Blaze: Underground Encounters 6

by Carlisle, Lisa

  “Nothing,” she reassured me. “You did what’s best for you.”

  “I don’t know anymore.” I buried my face into my hands. “I just don’t.”

  In my apartment, Lily made us tea. We sat in my living room and drank it. Since my roommate was a personal trainer who worked crazy hours, I could babble about my distress without being overheard.

  “I don’t even know what to make of it.” I clutched my mug with both hands to capture the warmth. “He acted all crazy last night. Beating the hell out of that guy who grabbed me and then rushing us out of there.”

  “Yeah, Nico said Mike was freaking out about some guy and we had to high-tail it out of there. He didn’t know what the hell Mike was talking about, but we went home.”

  “He was freaked out saying some guy backstage told him he was a—what was it, some creature—a gargoyle.”

  Lily almost choked on her tea. “Excuse me.”

  “He said this guy said he was a gargoyle, and then he transformed into one right in front of Mike. Told him he thought he was one of his kind.”

  “That explains the scent,” Lily said under her breath.

  “What?” I stared at her. “What scent?”

  Her eyes widened. With a wave of her hand, she added. “Nothing. Just rambling.”

  I remembered what Mike had said next as I went through my chronological brain dump of events. “Oh shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Shit, shit, shit! He was worried enough about telling me and now I’ve gone and told you, putting you in danger.” I cackled like a madwoman. “Oh my God, listen to me. I’ve freakin’ lost it. I know how insane it sounded when he told me, and here I am telling you. You’re going to think I’m a whack job. Ahhhh!”

  “Ally, calm down. I don’t think you’re crazy. Do one of your breathing exercises.” She smiled, put her hand on my shoulder to show her encouragement. “You can do it. You’re a pro.”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right.” I focused on my breath and counted, a ritual I did to center myself. My racing systems slowed to function back at normal levels. After several minutes, I said, “I’m feeling a little better now.”

  “Good.”

  I glanced at Lily, realizing she was the first person I thought of in my worst moment. We had been on friendly terms for months and hung out, but she’d always been so private and reserved. It wasn’t until she started dating Nico that she loosened up a little. No, a lot. She wasn’t as closed off and guarded as she used to be. The simple comforting gesture of patting me on the shoulder would have been too personal for the old Lily.

  “Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot.”

  “You’re welcome. That’s what friends do, right?”

  I was pretty sure I was one of Lily’s only friends. “Absolutely. You know something? Nico has brought out the best in you.”

  “You think so?” Her face bloomed as her gaze drifted off. “I don’t have to hide anything around him and it lets me be more myself. You know what I mean?”

  I thought about Mike. About the glimpses into his personal life he showed me, and I guessed not too many people knew about those. About the glances into my own I showed him as well. But, some of my secrets were too painful to reveal, and I buried them for a reason. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  We sat in silence for several moments, lost in our own thoughts as we drank tea.

  Lily piped in on Mike’s behalf. “You know, he’s been different lately. Not hyping the role of the womanizing rock star. You must have had quite an impact on him.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t return to his old ways. Once the novelty of something with me wears off, and he sees some hot girl hanging onto his every move, he’ll move on.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She shrugged. “Listen, I’m not saying it’s easy to be in a relationship with a guy in a band, especially when there are loads of scantily-clad women trying to get with them at their shows, but I’m glad I did. I trust Nico. He’d never hurt me intentionally.”

  “Mike isn’t Nico.”

  “I know. He’s a quirky character. But if you don’t give him a chance, you might always wonder.”

  I grunted. She’d homed in on the core of my inner turmoil. “It’s too late for that now.”

  Lily appraised me. “You know, I haven’t known you that long, but you’ve never mentioned a relationship. What’s the story? Are you gun-shy?”

  I chewed my bottom lip as I debated telling her more of the story. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  I sighed before I answered. “I was engaged once.”

  “When?” Her eyes were wide with amazement. “You’re so young.”

  “That was part of the problem. We were both young. High school sweethearts. We got engaged before we started college.”

  “What happened?”

  Searching for something to focus on before I continued, I saw one of my cats sauntering behind the couch. I called her over, rubbing her under the chin and pulling her onto my lap.

  I sighed. “He died in a car crash. Alcohol was involved.”

  Lily slammed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s more to the story,” I revealed. “At his funeral, a number of young women came to pay their respects. I learned he’d been cheating on me with several of them. If he hadn’t died, I would have killed him.”

  “Oh, Ally,” Lily said. “That’s awful. I don’t know what to say.”

  I gave a bitter laugh. “The funny thing is he played bass for a garage band. I guess I have a type.”

  “I totally get it now.” Lily leaned back on the couch.

  “I’ve been telling myself I can’t get involved with anyone because of the studio, but the truth runs deeper.” I swallowed. “Because I’m terrified of making the same mistake twice.”

  Mike

  Days went by where I merely existed. Going to and from work like a zombie, and participating in band practice on autopilot. I drank at night to dull the pain while losing myself in music I blared in my living room, like Avenged Sevenfold, Five Finger Death Punch, old Metallica, Black Sabbath and the Misfits.

  Absolutely no love ballads.

