Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance

by Rach Elle

  “I’m going with you,” Cooper insisted.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “They took Tauggle with them; that’s why the tracer couldn’t track them at first. It probably couldn’t follow his, um, mode of transportation. And if they did take him then that means they might be expecting trouble.”

  “Or maybe it means they were only planning on being there for a minute and needed him to zap them there and zap them back right away. They’ll probably be back before me.”

  Cooper crossed her arms in front of her chest, “But in case of the former you really shouldn’t go alone.”

  Kingsley looked into the petite shifter’s eyes for a moment before finally nodding in agreement, “Maybe I should get Zeff.”

  Cooper shook her head, “No, someone needs to watch over the reception. He has a knack for keeping pissed blokes in line.”

  “No offense,” Kingsley began, “but if there is any sort of trouble in Wiltshire, then maybe you should be the one watching over the reception.”

  “Well, no offense,” Cooper bit back, “but you’re a psycho that tried to kill your own Responsibility. Face it mate; neither of us are each other’s first choice.”

  58

  Wiltshire, England…

  Junior steadied himself as his feet suddenly hit the paved driveway in the middle of an endless valley. Instantly he looked to his right and placed his hand on Awilda’s shoulder. She didn’t look at him or give any sign of appreciation for his consideration. Instead she stared straight ahead. Junior followed her line of sight to see a massive mansion sprawled out in front of them. “Where are we?” He asked under his breath.

  “That’s what I would like to know,” Tauggle answered, “This is the address you gave me.”

  Junior looked down at the girl next to him with the same question.

  Awilda shook her head slowly and shrugged, “I don’t recognize this place.” She began, “But I think we’re supposed to go inside.” She picked up her feet and moved forward, prompting Junior and Tauggle to follow.

  The three reached the front door to the mansion. It was a large, steel door with matching steel knocks and handles. Awilda took a deep breath and prepared herself to knock, stopping for only a half second to feel the cold night wind blowing through her hair and to listen to the soft sound of the creek that ran through the valley. She could barely see the door in front of her as the height of the mansion blocked the moonlight and engulfed her completely in shadow.

  Awilda swallowed the lump in her throat and shivered from the cold as her small hand gripped onto a steel ring. She slammed it against the door to knock three times and jolted backward as the door suddenly opened to reveal nothing and no one on the other side.

  Awilda peered into the mansion to see a well lit foyer with granite that sparkled along the floor. She looked up to see Tauggle reserved, yet curious. Her eyes drifted further to see Junior’s stoic expression; like he hadn’t made up his mind about this place. The fear crept up her spine that this was it – this was the prophecy. The war was about to begin and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it.

  “No.”

  Awilda looked back at Tauggle. The Limrid was staring at her; as if reading her mind. He answered her concern, “This is not where the prophecy begins.”

  “How do you know?” Junior asked.

  Tauggle crooked a brow as he studied the façade of the home in front of them, “The feeling grows stronger every day,” he began, “the war is coming. But this,” he shook his head, “this is something else entirely.”

  “Like what?”

  Awilda took a deep breath, “Only one way to find out.” She moved forward. With Junior hovering closely behind, she entered the mansion. Instantly, the pull she had felt just a moment ago; the wave of dread that had all but consumed her entirely – disappeared. Suddenly this was nothing more than an expansive home. And she suddenly felt no reason to be here.

  “Hello?” Awilda called, hoping someone would answer. But her voice merely echoed in the space too luxurious to touch. She looked ahead to see a flight of stairs leading to a balcony. She approached them and hesitantly placed her hand on the gold banister. “Hello?” She called again. Nothing. “I don’t understand,” she shook her head just as a slight movement played in her periphery. She turned and headed into what appeared to be a ballroom. It was far beyond the expanse of the Vanderburen’s ballroom. Well, the one they actually used, anyway.

  “Awilda,” Junior tried to call her back. When she didn’t respond he exhaled and headed toward her, entering the ballroom through the large open, French doors.

  Tauggle watched as Awilda and Junior marveled at the richness of the adjacent ballroom. He would have joined them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. This was most definitely not the prophecy, but that didn’t mean they were safe. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the foyer for something out of place. He listened for any sort of creature lurking around the corners or in the shadows. After a moment he considered this heavy feeling he had was merely paranoia; another human emotion that he loathed. He was about to shrug it off – as they would say – when his eyes caught a glimpse of something written on the back of the open front door.

  Tauggle approached the door and pulled it forward to reveal the steel stained with a symbol. He gasped violently and whipped his head toward the ballroom. “Get out!” he cried as he ran toward the room, “Now!”

  Junior and Awilda turned to look at him just as Junior’s feet were lifted from the floor and he was sent flying backward into the foyer and crashing into the wall. Awilda ran toward him, suddenly cut off by the French doors slamming shut; locking her in the ballroom. Tauggle turned back to the front door and ran toward it but it too slammed closed and locked.

  Junior quickly regained his composure and jumped to his feet. He ran back to the ballroom doors and latched onto the handles; trying to open them. But they wouldn’t budge. He could hear Awilda screaming for him on the other side as he pounded on the wood and called her name. His adrenaline pumped through his veins as his skin began to boil and morph.

