by Vi Lily
Avisha had scratched his head over that for quite a bit.
The girl's startling turquoise eyes searched his face. "You're a dragon?" she whispered.
Avisha had to fight not to roll his eyes, so as not to offend the lass. Why do humans have such a fascination with the dragons, who are evil?
"Nay lass," he said gently. "I'm a gargoyle. One o' the Fallen Moral."
Her eyes squinted at him as she processed that. Strangely, she didn't seem to know the name "Fallen Moral." But in his day, everyone knew of the fallen angels—both good and bad.
He could tell the lass had decided she'd have more questions for him later, but she had more pressing matters on her mind.
"I'm Gwendolyn," she hiccupped, "but just Gwen." She looked around the chamber, her intelligent eyes seeming to take in every detail.
"How long have I been here? Am I in a castle?"
He frowned at the unfamiliar word. "Cas-sell? What is that, lass?"
The girl returned his frown. "You don't know what a castle is?"
Before he could even respond, her voice turned to a plea as she caught on to her former thought.
"I need my sister," she cried as her beautiful eyes filled with tears once more. She seemed to realize her thoughts were scattered and she shook her head slightly, then winced at the pain that the movement obviously caused.
Avisha understood that Gwen's thoughts were confused, and she was having a hard time focusing on one subject. He'd knocked his own skull enough times to know how it happened.
Her cry turned to a wail as she clutched at his arms. "She's out there in the woods, in a cave. And she's just a baby! Barely three years old..."
She was getting more upset with each breath and he knew he had to put her fears to rest. The situation would be difficult to explain, but he somehow knew that she would understand.
"Lass, yer sister is fine," he soothed. "And afore ye ask it, aye, she is here. I will summon her fer ye in a bit."
Avisha watched as the crease between her eyes eased, only to form once again as another worry crossed her confused mind. He reached a paw up, amazed that she didn't so much as flinch while he gently ran a claw over the line. In fact, she closed her eyes and leaned into his paw, as if she craved his touch.
But then she seemed to come to herself and pushed back to stare at him. "How did you—" Gwen cleared her throat then and darted her eyes over his wings.
"Um, I mean, wasn't she, uh, um, scared…of you?"
Avisha chuckled at her hesitation. He wondered if she was afraid of making him feel uncomfortable, if she was worried about hurting him in some way.
He shook his head. "Nay, the wee lassie thought I was one o' the Fae. And I thought bein' mistaken fer a dragon was insultin'," he teased and chuckled as the girl's cheeks reddened.
"She didnae even hesitate to come with me when I told her ye were waitin'."
In fact, when he moved the shrubbery away from the small cave and peered in, the child had just stared at him with wide eyes the color—or colors, more accurately—of which he'd never seen before. He had thought the older lass's eyes were strange, but the wee one's were—well, they were startling. Indescribably beautiful, but startling, to be sure.
With a trust he had never experienced before, not even in human form, the child had immediately lifted her arms to him to be picked up, then she'd reached up to his face, with no fear at all. The little bit had actually petted him as she whispered how she'd been waiting for "the king of the fairies" to come rescue her. He laughed to himself when he remembered the way the wee one had scolded him for "being late." Scolded him while whispering, that is.
In fact, the girl had spent her first few hours whispering. It took Mistress Kate and him quite a bit of encouragement to get her to speak up to where they could hear her without straining.
Avisha brought his thoughts back to the thin girl in his arms. Carlie had certainly been more well-fed, a testament to her older sister's care and concern, and to her willingness to sacrifice for her young sister.
"But I must admit that I thought ye were the lass's mother, and that is what I told her."
The crease was back between her brows. "Mother? Why would you think that? I mean, seriously, I'm only eighteen."
Avisha chuckled again. "When ye were injured, ye asked me to get yer 'baby'. Now I realize ye must have meant 'baby sister'." He ran a paw over her head once again and slid his claw down her jaw, careful to use the backside, as the things were sharper than his sword.
