by E A Price
“You don’t think that?”
“Would I be here if I did?”
Ric rumbled softly. “Why does he call you peanut?”
Brenda giggled. “Apparently, it was one of my first words. Chris took me to the circus and there was this elephant called Peanut, and I was allowed to pet him. After that, I’m told I kept chanting his name – non-stop for three weeks. Peanut kind of stuck.”
“That is a very nice story.”
“Did your parents give you a pet name?”
“Cow crusher.”
“Oh… that’s… hmmm.”
“The first time I flew I landed heavily on a cow. Unfortunately nearly all my clan witnessed it, and I was known as cow crusher for a long time.”
Brenda cackled with laughter and after some grouching he joined in.
“I love you, human.”
“I love you, too, gargoyle.”
They kissed, and all too soon he groaned and pulled away.
“Come, mate; our chief awaits us for the ceremony.”
“Five more minutes?” she asked, pouting.
“Do not tempt me. I would gladly fly you away and have my wicked way with you right now if I did not think our chief would send someone to find us. He would tear anyone apart for ruining his time alone with his mate but would think nothing of interrupting ours.”
“You’re right; I don’t want anyone else seeing you naked. Or to hear that sound I make during sex.”
“I love that sound you make. It sends me wild.” He mimicked her moan, and she slapped his arm.
Shakily she stood up with Ric’s hands clamped onto her hips. He smiled at her before clasping her and diving off the roof.
“Don’t you dare drop meeeeee!”
Chapter Forty-Three
Blackthorne poured himself a drink.
Things had not exactly gone to plan. Adler was dead. Marsters was up in arms because her niece was dead. Bell and his men had been arrested. And they had lost the facility, one of the facilities anyway. Lucifer did not appear to know of the others.
Adler was a loss, but he was an old man, barely kept alive by magic. Blackthorne did not know how old he had been, but he heard a rumor that Adler had been a doctor in Germany in the 1940’s – god only knows what he got up to there. He was an excellent doctor, and finding the right kind of like-minded person to continue his research would be hard. But creating an army that would not turn to stone at the first rays of a sunny day would be worth it.
Thankfully, he had contacts to deal with Bell and his men before they said too much. He’d already blabbed about the gargoyles’ existence. Thankfully the FBI had not believed him. He and his men would be found dead in their cells the next morning.
They needed a replacement for Adler on the council; Blackthorne could do without another contentious old fool, but the other members of the community would expect it. Not that Adler was ever a problem. Unlike the rest, he was so agreeable over everything - as long as the matter in hand did not interfere with his own agenda. He was so focused on his own obsession with creating the perfect gargoyle that he could care less about the decisions Blackthorne made. No, the man was always a good ally. He raised his glass in salute to the old doctor.
They needed to find the next person in his family’s line for the council. Finding a direct descendant who still had magic would be difficult. But Morgan Le Fay, may the gods bless her magnificent soul, had five council members and so would they. Even after all these years, traditions were important. They had to keep them alive if they were ever to go back to the way things were.
Twenty-Six was gone, but she was no great loss. The insolent female was more irritating than useful, and they still had all Adler’s notes on how he created her.
Blackthorne poured another drink. He shivered as he felt another presence. Why the fuck did he even have security? His hand curled into a fist, ready to throw a fireball – for all the good it would do.
“What are you doing here?” he asked calmly. “How did you get in?”
“Your spells are almost as laughable as your security guards,” purred Ophelia.
She sauntered into the room as if she owned it, and had the gall to pour herself a drink. Unlike the other gargoyles who had recently ambushed him, her mannerisms were almost human. She was less stiff than the others, perhaps a product of her ten years living among humans. Though there was still an underlying animalistic trait to her movements. Like a smug cat waiting to pounce.
Ophelia gave him a toothy smile, and he collapsed into a chair. This was the last thing he needed.
“What do you want?”
“Your piece,” she replied simply.
“My piece?”
Ophelia sighed theatrically. “Do not pretend ignorance. Your piece of the original spell that awakened all the gargoyles. I know you have one. Holling told me it was broken up into pieces and given to the heads of the families. Given how anal your family always was, even back in my day, I am sure you still have it, passed down from generation to generation.”
Blackthorne raised an eyebrow. “You have Holling’s piece?”
“Almost,” she hissed. “Now where is yours?”
“You really expect to be able to try and use it to create new gargoyles? Do you not think we thought of that already? It would take a magician as strong of Merlin and in case you hadn’t noticed, there are no more dragons. Besides two of the pieces are missing, most likely destroyed.”
She rolled a shoulder, completely unconcerned. “Then I will have to improvise.”
He paused. “What exactly is it you want? I thought you and Holling were working together? But you killed him.”
“I did you a favor.”
“How kind of you to think of me.”
She shook the whiskey bottle at him, offering him a refill, and he accepted. Well if she wanted to be civilized, why not?
“Holling was working for himself,” she said as she poured him a double. “He wanted to bring them back so he could take over the council and then the world.”
“He certainly had ambition.”
“Are you saying you do not wish to have an army of gargoyles to do the same?”
Blackthorne chuckled. “Rule the entire world? Me? Good lord, no. I am not capable of that.”
“So why all the trouble to get the gargoyles? Why let Adler do his little experiments to get rid of our stony allergy to sunlight?”
“There has only ever been one being capable of ruling the world, and her time is coming again. When it does, all of her true disciples will be by her side.”
Ophelia actually looked at him like he was crazy. Which was a bit rich coming from her. “You’re talking about Morgan Le Fay.”
“Indeed.”
“She died before even I was born.”
“No, she was banished – beings like her never truly die. She is just waiting to return, and when she does, her loyal allies will be rewarded.”
“You’re nuts.”
“No, I am lucky. The prophets said that her arrival would be heralded by the arrival of a descendant of the first gargoyle.”
“Luc,” she breathed, her face turning stormy.
“Quite. He has a part to play in her return.”
Ophelia flexed her wings. Her eyes flashed in fury. “If you dare hurt him…”
Blackthorne chuckled. “Still holding a torch for him I see. We would not hurt him – we have been waiting hundreds of years for him to be revived. But, I do not believe that fate has him in your future.”
“We’ll see. Now, your piece.”
“Destroyed over a hundred years ago – however, my great grandfather was particularly anal, and he transcribed his part of the spell.” He found the book and tossed it to her. “For all the good it will do you, take it.”
Ophelia nodded and walked away.
“What?” he asked. “You’re leaving? Just like that.”
She snorted. “What did you expect?” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Sorry to disappoint. But you are somewhat useful, and I may need you for my plans. For now, you may live.”
The female stepped out onto the porch and flew away into the night.
Blackthorne gazed at her diminishing form as she disappeared into the black sky. He smiled dimly and closed the doors.
The other council members would probably throw a fit if they knew about this. They were of the opinion that Ophelia was more trouble than she was worth. Perhaps that was true, but Blackthorne bore her no particular ill will. She disposed of Holling – that was one less headache. She might yet prove useful again and may play a part in their future endeavors. As yet the full prophecies - ramblings of Morgan Le Fay’s sister, Morgause – were not entirely clear. But when she stopped being useful, then she would be taken care of.
First things first, he really needed to fire his personal security.
To be continued…
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