Hard as Rock

by Stephanie West

  “You murdered my brother, so please do something stupid,” Cohosh raged and pressed the button starting up the turbine again.

  “You fucking kill him and you won’t get a damn thing. I’ll rip you to shreds,” he snarled, but stepped into the cage to appease the bastard.

  Roc stared the reprobate in the eyes as he slammed the cage door and the lock snapped into place. The piece of shit was angry but there was a hint of fear lurking in his eyes.

  You should be afraid. These bars aren’t nearly enough to contain me.

  “Now toss the bag out.”

  Roc shoved the backpack through the bars and John released a groaning sigh when the whirling machine again stopped.

  As much as he hated it, he had to comply as long as those mercenaries pointed their weapons at them. A few bullets weren’t a problem, but a hailstorm would cut through his duramna. With the mood he was in, he would’ve risked it, but John was entirely vulnerable.

  One of the armed men stepped forward, grabbed the bag and threw it up to Cohosh. Roc watched as the fucker pulled out the decoy medallion. The antique ruby brooch was worth a small fortune, however, it wasn’t the relic the bastards were looking for. But since he himself had only seen the sigil a few times, he doubted the stupid fucker would know better.

  “Nightshade, we have the relic,” the thug spoke to a laptop screen.

  “You tested it, Cohosh?” the absentee prick asked.

  Shit! Roc’s heart stilled when the jackass placed the decoy brooch into a piece of equipment that looked way too sophisticated for a numb nuts like Cohosh.

  “I’m not reading anything. All the lights are still red,” Cohosh grumbled.

  “I told you acquiring the relic wasn’t going to be easy,” Nightshade countered.

  “Can I kill them now?” the fucker Cohosh demanded.

  Son of a bitch, Roc growled, hearing all the guns click as rounds were chambered.

  meline

  The cabby stared at her in the rearview mirror as he drove toward her condo. Meline knew she looked like a hot mess, she’d cried the entire flight home. But the sympathetic looks were getting old. It didn’t help that she’d gone straight to the airport bar and gotten drunk. She ignored the cabby, staring out the window instead. When the taxi stopped, she peeled a few bills off the wad of cash Roc had slipped into her pocket, refusing the urge to toss the entire stack at the driver. She didn’t want the cash. It made her feel dirty, like he had paid her off.

  I’m sorry for trampling your heart. Here, take some money, she silently railed at him.

  Meline trudged through the patio gate at the back of her condo. It took a minute of fumbling around in the dark to find the fake rock holding her spare key. She flipped on the kitchen light, staggered over to the fridge and tugged it open. As she grabbed the bottle of cheap chardonnay, wondering if there was enough left to make her pass out, a scent caught her attention. Something was off, and it wasn’t the spoiled milk in the fridge.

  She spun, ducking as she swung the bottle. It cracked against some giant thug’s head, sending him reeling backward. Meline scrambled out of the kitchen before he could recover. The piece of shit grabbed the back of her shirt as she reached the patio. She stomped his foot and elbowed the man in the stomach. He released her, doubling over with a pained grunt. She barely made two steps before he snagged her leg, sending her sprawling into the grass. Meline rolled as he loomed over her. She punched him in the nose, relishing the crack, but not the disgusting spray of blood. She’d never punched someone let alone broken their nose. Surprisingly her hand didn’t even hurt. Meline released the anger she was feeling toward Roc, striking the home invader again.

  “Fuck,” the man barked, before she shut him up with a blow to the jaw.

  Two more greasy bastards piled on, grabbing her arms. She struggled as they dragged her off the ground, noticing the rose pin on one guy’s collar in the process. Meline tugged her right arm free but the bloated mafia wannabe grabbed it again, squeezing her wrist till it hurt.

  “Dammit, this bitch is strong.” The man looked surprised.

  “Yeah, thanks for the help.” Her attacker scowled as he spat out a tooth.

  It was shocking the way she gave the three men a run for their money. She was half their size, but she was pissed, super pissed.