"But in my time, a lass such as yerself would have had a houseful o' young by now. But yer no' married, are ye now?"
Avisha couldn't help but ask the question, even though he'd almost talked himself into out of the idea of being mated to the girl. He just couldn't see how it would work; his strength was one problem, but there was also the world in which he moved—demons, dragons, all sorts of evil. He had no idea if a human mind could even fathom the other realms. Being mated to a Fallen Moral would mean being thrust into the life he'd been given…and Avisha didn't think it was fair to assume it was a life a young girl would want to live.
His gargoyle wanted to roar against that logic. He didn't care about any of the semantics of a gargoyle-human relationship, of the potential difficulties such a relationship could incur. The pull to his mate was too great to resist.
Her chestnut locks cascaded over his paw as she shook her head. "I've—we've—been on the run since Carlie was born." She gave him a halfhearted smile.
"Not much time to get married and have babies."
Avisha pulled back and looked at her. "On the run?" he asked, unfamiliar with the term. She nodded.
"Yeah, from DEE. You know, Diversified Engineered Environments?"
He frowned in return. It was his turn to be confused, as he had no idea what she was talking about, although she said the name as if it was one he should know. But there would be time to clarify things later. They both had stories that needed telling.
He curled a claw under her chin and gently tilted her head back so that she would look him in the eye.
"Yer safe here now, lass, the both o' ye. None o' those men can find ye here, that I promise ye. So find yer rest and cease yer worryin'. Ye must trust me in this. Ye have much to recover from."
Avisha wished his gargoyle mouth was able to kiss, as he wished more than anything to place one upon her creased brow at that moment. Instead, he leaned forward, touching his brow to hers, tucking his long face to his chest.
He stared into her eyes that were wide with wonder…and not fear. Amazin'.
"Ye've been injured with a…gun…and ye came down with the fever after. Ye've been here in my fortress fer nigh on a sennight. As I said, Carlie is well and has had run o' the fortress. In fact, my staff seem to have decided that the wee lassie is in charge o' things and bow completely to her wishes. I believe she and Mistress Kate are havin' somethin' called a 'tea party' as we speak."
Gwen's eyes blinked a few times as she processed the information. Avisha knew the confusion would take a bit of time to clear. He just hoped it would clear—he'd known some humans who'd suffered with the confusion for the rest of their lives after a knock to the head. And the speed Gwen had been traveling when she'd crashed into that tree was enough to crack a skull. Thankfully, she'd just suffered a nasty lump that was still noticeable.
"A week? I've been here a week?" she whispered. He nearly purred when her wee hand found his and she wrapped her fingers around one of his claws.
Avisha didn't know what a "week" was, so he made sure he was clear. "Ye've been here fer nearly seven days, lass. I didnae ken what to do with ye since ye said ye didnae want a…doctor? Is that the word ye used?"
Gwen frowned at him and leaned back, breaking contact where their heads touched, although she continued rubbing his paw with her wee fingers.
"Yeah, doctor. You're, uh, not from around here, are you?"
She smiled at him then, the first full smile she'd had, and Avisha truly th
ought his heart was going to stop. He thought her to be beautiful before, but now…she was breathtaking. Stunning. He swallowed hard and her eyes moved to his throat, watching the movement.
He wasn't exactly sure what she was asking of him, but the gist was there. "I am from here," he said, "but I believe ye mean to say that I'm no' from yer own time. And the answer to that is nay, I'm no'."
That crease eased back between her eyes. "You did say something before…like, 'in my day'. You mean to say you're from—like, the past, or something?"
Avisha smirked, the corner of his mouth tilting. Her eyes moved to track that movement as well. He got the distinct impression she was learning his features, as he was hers. Except his current features were on the nightmarish side, while he found hers fascinating.
He paused, wondering how much to tell her, but then decided…if she wasn't balking at everything she'd learned so far, then he would tell her the whole of it.
"Aye lass, I am from the year o' our Lord, five hundred twenty-three." That was the year he'd been frozen in stone, the point in time he'd chosen to return to since he was familiar with it. He didn't want to tell her that he truly had been created before human time began, before the Earth had even been formed.