  “Awilda!” Junior cried, “Stand back!” He clenched his fist and punched the door as hard as he could just as he shifted; his wings and tail protruded through his clothing; his bulging muscles tore through his white button up shirt entirely. His eyes burned red as he took a step back to realize his punch hadn’t done the slightest bit of damage.

  He turned to Tauggle, “Open these doors,” he demanded.

  “I can’t.”

  “What?!” Junior roared.

  “They’re warded against my powers,” the Limrid said bitterly, “See the symbols on the doors? They’re everywhere. We couldn’t leave this place if we tried,” he motioned to the same symbols stained on the steel front doors. “As much as I hate to admit it,” Tauggle’s shoulders slumped, “There’s a stronger force at work here.”

  Junior’s heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach as he thought of Awilda alone in the other room, “And what force is that?” He asked, trying to keep himself calm.

  Tauggle opened his mouth, preparing to speak the name of the creature behind this all when suddenly Junior was knocked backward again; his feet lifting from the floor and his body slamming against the wall. But this time he didn’t fall to the ground. This time he stayed exactly where he was; pinned against the wall and unable to move.

  Tauggle looked to the opposite end of the foyer as a figure began to emerge into the light. The dark haired man sauntered to a stop with his hands in his pockets and a smug grin on his face. He looked at Tauggle and narrowed his nearly black eyes. A burst of wind crashed into the Limrid but Tauggle stood his ground, resisting the power. The man scowled as he stared at the creature before him, realizing what he was. “Nice eyes,” he sniffed.

  Tauggle squared his shoulders and stared down the man for only a moment before stretching his lips into an evil grin. His gold eyes suddenly flicked to black, “Don�
�t worry,” he laughed devilishly, “They’re just for show.”

  Awilda pounded on the doors, crying for Junior to get her out when suddenly the brightly lit ballroom was plunged into blackness. She stopped screaming and banging and instead froze; her eyes trying desperately to adjust to the darkness.

  A small sound came from the opposite end of the ballroom. Reluctant and frightened, she slowly turned to see a dim ball of light. It began to grow brighter and brighter until it barely illuminated the path between it and her. Awilda soon realized she wasn’t staring across a luxurious ballroom anymore. To her left was a sofa and to her right was a recliner. There was a glass coffee table in the center with doilies and plants and the TV guide. Awilda’s eyes widened as she realized she was standing in her grandparent’s living room.

  A light shuffle caught her attention and she whipped her head to the left. She jolted only slightly as a pair of young eyes stared back at her. Awilda stood in awe at the sight of the young girl – no older than twelve – wearing a yellow cotton pajama top and matching pair of bottoms. Her hair was dark and long as it cascaded over her shoulders.

  Without saying a word the little girl turned and headed toward the dim light at the other end of the space; passing through the living room. Suddenly the memories came flooding back; filling Awilda’s brain with sorrow and horror. It was all too familiar; the soft ticking from the clock on the wall; the small light in the kitchen; and the little girl getting up in the middle of the night wondering who else was awake at such a late hour. Awilda could remember wearing those exact same pajamas. She could remember rounding the corner into the kitchen to see her grandfather poring over papers like a madman. Subconsciously, she rubbed her arm as she remembered her grandfather grabbing her, digging his fingers into her fragile skin. He threw her against the cabinetry and pulled out a large knife. He recited a prayer too fast for her to understand a single word before he lifted the knife…

  May God take you anyway…

  Awilda’s eyes shot open; not realizing she had closed them. In front of her the little girl approached the entryway into the kitchen. She was just about to round the corner.

  “No!” Awilda called to her, “Stop!” But the little girl didn’t listen, she continued to move forward. Awilda picked up her feet and ran as fast as she could, whisking through the pristine living room and reaching the girl just as she crossed the threshold.

  Awilda came to a screeching halt as she and her younger self stared straight ahead at a male figure. He stood over the sink with his back to the girls.

  “Awilda,” the man said. Awilda’s heart jumped into her throat as her grandfather turned around with a large knife in his hand.

  Awilda cupped her hands over her mouth as she gasped at the sight of him, “No,” she breathed – pleaded – as tears ran down her cheeks.

  The stern, elderly man took a deep breath before finally relaxing his shoulders and placing the knife on the counter, “What are you doing up?” He asked softly.

  “I wanted some water,” the little girl said, “What are you doing up?”

  William, her grandfather, looked down at the large sandwich sitting next to him on a plate. It was stacked as high as it could go with meats, veggies and condiments spread to every corner of the bread slices. “I’m just having a midnight snack,” he said.

  The little girl licked her lips, “Can I have some?”

  William thought for a moment, “Alright, but you know the rule…”

  “Don’t tell grandma.”

  The little girl hopped over to the stool at the breakfast bar and climbed on top. She watched happily as William retrieved another plate and used the knife to slice the sandwich. He put the smaller half on the young girl’s plate and slid it over to her.

