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Locked in Stone

Page 16

by Tory Michaels

A bellow, along with the screech of metal as a distant door was ripped from its hinges, rang in her ears. She wanted to weep at the welcome sound of a gargoyle’s trumpeting fury.

  They’re here. They’re really here. She wasn’t going to die. At least not alone, and not without one hell of a fight.

  Giles’ reaction to the bellow was immediate. Black fire erupted from his hand and he spun toward the noise, snarling, “Take her, Ty.”

  Rose didn’t move fast enough to avoid being snatched around the waist and hauled back against the master vampire. So she used the only weapon immediately available to her as the weaker vampires swarmed toward the ruckus: her boot heels. She stomped downward, knowing the core of her specially made shoes contained steel, strong enough to drive through flesh and bone.

  Tyrone yowled, but yanked her toward a partially concealed door in the wall that led into darkness. Blood stink mixed with sulfur, and her stomach revolted. Instead of letting that distract her, she sank her nails into Tyrone’s arms. The nails weren’t talons, but they sure as hell were sturdy and inhumanly strong.

  He grunted and dragged her flailing body closer to the darkened exit.

  Rose scrabbled, trying to dig in, but her strength wasn’t enough to break free from a vampire.

  At least her strength before her wings and tail showed up.

  Three gargoyles, led by Madra, burst into the room, racing on all fours. Using hands and feet let a gargoyle cover territory more quickly, using wing-power to boost their big bodies.

  “Watch out!” she shouted as Giles loosed his magic.

  The gargoyles dropped to the ground.

  Fire exploded over their heads.

  Rose leaned over and sank her teeth into Tyrone’s arm, driving her boot into his foot again. She realized her mistake when blood welled into her mouth.

  She yowled, spitting frantically to avoid swallowing. Vampire blood, bad. Bad. “Let me go, you bastard!”

  No matter how hard she jerked and pulled, he inexorably moved toward the exit. The lead gargoyle, male judging by his broad shoulders, tackled two vampires at once, sweeping a third off its feet with his tail.

  No good. She couldn’t break free of Tyrone.

  Not as a human.

  “Hold on, Rose,” came Cal’s voice through the earpiece. “We’re almost there.”

  Almost wouldn’t save her if the vampire turned her into a Slurpee before then. Driving her elbow back into his gut as hard as she could, Rose accepted the inevitable. Since all those gathered in the basement were already doomed, her secret would remain safe.

  With that in mind, she unleashed the gargoyle within.

  …

  Cal clung to the door handle as Dennis yanked the steering wheel of the van and sent the tires screeching in protest. His life flashed before his eyes as Mr. Psycho-Wannabe-a-Race-Car-Driver-Gargoyle maniacally gunned the engine and shot down the quiet street. The sounds of a battle came through the transmitter and he sucked in a deep breath to help him focus. He needed to think only of the fight ahead. Not about Rose in the center of it. Just the demons and vampires. They would succeed.

  Tranquil peace filled him. Of course they would win. There was no other option. With that in mind, he pressed the “speak” button. “We’re here.”

  Dennis slammed on the brakes, bringing the van to a halt less than two inches before it mowed over, or rather crashed into, a waist-high iron picket fence surrounding the property. He glanced up, cringed at the ominous looking two-story Victorian house.

  Shaking out his hand, cramped from clinging to the handle for so long, he yanked open his door and slid out.

  The other Sentinels and Niall poured from the van.

  “Tom, check the house for any other problems. And remember what you’re looking for.”

  Mr. Ray agreed to bring Tom back, and Lucas had been given a shopping list of items that Giles would likely possess. The ghost saluted and zoomed toward the front door as Cal bolted in the wake of the other Sentinels toward the back of the house to the basement entrance.

  As he skidded around the corner, he saw a door ripped off its hinges, claw marks deep in the frame from where the other gargoyles had taken it out. He’d set a foot on the top step leading into the darkness when a female scream curdled his blood.