Her eyes widened considerably. "Wow," she breathed. "So you live like a long time then." She said the last as a statement, not a question. But he answered anyway.
"Aye. I'm immortal." He didn't think it possible, but her eyes grew even larger at that and he hurried to explain.
"The Fallen Moral, as I am, were part o' the Heavenly Host. We are the angels who did somethin' to warrant punishment."
Gwen squeaked, "You're a demon?" She then squirmed, as if wanting to move away. Avisha hurried to correct her.
"Nay, the demons are the Fallen Immoral. The Fallen Moral are still good, but we did no'…ehm…follow orders, so to speak. Our punishment is to walk the Earth as a fleshly creature. No' human, but…somethin' else. Howbeit, we can turn to human on occasion."
Her glowing eyes searched his. "You were the man in the woods…" her eyes flickered downward then, and he noticed that her cheeks instantly reddened. He knew she was remembering his nakedness and almost laughed at the relief on her face to see that he was wearing his short trewes.
The seemingly ever-present brow crease deepened as she took in the bandage scar on his side where he, too, had taken a bullet. The Morals healed quickly, but the wound had been grave and he still bore the mark. He was grateful the bullet hadn't stayed in his body, as it had in the lass's. Maeve'd had to stitch him front and back though and it still pained him. Formidable weapons, those guns were.
Her eyes flickered back to his. "You were the naked dude."
Avisha didn't know what "dude" meant, but he definitely understood "naked." He thought if it were possible in gargoyle form, he'd be blushing as well.
"Aye and ye have my apology fer that. I, uh, normally wear clothin', but I had been…dormant fer a verra long time and had nothin' to clothe myself with. The men were chasin' ye and 'twas o' utmost importance that I get to ye, naked or no'."
Gwen shrugged. "You don't have to apologize to me. I'm glad you were there. I had figured that was my last run, you know? Death by DEE."
His heart clenched at her words. When he'd gone back to retrieve the little Carlie and saw that the cave was big enough for the two girls, he'd known then what Gwen had done—she'd sacrificed herself to draw the men away from her sister. He also knew 'twas the reason she'd held that heavy pack in her arms, to make it appear that she carried the babe.
"Lass," he whispered as he gently moved a strand of hair from her shoulder to her back. He made a note to ask Kate to bring a tub to the chambers for the lass to bathe in, now that the fever had broken. She smelled sour from the sweat that had poured from her wee body during her fever and her hair was limp.
"Ye doonae have to worry o'er the men any longer. I brought ye and yer sister here, to my time. Those men doonae even exist yet."
When he told her she was safe, he wanted her to know that he meant it. Those men from her time could never find her here.
Avisha was glad then for her weakened state, because the lass apparently had a strength she kept hidden. For such a tiny thing, she was quite strong. No match for him, of course, but she could put up a good fight.
"Lass, calm yerself," he said as he ran a paw over her head once again and pulled her back into his body, wrapping both arms around her to still her movements before she caused herself further injury.
Her voice was muffled against him and he shivered at the soft touch of her breath on his neck. "You…I'm…we're in the sixth century?"
Her screech was loud enough to make a fisher woman proud, but Avisha wisely assumed she wouldn't wish to be told such. He winced and was fair certain his hearing would never be the same in that ear…especially since that sense was particularly keen in his gargoyle form.
He nodded in response to her question, his jaw brushing along the side of her head. "Aye, lass, 'twas the only thin' I could think o' to get ye to a healer that wasnae this 'doctor' of which ye were so afeared."
Gwen pushed back against him again then and put her wee hands back on his chest. Avisha's heart pounded and he wondered if she could feel it through his thickened skin. He was so thrilled that the girl wasn't afraid of him, and indeed seemed to like touching him as much as he did her.
Her fingertips pressed into his hard chest. He wondered what she thought of when she felt his leathery skin underneath her soft hands. Apparently, she wasn't repulsed, because she then leaned closer. He knew then she was going to impart her thanks for his rescue.
