Chaos

by Taylor Longford

  I'm actually a fairly good swimmer. Not that it was gonna help. Because Mark Phelps couldn't have swum the Clear Creek on that particular spring morning. The water was only about waist deep but it was tearing downstream like a juggernaut, rushing over a rocky bed, bouncing over cobbles and twisting around boulders the size of cars. So, I hadn't planned on following her in to the water. On the other hand, I was determined to make sure she got there. So, I might have been a little over enthusiastic when I did my football tackle. The way I saw it, we were both doomed.

  I held my breath as the water hauled me into the center of the riverbed and dragged me over several large rocks, which were fortunately round. But they were still hard. And I knew I wouldn't last any longer than I could hold my breath.

  My last thoughts were about Chaos. And even though things didn't look good for me, I felt a certain sense of vindication that the harpy was going to be dead and he was going to be free. Just when I thought my lungs were going to burst, my head cleared the water for a second and I sucked in a breath before I went under again. Only I didn't go under again. Because a strong pair of hands hooked beneath my shoulders and hauled me out of the river. Seconds later, I was standing on the bank with water pouring off my face and clothes.

  Chaos crushed me against his chest while I tried to pull in some air. "Chaos," I panted. "Can't breathe."

  He shoved away from me and glared down into my eyes. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he roared.

  He was startlingly beautiful in his rage, his sea foam gaze blazing with fury. I stared up at him as I sucked in a few lungfuls of air and realized how cold I was. Melting snow runoff does not make a very warm bath. But I was warming up now. I was pissed. "Oh, I don't know," I yelled back at him. "Saving your ass! Killing that harpy! How about a little gratitude? You know what? I think a 'thank you' would be appropriate at this point."

  "Killing the harpy?" he shouted and pointed downriver. "That thing isn't dead!"

  I felt the blood drain from my face. "She's…not?"

  He shook his head, his hair whipping wildly around his face. "All she had to do was turn to stone and ride out the river. She'll be back here as soon as the water throws her up on the bank. And when she gets back, she's going to kill you. And I won't be able to stop her."

  "Are you sure…she isn't dead?" I asked, scraping a hand down my streaming face. "How do you know she turned to stone? Maybe she didn't get a chance. Maybe she drowned before she could make the change."

  His shoulders dropped in defeat and his anguished gaze locked on my eyes. "I can feel her, Torrie. My instincts are still calling me to her side. That wouldn't happen if she were dead. She's alive. And she's coming for you."

  Yep. Chaos was right. She was coming. I could see her dark form over his right shoulder, a little black spot flapping her way toward us.

  "But…you chose me over her," I said in a small voice. "When we both fell in the river, you came and saved me. You didn't even try to help her. Doesn't that mean…doesn't that mean something?"

  He shook his head and turned slowly to face the oncoming harpy.

  I moved alongside him and touched his arm. "Doesn't that mean that even though your instincts command you to be with her, that you really love me?"

  "Of course, I love you," he answered, his words gentle, his eyes burning with emotion. "That was never in doubt, lass. And I don't want her to hurt you."

  "So the question is…" I ventured as an awkward tear slid down my cheek, "Which is stronger? Your instinct to protect her? Or your instinct to protect me?"

  He slanted his gaze toward me then turned and caught the tear on his fingertip. But he didn't answer. He didn't have time. The harpy was almost on us. Instead he reached out his wing and pulled me down in a crouch. Shielding me with one wing, he flung out the other—along with his outstretched arm—as Vilschka closed the last few feet at terrific speed. I braced for impact.

  "I won't let her hurt you," he whispered and turned to stone.

  Did I mention it was a brilliant spring day? Colorado gets a lot of sun, even in the wintertime, even in the early spring. There was a lush green growth of new grass on the wet ground beneath our feet and the surrounding mountains sparkled beneath a thick blanket of snow. The air was still. A bird was singing in a nearby bush, its music lifting above the river's quiet roar. A hawk screamed in the distance while a semi passed on the highway, its engine laboring to make the climb through Idaho Springs. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Chaos's heart, thinking that if I had to go, I wanted it to be the last thing I heard.

