CURSED (a gargoyle shifter story): A prequel in the Underground Encounters series

by Carlisle, Lisa

  She held her hands up, heavily-lined palms facing them. “The magic claiming you is dark. Very dark. And powerful. It must have been conjured during a moment of intense emotion.”

  Lucan took in a sharp breath. “Right. A witch believed I’d scorned her and sought her revenge.” It was his fault this had happened to all of them by ever getting involved with Veronique. Guilt had pressed upon him since, as heavy as his stone yoke. He gulped some ale.

  “Ah.” Morwena’s gaze brushed over each of them. “With magic this dark, the counterpart is light.”

  “Some form of light magic?” Danton asked.

  She answered with a sage nod. “You’ll never find a greater source of light than that in love.”

  Where was this witch going with these mystical references? “What are you saying?” Lucan rubbed his temple. “We need to find love to fight this curse?”

  “Oui,” Morwena said.

  The brothers exchanged glances. Love was as foreign to them as a journey to a different continent.

  “Shifter magic is powerful,” Morwena added. “Never so much as when one bonds with a mate.”

  “I believe that’s the way as well.” Danton leaned forward. He’d long held on to his belief that taking the gargoyle oath would break the curse.

  “The magic generated when you bond with a mate is stronger than any I know of.” Morwena arched her brows. “It’s the only force I know that’s powerful enough to counter this darkness.”

  The muscles in Lucan’s shoulder-blades tightened. “That means our chances are slim.”

  “How so?” Morwena tilted her head.

  “None of us have encountered any potential mates. And we don’t have much of an opportunity to seek ours out as we spend most of our time locked as statues.”

  “Perhaps one day fate will intervene.” She finished her glass of white wine and rose. “Best of luck to all of you.”

  After she left, Lucan banged his fist on the oak table with more force than he’d intended. Drops of beer splashed out from his glass. “We’re fucked.”

  “Not necessarily.” Danton gave a gentle wave as if to calm Lucan. “The future is open and the world is wide. “

  “Hell, even with the curse, I’m not ready to settle down. Far too young. It would just be exchanging one set of shackles for another.” Mattias grinned.

  Doubtful with Danton’s optimism, Lucan gulped his beer. “The last thing on my mind is finding a mate. My last interaction with the opposite sex saw to that never happening.”

  Lucan didn’t change his mind as the months turned into years, and he coped with the curse in Paris.

  A vampire named Michel sought Lucan and his brothers at Sacré-Cœur. He invited them for a drink to discuss a business proposition. Since cursed gargoyles weren’t in high demand, Lucan and his brothers were curious, but wary. They followed Michel’s easy stride down the butte of Montmartre to a small wine cellar off the main road. The scents of wine and oak and the soft sounds of jazz swam around him.

  After Michel ordered a bottle of Beaujolais, he said, “I’ve heard of the affliction that’s been placed upon you. And I’m sorry to hear of it.”

  Lucan studied the vampire for signs of insincerity. Vampires and shifters tolerated each other, but with a wary regard. Gargoyles understood that vampires needed a source of sustenance, which mostly consisted of blood from humans. But as protectors of the earth, the gargoyles wouldn’t allow the vampires to prey on the unwilling.

  “Oui, we’ve been dealt an unfortunate hand this round,” Danton replied with a tight smile.

  The server returned with the wine, opened the bottle, and poured a bit into Michel’s glass. Michel raised the wine glass, swirled the wine inside, and then sniffed it. He took a skip and then nodded as if satisfied. He was smooth, each movement unhurried. After placing the glass down, the server poured them each a glass.

  After he walked away, Michel fixed a piercing gaze on each of the brothers. “I have an opportunity I am hoping you will consider.”

  “What kind of opportunity?” Mattias’s voice brimmed with curiosity. He fixed his gaze on Michel.

  “A job overseas. I’m opening a nightclub in the states, north of Boston, along the coastline. I need guards for protection.”

  Lucan raised his brows. “And you’re thinking of us?”