"Correction," she said, dropping her husky voice an octave and he fought back another shiver at the sound.
"I'm not afeared of the doctors, you big dork," she huffed. "I just didn't want to be captured by the DEE-men."
If gargoyles had eyebrows, Avisha was sure both of his would be in his hairline—if gargoyles had hair, that is. Not only was the lass unafraid of him, she actually had the audacity to insult him. He had no idea what a "dork" was, but from her tone, it was an insult to be sure.
He wanted to roar for the joy of it. A woman who would stand up to a gargoyle—what a treasure!
He chuckled. "My apologies, lass." The grin melted off his face when she scowled back at him. Apparently, she didn't take kindly to his finding humor in her words.
Avisha nervously cleared his throat—and the fact that this wee slip of a girl was scolding a monstrous creature twice her size, and that said monstrous creature was now nervous that she was upset did not escape him—and he swallowed hard.
"Ehm, like I said, ye told me ye didnae want to visit this doctor person, but the man who, ehm, who used the weapon ag'in ye said ye were sure to die with the metal—er, the bullet—in yer body and so I knew help could be found in my time. 'Twas why I brought ye back here."
"And Carlie," she added, but he shook his head.
"Nay, just ye at the time. I went back for the wee lass after I made sure Maeve had ye well in hand. No' much time had passed before I retrieved the wee lassie though."
Time travel was a tricky feat. You could not travel to a place you had not yet been. Since Avisha had been on the Earth since man first began shaping tools from stone and he had walked nearly every part of it, he had very few geographical limitations.
Traveling to the past required that you had already existed at the point you wished to travel. You could, however, take others with you who had not existed in that time period, as he had Gwen and Carlie.
There was no such thing as "future travel," since the future did not yet exist. Those lines were a bit blurred, however, because if you traveled to the past, the "future"—or, more accurately, the present—continued to move forward and you could not return to the exact moment you left. Also, if you changed anything in the past, then you could not go back to a previous time and you were required to let the "new past" play itself out.
It was confusing an
d few of the Fallen were allowed to travel the portals of time. Avisha had rarely used the gift he'd been given due to all the intricacies.
She frowned again and he ran the back of his claw along the crease and her eyes fluttered closed. It reminded him of the time he'd put rabbits to sleep by stroking the same area. But the lass's startling eyes popped back open shortly.
Gwen looked around the chambers before meeting his once again. "So, this is your time, as you said. Um, how did you end up in the future—in my time?"
Avisha didn't want to get into the explanation of that, not just yet. He really didn't want to tell the lass that at the time, he had given up on humanity. He had no longer cared what their fate was, had refused to help even those in desperate straits, had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to their needs—and he was subsequently punished.
Instead of answering, he posed his own question. "What was yer time, lass?" He'd spent so little time in the future after awakening that he had no idea what the year had been…or how long he'd been perched atop the crumbled fortress.
"Two thousand twenty-three. The, uh, twenty-first century."
Avisha felt his own eyes bulge out of his skull at her answer. "Fifteen centuries?" he breathed as he looked away, toward the chamber window.
"I slept fer such a great time as that?" he whispered.
He assumed a century or two had passed…but fifteen? It was unfathomable. But no, he corrected himself, it wasn't, not really. He knew, with as much disappointment he'd brought to the Creator with his stubbornness, it was entirely possible. A part of him was honestly a bit surprised to find that the Creator had allowed him to awaken at all.
And to awaken to discover that he had a mate to boot.
It didn't escape his notice that he had slept in stone for exactly fifteen centuries, to the year. He wondered if the day and month were the same as when he'd taken that perch, but he knew it was likely to be. The Creator liked order.
Gwen interrupted his musings. "So…you were sleeping all that time? Dang, and I thought Rumpelstiltskin had the record on the snooze fest."
Avisha looked back at her with a raised brow. He had no clue what the woman had just said. She had an interesting way of speaking, to be sure.