Gargoyle: A Reawakening (Briarcliff Series, #2)

by Lorraine Beaumont

  : LEAVING IN A FEW

  “Shit!” She threw her phone on her bed and went to find her clothes. She told Barnaby to give her a heads up before he left his house so she would be ready. Of course she wasn’t. Not even close.

  Somehow, someway, she dried her hair, slapped on her makeup, and got dressed—in record time. She decided to wear a similar jean skirt. This one had some painted graffiti on it, compliments of moi, which made it look way cooler than the “plainy Jane” one she was wearing earlier. Heck, she was wearing her art of course it was cool. She decided to stick with the “Bs.” Basic black make her boobs look bigger than they actually are, baby-doll t-shirt and tossed her Zombie killing hoodie beside her monster tote to take with her when she left. She’d be a walking conundrum with her “Zombie Killing” hoodie and her “Zombie green” pinky finger, from her bubble gum ring. Oh well, she could care less. She liked them both.

  Standing in the center of her room, she chewed on her thumbnail, debating whether to wear her chucks or her lace up boots. She couldn’t decide, so she went over to see if she had any food to eat—fast. The light crackled inside her retro aqua fridge as she opened the door. It reminded her of a gas station bathroom light with the crackling, popping sound and the low funky hum. A lone box of dried up Chinese takeout rice sat beside a bottle of peach, green tea Snapple on the wire shelf. “No food for you” she told her growling stomach like “the soup Nazi” from an old rerun of a “Seinfeld” episode.

  “Oh well,” she breathed. Hopefully Barnaby wouldn’t mind stopping to get a burger. Grabbing the bottle off the shelf, she kicked the door shut and twisted off the lid. The metal lid made a popping sound. She lifted the bottle and took a hefty swallow. That’s what she loved about Snapple. The snappy little pop the lid made and well, the taste. Hmm, she wondered if that is why they called it Snapple…. or not. Setting the bottle down on her nightstand, she picked up her phone, checking for a text from Barnaby. There was still no word. It would seem his few were apparently in hours, not minutes.

  For some reason, the lack of inactivity and indecisiveness over her shoes made her think of Colton. Probably because she was wondering if they would look lame—he was a lame ass. Yep. It made perfect sense. That didn’t last long however, her thoughts strayed to another guy. The one she met last night. He was so…it was hard to put into words. Walking across the room, she grabbed her sketchbook and pencils. Sitting on edge of her bed, she glanced over her shoulder. The blankets and sheets tangled, torn to shit. How did she miss that before? She knew she made it before she left, which meant only one thing: Moriah had probably been rolling in her bed with Kingston. Gross. Now she was going to have to change her sheets. Of course, she didn’t have any clean ones. Oh well, it would just have to wait. Besides, Barnaby would be here soon. Well, at least she hoped he would show before the party ended and Christmas arrived.

  Lifting her iPod off her bed, she docked it into her little cube speaker on her nightstand and turned it on. My life by Bliss n Eso blared throughout the room. The song reached the chorus. A tremor flitted over her body, making her feel strange… uneasy. “Must be lack of food,” she tried to reason, balling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. She felt really -jittery… anxious—like something was about to happen. Flashes of “the guy” from the night before loomed on the peripheral of her memory. Quickly, she grabbed up her sketchbook and pencil. She closed her eyes, remembering the tattoo. In fast, easy strokes, her hand flew over the vellum.

  No longer in the here and now, her mind went to a place where the moon cast a bluish hue on everything. Fog rolled across the gravel drive, cloaking everything underneath in a thick mist.

  In a trance, her mind saw far more than she remembered. The statue came back into focus, her hand moved of its own accord as her memory conjured the pictures she was sketching.

