Locked in Stone

by Tory Michaels

  “Awe-inspiring, ship-launching, or even breath-taking, but not ugly.”

  At least some blood remained in his head, rather than pooling much further south. Cal was rather proud he managed to keep speaking when his gut demanded he worship the woman before him. Meanwhile, her cheeks turned an interesting shade of orange as a blush mixed with her yellowish hide and her foot dug in the dirt beneath them.

  Mr. Ray would not approve.

  Anniko’s equally disapproving scowl flashed in front of his eyes, a product of the older gargoyle’s over-zealous protective nature when it came to her hatchlings, still very clear in Cal’s memories, followed by an even more ponderous scowl from Lucas.

  Protector. I am a protector, not a…lover. Okay, okay, move on. Focus. His gaze sharpened and it did nothing to eliminate the arousal already threatening to damage his pants. Not the breasts. Damn it, man, not the breasts!

  Rose smiled shyly at him, her talon-tipped toes still kicking at the ground. Such a far cry from the rampaging woman who’d jumped him hours before. That woman surely could never have such insecurity in her appearance, could she?

  “Thanks. Do you…well…do you think the other gargoyles will think I look okay?”

  She might have wings, a deadly tail, and razor-sharp claws, but underneath her hardened skin, she was definitely still a woman. With an unexpected core of vulnerability. He’d wager his next paycheck from the Protectorate that she never showed vulnerability to anyone, and he acknowledged the honor she showed him in that.

  A knockout and insecure about it.

  That broke the spell trapping him and he finally sloughed off his daze over Rose as a gargoyle. He nodded quickly. “You’re perfection itself, Rose.”

  She plucked something from a pocket in the belt around her waist and twisted her hair back into a ponytail. She averted her gaze from his as he saw the uncertainty fade. Her shoulders straightened and her chin lifted.

  Ah, there’s the familiar pissy woman, he thought when she eyed him narrowly. Strangely, he liked the aggressiveness far more than he liked the vulnerability. Maybe because he didn’t want to think of her, or any gargoyle, as being remotely vulnerable.

  “So, how are you going to carry me?”

  Given she needed room to flap her wings, he wasn’t going to go piggyback. He grunted when her arm swept around him and drew him close. His body hardened as the scent of Rose, gargoyle musk mixed with gardenias, swirled around him.

  Awww, crap. Don’t let her feel that. Please?

  He saw a new wash of orange rise in her cheeks, though her expression darkened. Nothing was ever easy, was it?

  She muttered, “You grab me in the wrong place, Cal, and I don’t care how high up we are. I will so drop your ass.”

  Given the bared fangs after her comment, he believed her.

  Never ever cross a gargoyle. That was one of the first rules drilled into a Sentinel during the intensive training period before they took their oaths.

  “No, ma’am. Sorry, just basic guy physiology when faced by a gorgeous woman.”

  She snorted.

  Well, he could say he was sorry. He wasn’t really because he knew he had no intention of acting on his attraction. If priests could go without sex, he could, right?

  He turned so he faced forward. The grip around his waist tightened until he was afraid he might suffocate. That fear lasted only until the ground fell away from his feet sickeningly fast. Then he never wanted her to let go.

  Wind whipped around them as her wings beat at the air in strong, steady strokes. His feet dangled, but after a moment—and a lot of abruptly heart-felt prayers for safety—he looked down. The ground zipped along dizzyingly far beneath him as they sped south.

  Her lips brushed his ear and warm breath tickled along his neck when she asked, “You okay?”

  Cal nodded, still digging his fingers into the hardened skin of her forearm. That single limb was all that stood between him and a plunge to certain death. If she really harbored any lingering desire to kill him for surviving the massacre, she had prime opportunity to do it.

  And yet, he couldn’t imagine her doing so.

  “If we do this again, we’re going to have to work on a better, or rather more comfortable, arrangement,” she said suddenly.

  Given his dangling feet, he thoroughly agreed. And damn if the notion of flying with her again didn’t appeal. “Dennis and Lucas have a harness they rigged up.”

  “Really?”

