Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  "I'll use them to hold you down—presently. But first…"

  I blinked up at him with wide eyes. "What?" I asked breathlessly.

  Slowly, he wrapped his fist in my hair, tightening his hold just short of tearing my scalp from my skull. Pain burned across the back of my head but I didn't make a sound as he smiled down into my eyes. "But first, I like a bit of a struggle."

  "I…can give you that," I murmured throatily.

  Aye, I could give the evil bastard a struggle. I held his gaze and lunged suddenly to the side, reaching for the metal tray with its gleaming hardware.

  He wasn't expecting me to be so strong, and my lurch unbalanced him as I pulled him with me. My fingers wrapped around Chaos's knife and I slashed upward, separating my hair from his fist. Now his weight suddenly shifted onto his bad leg and he lost his balance in the other direction—away from me. As he tilted toward to the immaculate tiled floor, his hands scrabbling at air, I followed him over and planted the knife deep in his chest. I heard the pointed tip click on the tiles beneath his back.

  I had been aiming for his heart but I must have missed it by a hair's breadth. Maybe the blade was deflected by one of the spines on the wings wrapped beneath his shirt. But one way or another, the bastard was still alive. Still alive, mad as hell and still as strong as a harpy. With a roar, he came back, crashing up onto his feet, the cart of weapons overturning with a metallic clash and spilling across the small room.

  I dove for the floor and stretched my fingers for another weapon but the gleaming metal corkscrew that would have looked so good buried in his eye socket skittered away before I could get my hands on it. By that time, Rafe had me locked in his grip. He lifted me like I weighed nothing and slammed me down on the table, pinning me crosswise on its surface, my spine bending to the point of cracking. Then his huge hands were around my throat, squeezing the life out of me.

  Through the window in the door, I could see the harpies watching curiously. I wondered if their ugly faces would be the last thing I'd see…because it was clear that Rafe planned to end my life, regardless of his deal with the harpies…who should have come to my rescue. They were supposed to stop Rafe from killing anybody. But you could never trust a harpy. 'Course, they wouldn't particularly care about the girls and would even be jealous of them.

  My life was fading away into dark nothingness as I thought about how annoying the situation was. After all, the harpies wouldn't let me die if they knew I was a gargoyle. They wouldn't stand there and let Rafe Olander throttle me to death.

  No, they wouldn't, I realized in a sudden flash of revelation. And summoning the last of my strength, I curled my fingers around Rafe's wrists as my barbs shot from beneath my hackles. The razor-sharp talons sliced through both latex and cloth, my blue venom staining the soft, snowy fabric of the gloves I'd borrowed from Camie.

  Not that my poison would have any effect on Rafe; I had to assume he was immune to the venom, just like his sister had been. But the harpies standing outside the door would smell it. Because even if they didn't have great ears, they had the best noses in the business. They could smell a gargoyle's venom from five miles away. And they'd sure as hell scent it through that measly little three-inch-thick wooden door.

  The harpies acted on cue. Actually, they tore the door off its hinges to get to me. Following the scent of gargoyle venom, they exploded into the room and found Rafe trying to kill not a girl, but a gargoyle. Two sets of clawed hands clamped on his shoulders as the harpies tried to tear him off me. Mind you, it wasn't an easy task. Rafe was as big as a harpy and just as strong.

  "You're not a girl," he snarled as the harpies finally managed to rip him away from me.

  "Nay, I'm not a girl," I agreed, reaching for the blade in his chest and pulling it out so the blood could begin to flow and he could finally start dying. "Just a bit metro."

  Chapter Twenty

  Olander's blood pumped from the wound in a hot spray of red. I jumped back to avoid the dark rush that splattered to the floor and christened his studio in a very satisfying manner. And at that point, you would not have wanted to be Rafe Olander. You know the expression "torn limb from limb"? Well, that's pretty much what happened to Rafe. He was a big guy but no match for two outraged harpies with claws like sharpened garden forks. It was pretty messy.

  It was also very gratifying.

  But the gig was up…for Rafe as well as for me. The harpies now knew I was not a girl, at all. Actually, I tried to convince them I was a female gargoyle and for a few seconds I thought they were biting on it. But eventually good ol' harpy skepticism prevailed, and they decided (correctly) that there was no such thing.