  Cal tore down the stairs and just avoided tripping over a detached head. The stench of evil—sulfur and copper—hung heavy in the air, mixing with foul incense and dark magic. Black flames devoured one wall, consuming the tapestries covering the surface.

  His eyes widened as he peered through the smoke-filled room at the gargoyle locked in a tooth and claw battle with a polished-looking vampire. The blue streak in her hair made her distinctive, even from behind. Rose had changed forms.

  His heart leaped in his throat as he noticed blood dripping from her left wing. Cal activated his axe to full size. Giles Jester stood only three feet from Rose, slack-jawed amazement evident on his features.

  That didn’t stop the man from hurling another ball of flame as a Sentinel barreled through the basement with a war cry. The bellow cut off mid-way as flames consumed the warrior.

  Cal hacked at a vampire that slithered up to him, determined to get to Rose. This is what he lived for: protecting the gargoyles. The creature dodged his strike and swiped out with ichor-tipped claws. His protective leather jacket saved the day and the claws raked only through leather.

  “Rose!”

  Her tail slammed into the vampire, knocking him back a step and she whirled to face off with Giles, shrieking, “You…you’re a monster.”

  He cackled, electricity arcing through the air as his fingertips glowed with a sickly green film. “Sacred Mother. Oh, my. No wonder Gwen left you to me. Such a naughty little girl, keeping such a secret.”

  Cal swung again at the vampire. It didn’t dodge the blow this time and its arm flopped to the ground, scrabbling around uselessly. The creature just kept coming.

  He tried to edge around it, toward Rose, but a second vampire joined the fray against him. Sweat coated his body as they blocked him in.

  With a snarl, he spun and cut through a leg on the second vampire.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bitch from the parking lot dive between the necromancer and Rose, a gleaming sword in her hands. Behind Rose, the master vampire loomed and Cal barked, “Watch it.”

  A black gout of flame spewed from Giles’s fingertips to his left, slowing Niall’s progress as the gargoyle dove toward the fray, seeing the outnumbered Sacred Mother.

  Cal lost track of that melee for a moment as he kicked the second vampire, which had begun hauling itself over the floor and reaching for Cal’s leg with its claws. Cal swung his axe at the first one.

  Another blood-curdling scream brought his attention back to Rose after he removed the first vampire’s head.

  Light flashed around Giles as Vicky staggered against him, her blood boiling from a lethal belly wound. The necromancer vanished as the Twisted One touched him and she collapsed to the ground.

  Cal swore when Rose leaped forward, the edges of her silver eyes glowing around the green contacts she’d donned. As he stomped on the hand of the downed vampire, Rose’s talons ripped through Vicky’s neck, severing her head from her body a second too late.

  With Giles’s disappearance, the fight ended quickly. The gargoyles, remaining Sentinels, and severely pissed-off Sacred Mother quickly overpowered the vampires.

  The last vampire fell to Cal’s axe and an eerie silence enveloped the basement. Only harsh breathing broke the quiet for several long minutes. He rested his head against the wall, sucking in air as fast as possible.

  Dennis was already working to dispose of the corpses. One of the local Sentinels beat at the blazing tapestry to put the fire out before smoke asphyxiated them all.

  Rose leaned into the wall, fingers clenched into fists at her sides. Her left wing fluttered loosely, uselessly. Blood flowed from the ripped membrane. She wouldn’t fly anywhere until she h
ad a chance to turn to stone and recover.

  Two Sentinels lay twitching in their death throes, and he forced his attention toward them. At the moment, he felt secure enough that if he needed to, he could get into the Nexus. However, he saw no ghostly trails and knew they’d made it to Otherworld without his intervention.

  Niall dropkicked Vicky’s head. It bumped across the carpet until it whacked into the wall then Niall stared hard, accusingly even, at Rose.

  Cal limped forward, wanting to head off hard feelings. He had made the call to not mention Rose’s true identity to anyone outside of the Georgia arm of the Protectorate. He’d still been trying to keep her existence quiet as long as possible.

  With Giles’s escape, that plan was shot to hell. There’d be an APB out on her in the Twisted One community within hours. Which meant he had to get her sweet butt, tail and all, back to Georgia and the safety of the mansion.