  So stupid, she grumbled at herself as they hauled her back into her condo.

  Obviously, the insane secret society didn’t think she was dead. She shouldn’t have come home. She was supposed to go stay with Jen, but the last thing she wanted to do was rehash what happened with Roc. She just wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep.

  “Miss Lauber, so glad to see you hearty and whole.”

  She turned from the trio of thugs struggling to hold on to her and stared blankly at the new guy wearing a suit, acting like he knew her. He wasn’t one of the assholes who’d broken into Roc’s penthouse, at least not the one who was still living. That bastard wasn’t among the handful of thugs currently tracking mud through her condo. But it appeared this man was the leader of that whole gang.

  “You may call me Nightshade. And now that introductions are done, I’d appreciate it if you’d have a seat.” He pointed to a chair at the end of the dining room table.

  “I don’t have what you’re looking for. I didn’t sell some stupid relic to that man,” she snarled as they tied her to the chair. This whole scenario was the icing on a really shitty cake.

  “Sure, lady, where’d you get the pile of cash on the kitchen counter then?” The guy she bloodied shook her.

  “Enough.” Nightshade held up his hand as he sat at the table in front of a laptop. “I’m fully aware you don’t have the relic. Your unusual companion is about to hand it over in exchange for his friend. You’re just my insurance policy that he follows through.”

  He shifted the laptop so she could see the screen and her eyes widened. Poor John was bloody and bruised, chained to a large piece of machinery. And Roc was trapped in a cage with a dozen guns pointed at him.

  Oh God. Meline blanched. She was heartbroken and pissed at Roc, but seeing him in danger trumped all that.

  “Nightshade, we have the relic.” The aforementioned asshole popped up on screen, like she’d said Beetlejuice three times.

  What relic? She couldn’t get a good view of whatever it was Roc handed over, but obviously it wasn’t the real thing. Quickly she schooled her features so they didn’t see the surprise on her face. Roc obviously had a plan.

  “You tested it, Cohosh?” Nightshade asked, eagerly staring at the screen.

  “I’m not reading anything. All the lights are still red,” Cohosh grumbled.

  Crap! These thugs were smarter than she’d given them credit for.

  “I told you acquiring the relic wasn’t going to be easy,” Nightshade barked in frustration.

  “Can I kill them now?” Cohosh growled, and she saw the mob step toward Roc with their guns aimed.

  The insane man was all too eager to kill Roc, especially after what he’d done to the other guy at the penthouse.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Meline!” Roc roared loud enough it nearly blew the laptop speakers.

  Suddenly the screen went dark. Her heart surged into her throat, not knowing if gunfire broke out on the other end or what.

  “Don’t you dare fucking hurt him,” she snarled, her voice growing inhumanly deep.

  She stood, despite her wrists being tied, and slammed back down, shattering the wooden chair. Angrily she gripped the broken armrest and stabbed at the guy on her left. The fat guy couldn’t jump away fast enough. The jagged wood grazed his stomach, opening a nasty gash. Unfortunately, not deep enough to incapacitate him.

  “Don’t! My rash associate may have botched his ill-advised attempt to kill you at the church, but I can assure you I won’t fail,” Nightshade snapped, pointing his gun at her head.

  No, no, no! This can’t be happening.

  14

  Roc


  The lights in the old building cut off, casting them in total darkness.

  “I think we’ve got company. Someone get the lights back on and watch the fucking prisoners,” Cohosh barked orders as the gun-toting men scattered.

  Roc ignored it all.

  They have Meline! He thought he was keeping her safe by sending her away, but he might as well have gift-wrapped her for these assholes. I’m so fucking stupid. I should’ve known how determined they were.

  A window shattered, capturing his attention. He wasn’t sure if the secret society was being upstaged by a rival sect, and didn’t really care, this was his opportunity to get out of Dodge. The iron lock put up little protest when he used his Khargal gift. His high-pitched whistle wasn’t audible to the humans, even so the hail of gunfire aimed at the windows drowned it out.

