The Greystone Bundle (Books 1-4)

by Taylor Longford

  They found my mother alone in the marketplace and cornered her in an alley. They told her that they knew her sons had wings and accused her of being a Valkyrie—a beautiful winged female that escorts warriors to the afterlife. Valkyries were considered goddesses in the old Norse culture but were viewed as something more dark and sinister to the men who lived in York at that time. They thought the Valkyrie was a wicked siren that lured men to their deaths.

  When my mother ridiculed them for their backward superstitions, they tore her clothes from her, looking for her wings, planning to drag her in front of the townsfolk and expose her as a monster. Of course, she had none. She was just as human as they were. Having proved themselves wrong, they couldn't admit their error without being accused of indecent intentions. So they killed my mother and sank her body in the River Ouse to hide the evidence of their mistake and their crime.

  But their crime didn't remain hidden. My mother had taken two of her murderers with her and the surviving men were forced to explain their companions' deaths, which they blamed on the Valkyrie they said they had killed in self-defense.

  After their dark accusations, many of our human neighbors became suspicious of my family. Others had always been wary of us so there was no great change there. A handful of longtime friends came to our home to express their sorrow and outrage. But they were few. I resolved then and there that I'd never give my trust to a human again.

  Of course, that didn't stop me from "messing around" with human lasses. At least I think that's the term you'd use nowadays. But I didn't care about any of them…and I trusted them even less.

  Fairly swiftly, I developed a reputation with the people of York. The girls considered me a serial heartbreaker, which wasn't far from the truth. The men of the town regarded me with suspicious fear and kept their distance. Even the blacksmith—a very black soul—was afraid of me.

  Then about a year after my mother's death, my entire pack was trapped between the walls of a house in our stone forms. Not a single ray of sunshine reached us in our dark prison, and without the help of sunlight we couldn't make the change back to our living forms. Fortunately, we could still hear, and our ears are sensitive, so we were able to keep up with the times during our long captivity.

  The treasure hunter who stumbled upon our tomb eight hundred years later brought us out of the darkness and shipped us to his home in Pine Grove, Colorado. There, his stepdaughter—MacKenzie Campbell—opened one of the packing crates and found my cousin, Valor. In all, six of us made it to MacKenzie's place. Three others, including both of my brothers, were lost in transit. We've been looking for them ever since.

  Sometimes the trail has been hard to read and the news hasn't always been good. The truck that was carrying my kin passed through St. Louis where three harpies picked up their scent. The evil creatures broke out of the museum they were in and followed them. And when the truck crashed outside of Limon, Colorado, one of the harpies captured Chaos—Reason and Victor's younger brother.

  From what we can tell, only one of my brothers was in his living form. He was injured in the accident but managed to help the driver of the van, then disappeared. A harpy named Motschka carried off my other brother. But she dropped him somewhere along the way, probably in a farmer's field. Motschka's dead now, so we can't expect to get any help from her…not that a harpy is ever helpful.

  We've been out to Limon a few times to look for Courage and Force but haven't been able to turn up any clues. But if we ever catch up to Chaos, he might be able to help us locate my brothers. So we've decided to focus our efforts on finding him. He's with a harpy named Vilschka and, recently, they were holed up together in the foothills west of Boulder. That's all we have to go on right now. But we know that Chaos gave his venom to Vilschka in return for the safety of a young girl. And with the help of one of Mim's prophetic dreams, we figured out who she is. Her name's Torrie Evans and, right now, we're trying to locate her to see what she can tell us about Chaos's situation and whereabouts.

  But if we find him, we'll have a fight on our hands because the gargoyle venom pumping through Vilschka's veins will make the harpy more like us. Her rocky hide will become more like the fine-grained stuff we're made of when we're in our stone forms. That will make the monster almost indestructible. But that isn't the only problem we'll face. Apparently, Chaos has given the harpy his rune, and that means his instincts will command him to protect Vilschka with his life, no matter how much he despises her.

  Chapter One

  Sitting halfway up the bleachers in the gymnasium at Pine Grove High, I lifted a red aluminum can to my lips then grimaced as I swallowed. I don't like modern soft drinks. I can't get used to the burn. But I drank the stuff anyhow, because most teenagers seem addicted to it, and I planned to fit into the twenty-first century. I'd seen what could happen when people thought you were different. I'd learned young that conforming was the best way to survive in the human world. That's why I hadn't really wanted MacKenzie to join the pack. Or Mim. Or Elaina. And every time another human found out about us, I felt more exposed.