  But his heart was still as he cradled me in his stone embrace. And I felt a little sad that it was all going to end this way. Then I heard the sudden beating of huge wings before the quiet background noises were shattered by the crash of stone exploding against stone, like a dump truck full of rocks slamming into a bridge. I flinched as a bone-chilling screech lifted from the harpy's mouth, piercing my ears in a long wail of agony that echoed from the surrounding slopes like The Sound of Music gone terribly wrong. Seriously, it sounded like Vilschka was dying. But I knew she could be a bit of a drama queen so I figured she'd stubbed her toe or something. Holding my breath, I lifted my head so I could peek out above the wing that was curved around me like a shield.

  "Holy crap," I murmured as I stared up at the harpy from my crouching position.

  Her gaze found mine as the light began to fade in her black eyes. Then she looked down at the stone point that was lodged in her chest, her dark blood rushing thickly from the wound and pouring down over her ribs.

  It was ironic and darkly comic at the same time. Because even though Chaos couldn't do anything to harm the harpy, the ugly slagheap had somehow managed to impale herself on his wingtip as she'd charged us, the blunt point sliding between the plates of her armor and sinking into her chest. From the amount of blood involved, I'd say it had hit her heart.

  "Oops," I said with a mean snicker as Chaos returned to his living form, the gray stone morphing into the warm colors of life. He straightened slowly as the harpy fell away from us, hitting the ground and clawing at her chest with her long craggy fingers. He tugged me close to his side, looking stunned and even a little lost. I wondered what his instincts would require of him now that the harpy was dying.

  I angled a look up at him. "Do you feel like you have to try and save her?"

  He shook his head slowly. "She's beyond saving, beyond my protection. There's nothing I can do for her."

  "Does that mess with your instincts?" I asked softly. "Do you feel sad?"

  "Nay," he growled, and tightened his grip on me. "If it were you, it would probably kill me. But I hated her."

  As we stood together, my gaze latched onto the rune still burning on Vilshka's shoulder, and I was drawn to it as the light in the harpy's beady gaze steadily dulled. After what Chaos had said earlier beside the river, I felt like the rune should have been mine and I wanted to rip it from her ugly hide. Impulsively, I dropped to my knees beside her.

  "Careful," Chaos warned, tugging me away.

  But I ripped my arm from his grasp with my new gargoyle-powered strength while he gave me an astonished look.

  "She might strike out at you," he warned in a dark growl. "There's nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal."

  "If she does, you'll protect me," I said quietly.

  I don't know if it was instinct or intuition that made me take the next step, but I reached out and covered the rune with my hand, pressing my palm against the fiery blue glow. It burned like hell but I kept my hand there while the light died in Vilschka's eyes and life fled from her body, leaving her frozen in place at the moment of her death.

  Chaos knelt beside me and moved his hand towards mine. I was afraid he was going to try to pull me away again but he didn't. Instead, he seemed to realize what was going on. He locked his hand over mine and increased the pressure over my fingers while the burn traveled deeper into my flesh and I almost cried out. Tears of pain spilled
down my cheeks as I turned my face to check his eyes, and he captured my chin with his other hand, his lips slashing across mine with surprising force as he worked his mouth against mine, the hot aggression in his kiss making me forget all about the pain in my hand.

  He pulled away from me suddenly, breathing hard and staring at me like he couldn't believe that we'd just kissed. And that it was so good. At least I assumed it was as good for him as it was for me. He stumbled over a few words then reached for my hair and smoothed the short ends behind my ear. "Now you're mine," he rasped and covered my mouth again, pulling me beneath him on the ground.