  Many times, I thought about calling Allana or stopping by. I rehearsed apologizing for being a giant ass and freaking out on her.

  No, you’ve pursued her enough. She’s made her feelings clear. Back the fuck off.

  Nico was the first to pick up on my foul mood. He closed the door to our office and asked, “What the hell’s wrong with you lately, man?”

  I bristled at the questioning I knew was coming. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Is it Ally?”

  “Her name is Allana,” I snapped. “An alley is a walkway between buildings.”

  “She calls herself Ally. Why are you getting all hyped up over her name, anyway?”

  I spun in my chair to face him. “Damn good question. Wish I knew.”

  “What happened?”

  I envisioned the nights we went back to my place. She was so hot, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. Even more, I liked having her there. On my couch, in my kitchen, in my bed. Just being near her.

  “Nothing,” I responded in a flat tone. “That’s what happened.”

  Nico remained quiet for a moment. “So, things didn’t work out, eh? I heard there was a—misunderstanding.”

  “Oh, good God.” I waved a hand. “Allana tells Lily, Lily tells you, you tell me. Wonderful, just wonderful,” I spat. “I’m living in a teen drama.” Then I undermined my flippant response by asking, “What did she say?”

  “I didn’t ask for the details. I just heard that the fling was over.”

  “Crashed and burned, my friend. A twisted, burning, smoldering, no-survivor car wreck.”

  Nico raised his brows. “Talk about drama.”

  * * *

  We had a show in Boston, our first show since the night that guy had felt up Allana.

&nb
sp; “Try not to beat anyone down tonight,” John ribbed.

  I scowled at him. “If I do, I’ll start with you.”

  “Ha ha ha. Someone is so sensitive. PMS?”

  We’d played this club a few times, and it was one of the few that welcomed rock acts in the age of all the oversized, overpriced dance venues. I loved coming down to Boston, but tonight I found myself searching the crowd for a petite blonde with a tight body dancing with her friend Lily. Although the chances were pretty much zilch, not finding her ripped a hole of disappointment in me.

  When a sexy brunette with enhanced breasts and pouty pink lips hung onto me after the show, I thought why the hell not? Allana clearly didn’t want me, but this woman did. Besides, I vowed to go back to my old ways. Sex with no strings attached.

  My plan crumbled on the drive over to her place. I couldn’t get Allana out of my head. She should be the one sitting next to me, not this stranger. I wanted to hear Allana’s moan, have her legs wrapped around me, and her nails digging into my back.

  This attempt to forget her and move on only made me think of her all the more.

  “You know, I think I better head home instead,” I told this woman. I’d already forgotten her name. Something with an M and an N. Marina? Nope. No clue.

  “What?” She snapped in a surprised tone.

  “I’ve got to work in the morning, so I should get some sleep.”

  She leaned away from me. “Wow. Thanks for the mind fuck.”

  It was a dick move, but what could I do now? “I’ll drive you home.”

  She eyed me like I was a spider that had just crawled across the windshield. If she had access to the windshield wiper, I’d be squashed.

  “No, thanks. Pull over. I’ll get an Uber.”

  I pulled into a strip mall. She climbed out of the car and slammed the door. The claustrophobic feeling lightened.

  While she waited for the car, I stayed in park. Even if I was a jerk, I wasn’t going to leave her out here alone. She shot a couple of dirty looks my way. Once her ride arrived, I drove home.

  How the hell could I get Allana out of my mind?

  My thoughts turned inward as I questioned all that had happened recently. Was it me? I’d always been considered “quirky” or “weird” even for the nerd world. When I was younger, I’d learned that it was normal for a kid like me who’d accelerated grades, to be advanced on some levels, yet lag in social ones. But, perhaps it was more than that. Danton had planted a seed causing me to wonder not just who I was, but where I came from.

  Besides my quirky traits, I thought about my family. Every one had its oddballs, which you overlook as they’re relatives. Could anything Danton had said possibly ring true? Did we have gargoyle blood in us? Giving my relatives a mental shakedown to see what I could pinpoint as different, I didn’t even know what to look for.

  * * *

  Over the weekend, I called my parents’ house to make sure they were home. When I arrived, my mother had a pot of coffee brewing. She poured us each a cup, hers in the World’s Best Mom mug I painted for her when I was twelve, which still somehow hadn’t broken. My dad had a mug reading Fishermen Do It Better, one of his favorite hobbies, which he only took a breather from during the coldest part of the winter. My mom handed me a mug of steaming black coffee. The mug was from MIT, one of the many pieces of memorabilia they bought when I’d graduated, two years younger than most of the other graduates.

  We settled in the living room. My dad sat in his worn, brown, leather recliner that was “his chair” and my mom sat next to me on the beige, suede couch.

  “What is it, Mike?” my mom asked. “You seem tense.”

  “Something strange happened recently.”

  “What was it?” my dad asked.

  I gave them a condensed version, leaving out some of the more graphic parts, so I could cut right to the part about Danton explaining how he descended from an ancient family with certain capabilities and asking about my family history. “He said he was a gargoyle.”

  My parents looked at each other, communicating something with their eyes. A mushroom cloud of serious tension swamped the room.