  It looked weird, and Lucas only used it on flights expected to last over an hour, but it got the job done. “Has to be specially made though.”

  “Hmm. Something to consider. At least you’re easier to carry than the hog I hauled across part of South Africa a few years back.”

  Now that was a story that might make him forget their height and speed. She hummed to herself, a secretive smile turning up the corners of her lush mouth. “Oh, c’mon, tell me already!”

  Better exasperation than to give in and kiss her. The way she felt, she might just drop him.

  …

  By the time they reached the little suburb outside Orlando, Cal was quite ready to land. Rose might have kept a firm grip on him—he’d look for bruises later—but he still felt a momentary urge to kiss the ground when she landed him in the center of a small playground.

  Dennis landed next to them, but when Cal looked up, he saw no sign of Vasiliu. “You stash the car?”

  The gargoyle shook his head. “Vasiliu wanted to drive. He rarely gets the chance, so he drove most of the way. He’ll join us shortly.” Dennis studied Rose for a long moment as she stretched. “Y’all okay after your flight?”

  Cal wasn’t sure who the question was aimed at, but Rose gave the big gargoyle the same uncertain smile she’d aimed at him earlier. “Fine.”

  Her wings rustled before she folded them around her shoulders. He turned to scan the immediate vicinity, watching for any sign of vampires or Twisted Ones. The area looked quiet at the moment.

  “So, is this normal? A T’chan popping up in a populated area?”

  Cal rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles of his back before he dove into combat. It wasn’t good to be stiff upon entry. He wasn’t going to die because a Twisted One took advantage of a charley horse. “You got me. Mostly appears to be happening out in the wilds on other continents.”

  “Cal’s right,” Dennis rumbled. “I was just a hatchling when the last Rift cycle took place. I was in Texas and the North American Rift opened in Canada’s Northwest Territory. I heard it took more than three days for the Sacred Mothers to find it, it was so far out beyond populated territory.”

  Finished loosening himself up, Cal dug out his phone and gave a last skim-through of incoming text messages from the other Sentinels. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he thrust the cell back into his pocket and pulled out a tiny silver-tipped double-headed axe. With a whispered word, it expanded to full weight and size. Mr. Ray had blessed the weapon for his personal use.

  “At least seven vamps and eight Twisted Ones are patrolling the vicinity around the house. As far as anyone can tell, the T’chan is inside a house.”

  Dennis wagged his head thoughtfully. “It makes sense. With satellites and all, it’d be easier to avoid detection.”

  Cal gave a few practice swings, careful to avoid hacking toward Rose. “You probably haven’t been hunting vampires before, but if one pops up, dispose of them as quietly as possible.”

  Rose shot him a look, one that would have withered him up if he weren’t so damned happy to have her with him. She might not have trained with the Sentinels, but she seemed like she knew what to do.

  They made it halfway down the first block before he caught his first glimpse of the enemy, a cluster of three. One, clearly a vamp, sank its fangs into a struggling man, gnawed on the man’s throat until it saw Cal. Then it hissed and the meal toppled to the ground with a silent moan.

  His eyes widened as he first recognized the vampi
re’s victim. It was Jonas, a young Sentinel from the Tampa/St. Pete area. A moment later, he caught sight of the silver trail fading away from the body.

  Jonas’s spirit had already vacated the body but it wasn’t in Otherworld yet. If the spirit had reached Otherworld, the afterlife destination of all those born on Earth, the trail would be gone, the link between body and soul irrevocably severed. Cal glanced back at Dennis for just an instant before making his decision.

  “Protect her,” he said to the gargoyle and launched himself into the Nexus. His last vision of Earth was the sight of Rose leaping toward the vampire. If he didn’t go now, the fallen Sentinel’s only chance at survival would be gone.

  Dennis could keep Rose safe. Right?

  He had to believe that, pray that he was right, or he’d never be able to stay in the Nexus long enough to save Jonas.

  …

  Rose slashed at the monster and blood gushed from the newly opened wound in its neck, but it didn’t go down, just slashed out with its claws. Rose leaped to the side before the blow landed. Slightly stinky goo dripped from its fingers. She knew from experience the goo was poisonous and outright acidic.