  Absently, I ran my tongue over the rough edge of my front tooth, which had been chipped ages ago in one of many fights I can barely remember. As usual, my eyes were glommed onto Whitney's slender frame as she sprinted across the basketball court. Her legs, actually. For some reason, my eyes found her long legs irresistible. Of course, back in my time, you had to work fairly hard to see that much leg, so the twenty-first century was turning out to be a real visual feast for me and the rest of the pack. But when it came to Whitney, it wasn't all about her legs.

  I pushed out a ragged sigh, hating my attraction to her and wishing I could fight it. I'd been doing okay a few weeks ago, back when we never saw her. She'd stopped coming to MacKenzie's house and she made herself scarce whenever we picked Mac up from school at the end of the day. 'Course I wasn't happy about her absence but at least I was doing better at fighting the hold she had on me.

  Then after the last basketball game we went to, she flipped me off. At least, I thought she was flipping me off. But MacKenzie and Elaina insisted that the two-fingered gesture she sent in my direction was the symbol for love. So, now I was sitting in the stands and thinking maybe I'd try to talk to her after the game…and almost sure it would be a mistake. And if it was, I'd have no one to blame but myself.

  Of course, it was Havoc's fault that I was sitting there with a homemade valentine buried in the pocket of my black leather jacket. Last night he'd pulled out a bunch of paper he'd bought at the local grocery store, saying that Valentine's Day was tomorrow and he'd promised MacKenzie's little stepsister a card. So, okay. That was a nice gesture. Sophie's only twelve and a handmade valentine would probably mean a lot to her. But a few minutes later Dare and Valor were sitting beside him at the table, cutting lacy hearts out of white paper and pasting them onto red backgrounds, planning to give them to Mim and MacKenzie.

  Yeah, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. It was totally lame. But after they'd turned in for the night, I sat down at the table and went to work, just to prove I could make something better than they had. And my valentine turned out pretty nice. Better than Valor's, anyway. I signed it with my neatest printing and now I was sitting with the damn thing shoved deep in my pocket, planning to use it if my conversation with Whitney went well.

  Seriously, I never thought I'd feel this way about a girl. Intense. Unwound. Out of control. I'm the kind of guy who likes to be in charge and call the shots. But I can't resist Whitney.

  I first met her on Halloween night, about three months ago. She and Mim swept into MacKenzie's house then disappeared into Mac's bedroom before I could get a good look at her. But I liked what I sensed about her. And when the girls came back out about thirty minutes later, they were dressed in these amazing long gowns. Whitney looked like a queen in gold brocade.

  She might not be the most beautiful girl in the world—at least not by gargoyle standards. To the rest of my pack, she's not as pretty as Mim or MacKen
zie. That's because Whitney's not as sweet as they are. But I like a girl with a little more fight in her.

  And I'm pretty sure most humans find her attractive. I mean, the girl's tall, blond and willowy. All the human words that mean a girl's really hot. So as far as the guys at her school are concerned, Whitney's a babe.

  All I know is there's more to Whitney than her looks. She's regal and cool but tough too. And I suspected she'd be fearless in a fight. I was pretty sure that if I was in a tight situation and everyone else was running for their lives, she'd stand beside me and hand me a knife…or at least a can of mace. Maybe I was attracted to that side of her. The cool, steely side that reminded me of myself.

  Because she can be intimidating when she wants to. Mac told me about this one time when Whit was just a freshman. One of the seniors on her school bus was picking on this nerdy kid. So she sat down beside the timid redhead and looked back at the bully who was taunting him.

  "You have a problem with Jeremy?" she asked, already tall and imposing even though she was only fourteen.

  "He's a loser," the senior howled like he'd just discovered the cure for acne. "Everyone knows he's a loser."

  Whitney sent him a scathing look. "Yeah, well everybody here knows you're stupid but you don't hear us complaining about it."

  But that wasn't as good as the time she shot down Ryan Myerson who's the starting quarterback and most popular guy at her school even though he beats up freshmen whenever he can find a lame-ass excuse. He broke this one kid's jaw, supposedly because the kid scratched his car. A little while after that, he made the mistake of asking Whitney out. MacKenzie and Mim were there when it happened, waiting for her to get her lunch from her locker.

  Whitney closed her locker door and gave Myerson a cool look. "I don't think so," she said. "I wouldn't want you to beat the crap outta me if I somehow scratched your car."

  "Scratched my car?" He tried to laugh his way through her cut down even though his ears were turning red. "How's that gonna happen?"

  "I think I can find a key that would do the job," she said as she turned and walked away.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" he called after her as the girls headed for the cafeteria.

  "I think it means no," MacKenzie had thrown back over her shoulder.

  So, yeah, you don't want to get on the wrong side of Whitney.

