward BeStone. Cypro and Augmen stood to cut him off but Fazal didn’t slow his strides. He disappeared just before reaching the brothers and reappeared on the other side of BeStone. Amelie stood up and tried to land her punch square on his jaw, but Fazal dodged and responded with a backhand that sent her flying across the room.
Fazal lunged at BeStone only to feel Parag’s large hand grab him by the scruff of the neck and pull him back. Fazal hung by Parag’s grip, his feet dangling. He looked into the eyes of the Indian gargoyle, smiled, then poof!
Zeff, Kingsley and Bawli corralled the others and pulled them into the dining hall where Awilda and Junior watched from a safe distance.
“Whose side are we on?” Alvin whispered to Mason as his friend just shrugged and shook his head.
“Neither,” Tauggle answered.
Parag looked around, trying to figure out the Limrid’s next move when suddenly he reappeared behind Viattrice. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Parag bared his fangs and moved forward.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Fazal spoke. He lifted his other hand and stared at it longingly as the smooth fingernail of his right pointer extended and sharpened into an even smoother blade of a knife. He held it to Viattrice’s throat. “Hello Parag,” Fazal sneered, “I wish I could say it’s good to see you.”
The brothers, Cypro and Augmen tackled the Limrid from behind with a length of chain, knocking Viattrice to the ground. Parag ran to help her up. But it came as no surprise to him and stung only a little when she rejected him and got to her own feet.
The Limrid struggled on the ground as the brothers wrapped the chain around him haphazardly. Fazal began to panic, unable to penetrate the hold. He watched as BeStone Soltan slowly approached, sizing up his prey just before the kill.
“Fazal,” BeStone said with an egomaniacal sneer, “I claim you… again.”
A bright, white light exploded off of the creature as he cried in pain. The two clans shielded their eyes until the light softened and dissipated and all that was left was a claimed, shackled Limrid.
The castle was eerily still and quiet with a heavy, dark cloud that hovered low enough to touch. Slowly, Alvin and Mason turned their heads toward Awilda, prompting the rest of the clan to do the same. They all took a step to the side, parting their grouping of bodies like the Red Sea; creating a pathway for the girl.
Awilda had never felt so empty and lifeless. She knew she needed to do something; fall to her knees, run to her bedroom, scream and lash out violently; something. But she couldn’t bring herself to do any of it. She began to move forward; her body on autopilot. Her skin trembled – the only thing that told her she was still alive.
She reached the end of the pathway and didn’t hesitate before leaving her friends behind and entering the living room; alone and naked. She stopped and stared at the scene before her.
Simon looked the same only exaggerated; like he was wearing a Limrid costume for Halloween. His frame was smaller; thinner. His facial features were elongated; his once chiseled chin now too long. His soft skin now wrapped around harsh cheek bones and his ears drew to pointed tips. His once luscious, perfect blonde hair was stark white and hung as low as his elbows. But the most jarring feature, she thought, were his eyes. The mysterious gray that harbored so much intensity, intimidation and warmth all at the same time were now blood orange. Awilda took a deep breath and forced her brain to process the creature that sat chained on the floor.
Her words were difficult for her to conjure, even though they were only in her head – Simon was gone; forever.
BeStone’s gaze drifted downward to his Limrid. “It is time,” he said, watching the creature’s orange eyes meet his. “You need to tell her who you truly are; who you’ve always been and who you’ll always be.”
Awilda held her breath as the Limrid looked toward her. His brow was pulled downward in the center and his mouth draped in a soft frown. He looked almost… sorry.
“I had hoped you would never see me like this,” he began, his voice the one feature that remained the same.
“Tell her,” BeStone demanded.
The creature stared into the girl’s eyes, “I am the Limrid Fazal.”
Awilda could feel her head slowly turning from side to side, wishing this all would end. “This isn’t real,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid it is,” BeStone began, “Fazal was once my Limrid long ago. I suppose it’s true what they say,” he looked back to the pitiful creature, “history does have a way of repeating itself.”
“You knew all along,” Awilda ignored the gargoyle, “You knew I wasn’t crazy.” Her voice grew stronger and stronger with each word. “But it was you that ordered more and more tests. You prescribed drug after drug knowing that none of them would work.”
“That’s not true,” Fazal tried to interrupt, “I was hoping they…”
“Shut up!” Awilda’s shrill voice boomed from her throat, surprising everyone; especially her. “You interjected yourself into my life,” she continued, “and for what? So you could laugh at me when I described my nightmares? So you could watch me go crazy?” Tears began to form in her eyes. “All those times that I described Limrids, I was actually talking about you.” She clenched her jaw and glared into those orange eyes. “You were my nightmare.”
Fazal wanted to speak. He wanted to explain everything to her, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. Ultimately, he had betrayed her, despite his true intentions. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her pivot sharply to leave the room; no doubt heading upstairs to be alone and think about what a terrible creature he was. He hung his head and exhaled. This truly was the paved path to hell.