  Resentment still boiled at Cal’s assumption that she didn’t know how to fight monsters, and she channeled that irritation into her next side kick at the vampire.

  Dennis dove between her and the monster.

  “What the hell? Knock it off!” she snapped before spinning in a tight circle as she drew one of her chopsticks out and drove the end into the monster’s side. The vampire hissed.

  Five feet away, Cal stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the crumpled man, his face void of all expression. She gasped and threw a confused expression toward the other gargoyle.

  “Soul rescue,” Dennis answered. “Explain later. Kill now.”

  Made sense to her. Explanations could always wait.

  Unfortunately, two vampires and a Twisted One, recognizable by its glowing red eyes, chose that moment to leap into the fray.

  She cursed and yanked the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh.

  “He picked a damn stupid time to do whatever it is,” she snapped as adrenaline shot through her body. She’d never taken part in a group fight before, just one-on-one encounters. “So much for his ‘I’ll protect you’ bullshit.”

  …

  Fog covered everything as far as Cal could see. Familiar territory for him, the Nexus nestled between Earth and Otherworld. He eased forward, his axe held at the ready. Like everything else connected to him, the weapon was an astral projection, a conjured item identical to the one in the real world.

  He barely dared breathe for fear of stirring the fog and drawing attention to himself from the creatures that lurked in this shadowy place between worlds.

  At first look around, he saw nothing and heard no sound that might be Jonas.

  Cal stretched his minimal psychic senses out into the mist as far as he could to find some trace of his fellow Sentinel. Spirits came to the Nexus, a transition place between life and death for those born on Earth. The truly dead met up with their Gatherer—a guardian angel in most cases—and were led to their new lives in Otherworld as spirits. Partially living spirits, like Jonas, who still had a body to return to, weren’t supposed to be in the Nexus and a Gatherer wouldn’t be dispatched to collect them. If Cal didn’t find Jonas soon, something else would.

  That something was far worse than Jonas simply wandering the Nexus for all eternity, lost and alone.

  His fingers flexed, gripping the handle of his axe. Make this fast. Get back to Rose. He hated abandoning her, but he was sworn to protect the Sentinels, too. There was no one else to do it.

  A whisper of breeze blew behind him.

  He spun, conjuring a blaze of blue flame in the air before him. It didn’t pierce far through the fog, but it gave the illusion of illumination. As it turned out, it was just enough to catch sight of Jonas.

  The other man’s eyes lit up and he reached out. “Cal! You’re here too? Where is this place?”

  Cal hated to break the news of where they were. He couldn’t lie about the situation, could he? “Yeah. You want to go back?”

  Uncertainty crossed Jonas’s face, sending a certain youthful quality over him. Jonas had just discovered his heritage the year before and gone on the “Welcome to the Fold” trip two months earlier. So damned innocent about so many facets of the Protectorate.

  Just like Rose.

  He shoved away the thought, aware of the need to flee soon. If he didn’t pull Jonas out quickly, he might never have the strength to do it. Timing was everything here.

  “Where are we?”

  Cal held out his hand. Jonas had to come back by choice, so Cal couldn’t actually grab the man. “Give me your hand. You have to trust me.”

  A droplet of sweat trickled down Jonas’s face as his eyes widened. With a shaking finger, he pointed at something behind Cal. “Wh-what the heck is that?”

  Cal squeezed his eyes shut, knowing exactly what he’d see when he turned. Time was up. They were FUBAR if Jonas didn’t take his hand ASAP.

  He turned reluctantly, tightening his grip on his axe until the wood popped in protest.

  Sure enough, staggering from the choking fog came a Demon Gatherer, a guardian/demon that worked solely for the demonic factions from Otherworld.

  The one before him stood ten feet tall, swirls of dark ether encompassing its body instead of clothes. It had skin the color of ripe cantaloupe. Claws tipped both hands and feet. Jagged, double rows of teeth filled its mouth. Steam and sulfur stench saturated the air around him.

