He took to the air and went after her, keeping pace but not attacking as he thought of another plan. His direct approach hadn't worked. He needed to change tactics to catch this wily thief. He kept pace high above and directly over her sedan so she could not pinpoint his pursuit from her vehicle.
It was still hours before the sun would rise and he had plenty of time before he needed to return to the museum. One hour after sunrise he would once again turn to stone, a curse he must endure for the crime he committed. He would be forever a guardsman for the Museum of Cursed Antiquities, no matter where the artifacts may find their home through the centuries. Be it overseas, in the States, or any other place the founders—as he called them—saw fit to place the items. He was at their mercy. He could awaken tomorrow and find they moved the museum yet again.
In truth, it didn't matter where he guarded. He couldn't venture far from the artifacts unless someone dared to steal an object. Then his beastie nature would take over. He would hunt the thief with little trouble. Numerous men, brave and brilliant tried, and still they failed. It took no more than one evening to track them and end their lives before returning the object to its rightful berth in the museum. Those men were bloody fools, the lot of them, to go up against a Gryphon.
Only, the thief tonight had been a woman. He sighed heavily. It does not matter, he thought with determination. The end result would be the same. She'd stolen a stone that housed the power of an evil Necromancer. If such an item fell into the wrong hands, a new meaning to this century's term 'hell on earth' would ensue.
In a few days, the veil between life and death would be at its weakest. The one wielding the stone would be able to call on the dead with ease and bend them to their will. Charon, the ferryman, who ferried the dead to Hades, would not be able to deny such a request. He would be forced to bring the souls through the veil one by one.
This could not happen. If the dead walked among the living, they would eventually feed off of them. They would crave the energy that makes the living thrive. No, he could not allow the thief to accomplish such a goal.
The thief's vehicle pulled into the parking lot of a motel with a sign flashing vacancy in red on the marquee. The main building where the customers would check in for their stay stood overlooking the street. The rooms were located adjacent to it. The one-story units had different color doors, but all had gold numbers nailed to the center, ranging from one to twenty. The thief pulled into a car slot in front of room number seven, which sported a dark green door. By the look of the parking lot, there was possibly only one other room rented for the night, which made his job that much easier. If the occupant decided to be a good law-abiding citizen, he'd take him out too.
He meant to perch on the roof of the building and keep to the shadows of the overhanging tree, but at the last second landed on the earth behind the shrubbery, a location opposite where the thief had parked and with a good view of her next move without being obvious.
He changed into his human form. He would have preferred the clothing he remembered from his youth, but instead fashioned himself in the current style of this era. He glanced down at himself and smoothed his hand over the I love rock and roll T-shirt. The worn blue jeans were comfortable, but then he frowned when his gaze landed on his bare feet. In the next second, he willed snakeskin boots to appear to cover them and nodded in approval. Crouching low behind the shrubbery, he waited to make his next move.
The woman stepped out of her sedan and hurried toward a room. Her hands shook as she tried to manage the keycard into the lock mechanism and ended up dropping it in the bushes next to the walkway. It took her a few seconds to retrieve it, giving him a nice view of her shapely bottom. His lips curved before he stopped himself, and was surprised at where his thoughts had ventured. He had not admired a woman in a long time and the odd sensation left him unnerved. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and shook off his moment of weakness. He didn't have time for fanciful thoughts. He refocused and forced himself to concentrate on the thief's actions and not her comely attributes.
Once she had the keycard in her hand, he made his move, materializing beside her as she disengaged the lock to her door. She gasped and stepped back as if to flee, but he proved quicker and his hand snaked out, grabbing her wrist. He'd not make the same mistake twice and have her slip out of his grip, leaving him with only a glove for his trouble. The skin-to-skin contact sparked a current of electricity, a jolt worthy of Zeus' warning bolts, and by the heavens those stung.
They flew apart from the zap of energy and he slammed into the vending machine, sparking it to life and sending candy bars and chips dropping into the bin for easy access. The thief bounced against her vehicle, fell to the ground, and hit her head against the bumper on the way down, knocking her unconscious.
He soared to his feet and strode toward her, fearing she'd spring to life and bolt again, but she lay unmoving with only the rise and fall of her chest to tell him she still lived.
"Unfortunate for you, my dear sweet thief," he murmured. Her unconscious state made slicing her neck and taking back what belonged to the museum that much easier. He crouched down next to her and released his talons from his fingertips with a slight shift.
"Ah…soooo…nice," the thief murmured, her voice like a sweet melody to his ears.
He frowned and stared at her, his clawed hand ready to slash, but he didn't act. Instead, he found himself mesmerized as her tongue slipped out to moisten those pink lips of hers. He thought she would awaken, but then she shifted her bottom and settled as she curled on her side.
He retracted his claws. Curiosity got the better of him and he had to behold the thief's true features. He reached for the ski mask and yanked it off her head. Waves of ginger strands tumbled out like autumn arriving by storm and summer being left behind by the raging winds.