  “Oui,” Michel replied.

  “Why?” Lucan leaned back, suspicious of this proposition.

  Michel replied with a casual wave. “Humans would be useless against any with supernatural abilities.”

  It wasn’t a direct answer, but adequate. Gargoyles were born guardians.

  “What’s the club like?” Mattias asked.

  “Unconventional,” Michel responded. “I’ve designed it to welcome those who don’t quite fit in with the norms.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.” Mattias furrowed his brows.

  “It’s difficult to describe. Perhaps you’ll see it for yourself one day.”

  The three of them asked more questions, but Michel didn’t reveal much more than he’d already stated. They’d act like bouncers at a nightclub—only not the typical ones that guarded in human form. Instead, the brothers would watch from their stone statue form mounted at positions inside the club.

  Michel tossed some Euros down to pay for the bill and stood. “Take some time to decide. I realize this opportunity means uprooting your life and moving to a new country. It isn’t a decision to be taken lightly.”

  “Will do.” Danton gave a curt nod.

  Mattias asked, “Michel, how can we reach you?”

  “I return to the States next week. I’ll come to Montmartre on Tuesday. If you’re unable to speak, perhaps I can arrange a little mischief so you can shift.” One side of his mouth twitched into a knowing grin.

  After the vampire left, Mattias leaned back in his seat and exhaled. “That was unexpected.”

  “Right.” Lucan snorted. “It’s not every day that someone offers a trio of useless gargoyles a job overseas.”

  “Exactly,” Danton said.

  Mattias drummed his fingers along with the beats of soft jazz in the background. He often tapped with a tune, as if he was unable to resist the lure of song. His gaze traveled to each of his brothers. “What do you think?”

  Danton clucked his tongue. “I don’t know. The question is—can we trust a vampire?”

  Lucan growled. “We learned for certain we can’t trust a witch.”

  “There’s something he’s not telling us.” Danton ran his fingers over his forehead and through his long blond hair. A trio of women a few tables over glanced toward them and then giggled, tittering to each other. Women often pointed out that Danton appeared like a Viking warrior with his long blond hair and massive build—a combination that attracted attention whenever they were in human form.

  “You’re right. Something was off.” Lucan narrowed his gaze as he considered Michel’s offer. “He answered our questions, but not in any depth. Why offer a job to three cursed gargoyles?”

  Mattias took a sip of wine. “I can’t help but be interested.” He motioned around him. “What kind of life is it here that we’re living? Same day in and day out. We need a change. I’m itching for it. So ready.”

  Danton leaned back and raised a brow. “I’m surprised, Mattias. You love being outdoors.”

  “With winter approaching, I could take a break.” Mattias gestured to the front windows. “Spending it indoors sounds much more appealing than braving the elements in the hopes of witnessing an impending crime. Think of it—a club, women, warmth, music. Why not? I think we should give it a go.”

  Danton nodded at Lucan. “It will be good for you. You can abandon your quest and start over.”

  Lucan straightened, his muscles turning hard. He still hadn’t given up his hunt to find Veronique, despite his brothers’ attempts to convince him otherwise. That abetted the growing boulder of guilt on his shoulders. Each gargoyle’s attempt to find her suffered not on
ly from the head pain, but scrambled memories. After Lucan’s repeated attempts, her features had turned fuzzy in his mind. A part of him wondered if he’d even recognize her if he passed by her on the streets of Paris.

  What good was his pursuit any longer? He’d made no progress and he worried his brothers—the opposite of what he was trying to do, which was alleviate their burden. Despite his fixation on finding her, he’d be unable to identify her and carry out his plan. How could he find a damn witch if he couldn’t remember who she was?

  His brothers had been cursed because of Lucan. What could he do to rectify the situation? If he hadn’t had an affair with Veronique, they’d be enjoying their lives, rather than succumbing to the twisted will of a dark witch. And as long as they were trapped, the guilt would weigh on him.

  “What do we have to lose?” Mattias said. “Nothing. If it doesn’t work out, we come home.”