  As William turned and headed to the refrigerator to get his granddaughter some milk, Awilda slowly entered the kitchen. Her hands now hung loosely at her sides and her tears dried against her cheeks. A smile cautiously spread across her face as she watched her younger self take a bite of one of her grandfather’s famous sandwiches. She remembered how they could only have them when her grandma wasn’t around. She said they had too much salt and made grandpa’s feet swell. A new tear filled her eye, but it wasn’t from fear; it was nostalgia. She’d almost completely forgotten about those sandwiches.

  “Awilda…”

  Awilda spun around at the sound of her name. The living room was suddenly bright and cheery. Her chest swelled with emotion at the sight of her grandmother standing in front of the front window; the natural light of day filling the space with life.

  “Awilda,” Gayle called again, “they’re here.”

  “Okay grandma,” the little girl ran into the living room with a pink backpack that she slung onto the sofa.

  “You didn’t forget to pack anything, did you?”

  The little girl shook her head, “No.”

  A knock sounded at the door, “Come in!” Gayle called.

  The door opened and a man poked his head inside. He was tall and lean. His face was clean shaven and his brown hair bounced effortlessly as he entered the house. He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth, “Hi mom.”

  “James,” Gayle greeted him, “How was the trip?”

  “Couldn’t have been any better,” he placed his hands on his hips, “Well, except I missed my favorite person in the world.”

  “Hi daddy,” the little girl ran to James and hugged him. “Hey Wills,” her father cooed into her ear.

  Awilda stood at a distance watching the embrace that she couldn’t remember ever receiving from her father.

  She didn’t know what was happening. She could only assume she was dreaming. She had passed out – or perhaps she was knocked out – and now she was dreaming of her family and the way they should have been. She took a heavy breath; watching the love between the girl and her father. And even though she knew it wasn’t real, she didn’t want it to end.

  The little girl looked up from her father’s embrace and said a word that nearly brought Awilda to her knees, “Momma!”

  Awilda’s eyes flooded with tears instantly at the sound of that word. She stopped breathing entirely as a woman entered the home.

  Awilda could feel her knees wobbling beneath her as she looked upon her mother for the first time. She was beautiful. She was tall and thin with long blonde hair that curled at the ends. Her skin was like porcelain and her smile was brighter than Awilda had ever imagined. She held out her arms and hugged the little girl, stroking her hair with her gentle fingers; kissing her forehead and leaving a tiny, pink lipstick mark.

  William entered the living room and stood next to Awilda, “Glad you two had fun.”

  “We did,” James said, “Thanks for watching Wills for us.”

  “It was no trouble at all,” Gayle smiled, “We’re always happy to watch our granddaughter.”

  “Yeah,” William agreed, “this is how it should be, don’t you think?”

  Awilda watched as her mother hugged her younger self, wishing like hell the woman would embrace her too.

  “Awilda,” her mother said just as she looked up and locked eyes with her.” Awilda jolted slightly as her mother stared at her sternly. “Well,” she pushed, “answer your grandfather.”

  Awilda was suddenly overcome with shock as she noticed her father and grandmother were staring at her as well. Slowly, she looked to her right to see her grandfather’s eyes boring into hers. She recoiled, “What?” Was all she could manage to say.

  “This is how it should have been,” William said darkly. “But instead you destroyed our family.”

  Awilda’s quivering eyes darted to the little girl, hoping for some understanding; but she was gone. The room dimmed and darkened and was suddenly plunged into blackness except for the four people in front of her; spotlighted ominously and horrifically.

  She backed away as they all moved toward her; slowly and angrily. Their skin paled as the spotlights cast harsh shadows across their faces. Dark circ
les appeared beneath eyes that seemed to cave into their sockets.

  “You destroyed our family Awilda,” William said again, “You killed us all.”

  Awilda shook her head, “No, I was cursed,” she stammered, “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Enough,” Gayle demanded, “No more excuses. Even after all you’ve done to us; even after knowing what you truly are and what your destiny is, you still don’t take responsibility.”

  “What do you mean?” Awilda’s voice cracked with fear as the four stalked her.

  “More people are going to die,” Gayle continued, “Countless; innocent people.”

  “Please,” Awilda begged, hoping they would stop blaming her for their deaths, “Junior is going to stop the prophecy. And if he has to kill me to do it then I’m willing to accept that.”

  Gayle shook her head, “And how many more people do you have to kill before that happens?”

  “I didn’t kill any of you,” her voice was smaller than she’d hoped.

  “Not firsthand,” Gayle cut her off, “but we are all dead because of you.”

  “No!” Awilda cupped her hands over her ears, trying to drown out her grandmother’s words, “It’s not my fault! None of this is my fault!”

  Awilda took another step back and could feel her body bump into another. She opened her eyes to see her deceased family standing in front of her; all accounted for. Slowly, she turned around; praying Junior was here to whisk her away. Instead her eyes widened at the sight of a tall, robust gargoyle with short blonde hair and long ears that drooped to the sides like a puppy. “Bawli,” Awilda gasped. She changed directions and began backing away toward a corner as Bawli now led the others; slowly closing in on her.

  “Do you really believe my death is not your fault?” Bawli asked without any joviality in his English accent. “You introduced us to the Finder; convinced us to trust him.”