He blinked in surprise and his blood pounded in his temples as he absorbed her every feature, features he knew as well as his own. "Callista?" he breathed the name, though it took all the air from him as if she sucker punched him.
The thief…this woman couldn't be his lady wife. She died centuries ago because he had not protected her. His failure had been the reason he'd been cursed, and yet he knew the woman at his feet was indeed his beloved. The shape of her eyes, the upturn of her nose and the lips… those kissable lips… How had he not seen it, even with the ridiculous disguise she'd worn?
Her groans alerted his attention to the situation at hand. She'd been hurt, and though she was strong, she'd hit her head and such an injury could prove fatal.
He scooped her into his arms with care and headed for her room before they drew unwanted attention. Once inside, he closed the door behind him with a kick of his boot and strode over to the bed, placing her gently on top of the covers. His hand brushed a wayward strand from her face and she stirred, leaning toward his caress as if she sought his touch. No fiery spark, but he could still feel the energy pulsing between them as her cheek touched his palm.
His plans to eliminate her had taken a sharp turn. "Ah Callista, what am I to do now?" His guardsman's duties bade him to protect the cursed treasures at all cost. "…all costs," he murmured then shook his head. He could not harm Callista. Not when he'd been waiting all these centuries for her soul to be reborn to this world. No, he must convince her to return the stone on her own accord. It would be the only way to appease the beastie that raged inside of him.
His gaze slid over her features, so calm and relaxed in slumber, but he knew once she awakened, he would be faced with the warrior. Convincing her to do the right thing would prove to be his greatest challenge yet.
Chapter Three
Calli groaned as she came back to the world of the living. The constant throb at the back of her skull made her world seem off centered. She blinked and sat up, but the sudden movement proved to be a big mistake. A really big mistake. Her hand went to the side of her head as if she could stop her heartbeat from trying to settle in her eardrum. "What happened?" she asked, not
expecting an answer.
"You are safe," a deep voice said, which in no way made her feel safe in the least. She bit off the urge to scream when she caught sight of a man lurking in the shadows.
Scrambling off the bed, she went for her dagger that should have been strapped to her belt and realized too late she'd lost it when she threw it at the Gryphon, who had tried to eat her for a snack. She blinked—hard. Yep, that statement—though said to herself—definitely sounded like she lost her marbles, and the way her head pounded like jackhammers had taken up residence in her brain, she was convinced the statement held merit.
She may not have her dagger, but she'd been trained to improvise. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the phone sitting on the nightstand, black, push button and heavy. She grabbed it with the receiver in one hand and the base in the other. "Who are you and what are you doing in my room? Answer quick or I'm going to go all Nicky Santoro on your head." She'd seen Casino and the phone treatment. Yep, considerable damage could be inflicted with a phone. She gripped the receiver and shook it in his direction for emphasis on her threat.
The man carefully stepped away from the shadows, revealing his features—rugged jaw, sharp planes, and high cheekbones.
"You!" Her word accused and condemned all in one roll of the tongue. How did the man from the museum find her?
Only seconds had ticked by as her brain played catch-up on the details of the night's events. When it did, it all came flooding back to her in Tsunami fashion— Stealing the stone… Greek god confronted her… Gryphon attacked her in the parking lot… then a man grabbed her at the motel… electric shock… She teetered on her feet as waves of emotions crashed down on her with each vision— Adrenaline rush… attraction… fear…
The man started toward her. One, then two steps before she focused. "Don't come any closer. I swear…" She shook the phone at him. He halted his steps and held up his hands in surrender, which was kind of funny since he was in her room uninvited, and she was pretty sure he'd been the one to zap her into oblivion.
She needed to sit down and her rump landed on the nightstand behind her. She planned on staying put until the room stopped its infernal spin cycle. "Who are you?" she demanded as she sized him up. His features took a second or two to come into focus. What she really wanted to ask him was: What are you? Because no normal human could materialize out of nowhere and zap a person with his bare hand. But hey, she could go with a name first. At least until she was steady on her feet and could put up a good fight—if things went down that way.
"Darrien," he said and bowed his head.
"Hmm… Darrien, no last name? Just Darrien, like you're a rock star or something." Her eyes shifted to his T-shirt logo and her brows lifted in question. Maybe he really was in a band when he wasn't hanging out at museums and training Gryphons to attack innocent bystanders. Well, not so innocent, but—and she really needed to stop with the crazy scenarios.
"Callista, we must talk," he said. "I am not sure—"
"Who's Callista?" she questioned, interrupting him before he took this further.
"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked. She could see a battle going on inside of him as if he couldn't comprehend why she didn't know him.
Yeah, confusion seemed to be catchy tonight. Well it ended here. "For your information, crazier-than-the-mad-hatter-on-a-good-day, my name is Calli. So you have the wrong girl if you think I'm this Callista chick."
He tilted his head to the side, keeping his calm and she might have believed he accomplished the feat, but then his eyes glowed like golden fire. "You truly do not remember me then?" he asked again.