  But I was running out of time. I had to free my family before the rest of the harpies returned so we could be outside and ready to face them when they came back to the quarry.

  With the harpy guards prodding me down the narrow corridor, I stumbled back into the main holding area and headed toward the door on the girls' cage. But Brutschka shook her big, bald head and pointed at the cell on the opposite side of the room where my brothers and cousins were imprisoned. Unlocking the door, she manhandled me inside.

  But only after she stripped me of my jewelry.

  Gloomily, I watched the big harpy slip the beads over her neck. And while my family gathered around me, she pushed the bracelets over her large hands.

  "Are you alright?" Dare asked in a low murmur. "We heard screaming."

  "Not from me," I said in a hoarse whisper. My voice was a mere shadow of its former self, thanks to Rafe's crushing of my vocal chords. "Although I was pretty upset about my hair. How does it look?"

  My question was ignored as stunned silence followed. Then Mac's voice lifted from the other side of the room. "Havoc?" she said tentatively as she and the rest of the girls made their way to the front of the cell. "Is that you?"

  I sent her a wave. "It's me, darling."

  "Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked.

  "Aye. What are you doing here?" Defiance demanded.

  "I had a plan," I answered, keeping my voice low. "It was a good plan. It involved wooden jewelry and getting it into Lorissa's hands—so we could blow the doors off this place."

  Reason rubbed a finger down the flattened line of his nose and tilted his head toward the harpy decked out in my jewelry. "Are you talking about the stuff Brutschka's wearing?"

  "The very same," I answered in a whisper. "I went through Mac's jewelry box and picked out the painted pieces, hoping the harpies would think it was just…something other than wood."

  "You probably convinced them it wasn't wood," Defiance drawled. "But you forgot that harpies love red."

  "Maybe I should have gone with yellow or blue," I admitted. "But it would have clashed with my outfit."

  Defiance rolled his eyes. "How does that even matter?"

  "A girl would never wear yellow and blue with red and black," I argued, and looked across the room for support.

  But my girls let me down. Not one of them backed me up. It seemed like they were still trying to catch up with the fact that I was there…dressed like a girl…and that they'd been fooled by my disguise.

  "I had to be a convincing girl," I continued. "Which worked, in case you didn't notice. I fooled Rafe, didn't I?"

  "Where is Rafe?" Victor asked.

  "Dead," I answered.

  "You…killed him?" Defiance asked.

  I found the note of awe in his voice very satisfying. "Aye," I answered.

  "But Chaos and I working together couldn't take him down," Reason said. "I'd have thought it would take the whole pack to finish him off."

  "Element of surprise," I answered. "And a little femme fatale thrown in for good measure." I watched the faces of my family and allowed myself the luxury of basking in their approval…without mentioning the role that Brutschka and Hitschka had played in Rafe's demise.

  Victor was the first to smile. "Good work," he said.

  "Good work," the others agreed.

 
I sent a pointed look at Defiance.

  "Good work," he said grudgingly.

  "With Rafe out of the way, we should be able to outsmart the harpies," Courage murmured, scraping a hand back through his short dishwater-blond hair. He glanced across the room to the girls' cell. "Even without Lorissa's help."

  "I don't know," Dare muttered. "That Retschka. She's—"

  "I know," I cut in. "There's nothing worse than a clever harpy."

  "Nothing worse," Force agreed in a dissatisfied rumble.

  "Does anyone else know we're here?" asked Defiance. "Were you able to get a message to Simpson?"

  "Simpson left for Puerto Rico last night," I reminded my cousin. "But Sophie knows we're here. I told her to go to Mr. Evans if she didn't hear from us."

  "Torrie's dad?" Chaos exclaimed. "He'll never listen to her. He doesn't listen to anyone."

  "Maybe not," I agreed in a mutter. "At least, not until it's too late. But in the meantime, perhaps all is not lost."

  "What do you mean by that?" Victor asked.

  I flicked my head at the harpies. "I'd tell you but there are too many ears listening in."

  Victor studied the harpies briefly before sending a sharp look at Defiance.