  The gunmen stopped after their first frantic barrage. Roc froze, only managing to open the creaky cell door a fraction of the way before it grew deathly quiet. You could cut the tension with a knife as the gunmen stared at the broken windows, waiting for a glimpse of the intruders. While they were distracted, he shoved through the small opening, dodging one of the mercenaries blindly aiming his gun in the dark.

  “Did you see someone come through the window?” a man nearby yelled, squinting in an attempt to see whoever had broken in.

  “Don’t fucking ask questions, just do your job, you morons,” Cohosh shouted.

  Roc didn’t bother to look for the intruder as he quietly made his way toward John. The edgy gunman spun, sensing he was lurking nearby in the dark. Despite hardening his duramna, Roc ducked out of the man’s path before coming face to face with the muzzle of the assault rifle. Getting shot in the head at point blank range was going to do a little more than sting.

  There was a flurry of movement followed by a sharp groan and a sickening crunch on the catwalk at the far side of the room. The night-blind mercenaries swung toward the sound and started firing again.

  “Stay down till I can clear a path,” Roc insisted as he ducked down by John and broke the chains holding him.

  “Sage advice, sir,” John replied in his dry English accent as Roc helped him take cover under one of the large pipes connected to the turbine.

  “I missed you, Little John,” he snorted at his friend’s oh so characteristic retort and the immense relief at finding John had no life-threatening injuries—yet. “I’ve got to go finish this.”

  It was chaos all around, shooting, scuffling, and death moans in the dark. Roc glanced across the room in time to see one of the gunmen being yanked behind a giant machine. He didn’t see the assailants but whoever they were, he’d have to thank them for the timely distraction, assuming they weren’t after him as well.

  Roc crouched low as he approached the closest mercenary, staying below the barrel of the man’s gun. He waited for the fucker to turn, stood and snapped the man’s neck. Senseless violence wasn’t his thing, but these people brought it on themselves. They never should’ve threatened John and Meline. As the limp man dropped to the ground, a shadow passed above his head.

  “Well it is about time! I was starting to think you turned out to be a coward with the way you were hiding behind those conduits,” the recognizable gruff voice commented as the mysterious assailant swooped past.

  Roc’s mouth dropped open and he blinked in shock. “Sire?”

  “Are you going to make me do all the work, mon fils?” His sire launched at a male, taking the mercenary’s weapon before the man knew what hit him.

  Roc regained his wits and joined in, angrily lashing out at another gunman.

  “I’ll have you know, I wasn’t hiding. I had to get my friend to safety,” he snapped at his sire while grabbing his opponent’s rifle and punching the human in the face.

  It was unbelievable. His sire was asleep for hundreds of years and his first words were to call him a coward.

  Real fucking nice!

  “Why am I not surprised an Earthian got you into this mess?” Petronus’ retort was almost drowned out by the screams of the man he dropped from thirty feet onto the concrete floor.

  “Did you wake up just to rub my nose in past mistakes?” Roc grabbed two men and knocked their heads together.

  Petronus landed in front of him, his stony wings looking just as daunting as Roc always remembered them. “No. It sounded like you needed me, and from the looks of it I was right.”

  Roc paused. For a brief moment Petronus sounded like a concerned parent, then ruined it just as fast.

  “I had things handled,” he growled as they both ducked a spray of bullets.

  “If that is what you call being locked inside a cage.”

  Roc snarled. His wings shot out, the taloned tips slicing into the two men who approached from either side. Their eyes widened as he opened their gut with a swift brutal slash. Petronus snatched their weapons and the pair of mercenaries staggered back in shock as they bled out.

  “Earthians have certainly made some advancements. Their munitions sting a lot more than I remember.” Petronus finished admiring the rifle, aimed it and took out the last man standing.

  A sound on the catwalk caught Roc’s attention. He turned to see Cohosh, the leader of this band of assholes, attempting to escape. He needed to reach him before the bastard managed to contact Nightshade. Roc leapt into the air and dove toward the piece of shit, landing in his path. Roc dodged left and knocked the gun out of Cohosh’s hand just as the shithead fired. The bastard turned to run the opposite direction but Petronus landed in his way.