25
Sunders had woken up a couple of hours earlier. He sat at his writing desk, staring out his picture window, and nursing his hangover. The diner that sat just beyond the end of his street served the raunchiest, greasiest, most morbidly obese breakfast known to man; and it was exactly what he needed. He looked down at his Styrofoam to-go box filled with various meats and syrups and forced another forkful into his mouth. As he slowly chewed he stretched his arms over his head, hoping to create more room in his gut. He needed to sober up fast.
An hour after finishing his breakfast and upchucking most of it in the loo, his watch told him he needed to get ready. He quickly brushed his teeth for the eighth time, got dressed, and laced up a pair of runners he hadn’t worn in ages. He returned to his seat in front of his window and waited.
Sunders listened intently through his single pane picture window. He could hear the steady hum of a passing car; the drain hole as the vehicle drove over it, and the constant swishing as the tires kicked up the water and sent it splashing back to the ground. It had apparently rained the night before.
His eyes drifted upward to see the cloudy, dreary sky. He couldn’t hear any birds or the senseless chatting of neighbors. Just the wind as it sent a few rogue leafs sailing past his line of sight. It was indeed a sleepy, calm Saturday morning.
The sound of a door slamming shut jarred Sunders a little. Then another, then the image of his neighbor across the way ripping their curtains open appeared. He glanced down at his watch. It was time.
Like clockwork, the slight, small sound of shoes hitting the sidewalk thumped to a perfect beat. He stood
from his chair and opened his front door, allowing the cold air to chill him to the bone. His nips tightened instantly from the blast. But he sucked it up and stepped outside in his muscle tee and a pair of brand new running shorts just as Rula Jones appeared from around the corner.
“Rue!” Sunders called out. She didn’t answer. “Rue!” He called again as he took off running toward her, crossing the street hoping their paths would intersect. He knew this was her comfort zone; jogging. She did it every day without fail. And if she wasn’t going to give him the time of day otherwise – well – then she would just have to listen to his apology as he jogged right along beside her.
Rue couldn’t hear anything beyond the music pumping from her ear buds. But out of the corner of her eye she saw something moving toward her. She turned and her eyes widened at the sight of Sunders Harper. He wore a pair of shoes that looked like they’d been run over by a semi. His shorts were bright red and so unbelievably short that if he bent over she was pretty sure he’d flash the entire neighborhood. Her eyes drifted upward to see the bright green sweatbands around his wrists and one to match around his forehead. She wanted to stop jogging. She wanted to revel in the sight of him and just… laugh. Like, full on belly laugh at how ridiculous this man looked. But she was pissed. And she would just have to settle for this quick glance instead.
Rue turned her head to face forward, picked up her pace, and began running down the street.
“Wait!” Sunders called to her. With a groan he picked up his pace and began running after her with all of his neighbors watching. “Rue!” He called between strides, “I’m sorry!” Man, she’s fast.
Rue continued her steady pace as Sunders struggled to keep up. He was seriously cursing himself for that greasy breakfast this morning. Although, he needed it to cure the hangover; so maybe he should be cursing the excessive shandies last night? Either way, he fucked up somewhere; story of his life. But he refused to slow.
As he ran down his street, rounded the corner and moved up another block, he winced with every stride. A pain shot through his right ankle, another pinged his left ass cheek, and on top of it all his shorts were riding up into no-man’s-land.
“Rue,” he heaved, “please!”
Finally, Rue slowed to a stop. A few seconds later Sunders managed to catch up to her; bent at the waist, hands on his knees, breathing uncontrollably.
Rue watched as the Scotsman tried to catch his breath. She rolled her eyes, removed her ear buds, reached out and patted him on the back, “You okay?”
Sunders nodded his head, sweat dripping from his brow despite the band. “Your… cardio…” he stammered, “amazing.”
Rue shrugged, “I’ve had a lot of practice. You on the other hand,” she let her sentence trail off as he finally stood up and placed his hands on his hips, still trying to catch his breath.
“Are you saying I didn’t impress you?” He asked, forcing a coy smile.
“Well, kudos for the distance, but I’m going to have to deduct points for style.”
Sunders looked down at his attire and pulled on his shorts just enough to remove the bulk of the wedgie from his butt. “Really?” he began. “The lass at the store said it was standard running wear.”
Rue muffled a giggle, “Well, tell that lass you want a full refund; plus interest.”
Sunders had officially caught his breath. His face dropped from jovial to apologetic in an instant. “Thank you,” he began, “for stopping to talk to me.”
Rue reciprocated with a shrug, “I didn’t stop for you,” she looked to her left at a red door. “I live here.”
“Oh,” he said solemnly.
“But since you’re here too,” she sighed, “I guess I can listen to what you have to say.”
Without missing a beat, “I’m sorry.” Sunders locked onto her green eyes and never wavered as he spoke. “I’m sorry I had you removed from my team. I’m having a difficult time with this investigation and if I’m brutally honest I don’t even want Corey involved.”
Rue cocked her head to the side, “Why?”