  "I'll take care of it," Defiance muttered, and sauntered over to the steel bars of the cell. For the next few seconds, he watched the harpies sitting at one of the picnic tables. Then he targeted the smaller one with his gaze. "You know," he drawled, "it's hardly fair that Brutschka ended up with all the jewelry."

  Hitschka gave him a startled look.

  "Brutschka should share."

  Hitschka sent the bigger harpy a dark look. "Brutschka should share," she agreed in a mutter.

  "You'd look good in red," Defiance suggested. "Surely Brutschka could give you one of the bracelets."

  Brutschka turned her head and scowled at Defiance. "Hitschka can have what she can take," snorted the bigger harpy.

  Defiance rolled up one of his sleeves and put his arm through the bars. Making a fist and baring his barbs, he let a stream of venom drip to the floor.

  For two seconds the harpies watched in stunned silence. Their reaction made it clear that Rafe hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said the harpies hadn't been allowed much venom. Now both of them scrambled from the picnic table and fell to their knees, clawing at each other to reach the spilled poison. But Brutschka reached the blue stuff first and lapped at it with her dark tongue, leaving nothing for the smaller harpy…and leaving the back of her neck exposed to Hitschka.

  Enraged, the smaller harpy ripped at Brutschka's neck, sinking her long talons between the rocky plates of armor.

  Brutschka's back arched as she howled in pain and twisted to face her attacker. The big harpy launched herself from the floor and forced the smaller harpy across the room with one hammering blow after another until Hitschka was pinned to the wall beside the kitchen entrance. The screech of crushing rock and harpy shrieks echoed in the dank cavern as Brutschka hit Hitschka over and over again. Every time Hitschka drooped toward the ground, the larger harpy pulled her back to her feet and continued her brutal attack. By the time she finally stopped, Hitschka was long dead.

  "One down," Defiance said under his breath. He tilted his head, an amused expression on his face as he surveyed the scene, the dead harpy braced against the wall, her murderer breathing heavily as she glared at the frozen body. Brutschka looked like she wanted to kill Hitschka again.

  "The harpies will be angry when they get back," Defiance inserted slyly, shaking his head and making a tutting sound. "Especially Hitschka's sister."

  Brutschka's face whipped around and she fixed her narrow gaze on Defiance. Lifting her heavy feet, she clomped across the room with murder burning in her eyes.

  Defiance probably should have backed away from the bars…but that would be out of character for a guy with a name like Defiance. My cousin held his ground. His voice was mild and untroubled as he said, "The Gangboss won't understand why you killed one of your own kind."

  Brutschka's arm shot out. Her hammer-like fist plunged through the space between the bars, her big hand clamping on Defiance's face, her claws sinking into the flesh above his ears. "This is gargoyle's fault," she raged, shaking my cousin violently.

  The pack reacted as one but Force reached Defiance first. While most of us attached ourselves to the harpy's arm and tried to force it back through the bars, Force went for her fingers. One by one, he inched them open…then broke them off with a sharp snap…until Defiance finally fell away into Victor's arms.

  The harpy staggered backward and crashed into one of the picnic tables, staring at the stumps on her hand where her fingers had recently been located. The pain didn't register for several seconds. Then she opened her mouth and let out a howling shriek that ripped through my head like a sharp blade. Like the rest of the pack, I covered my ears.

  Only Defiance seemed untroubled by the earsplitting noise.

  He rubbed a hand over the ripped flesh above his ears. A dark smear of blood colored his ash-blond hair as he glared through the bars at the vicious harpy. For several seconds the two adversaries stared hatefully at each other while tension built between them in the cavern. I heard a whimper from one of the girls. And still, Defiance held his ground.

  Breaking eye contact first, Brutschka turned away with a snarl, and returned to the dead harpy leaning against the wall. Stooping, she lifted the stiff body and clomped off down the hallway and out of sight.

  "Two down," Defiance muttered.

  "Where do you s'pose she's going?" I asked, watching Defiance from the corner of my eye. I didn't always get along with my arrogant cousin but—damn—no one could say he wasn't one tough bastard.