  Images zipped through her mind: first the attack-followed by the inescapable, feeling of fear. The erratic sound of her heart grew louder, seeing him as well, but it was from a very different emotion. Her hand slowed, dragging across the page, as another image jumped into her mind. Same moon, same color, different time. Her vision skewed, back to him… his mouth on her own, the way his body felt in her arms. Erratically, her hand jerked over the page. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. It was like a weight was pressing against her chest and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

  Gasping, she fell backward onto the bed into the folds of the tangled sheets and blankets. The image of his beautiful face came vividly into focus like he was right in front of her, like it was somehow etched into her brain. Warmth spread out through her hand making it tingle, like he was holding it. Words, “Shhh, it’s going to be all right” vibrated against her ear, pulling her back from the suffocating despair. Shivering she held onto the feeling, not wanting it to fade away or let go.

  A loud buzzing sound cut into her consciousness, bringing her back fully. Her eyes opened with a snap. She sat up, feeling woozy. Her phone buzzed wildly, shaking on the bed at her side. She grabbed it up, knocking her sketchbook on the floor in the process.

  : ON MY WAY

  Her thumbs skimmed over the letters as she quickly texted him back.

  : COOL

  Setting her phone down, she stared at the floor, feeling really drained. She knew she needed to move, she still needed to put on her shoes, but her brain wasn’t working properly. Forcing herself to stand, she swayed briefly and had to use the bed to steady herself.

  Taking a few deep cleansing breaths, she finally felt normal enough to move again. She waded through the mountain of clothing strewn across carpet to the floor length mirror propped against the wall. “Shit!” she moaned, lifting her foot. She nearly took her pinky toe off on one of the rivets from her belt. That woke her up.

  Bending over, she picked up her belt, and quickly wrapped it around her waist twice. Chewing on her lip, she glanced around the room. “What am I forgetting?”

  She knew it was something. She could never remember everything she needed to bring no matter how many lists she made. Scanning the floor, she noticed her sketchbook, lying upside down beside the bed. “No way—not gonna happen.” In one fluid motion, she reached forward, grabbed the pad up, and pulled open her nightstand drawer, shoving it inside. She pushed the drawer shut. The lamp on the top wobbled briefly.

  Her phone buzzed.

  She picked it up and read the message.

  : IM HERE

  Quickly, she texted him back.

  : ON MY WAY

  “Shit! Shoes, shoes…” Hopping across the floor, she pulled on her socks, and then crammed her feet in her lace up boots, the heavy soles made a loud clomping noise on the wood floor as she went to snag her monster tote, hoodie, and keys off the kitchen counter. She was halfway to the door…she glanced at her Chucks. The boot was mushing her sore pinky-toe. She decided to bring her Chucks too, just in case. Grabbing them up from the floor, she opened the door and shoved through, trying not to drop everything. Once outside, she pulled the door shut, locking it behind and then headed down the stairs to meet Barnaby.

  DISCOVERY

  SATURDAY * 7:17 PM

  Darkness was slowly arriving, although it was still light enough to see. Of course, they didn’t have to worry about that—they could see whether it was dark or light.

  Simon stood on the edge of the bluff looking up at the sky, tracking the moon that was rising up from the dusky horizon. Purplish hues transposed themselves over the light grayish blues in the sky as he breathed the air deeply, pulling it into his lungs, holding it inside, and then releasing it slowly. He remembered that simple act, with clarity, although it did seem different. He shrugged, knowing there really was no point in trying to figure it out. It would come to him in time—like Alistair said. He noticed the color and turned. “Hey, check it out, the moon looks blue,” Simon said, crossing his arms, stroking his chin in thought. “Wow, I haven’t seen that in years,” he commented offhand, climbing back up on the outcro
pping of rock, and sitting down, his legs dangling over the edge. He kicked them back and forth, feeling his muscles regaining their strength.

  Alistair climbed up beside him and looked down through the clearing in the trees. “You know he will awaken.”

  “Oh right, I almost forgot about him.” Simon brooded. It had been so long since they had to do his bidding, he had almost forgotten about him—almost. He and Alistair were tied to him. They were his pawns to use. They, the ones that gather, were worse, of course, but Simon still didn’t look forward to doing anyone’s bidding. He was enjoying his freedom. He and Alistair were awakened earlier than normal and they still didn’t know the cause. Could it be Adriane? Did he need them? If so, no wonder. He looked down at the raised mark on the inside of his arm, running his fingers across the design. It wasn’t glowing yet, beckoning them to him, which was why he had almost forgotten about Adriane. He was enjoying this new skin, and the clothes he snagged were pretty nice.