  “Stay behind me,” he said shortly to Jonas. This was going to be close. Clearly Jonas wasn’t going to take his hand with the creature there, and he didn’t have time before the monster attacked to explain why it was necessary he do so.

  “Not happening.” Jonas stepped next to Cal and Cal cursed under his breath. Bravado was all well and good, but the man carried no weapons. Ghosts, whether partially or fully dead, didn’t come with access to the same equipment a ghost-talker like him did.

  He quelled the fear bubbling in his belly and growled, “Back off, asshole.”

  The Demon Gatherer bared all its teeth, all hundred or so of them, and advanced.

  Cal shoved Jonas back.

  Timing was everything. And time, that rat bastard of an entity, slowed to a crawl around him.

  “Cal!”

  Rose’s terror-filled voice pierced the eerie quiet of the Nexus, a beacon of silver music over the dense silence.

  He jerked to a halt, heart pounding in his chest with a fresh wave of adrenaline. Shit, oh shit, had she taken a mortal blow? Was she in the Nexus?

  Fight or flight response kicked in. If she had crossed over, it became even more critical he take the Demon Gatherer down and get to her. It’d revel in the chance to soul-rip a gargoyle.

  Cal leaped forward with a howl, raising his axe to strike the first blow.

  The monster laughed, the sound reminiscent of an unholy choir of demons howling. It dodged the first swipe of the blade. Before Cal turned and swung again, needle-like pain raced down his back as razor-edged claws sliced through the inadequate protection of his leather coat. The garment protected Cal from Twisted Ones and vampire blood spatter, but not so well against claws. It wasn’t designed to.

  Jonas bravely, but foolishly, struck out with his foot, slamming the creature in the side. The demon didn’t even spare a glance, but swiped out with a single punch and sent the man flying into the mist.

  Demon Gatherers didn’t fear the dead and dying, but Cal was very much a threat. The creature advanced on him, a scythe shimmering into existence in its malevolent grasp.

  Cal’s stomach quaked at the purple hellfire that raced down the blade. More than fleeting contact with hellfire and he died. Permanently. No afterlife, no Otherworld, or anything else. He’d be destroyed.

  The scythe’s reach was more than five feet.

  How do I get close?
>
  Cal circled the demon, moving so his body once again stood between Jonas and the beast.

  Rose screamed in the distance and his heart kicked in his chest.

  Think. Think.

  He had to get to Rose, wherever she was. Jonas was Sentinel. She was gargoyle. Gargoyles came first.

  But he couldn’t see her.

  He gathered his gift’s energy quickly, feinting left before diving forward and swinging the axe in a huge arc to the right. At the moment of impact, he released a blast of psychic energy. It transferred through the slice in the creature’s side.

  The Demon Gatherer screamed as the first wave of power, pure golden fire, sank into its flesh and blood. Cal continued his deadly circle, focusing his will entirely in transferring the power granted by his angelic heritage from the axe to each new wound.

  Attack and jump back.

  Swing and dodge.

  “Cal, help us!”

  A new wave of agony exploded in his side when his attention wavered ever-so-slightly at Rose’s frantic cry. He hit the deck, rolling frantically to extinguish the flames before they ate entirely through his jacket.

  The coat turned to ash as Cal rolled to his feet.

  At least the Demon Gatherer was slowing down. Black blood dripped from a myriad of wounds, and the powerful arms shook with the effort of swinging its scythe in ever-diminishing strokes.

  Dual screams pierced the fog of the Nexus. One from Jonas…one from Rose.

  Duties clashed, warred within him as he glanced in the man’s direction. Terror, sharp and stark, nearly ripped him apart when he glimpsed the second Demon Gatherer. This one held Jonas by the throat and hoisted him aloft with one clawed hand. Jonas kicked out with his legs frantically, trying to pull the creature’s fingers away from his neck.

  “Damn it, Cal, wake up or I’ll kick your ass myself.”

  Cal barely ducked under a swipe from his monster. Icy sweat dripped in his eyes and he dashed it away.

  Two. Two of them. No one could beat two.

  Rose needed him.