When a Gargoyle Falls

by E A Price

  Tilly pulled off her apron and considered her options. She worked as a receptionist at the doctor’s office in town, but her real passion was her baking blog, Milady Bakes. Named after her cat, Milady, who was currently alternating between licking her paws and giving all the birds outside the window the evil eye. She was completely oblivious to her mistress’s dilemma. Honestly, Milady was more like Tilly’s mistress than anything else.

  Tilly had started Milady Bakes five years ago when, feeling like she needed something to take her mind off her divorce, she decided to post a strawberry cake recipe, and now she had a small fanbase who looked forward to her weekly post, as she was actually earning money through the ads on her site. It was turning out to be quite a lucrative hobby. More than a hobby – the blog seemed to be taking over her life. She found herself on dates considering what recipe she wished to try next, how she would photograph her food, whether to post a video of her making the food – she was probably the world’s worst date and explained why she was still single. But she adored Milady Bakes and absolutely hated to let her fans down. She had a new red velvet cake recipe. She just needed a new oven.

  Ordinarily, she’d just pop next door and use Gwen and Helen’s oven, but her neighbors were temporarily located elsewhere. Or perhaps permanently. Gwen’s demented ex-boyfriend burned down their house and now it was uncertain whether they were going to go ahead and rebuild. Tilly hoped so; she missed the two ladies. She so admired both of the women – they were strong and determined in spite of the bad things that had happened to them. Tilly wouldn’t cope with anything they had been through half so well as them.

  The neighbor on her other side was, well, best avoided. Ever since catching him using binoculars to look into her bedroom window she had made damn sure to keep all her blinds on that side of the house closed. She didn’t mind too much, for the most part he was harmless, but she didn’t want to get too friendly.

  She could try her new boyfriend, but she wasn’t sure she was quite there in the ‘popping by to borrow each other’s ove’n stage. Paul seemed like a nice guy, but they didn’t know much about one another. They met through a dating app, and while they had enjoyed a few nice dates, they hadn’t slept together, and he seemed very reticent to tell her anything about his life. Maybe he was just being careful in case she turned out to be a mad puppy-killing maniac, but she wasn’t sure about him yet.

  Tilly snapped her fingers and Milady looked up in mild interest before resuming her licking.

  “That’s it; I’ll ask to use Martha’s oven.”

  Gwen and Helen were staying at Martha’s house, and since Martha was also a friend of Tilly’s, she doubted any of the three ladies would mind her commandeering the oven for an hour. She wasn’t usually so pushy, but, honestly, the baking blog was perhaps the best thing in her life at that moment.

  Tilly gathered up her remaining baking supplies, made sure Milady had enough food in her bowl and decided to set forth.

  Two

  “Mom?”

  Gwen peered at her mother and then looked at Tristan. Her own worry was reflected on his face, too.

  Her mom, Helen, stared up at Tristan openmouthed, and Gwen didn’t exactly blame her. Gwen found him to be beautiful, but she couldn’t deny that meeting him for the first time could be jarring. Gwen fainted the first time, though she put that partly down to stress and lack of food. It was perhaps his horns, or maybe the wings, or it could be the tail that was most shocking. Or it could even be the fact that he was over six feet tall and had blue skin – who was to say? But Tristan was her boyfriend or mate as he preferred and well, she had to tell her mother about him sometime, and after she came home early and walked in on them canoodling on the sofa, that seemed like the perfect time.

  “Mom?” she repeated.

  Gwen cringed with guilt. Her mom had been sick – seriously ill – for years and now that she was finally better, Gwen had just about managed to give her a heart attack.

  Helen opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but no sound came out. Gwen could relate to that feeling. Finding out that gargoyles were real, and were basically living on the next block was pretty much a ten on the shock scale. It was right above eating some butter and then finding out that it’s not really butter. See, shocking.

  Tristan stepped forward and took one of Helen’s hands in his. Her eyes widened.