  “Time to join your comrades,” Petronus sneered.

  Despite trying to keep a straight face, Cohosh’s eyes were slightly wild as his gaze darted between them. Roc couldn’t really blame him. With the way the moonlight streamed in, illuminating Petronus’ spiked wings, horns, and sharp canines, his sire looked like a demon summoned from Hell.

  “If you kill me, Nightshade will end the girl,” Cohosh blurted as Petronus closed in.

  “Sire, wait!” Roc barked. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed this asshole alive.

  “A female? What is he talking about?” Petronus gripped the front of the Cohosh’s shirt.

  “These people want the sigil and they’re holding Nicolas’ descendant, Meline, because of it.”

  “You do not possess the sigil, do you?” Petronus frowned as he tilted his head, like he was listening for something that wasn’t there. “Nicolas was supposed to give it to you.”

  “Well that was a shitty plan because he was long dead when I finally returned home, and his grandson was a senile old man who knew nothing about it.”

  “And this female has it?” Petronus asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Never mind the female then. I can find the sigil.” Petronus tapped his forehead and Roc remembered the purebreds were connected to their sigils, like a weird telepathic life vest.

  “No! You don’t make the calls anymore, not about this. We’re getting my female back from these fuckers,” Roc snarled as he snatched Cohosh away from his sire. Petronus thought he could just pick up where he left off, being overbearing the way he always was. “And you’re going to help,” he informed Cohosh, tightening his grip on the slimy fucker’s throat.

  “Over my dead body,” Cohosh choked out.

  “That can be arranged.” Roc knocked him out.

  It probably would’ve been smart to hold off and attempt to pull information from the asshole, but if he had to hear any more, he would’ve killed the bastard on the spot before learning where Meline was being held.

  “Excuse me,” John called out as he emerged from his hiding place. “I hate to interrupt this family reunion, sir, but wouldn’t it be wise to get away from here?”

  “Yes, it would,” Roc agreed. “Sire, get this piece of filth out of here and I’ll help my friend then clean up this mess.”

  Petronus nodded, gripped Cohosh’s limp body and took off through a broken window. Roc leapt off the catwalk
. John turned abruptly, hearing him land nearby.

  “This may be hard for you to process but I need you to trust me and not freak out.” Roc wrapped an arm around John and lifted off the ground.

  “Thank you for coming for me, sir.”

  “We’re friends. I would’ve come back for you sooner, but we thought you were out doing errands.”

  “Friends?” John cocked one brow. “Is that why it’s taken you so long to reveal this side of yourself?”

  “Wait, you knew?”

  “Sir, I may be blind, but I’m not stupid,” John scoffed at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Roc apologized, suddenly feeling guilty for not trusting his partner in crime for the last two decades.

  “I assumed you’d tell me in good time. Then when you didn’t, well, I kept myself entertained dancing around the elephant in the room.” John’s lips twisted in amusement.

  Roc’s mouth dropped open as he recalled all the occasions the blind man almost tread on his tail or smacked into his wings. They literally had danced a few times in an attempt to avoid one another, or not, according to John’s admission.

  “You know, I always suspected you had an evil streak, but that’s just diabolical.” Roc shook his head in amazement.

  “Eh.” John shrugged. “Sir, would it be too forward if I asked what you are?”

  “We’re called Khargals, but humans know us as gargoyles. Our people crashed a thousand years ago,” he explained as they touched down on the lawn outside.

  “Fascinating.” John nodded, looking unaffected by the news. His expression shifted to concern. “Sir, I didn’t get a chance to look into these people. But I overheard some things. You need to proceed very cautiously when you go after Meline. Not only do these people want the medallion, they want a specimen, you.” Anger laced his usually stoic friend’s voice.

  Roc nodded, he was gathering that.

  “Foolish Earthians picked on the wrong clan if they thought that pathetic cage would hold you,” Petronus huffed.