  Niall’s gaze met his, solemn and deeply troubled. “She is one of them, isn’t she? One of the lost ones?”

  “Mm-hm.” He looked at Rose, saw the glow fade from around her silver and green eyes.

  A blanket of defeat slumped her shoulders. “He got away. He’s going to tell Lucifer.”

  Cal had no idea how to respond to her forlorn comment. Unfortunately, he knew she was right. Despite his earlier decision to find a way to keep her at arms-length once he found her again, he crossed the room and pulled her against him. She looked too lost not to offer comfort.

  Niall glared at the two of them before stalking off to help clean up. None of them wanted to leave evidence of the supernatural around. Humans might be clueless, but they weren’t entirely stupid, and any slip might reveal the gargoyles’ existence to the world at large.

  Rose didn’t fight his hold, just leaned down enough to rest her head on his shoulder as her breath hitched. She stood a half-foot taller than him and her tail curled around his leg. He breathed in her gardenia smell. It chased away the stench of death.

  This would be the last time he was ever going to cuddle her close, so he committed every last inch of her incredible body to memory.

  Dennis joined Cal and Rose. From his position, Cal saw the big gargoyle run taloned fingers along her ripped membrane. To her credit, Rose didn’t make a sound.

  Cal rested his head against her hair, cursing the others for being too near. In front of others, Rose would protest if he did more than this, then push him away, thanks to her gargoyle pride.

  Her hot tears splashed onto his shoulder as Dennis’s fingers traced the edge of the largest rips.

  “It hurts,” she whispered, her voice so soft he almost missed it even though her lips brushed his ear. “I’ve never hurt my wings before.”

  The pained comment ate away at him and he squeezed her tight. The embrace served two purposes: comfort and keeping her from yanking away as Dennis tried to determine the damage.

  “You scared the shit out of us when you disappeared. Damn lucky a torn wing’s all that happened to you.” His voice was gruff with worry.

  She stiffened against him. It was best. He had to be tough because he lost all objectivity when she looked at him the way she had earlier.

  “What?” She straightened and looked at him. “What do you mean? I…you agreed to me doing this. You agreed that this was our best way to get him.”

  He squared his shoulders and made a deliberate attempt to temper his tone. He wanted to set barriers between them, not drive her away from their protection. “We’re going to talk on the plane, Rose. But we can’t do it now. Who knows how long until Giles returns with more minions.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together and she swallowed. Hurt, or maybe guilt, flitted across her face.

  “There were what, like ten vamps here total? There are literally hundreds in the Sacramento Valley that he can call on. It’s dangerous; you know that.”

  She sighed and nodded shortly. “Right, talk later. Safety first. This was a mistake, I know.”

  He frowned up at her. It was hard to be intimidating toward a woman who was a half-foot taller than he was, but it was for both their own goods. He wanted to be sure she never took a chance like this again. “This was your harebrained scheme. And then, after he already held you, you changed. You showed him just what the hell you are. He could have killed you! Any of them would have loved to bring an end to you once you shifted.”

  And yet they hadn’t. The necromancer had had a clean shot at Rose as she fought one of the vampires, but he’d contented himself lobbing death tar toward Sentinels and gargoyles. Cal made a note to talk to Mr. Ray, to see if they could make sense of it. Why would he leave a Sacred Mother alive?

  Rose audibly ground her teeth together, and hunched her shoulders. “I was trying to survive! I’m too slow in my human form. I know the chance I took, but I couldn’t stand by like a useless, helpless, pathetic little human about to be their dinner! I had to try, damn it.” She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “He’s gone, the bastard! I wanted him taken, not running. He said Gwen laughed at me, about me. I want to know why, and what he knew about me!”

  Dennis coughed, drawing their attention. “C’mon, pack it in. Like you said, time’s limited, Cal. Got a house to search and it ain’t a studio apartment.”