  "To hide the body, most like. Not that I care," he answered with a lazy roll of his shoulders. "But hopefully, she'll be gone awhile."

  Force grunted his agreement.

  "Now what?" asked Victor, shifting his sharp gaze to my face.

  I pulled in a deep breath. "I have one more trick up my sleeve," I announced, and shrugged out of the red vinyl jacket.

  "Up your sleeve?" Elaina put in from the cage on the other side of the room.

  "Well, it's tucked into my bra, actually."

  Hope lit up Mac's brown eyes. "Bra? What's in the bra?"

  "Well, I wanted to use something soft and pliant to fill out the brassiere," I explained as I unbuttoned the blouse. "Something that would look and feel realistic."

  "Feel realistic?" Camie snickered. "Who did you think would be copping a feel?"

  I let the blouse fall to the floor and stood there wearing Torrie's pink lace underwear strapped over my folded wings. "Well, nobody but—"

  "And how would you know what it should feel like?" Elaina demanded on a bright explosion of laughter.

  "There was some guesswork involved," I admitted.

  Chaos pointed a tentative finger at my chest. "Isn't that…Torrie's bra?"

  I lifted my eyebrows. "And how would you know that?" I countered.

  He ignored my question. "You went through her drawers?" he shouted while Torrie tried to talk him down from the other side of the room. The look on his face was relatively incensed, considering the circumstances. I mean, we were in a life-or-death situation and he couldn't get past the idea that I'd seen a sample of his lass's underwear.

  "Aye, but while I was doing it I closed my eyes down to mere slits," I told him as reassuringly as I could. I held up my hand and indicated the width of a mere slit with two fingers. But it was a little bit like trying to calm a tiger after you've poked it in the eye.

  Whitney lost patience with all of us. Her voice lifted above the fighting and scrapping that echoed off the damp walls. "Havoc, what do you have in your bra?"

  I looked across the room at the eight girls now pressed up against the bars. "Sawdust," I answered. "Made of one hundred percent wood."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Wood?" Lorissa breathed into the stunned silence, her eyes wide and h
opeful. "You have wood sawdust in your bra?"

  "Aye," I answered.

  "What kind?"

  I turned to my family and sent a questioning look down the line.

  "Yew," answered Valor.

  "Hickory," Victor chipped in.

  "Juniper," added Dare.

  "Red oak," Force grunted rather snootily, knowing that oak worked best for casting spells.

  "Do…you think it will work?" Lorissa asked hesitantly. "I mean, do you think wood particles will work as well as solid wood?"

  "I don't know why it wouldn't," I answered and searched for Mac's face behind the bars on the other side of the room.

  "I've cast spells with dry leaves before," she offered. "Dry maple leaves."

  "That's right," Valor backed her up. "Kenz used the leaves to stop the wind one day when we were raking the Boulder yard."

  "Sawdust should work at least as good," Mac said. "Maybe better. The smaller the pieces of wood, erm, the more…surface area…right?"

  And I can't tell you what a relief it was to hear Mac say that…even if she didn't sound too confident.

  "That's good. That's good," said Courage as he paced. He stopped suddenly and frowned at me. "But how are we going to get it across the room to the girls?"

  That was a very good question. The sawdust was stuffed into two plastic bags inside the cups of the bra. It was a long way across the room and we had nothing heavy to add to the bags that would give them enough weight to travel far. "Well, the sides of the bra are pretty stretchy. It should travel across the room like an elastic band," I said, and went to work on the clasp behind my back.

  But getting the bra off turned out to be a bit of a mission. And I must say I have nothing but admiration for the opposite sex. Because, clearly, they have the uncanny ability to think in reverse-upside-down logic. Years of undoing their bras have probably allowed females to evolve to this advanced state of physical and mental superiority.

  But I was just a lowly male gargoyle. And I was struggling.

  Taking pity on me, Reason stepped forward, meaning to help me get out of the lacy contraption. But before Reason could touch a finger to Torrie's bra, Chaos reacted. He elbowed his brother aside and got the job done in no time flat. But I put his speedy success down to the fact that he wasn't working behind his back. I'm sure I could have wrangled my way out of the bra just as quickly if I'd been able to see what I was doing.