She was still hung up on his eyes changing colors and it took her a moment to realize he asked her a question. "No, whack-job, I don't know you. Unless you believed our introduction at the museum was a start of a beautiful friendship."
His lips pursed and his nose flared, probably due to the name-calling. Maybe she should give that a rest. She had no idea what she was dealing with, but if the man thought it was okay to taser her, it couldn't be good. She frowned as she remembered him coming upon her outside the motel room. She never saw a taser, and she could have sworn he grabbed her with his bare hand before the jolt zapped them apart. If that wasn't freaky enough, the special effects back at the museum proved more than she wanted to handle. God, she wished her head would stop pounding so she could think clearly.
She licked her dry lips and tried to think of a way out of the situation without ticking off the big guy. "Are you a magician or something? 'Cause the whole Gryphon statue appearing and disappearing was kinda cool." Creepy also, but she kept that piece of information to herself.
There had to be an explanation to the weird experience. The statue moving around the museum was nothing compared to a friggin' Gryphon swooping down from the heavens and attacking her. Her gaze met his and she blinked just to make sure she wasn't imagining what she was seeing. "Could you stop doing that…uh…" she pointed at him, "thingy you're doing with your eyes?"
His brows furrowed over the bridge of his nose, and didn't that just make him adorable when concern marred his expression. Dangerous and vulnerable all in one, she thought then shook her head. The guy may have the looks, but he wasn't playing with a full deck. Her gaze traveled down the length of him, admiring but also wondering when he had time to change his Greek mythology costume to his cool hang-low-on-the-hips jeans. Surely, she hadn't been unconscious that long.
"What is it I am doing?" he asked. "I assure you it is not intentional."
It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. Oh yeah… "Your eyes… They're glowing."
His lips curved, and that wasn't a bad look on him either. "It cannot be helped. It is the beastie, you see. It tries to dominate and is fueled by my emotions."
Did she really want to know what he meant by the beastie? It seemed she did when her next question slipped from her lips before she could think better of it. "The beastie?" she asked.
"Come now, Callista—"
"My name is Calli," she interrupted. She in no way was going to have him believe she was some chick he'd been involved with in the past.
"Calli," he said the name as if he were trying it out. He nodded then, as if his nutty messed up brain could handle the name change. "Calli, you spoke of seeing a Gryphon." He met her gaze with those strange colored-eyes, both bronze and gold. "The beastie and I are one and the same."
"Holy…" she stuttered. Truly there were no words, and as crazy as his statement seemed, she believed him.
Chapter Four
Darrien stood still and waited for what he told her to sink in. Any false moves would result in—what did she call it? Ah yes, she'd go all Nicky Santoro on his head. He didn't know what that entailed, but he had a good idea he wouldn't like such a treatment.
"You're a Gryphon?" she more or less condemned rather than asked the question as her voice raised a few octaves in the telling. He usually liked the cadence of her voice, but not now when it made him feel bloody awful. "The very Gryphon that tried to rip me to shreds?"
He nodded with a long frustrated sigh. "Yes." There was no reason to pretend otherwise.
She blinked and her long lashes fluttered to rest on the tender flesh above her cheekbone like tiny butterflies of beautiful reddish brown. When she opened her eyes once more, those lovely eyes that were the color of moss and rimmed with a shade worthy of the sun's rays stared back at him. Or so he remembered and dreamt of often. It had been a very long time since he'd seen the sun…felt it on his face.
"So why am I not dead?" she asked and her voice caught in her throat on a horrified whisper.
"You still live because of who you are to me."
She opened her mouth to say something, and he was sure it would be to the contrary, but her lips closed firmly, probably realizing how foolish such a denial would be. She most definitely didn't remember him or her past life. Perhaps it was his curse to be burdened so. His beloved thieved for a living and
his nature thrived on eliminating such talents. "If you put down your weapon," he told her, "I will explain."
"My weapon?" She glanced at the phone as if she just realized she still gripped it.
"Truly, such a weapon would be useless against me," he said, speaking the truth. Her gaze riveted to his, the gold of her eyes burning like fire. He raised his hands in surrender. "I do not wish to harm you. On my honor, I promise, you shall be safe this night." He could not in truth promise her more. Her safety depended on her relinquishing the stone. He had a hunch, his little thief wouldn't be forthcoming in handing it over, and he had already searched her person and had rummaged through her vehicle. He had not found the cursed item. She'd somehow managed to hide it somewhere between the museum and here, and he meant to find out where.
She placed the phone beside her on the nightstand, without taking her gaze off his. "Go on, spin your tale… Gryphon."
Where did one begin such a tale when she looked upon him as if lies flew from his tongue and naught else? To convince her otherwise would prove a challenge at best.
"Well?" Her tone indicated she was losing patience as the seconds ticked by. He must make his case now or forfeit the chance.
Gryphon and His Thief Page 2