  “Forgive me, Gwen’s mother. This must be a surprise to you. I can assure you in spite of my appearance,” his wings fluttered behind him, “I mean you no harm. Your daughter as I’m sure you know is a wonderful young woman, and I love her very much. I would lay down my life for her, and you as well. I am at your service, dear lady.”

  He kneeled before her and bowed his head. Gwen couldn’t help her shy grin. If someone else had done that – if one of her human ex-boyfriends had done that – she would have been rolling around the floor laughing her ass off, but with Tristan, it was just romantic, and lovely and perfect. Just like him. It was also a huge improvement on what any of his gargoyle brothers would have said, which probably would have been ‘I’m a gargoyle, deal with it.’

  Helen was still speechless, but at least Gwen didn’t think she looked scared anymore.

  Gwen gave Tristan’s tail a quick stroke. “Why don’t I make us all some tea?”

  *

  “Gah!”

  Yep, that was the noise Castor made when Ryia leaped out at him. He wasn’t proud of that noise, but he considered it a natural reaction to her sudden presence.

  Ryia smirked at him, and Castor puffed out his chest, trying to regain a little of his masculinity. Though there was something about Ryia that was naturally emasculating.

  “You have not sparred this evening,” she pointed out accusingly.

  “No.”

  He couldn’t deny it. He usually did like to spar – there was precious else to do with his time. He had attempted to help Kylie and Luc in deciphering the clues leading to the locations of his stone brothers and sisters, but it was generally concluded that he was not the most suitable gargoyle for the job. Professor Hardcastle who had helped hide the locations was a great fan of puzzle and puzzle boxes, and apparently, when faced with a difficult puzzle box, the correct method was to work out the puzzle so that it unlocked itself. He found out the hard way it was not to slam it against the nearest wall calling for it to uncover its secrets lest it wished to face his continued wrath.

  After that, Kylie politely told him that she didn’t think they needed further help. She pointed out that she already had her human clan mates, as well as Tristan and Annis to help her. Both gargoyles appeared more suited to the task than him. Also, Castor found it difficult to concentrate while Annis’ human mate, Chris glared at him, and appeared to wish that Castor was perhaps on another continent rather than in the same room as Annis. Chris was put out that his little gargoyle had once hoped to be Castor’s mate. As much as Castor admired Annis, he had never reciprocated those feelings. His behavior towards her in their former life was perhaps not as it should have been, though Annis bore him no ill will, and truly, it felt like so long ago that it happened, he was not sure he would recognize the gargoyle he used to be.

  His maudlin thoughts were interrupted by Ryia, grunting at him and shaking her wings almost menacingly.

  “How do you work out your frustration if you do not spar or couple?” demanded Ryia. “I can barely stand it, and I do not go an hour without the need to best one of our clan mates.”

  “There are other things in life than fighting and coupling.”

  Ryia curled her lip. Yes, he could not actually think of any at that moment either. Many clan mates had found things they enjoyed to occupy their time. He was not one of them.

  “We should mate.”

  If Castor had been eating or drinking, he really would have choked.

  “We are not well suited,” he said diplomatically.

  It seemed a better response than, ‘I would rather be burned alive and have my
entrails eaten by dragons.’ There was always the chance that she might go ballistic and try to kill him. While he imagined he would best her, he knew for a fact she would put up a hell of a fight, and he liked his limbs where they were. He was not the kind of gargoyle to needlessly put himself in danger.

  “Obviously,” grumbled Ryia. “Obviously, if we were back in our own time I would be able to find a much better mate than you.” Her yellow eyes flickered over him in a way that suggested she found him seriously wanting. “But I doubt that will happen now, and if I am to have younglings, then I have no other choice, and you are the lesser of many evils.”

  She bared her fangs and Castor could only imagine she meant Grey. To say the two of them did not get along was to suggest that rain was a little wet – an enormous understatement.

  “Ryia,” he growled, “we will never mate.”