  We didn't quit, not even when we heard footsteps headed our way, not until we heard someone clearing his throat. At first, Chaos tried to wave his family off but they wouldn't take the hint. The cavalry had arrived, just like in the movies. A little too late to save the day but just in time to help clean up. And Agent Simpson was there to collect his sample. I just hoped Vilschka would fit in his van.

  Epilogue

  So Agent Simpson got his sample, and convinced his superiors that harpies were the source of the indestructible material. And right now the FBI is crawling all over the country looking for more of them. If they're lucky, they won't find any. And hopefully the sample they have will be enough for them to reproduce the material…for mostly peaceful purposes.

  And even though a gargoyle can't give his rune away a second time, evidently it can be stolen from a dying harpy…if a girl's determined enough. Cool, huh? So now I'm wearing Chaos's mark and he's totally bound to me just like he was to that harpy. Only I think our connection's stronger. Because I'm not a harpy and there's a whole lot more than just instinct going on between us.

  "Did you know the rune could be stolen?" I asked Chaos later on, after things had settled down and we had a chance to get together up at Pine Grove for Havoc's feast. Thanks to Simpson I still had a free travel pass, even though the agent hadn't actually tailed Elaina's car up there. But he was in contact and knew where I was.

  The pack was seated around a big new kitchen table that was literally covered with food. Havoc had prepared this amazing spread that included roast chicken and barbequed ribs as well as Chaos's favorite stew—made with beef instead of venison. He'd even baked these wonderful soft buns flavored with little pieces of red that turned out to be rose hips he'd collected from bushes growing wild in the forest.

  "Nay," Chaos answered slowly. His seeking touch traveled over my thigh beneath the table and made me feel all warm inside. "Not stolen."

  "But?" I asked because I was pretty sure he knew something.

  He rolled a shoulder in an offhand shrug and looked at his brothers.

  Reason reached for a bun and spoke up. "We'd heard stories from some of the older gargoyles in our community. It was rumored that a harpy could transfer her bonded gargoyle to another harpy when she died. And that a harpy would sometimes give her gargoyle to her sister. But we didn't know how it was done. And we didn't know it could work the other way around, with a human female claiming the gargoyle's rune from the harpy."

  "But it's a good thing to know," Victor pointed out as he passed a bowl of steamed asparagus to Valor. "Especially for those of us who haven't given away our runes."

  "Forsooth," Havoc drawled and sent me an approving look as he angled another pan of roast potatoes onto the table. "It's a damn good thing to know."

  I opened my hand and looked at the brilliant symbol marked on my palm, feeling a warm surge of pride, which wasn't exactly a feeling I was used to. But I liked it. And I figured I could get used to it with some practice.

  Of course, my father had to have a fit when he saw the rune on my hand. He reached for his jacket and told me he was taking me to have it removed at the local tattoo parlor. I told him if he did that I'd march down to his office and tell his supervisors he was responsible for my injuries.

  "What injuries?" he demanded, looking at me like I was crazy.

  "The ones I'm gonna get the next time I'm at the skate park," I answered.

  So he had to back off. Which is probably a good thing since I don't think the rune could be removed anyhow. Because that baby is burned in and it's more than skin deep.

  I'm wearing Chaos's ring too. The one he bargained away to the harpy. He slid it from her finger after she died. And as soon as we got a quiet moment alone, he told me he wanted me to wear it. He said I'd earned it. It was my prize for saving him.

  "Well, technically, I didn't save you," I pointed out. "Technically, you did."

  His brow started to knit into that fierce sexy frown of his. "Damn it, Torrie, don't get all technical on me while I'm trying to tell you I love you."

  I grinned up at him. "Is that what you were trying to say?"

  "Aye," he growled and growled again when he kissed me.

  "And you did save me," he insisted, when he finally came up for air. "Even if you had never freed me from the harpy, just knowing you were alive out there helped me to face each day. I don't think I could have gone on without that idea of you. Just the idea that I might catch a glimpse of you again one day."

  Wow. Powerful stuff, eh? That kind of talk is enough to make a girl think highly of herself.