Sunders knew he couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t reveal to her that he’d already discovered an entire clan of gargoyles and that he was actually trying to lead the DAA away from them rather than to them. He couldn’t reveal that by having other members on his team he had to constantly give them work that directly related to the investigation but wouldn’t actually help the investigation in any way and it was all becoming too much to handle. “Because I’m afraid that if I fail then I’ll bring everyone on my team down with me.” It wasn’t a total lie.
Rue felt jarred by the response. Her mind immediately flashed to the conversation she’d had with Wade and Chase in the hall of United Financial. They had said nearly the exact same thing; that Sunders Harper would fuck up and take everyone down with him. She suddenly felt sad for the man before her.
She knew this whole investigation thing was just a front. Sunders had located gargoyles a couple of weeks ago. But something in the tone of his voice and the sincerity in his eyes told her he truly believed the hype – or lack thereof – that he was a failure.
“I accept your apology,” she heard herself say.
Sunders smiled warmly, “Thank you. Now,” he clapped his hands to break the somber mood, “what about that flat hunting?”
Rue crooked a brow, “What?”
“I offered to help you find a new flat. And since we’re on speaking terms again, that’s exactly what I’m going to do; if you’ll let me.”
Rue smiled, “Okay,” she drew out the syllable. “I’m free this afternoon.”
“Perfect.”
Rue turned and reached for her doorknob. She stopped just before letting herself in and looked back at Sunders. “Would you like to come in and sit down for a minute? You know, before having to walk back to your place?”
Sunders could feel the sweat that covered his body hardening and freezing in the cold air, “Aye, thanks.”
She opened the door, “Maybe while we’re out we can return those shorts too.”
“I don’t think they’ll take them.”
“Why not?”
He made a show of picking the rest of his wedgie out of his ass, “They’ve officially gone places no one should ever go.” Laughter burst from her lips as he continued, “And this neighborhood has seen things that can’t be unseen.” His heart pounded with excitement as he entered her flat to the joyous sound of her laughter.
26
“Absolutely no way is that going to happen,” Zeff put his foot down.
“First of all,” Cooper shot back, “you’re not my daddy. You can’t tell me what to do. And secondly, I’m the only one that makes sense.”
“What about me?” Kingsley interjected. The clan of shifters stared at him for a moment. Then, without acknowledging his suggestion, continued their bickering.
“All I’m saying,” Cooper continued, “is that if any one of us should be the one to meet Sunders’ Finder friend then it should be the gargoyle that’s the least threatening. I’m short, skinny, and female. If there’s any chance of this bloke converting to our side and ordering the Protectors off our trail then he needs to feel safe around us.”
“She’s got a point,” Junior nodded.
“No,” Zeff clenched his jaw. “I’ll be the one to do it.”
Everyone laughed.
“What?” Zeff asked, “I can be unthreatening.”
“Yeah,” Bawli cut in, “and I can be a GQ model.”
Cooper shook her head, “No, see, it can’t be Junior for obvious reasons; shame to lose the savior to a possible Protector ambush just before the war. And it can’t be Zeff because lets face it; he’s basically Junior’s right hand man.”
Zeff crinkled his nose, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bawli smiled, “It means he’s Batman and you’re Robin.”
“I can do it,” Kingsley chimed in.
No one responded.
�
��What about me?” Bawli asked.
Zeff shook his head, “No way Bawls. We have no idea how this thing’s going to go. If the Finder is right and this bloke will help us, then ace. But if it ends up being a trap then things could get beastly.” He looked back at Cooper, “Neither of you need to put yourselves in danger like this…”
“Hey!” Kingsley bellowed. Everyone stopped their chatting and looked at the old man.
Kingsley looked around the room at the shifters, aggravated, offended, and just downright pissed off. “I’ve offered twice now to be the one to meet this guy. But no one has said a word. Hell, no one even took the time to shoot me down.”
“What’s your point?” Cooper asked flatly.
“My point is that I’m the perfect candidate. I’m an old man; unthreatening. I was in the park a few weeks back with the other Protectors, so we won’t give them any reason to believe the clan stretches any further than me. I can handle myself if things go awry and I am of no importance to this clan.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Junior began, “You’re Awilda’s shifter.”
“Exactly,” Kingsley shrugged, “I’m the only one of us who won’t be able to fight against her when she goes all Linda Blair on us. If something were to happen to me it would probably fare well for the rest of you.”
“And… there it is,” Cooper rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“Oh come on,” she crossed her arms in front of her chest, “You’ve already tried to kill her just so you could die. Are we really supposed to believe you won’t try something again?”
“I’ve told you,” Kingsley grumbled, “per the Lord’s will I can’t die until after Awilda does. She won’t even be anywhere near the meeting when it happens. How could I try something?”
Cooper rolled her eyes, “I’ve heard this swan song from you before King. Shifters can die before their Responsibilities do. We’re not immortal or invincible.”
“But I can’t. I’ve tried to take my own life; many times.”