  Each time they awoke, they tried to stay and not fade back to the blackness that threatened to rip them away from this existence. No, he wanted to enjoy his freedom for a bit longer. He looked down through the trees to the group of humans gathering below in the clearing in front of the mansion.

  “Hey, it looks like something is going on down there, maybe a party? Let’s go down, it could be fun,” Simon suggested excitedly.

  “We can’t.”

  “Why? Who would know?” Simon complained, sensing Alistair’s hesitation. He latched onto it. “Look, it is almost dark, no one would notice us. See?” he said. “There are a lot of people down there.” He lifted his hand and pointed down to the people he could see in the clearing, through the break in trees.

  The wind began to pick up, wafting up from below. He could feel the vibrations of the music as it thrummed in the air around them, a gentle hum. It made his body tingle all over. It was almost as good as sex. Although it had been so long since he performed that act, he wasn’t so sure how that felt anymore. He narrowed his eyes, spotting a girl, with long flowing blonde hair.

  “Aren’t you a pretty thing,” Simon, said, smiling. Oh, how he loved the softness of human girls. They were so pliable, giving…their sweet kisses making his blood boil, not go cold. He was always cold. No, he wanted warmth, contact that only the heat of human flesh could give to his body fully. Shivering excitedly, he wet his lips in anticipation. “We need some fun,” he practically begged, dashing a hand through his hair, making the peppered spikes stand at an awkward angle.

  Alistair could hear the ache—no, the need in his voice. He wanted to as well, more than Simon would ever know. He stared into the sky; lightening flashed far away at some distant point in the horizon. His body trembled, not with fear, but anticipation. His body was rigid, his muscles taut—a cord that was ready to snap. He knew what would alleviate that, and on that particular point, Simon was right, only one thing could fill the ache he held inside, if only for a moment. “Okay,” he said quickly, before he changed his mind.

  “Really?” he asked.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of Alistair’s mouth.

  Simon didn’t wait for him to answer. He jumped up, brushing off his backside and leapt down from the outcropping. “Awesome!” he exclaimed excitedly. “So how are we getting down there?” he asked, not looking forward to the climb. Alistair was a stickler for not using their abilities.

  Alistair stretched out his muscled arms. “We’ll fly of course.”

  Simon whooped loudly. “Of course we will.” He quickly stripped and folded his clothes neatly in a pile and placed them on a rock. Smiling wickedly, he turned to Alistair. His stone-gray eyes glittered in the dim light as he extended out his arms. His body rippled, transforming. He picked up his clothing and jumped off the cliff, plunging into the coming darkness.

  DAZED

  SATURDAY * 7:33 PM

  The little car crept slowly up the winding mountainside, rattling and kicking gravel up in its wake as it climbed higher, the engine whining. Bright oranges, reds and yellows turning to shadows smeared across the windshield, reflecting a riot of fading color. Evie pushed the wrapper down on her burger and took another large bite. She was sure she looked like a pig, but couldn’t help herself. She was starving.

  Thank goodness, Barnaby said he would drive. The mountain made her nervous, dropping off into nothing around the sharp turns. Evie wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but she wasn’t hip on them either.

  Reflection by Four Day Creep played on the CD deck. The catchy chorus barely covered up the awful noise the engine was making. She took two more bites, finishing off her burger and then took a hefty swig of Coke, the bubbles tickling her throat. She fought the urge to belch, but ended up burping loudly anyway.

  “Scuse me,” she mumbled out from under her hand, completely embarrassed and looked over at Barnaby. His eyes were glued to the road so he didn’t seem to notice. The road twisted precariously, into a hairpin turn. A tricky spot— one that was hard enough to maneuver in the light of day let alone in approaching darkness.

  Barnaby made it safely around the turn and glanced in her direction. “So I talked to my mom… about what you wanted.”