  "I'll never stop loving you," he whispered.

  "Me too," I answered. "I mean, me neither. I mean—"

  "I know what you mean," he murmured, stopping me with another kiss that melted me from the inside out.

  But despite the confidence that was starting to gain a foothold inside my messed up psyche, I still had my doubts. And I wasn't smart enough to keep them to myself. I had to ask the awkward questions that anyone else would have left alone. And I asked Chaos, "The things we went through in that mine drew us together. But what if the harpy had brought someone else to the mine instead of me? Wouldn't you have ended up feeling the same way about her?"

  "Is that what you think?" he asked, looking kinda insulted.

  "I don't know," I mumbled.

  He gave me a hard look. "So you're telling me that if you'd been trapped with one of my cousins, you'd have fallen in love with him? Instead of me?"

  "No!" I exclaimed, surprised by his line of attack. I couldn't imagine feeling that way about anyone else.

  He gripped my shoulders and gave me a shake. "Quit questioning it. I love you, Torrie. It's not that complicated."

  "Okay," I mumbled, feeling dumb and studying the ground.

  "You do believe me," he insisted. "Don't you?"

  "I believe you today," I told him. "But tomorrow…I'll wonder if you feel the same way."

  "There's a solution for that," he said very definitely.

  "There is?"

  "Aye. I'll just have to tell you every day how I feel about you."

  "That would be nice," I said. "If it's not too much trouble."

  So he grabbed my phone and started flicking through the options on the screen, most of which I'd already explained to him.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Setting your alarm to remind me," he said, his brow knitting into a fierce frown of concentration. Then he pushed the phone at me. "Can you help?"

  So I helped him set the alarm. And every day at 2:45 I contact him if he's not around and he tells me he still loves me. It's dumb but it works.

  Of course, one of the first things on our schedule was a trip to Limon so Chaos could show the pack where he thought Force might have fallen. We drove out there in Whitney's van and did a twilight flight, the guys taking the girls along in their arms to help search. But after an hour in the air, we hadn't found Defiance's brother and it was getting too dark to continue the hunt.

  "What's that down there?" I murmured as Chaos wheeled back toward the place where we'd left the van parked on the side of a dirt road.

  "What?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

  I pointed at a field below. "Those…tracks."

  Chaos waved the others over and we landed on the ground next to a narrow ravine that cut through the fields of drie
d corn stalks. We didn't find Force but we found a couple of deep furrows where it looked like something had been dragged from the gully.

  Defiance jumped into the ditch and crouched down, inspecting the ground.

  "What do you think?" Chaos called.

  "It could have been him," Defiance murmured. "There are some impressions in the wet soil that might have been made by a set of wings."

  "But if he was outside why didn't he make the change?" Whitney asked, her pale blond hair sliding in front of her shoulder as she leaned forward.

  Defiance looked up at the steep walls that rose around him. "I don't think the sun could reach him."

  "So you think someone found him?" MacKenzie suggested. "And dragged him off?"

  "That's what it looks like," Defiance answered, and stretched out his arm so Victor could pull him out of the gully.

  "Do you think it was a harpy?" Mim asked nervously.

  "I don't think so," I answered quietly. I pointed to the wide tire tracks churned into the soil beside the ravine. "It looks like somebody winched him out with their truck and carted him away."

  We stood together and turned toward the highway where a single set of headlights traveled east toward Denver.

  "He could be anywhere," Defiance murmured.

  "So what's our next step?" Valor asked, looking first at MacKenzie then Elaina.

  "Maybe the FBI can help," Elaina proposed as we followed the tire tracks through the field and headed back toward our starting point. "I'll get in touch with Simpson and see what he suggests."

  And a few days later, the pack got together at the FBI's offices in Boulder. Agent Simpson had scheduled an appointment with one of the bureau's artists to make a composite drawing of Defiance's brothers, since there were no pictures of them. Defiance was seated across from the young woman, describing Courage, while the rest of the pack gathered 'round.