  Lucan let out a sardonic laugh. “You make it sound so easy for gargoyles who spend countless days locked in stone to just get up and relocate to a new country.”

  Mattias waved his hand. “We’ll figure that out with Michel. He’s a damn vampire after all. Certainly, he’s used to making unconventional arrangements for him to travel without hitting sunlight and burning to a fiery crisp.”

  Danton rubbed his chin. “I want to think about it some more. There’s no rush to jump into something without considering all the particulars.”

  Mattias put his hands to the side. “Sure. Why not? I’m used to endless hours of thinking and watching and watching and thinking.” He took a sip of wine. “And before I’m snatched by my stone tonight, I’m headed to the skies. Join me?”

  “Hell yeah,” Lucan said. He could use the fresh night air for clarity.

  “Good call,” Danton said.

  They exited the pub and shifted in the shadows of a nearby park. Lucan extended his wings and flapped them for the ascent. He was the first to go airborne, but his brothers soon caught up. He glanced back at them and grinned. They appeared like twin shadows chasing him through the skies.

  This was the moment they all craved—to fly free, floating above the earth, was divine. Although the November air was brisk on their wings, it was welcome. Whenever they could break free from their stone and soar to the stars, they savored it.

  Lucan glanced at his brothers. Mattias was keen to go to America. Danton wanted more time to consider it.

  The least he could do was follow their desire.

  Lucan communicated to them. I’ll go with whatever you both decide.

  Danton

  The decision was made and Danton had to adjust to it. He and his brothers were going to America.

  Michel arranged for transportation while they were in human form, which included a flight across the Atlantic Ocean and then a driver who picked them up at Logan airport. They drove north and arrived in a coastal seaside village in Massachusetts called Caterina’s Cove while the sun shone. The residences ranged from modest cottages to sprawling estates, with many already decorated for Christmas later that month. Since Michel wouldn’t meet them until sundown, they explored their new location.

  The scent and sound of the ocean beckoned Danton. They walked by a cemetery to a secluded beach. The brisk winds must have kept people away.

  Mattias inhaled. “Being near the sea is a perk.”

  “Sure is.” Lucan scanned the horizon. “Whenever we get a chance to fly, that’s where I’m heading.”

  “Assuming we’ll have the opportunity,” Danton pointed out, trying to keep the alarm from his voice. “From what I see so far, this place looks like a sleepy seaside village. What type of threats would we have to fend off here?” He tried to shake off his unease. After all, this was a new start for them—but was it the right one?

  “True,” Lucan said. “Come night, perhaps this area takes on a different vibe.”

  Mattias snorted. “It sounds odd to say this, but I’m hoping there’s some danger. Otherwise we’re going to have a long slumber in stone.”

  And relocating here might have been a mistake. Danton didn’t voice his concern. He hadn’t even given this new gig a chance yet. Perhaps it was a merely a hint of homesickness.

  Once the sun set, the brothers made their way back to the warehouse area where the driver had brought them. The club, Vamps, was set amid warehouses in a commercial district. Although there’d been a smattering of activity earlier, with the businesses closed, the quiet of night took over. Only the sound of distant traffic followed them back through the warehouses down an alley.

  A nondescript building with windows painted black and two gargoyles mounted out front signaled they’d found the club. Danton peered closer, but sensed no life behind the statues’ stone eyes. Perhaps, they were mounted for ambiance rather than function.

  After pulling on the steel bars to open the door, they followed down a dark hallway with candelabras to another door.

  “The vampire is not one for subtlety.” Lucan smirked.

  “I’m beginning to sense a theme.” Danton opened the next door.

  When they entered a room, he glanced around and had his thoughts confirmed. The club was dimly lit and several gargoyle statues were mounted throughout. The bar appeared to be carved from red marble. The lack of sound was pronounced in the desolate, cavernous space. His stomach dropped. What had they gotten themselves into?

  Mattias snorted with a strange laugh. “Looks like we stepped into gothic wonderland.”