  Evie crumpled up her wrapper and tossed it into the bag on the floor before she gave him her full attention. She tried not to seem too eager even though she kind-of regretted mentioning it. Now that he brought it up, she was dying to know what his mom said.

  “And?” she asked, not able to keep the expectancy from her voice.

  “Well,” he said. “She didn’t know too much, but it was kind of a weird conversation.”

  “Weird how?” she managed, her voice coming out more of a croak.

  “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I got the feeling she wasn’t telling me something, which was just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.” A frown creased his brow as he maneuvered the car around another slight turn.

  “Why would you think that?” she asked.

  “Ah, I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It was more of the way she couldn’t keep eye contact with me, like she’s hiding something.” He lifted his hand off the steering wheel and waved it in the air. “You’d have to know my mom, she really sucks at lying.”

  ”What did she do? I mean when you asked?”

  “It wasn’t really what she said but her expression looked really-startled, like she couldn’t believe I asked her.” He glanced over and got a sheepish look on his face. “Remember, I told you I quit messing with drugs… right?”

  “Right,” Evie said her face burning. She felt bad for accusing him of drugging her.

  “This is what’s so funny. Normally I would be too stoned to notice…but like she was all evasive and shit, it put me on guard.” He squeezed the wheel tighter and cleared his throat. “I told you that she is really into the legend of the area and has a fascination with “antiquities,” he said making air quotes with one hand.

  “Antiquities?” she asked.

  “Yeah, old stuff—antiquities—whatever.” He made a face.

  “Hey I am all ears,” she assured him, smiling.

  “Anyway…my mom majored in literature in college, specializing in folklore and mythology. She’s like the best in her field now. Go figure.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, she runs a local curators club for the area. The membership is pretty-exclusive.”

  “Oh so not just anyone can get in?”

  He laughed. “Not quite. It’s like a secret society or something—very cloak and dagger. They hold meetings late at night, and she doesn’t come home until really late and sometimes not till the morning.

  “Maybe she’s got a boyfriend?”

  He laughed. “Yeah… maybe.” Even though he didn’t believe that for a minute. No, he had a feeling his mom was up to something—but what?

  “Did you tell her anything about what I asked?”

  “Yeah I did.”

  “And…”

  “She said she’d love to talk to
you herself.” Again, he rolled his eyes. “Anyway, once this thing is finished I can bring you over if you want.”

  Shit! “Sure. I mean thanks. That would be great.” Evie couldn’t help but wonder what that was about. His mom wanted to talk with her—weird. Evie wasn’t so sure she wanted to repeat what happened to anyone, let alone his mother of all people. “So, um, that’s all she said?” she pried, not able to help herself.

  “Not exactly,” he hedged, reaching over to turn off the stereo.

  The inside of the car was completely quiet now, except for the whining hiss of the engine as he pushed the accelerator down to climb another steep incline.

  “The suspense is killing me here,” she finally said, nervously pushing her hair away as a sharp breeze kicked across the interior of the car.

  He took an unsteady breath. “Okay. She said gargoyles are protectors.”

  “Huh?” She gave him a stunned look. “Protectors of what?” she asked.

  “Of many things, mostly humans,” he said, awkwardly, feeling totally stupid.

  That didn’t make sense. In her weird delusional reality she thought, well maybe…whatever attacked her was the big gargoyle statue come to life—granted that was out there—like different dimension out there especially now that she knew she wasn’t drugged. She narrowed her eyes at Barnaby …was he lying? But why would he do that?

  Barnaby glanced at her. “See I told you it was out there.”

  Her throat constricted. No, she didn’t think he would lie to her…maybe Colton drugged her? Right, that wasn’t possible her drink was in the other room. Wait? Maybe his drink was drugged…and that’s why he was being such an asshole. Oh right that’s why. Please. She would believe a gargoyle came to life before she believed that load of crap. He was just a jerk, and that was that. She gave up making excuses and just decided to go with it. “Um, okay, what are they protecting humans from?”

  “Well, this is where it gets sketchy…Other gargoyles.” He made a face.