  …

  Rose dug her talons further into her hand. It sucked when she knew he was right. The risk had always been there, but she had plowed forward, insisted on following through. Frustration threatened to boil over, but she didn’t dare let loose the blow at Cal. It wouldn’t be fair to take it out on him.

  Besides, using her arm like that would hurt like hell when her wing moved.

  She decided to shift back to her human form to temporarily soothe the pain from her wounded wing. Then at least she wouldn’t lose any more blood and she would feel better while arguing with Cal. Because she suspected she wasn’t going to like what he had to say to her.

  He has every right to ream you out.

  “Turn your backs, gentlemen,” she hissed, imbuing her voice with as much loathing as she could. Anger helped her focus. She’d rein in her temper until they got back to the plane. They needed to get out of there. “I’m changing back.”

  Both gargoyles immediately whirled and she was pretty sure she saw a hint of a blush on Dennis’s stern countenance.

  To her surprise, Cal did likewise. Given what they’d done at the mansion, she’d half expected him to ogle her. It hurt more than she expected that he didn’t. She told herself she didn’t feel bereft that he’d turned so quickly and easily away from her.

  Muttering under her breath, she rolled her shoulders to loosen them before willing the change. She slid the strap of her tank top up to the top of her shoulder—it had fallen down as she shrank. Pity about the pretty, made-to-order boots that her feet had exploded out of. Still, she was alive. Maybe Lucas would buy her another pair as part of the whole “We protect the Sacred Mother” thing.

  That was if she stayed with them. Given how mad Cal was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  I’d kill for some Vicodin right about now. Her left shoulder blade throbbed as the skin sealed back in place over her retracted wings.

  “Okay, I’m relatively decent. Let’s get to searching.” Not that she was particularly eager to paw through a necromancer’s home. She knew better than most just what sort of gross stuff he might have lying about, and that was just from what she had delivered to him on occasion.

  Rose wasn’t particularly squeamish—who could be when they routinely went digging up bodies—but Giles was going to have worse than spare fingers or toes lying around.

  “Maybe you should go to the van. We’ve got Tylenol out there,” Cal said.

  His hazel eyes swept over her body though his gaze didn’t linger. Something had definitely changed. Had she lost his respect? Heck, had she ever had his respect in the first place? Loss overwhelmed her.

  “It might do until we get to the plane where I know Lucas stashes harder stuff,” he continue
d.

  She shook her head and sighed. “No. You don’t know what Gwen’s soul-stone looks like and I do.”

  Rather than stand around and either burst into tears—stupid weakness—or argue, she whirled and stomped up the staircase. Well, she stomped on the first two steps, and then switched to a more sedate prance to avoid nauseating pain with each step.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gargoyle Niall: If you really want the best of the day/night ratio, accept that you will migrate like a bird every year. Seattle in the winter, Florida in the summer will net you the longest hours awake and moving without extremes in weather.

  The search didn’t take them long. Clearly, this was a main home for Giles, and the necromancer counted on his fearsome reputation and nasty black fireballs to keep invaders at bay.

  They quickly found the man’s soul-stone collection. The notion chilled her as she stepped into what once might have been a quaint little sewing room overlooking the street.

  All around her, on shelves of intricately carved ebony, lay row upon row of stones. Some were highly decorated, à la Faberge, and others were plain with barely any glow of their own. All nestled on pillows of velvet, and most gave off feelings of despair that she doubted even the most clueless human would miss.

  “My God,” she whispered, trailing a finger along the lowest shelf to her left. Eighteen egg-like rocks lay on that surface. At least half were dark and lifeless, with no sparkle to them, even considering the lights shining down on the assorted diamonds and rubies. The stones on this particular shelf must have been drained of their resident souls.

  Cal stepped in behind her and whistled between his teeth. “By the Light… He could have killed us downstairs and not thought twice about it.”

  Only if he’d actually used the power. “But if he had so much available power, why didn’t he even try to capture me? Vicky just teleported him out.”

  “Not a clue,” Cal muttered before stopping in front of the richest display of stones. The gems themselves were worth at least two and a half million dollars. Maybe more. But the soul-stone she wanted wasn’t in that batch.

 

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