  A door across the club that had blended into the black backdrop opened. Michel entered and closed it behind him.

  “Welcome. Glad to see you made it without any issues.”

  Danton forced himself to swallow his reservations. “You arranged the transportation well.”

  “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the place.” Michel beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Where we’re standing turns into a dance floor once the DJ gets things going. People find their way on to the stages, as well.” He pointed out the three raised platforms adjoining the walls. “Prior to that, stragglers come in and generally congregate around the bar.” He wandered to the back where small tables stood. “Most of what you’ll be watching is in this room. I have an office upstairs and we have other rooms for storage and such in the building, but the patrons remain here. This is where you can watch out for them.”

  “What’s with all these gargoyle statues?” Mattias turned in a circle. “Merely decoration?”

  “Oui,” Michel responded. “I’m sure you can find spots to blend in. Feel free to move any out of your way. You saw the others out front?”

  “Hard to miss.” Danton grinned.

  “Right. Although, I don’t expect much activity out there except for those heading outside for a smoke break, you may want to switch coverage now and then to make sure all is well out there.”

  “That might help break things up,” Lucan said.

  Mattias paced and circled around the club, glancing from ceiling to floor. “So, we’re supposed to look for people getting out of hand? Men getting too hands-on with women who aren’t interested, for instance? Or, getting too drunk and aggressive, ending up in fights?”

  “We have human bouncers who can deal with much of that.” Michel stepped behind the bar. “Vamps welcomes the outcasts, the misunderstood—the supernatural. But, only if they lie low and not cause trouble. No feeding in the club, for instance. You should also be inconspicuous to avoid too many questions. And, stay on watch for—,” he hesitated, “—the unexpected.”

  Danton exchanged a glance with Lucan and Mattias.

  “I get the sense you’re keeping something from us,” Danton said.

  Michel tapped long fingers on the bar top. “You’re right,” he responded. “I planned to tell you once you settled in. It’s not only the patrons I want you to protect.” He pulled his gaze to them. “It’s me.”

  Danton studied the vampire. “For any particular reason?”

  “Oui. And it’s a slim chance that it will
ever be a possibility. After all, he could be dead or have given up his quest for revenge after all these years. Then again—vengeance isn’t a thirst easily quenched.”

  Lucan grimaced and turned away.

  “Who’s ‘he’?” Mattias asked.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Michel?” Danton added.

  Michel ran his hand over a brow and circled around his temple. “It’s a long story, and dates back centuries. A former friend and soldier blames me for his wife’s death.”

  “Wrongly so?” Lucan asked.

  Michel’s lips twitched. His impassive expression turned pained. “I served in the militia in the late eighteenth century. When we heard of an impending attack on our village, I led the charge to counter it. A group evaded us and overpowered those in our village. They raped and killed and burned our homes to the ground. Ricard lost his wife. I lost my sister.”

  Michel’s voice softened at the end. Although his sister’s death occurred centuries ago, perhaps grief never truly healed.

  “That doesn’t sound like you were at fault,” Danton said.

  “Ricard doesn’t think the same way, and perhaps he’s right. I failed to protect our village. We lost many of our loved ones as consequence.”

  “Isn’t that the case in any war?” Lucan asked. “It’s ugly and brutal and nobody truly comes out a winner.”

  “True,” Michel agreed. “What followed wasn’t as conventional, I hope.”

  “What happened?” Mattias leaned forward.

  “A woman came to Ricard and me while we were in the field. We heard legends of her, a pale figure in black who haunts the battlefields like a ghost. She attacked me—pinning me down and drinking my blood. While I struggled, the scent of death and blood flooded my senses. She entranced me and I sank into unconsciousness. When I woke, I was changed. So was Ricard. She’d forced us to become monsters like her. She stole our choice, our free will.” Michel closed his eyes and shuddered.

  Danton and his brothers understood being robbed of that all too well. Perhaps he had more in common with a vampire than he would have guessed. He gave Michel a moment as this was clearly difficult for him.