  “You say that now…”

  “Never,” he repeated in a firmer tone, a second before he was introduced to an entirely new feeling – pleasure at seeing Brom.

  Brom and Joely, cuddling and giggling, rounded the corner. Castor rolled his eyes at the scent of arousal dancing between the two of them. He could quite happily live without the mental image of Brom, naked and coupling with his female. Though, he confessed himself not entirely averse to seeing Joely naked. Humans seemed to favor such bulky clothes. They left far too much to the imagination. He wondered if her body was quite as supple as it appeared, then he cursed himself for thinking of another’s mate in such a way. It was dishonorable.

  Ryia sneered at them. “Brom. Human.”

  Joely smiled in a deceptively sweet way. She usually did that when she was about to say something cutting to Brom that put him in his place. The male was a slave to his mate.

  “Ryia, how lovely to see you. Don’t let us keep you; I’m sure you are dying to run off and brighten someone else’s day with your presence.”

  Ryia ignored Joely completely. “Castor,” she snapped. He was ashamed to say he blanched ever so slightly. “Come spar with me.”

  Castor was about to say no – not that she seemed likely to take that no – when Joely cut him off.

  “Castor has plans with us.”

  “What plans?” grumbled Brom.

  Joely elbowed her befuddled looking mate.

  “He wanted me to teach him some history. It was my favorite subject in school.”

  The flaming haired female smiled. Castor gave her a quizzical look. She was a very convincing liar. He couldn’t scent the deception, and yet, he knew she was lying. If he were Brom, he might worry about that.

  Ryia huffed, growling about what she thought about that – nothing positive – and stomped away.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” said Joely, in a way that suggested she was expecting a thank you.

  “Why did you lie?” Castor asked.

  Brom certainly would not have assisted him in any way, and it was clear from his expression that he didn’t think Joely should have either. Castor was just as surprised Joely had helped him.

  “Because it’s obvious that she’s a total bunny boiler,’ said Joely, “stay away from her, she’s like one scowl away from putting your nuts in a vice.”

  The two gargoyles frowned.

  “I’m just saying that bitch be crazy - run.”

  They both frowned again. It was not often clear what humans meant, it sometimes took a moment or two.

  “That is cowardly,” said Castor finally.

  “No, that is smart. Remember, nuts, vice, and I may not always be there to have your back.”

  “Why would you have my…”

  “If I were you,” said Joely, “I’d go enjoy myself before she decides to come find you again. Now, my mate and I have somewhere to be.”

  She flashed Brom a wink and wriggled her rear. Brom gave him a smug smile as Joely led him away.

  Perhaps she had a point. Perhaps he should get away from the house, if only for the night.

  Three

  Tilly knocked frantically on Martha’s back door. Gwen opened it, and Tilly bustled past her.

  “Sorry, my oven is on the fritz – would you mind if I borrowed yours?”

  Gwen hesitated before nodding. “Ummm, okay, help yourself.”

  Gwen disappeared, and there was some mumbling and the sound of furniture scraping across the floor. Tilly went to see if everything was okay and Helen appeared, looking a little flushed.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Tilly, worried she was interrupting something. “Seriously, if now is not a good time…”

  “No, no, no,” flustered Helen, “you stay put. We are more than happy to help a friend. Gwen just needs to go out for a little while… she’s going out with a… friend.”

  Helen seemed to wince as she said, friend.

  “Oh, okay. I really appreciate…”

  Helen waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense, it’s the least we can do. You continue baking – I can’t wait to taste test whatever you’re making.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tilly started measuring her ingredients for a new batch. There were some thumps as someone started walking upstairs, the sound of a window opening and then a strange woosh.

  She registered it as odd, but then she had cupcakes to make.

  *

  Castor soared through the air. It felt so freeing to be out in the open. For a moment he could almost forget about everything that had happened. He could forget about the difficulties the gargoyles now faced. He could forget that he had lost his position as clan leader and his potential mate.