  “Did he tell you anything else?” my dad asked.

  “He said he thought I might have some gargoyle blood in me.” I erupted into nervous laughter. “And he showed me how he could transform.” I ran my hand over my beard. “Why are you looking so serious? Shouldn’t you be laughing and telling me I’m being crazy?”

  My dad’s eyes bore into mine for a long time. His penetrating gaze could speak volumes, especially when I was a teen getting into trouble. Now I noticed something different I’d never really thought was strange before. The way he didn’t blink and his stony demeanor.

  “You’re not crazy,” he said.

  A tremor of unease crept over my skin. “What are you saying?” My voice rung with uneasiness. “That this could be true?”

  My father continued to stare at me as if trying to communicate something deeper. “Yes.”

  My pulse quickened and my gut twisted into knots that would impress a Boy Scout. “Mom?” I turned to her. “What is Dad talking about?”

  “Listen to him. We weren’t sure if we would ever have to tell you.”

  “Tell me,” I repeated in a higher pitch. “Tell me what?” I faced my dad.

  “What you heard is true. You are descended from an ancient tribe from the Catalan region.”

  My eyes widened. “Gargoyles?” Hearing me state that word was like sunlight shattering a cloud of blissful ignorance.

  My dad nodded. “Yes.”

  Volcanic shudders surged through my veins. “Holy shit.” I dropped my head between my hands and leaned forward. “This can’t be happening.”

  “It’s nothing to fear, Michael.” My mom put her hand on my back and rubbed.

  Half-formed thoughts and questions clashed in my mind. After several moments, I tried to sit up with some composure. “A gargoyle? I’m part-gargoyle.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” my father replied.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said in a flippant tone. “Should I show more enthusiasm?”

  “Don’t be snarky,” my mom said.

  “Jeez, I don’t know how to react. It’s not every day I find out I’m a monster.”

  “Not a monster,” she said. “Just different.”

  I stared at her for several seconds as if she’d lost her mind. We were a bunch of loonies talking nonsense. Tomorrow, I’d wake up and remember all this as a bad dream. My fight with Allana, the encounter with Danton, and my parents telling me something I would never concoct in even my wildest sci-fi fantasies.

  “Tell me everything,” I said.

  “My father, your grandfather, is part of a Catalan tribe of gargoyle shifters that lived outside Barcelona.” My dad leaned forward. “The numbers have dwindled over the centuries and only few pure-blood families remain.” He glanced at a framed picture on a bookshelf of my grandparents. “He met my mother in Barcelona, a human, and they fell in love. They married and had me and my two sisters. We are a mix of what they both are—gargoyle and human. I met your mother,” he nodded her way, “who is also human, and we came to the U.S. after we married. Our family’s surname is actually an old Breton one, Haerviu, which roughly translates as battle-worthy, but we adopted the surname Harvey to blend in. After we settled into our new lives, we had you and then your sister. Many gargoyles have mated with humans and our abilities diminish with each generation as we become more human. But for some, the gargoyle genes run dominant and they remain strong.” His eyes focused on mine with intensity. “We have seen it with you growing up.”

  “You saw my gargoyle characteristics as I grew up?” My muscles tightened in the back of my neck, and I rolled it to ease the sudden tension. “You’re playing a joke on me, right? You must be. What you’re telling me can’t be real.”

  “Think about it, Michael. You know you’ve always been different from the other kids. Your intellige
nce, your preference for solitude, your intensity in being able to focus, these are all gargoyle traits. Not to mention your speed and your strength.”

  I exhaled, contemplating this, and he continued.

  “You might not remember as you were so young and weren’t into athletics, but simply throwing a ball was something you couldn’t show in any baseball game. The speed and distance would mark you as being different. Not just talented like what a scout would notice, but inhuman.”

  “Inhuman,” I repeated. “I’m not human?” My tone turned strange, sounding like a strangers. Or maybe it was the words I uttered.

  “Yes, you are. Three-quarters to be exact, so you’re mostly human.”

  “Oh well, that’s a relief.” I flipped my hand to emphasize the sarcasm.

  “You are part gargoyle,” my mom said. “That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

  How could she state something like that? It was insane. This whole conversation was off-the-wall bonkers. “I don’t see Dad parading the fact.”

  “You were such a precocious child,” she said in a wistful tone, ignoring my sardonic comment. “With all the grade acceleration and trouble connecting to people your own age, we didn’t want to add anything else to make you feel different.”

  “You’re mostly human, and we had always thought it best that you live your life as one,” my dad added.

  “Mostly human? I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This has to be a dream. No, a full-fledged drug-induced nightmare.”

  I closed my eyes. Maybe I’d reopen them and my parents would be normal again. They’d talk like typical parents and ask me about work and tell me about their social activities—like all the past talks where they’d like to go, or the trips they were thinking of planning. We’d be an ordinary family again.

  When I reopened my eyes, I asked, “What about Emma?”

  “Your sister appears to have mostly human traits,” my mother replied. “We’ve only seen the gargoyle ones in you.” She watched me carefully, before adding. “Why don’t you get some air and let this sink in,” my mom said. “It’s a lot to process. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”