  Castor pushed himself on, dancing above the clouds. As much as it infuriated him to hide, he would not purposefully show himself to the humans. He would not risk his clan mates’ safety for the sake of his own pride. It had taken him a while to come to terms with that when first woken, but the needs of the clan came before his own ego.

  He let out a growl as he scented something – an unfamiliar gargoyle. What if they were here to attack? The clan! He had to warn them.

  As he headed towards the mansion, he realized too late the gargoyle was coming for him. Before he could react, the female collided with him, sending him sprawling down to earth.

  Four

  Ingrede proudly stroked her large stomach. Her youngling was due any day. Annis nervously looked on, as did Ingrede’s mate, Cai. Annis was the clan’s healer, though she had limited experience and no experience with birthing younglings.

  Usually, for gargoyles, when it was time, the female would be confined to the healer’s hut, and only the healer would be present for the birth. But Annis was worried that she would not know what to do.

  “Calm yourself,” cooed Ingrede to both Annis and her mate. “I have done this before; I know what I am doing.”

  Her eyes flickered to her youngling, Wolfe who was currently being entertained by Martha, Drago and Joely’s daughter, Daphne. Cai followed her gaze, and his face tightened in worry, but he quickly let it go. Ingrede did not blame him; a month ago she would not have allowed her son to be anywhere near the volatile gargoyle, Drago, but he was a lot more peaceable since mating. Ingrede withheld a chuckle as Wolfe pulled Drago’s tail; the huge gargoyle growled at him, and Wolfe burst into excited giggles. Martha was a calming influence that everyone was grateful for, and given the way she looked at Wolfe, perhaps it would not be long until she had her own youngling. As for Daphne, well, the small human girl seemed besotted with her Wolfe, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Human females did seem to like gargoyles she thought as she covertly watched Martha and Drago.

  Annis didn’t look altogether appeased, and even her mate, Chris’ reassurances did not help. Cai was not helping either – for some reason he thought this would be harder than when she had Wolfe. She did not think so. Her old clan healer had been old and frankly lazy. Ingrede did all the work herself while the old female fell asleep, and she was none the worse for it. Part of her had wished Cai had been by her side for Wolfe’s birth, but it was
not the custom, and besides, he had been a hundred miles away at the time, trading with another clan.

  Perhaps they were just worried because of how few gargoyles there were now – they could not afford to lose a single one. As for Cai, well, things were different between them now. Their relationship was so much more than it had been. Perhaps he would feel her loss so much more keenly if anything happened now. She didn’t like to think about how she would feel if ever she lost Cai – those kinds of feelings made her want to punch things repeatedly.

  Ingrede grasped Cai’s hand, attempting to soothe him. “It will be fine. Our daughter will be fine,” she said artfully.

  Cai gave her the ghost of a smile and his wings fluttered. “Our son, you mean.”

  “I am certain it is a female.”

  “I am certain it is a male.”

  “Ooh, we should be taking bets on this,” said Twenty-Six and then frowned. “Shame I don’t have any money.”

  “Bah,” grumbled Grey. “Ridiculous human invention. Why use money when you can barter?”

  Danica rolled her eyes. She usually did when he spoke. “Oh yeah, why don’t you bet a sheep or a goat? Oh no wait, you’re stone cold broke no matter what. Loser.”

  “Humph. Remind me of what your worldly goods are? At least I own my own battle-ax!” he snarled.

  Danica snorted. “Yeah, a battle-ax – wow! No wonder females aren’t beating down your door.”

  “I do not see males trying to enter through your door,” sneered Grey.

  “That’s not the saying, doofus!”

  “Enough,” said Kylie mildly, and when Grey tried to object, Luc flicked his tail against the floor with a deafening thump, suggesting that not only would any argument be pointless, it may prove suicidal.

  Grey harrumphed and returned to sharpening said battle-ax.