  But I was smitten. Sorry, I mean whipped. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure of myself. I wasn't sure I was good enough. And her hold on me bothered me. I flat out didn't want to feel that way about her. Even worse, I was starting to have "protective" feelings about her and that wasn't good. I knew what that meant. Next thing you know, I'd be begging her to wear my rune. And I swore I'd never go that far with a human girl.

  Because when a gargoyle gives his rune to a girl, he's bound to her forever. He'll remain faithful to her for the rest of his life, even if she gets tired of him and doesn't want him anymore. Even if she walks away. So there's a lot of risk involved for the gargoyle that loses his heart to a girl. And none for the girl.

  Besides, I don't trust humans. But I already covered that.

  Whit tossed her long ponytail behind her shoulder after making a basket and sent a smile up into the stands. But her smile wasn't for me. Feeling a dark twinge of jealousy, I turned my head and searched the bleachers, expecting to see some guy catching her cool smile…and found her parents, instead. I recognized her father because I'd met him at his medical practice in town. We'd taken MacKenzie there after a harpy had broken her ankle. I hadn't met her mother, but I knew Mrs. Anders worked at the high school in the attendance office and I assumed that was her, sitting beside Whit's dad. Both parents were fair-haired, but Whitney obviously takes after her dad more than her mother.

  "Just chill," I muttered to myself. Hunching my shoulders, I ignored the female eyes that followed me as I turned back to the game. Girls were always staring at us. Girls had always stared at us, even eight hundred years ago. That was one thing I liked about Whitney. Right from the beginning, she never stared at me like I was a freak of nature.

  "Good advice," Havoc chuckled, and elbowed me in the ribs. "What's eating you, anyhow?"

  I slanted a quick look at my cousin seated on the hard plastic bench beside me. "Nothing that's any of your business," I muttered.

  Havoc jerked his chin in the direction of the basketball court. "You gonna man up and talk to her?" he snickered.

  I clamped my jaw, refusing to take the bait.

  "'Cause if you aren't, I thought I'd give it a try."

  "Stay away from her," I barked before I could stop myself.

  That was a mistake. And a stupid one. Normally, I did a pretty good job of hiding my feelings for Whit. But every now and again, I failed. In this case, I should have known better. Havoc was just messing with me. He'd pulled the same stunt when Reason first brought Elaina home, acting all interested in Elaina and trying to make Reason jealous.

  But it didn't help that Havoc had managed to get his mouth against Whitney's several times in the past after wagering a kiss on the outcome of a Parcheesi game. Three times to be precise. And watching their lips touch had been pure torture for me. At the time, I'd managed to act like I didn't care…when what I really wanted was to hang my cousin from one of his long dreadlocks.

  "She'll just shoot you down," I muttered, as if I cared about Havoc's ego—which was about as solid as Castle Rock. I don't think you could budge Havoc's self-esteem with a cannon ball. Or a mortar shell. Or an atom bomb. Anyhow, you get the picture.

  Havoc tugged on one of the bronze dreads that slanted across his chest. "Oh, I don't know," he taunted. "She might fancy me. I'm closer to her age. To be honest, you look too much like a big brother. And who wants to hook up with their brother?"

  I made a face, knowing he was right about the age thing. Whitney and Havoc were about sixteen while I was a couple of years older. And I hated to admit it, but Whitney and I did look like we shared a common ancestry. We both had the same pale, blond hair. She usually wore hers loose while I pulled mine back in an elastic band. And her eyes were blue while mine were gray. But other than that, we looked like family.

  My gaze drifted down to Havoc's dark red jeans and purple high tops…which didn't exactly go with the mint green T-shirt he was wearing. Seriously, I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't at least try to fit in. Like me. The T-shirt I wore beneath my leather jacket was dark, like all the other kids my age wore. "What would she see in you?" I grunted sourly.

  "You mean besides my awesome good looks and effervescent personality?" he questioned with a wolfish grin.

  "Effervescent?" I challenged him in a snide mutter.

  "You've gotta admit, I'm not a churlish knave like you."

  His attachment to medieval lingo was annoying. Personally, I was always careful to use only modern language. "News flash, Havoc. Nobody uses that word anymore."

  His normally untroubled brow creased in a slight frown. "Which one?"

  "Either one," I informed him. I shook my head at his ignorance and stood up as the game came to an end. It was probably a mistake, but I'd decided I'd take my chances with the enigmatic Miss Anders.

  Chapter Two

  I stood on the sidelines, waiting for my chance to pull Whitney aside and ask her what the hell was going on. But as her team gathered to celebrate their victory in the middle of the court, she was the first to disappear into the girls' locker room. Frustrated, I watched as her teammates followed her behind the door a few minutes later.

  And while the rest of my pack joined the crowd filing from the gym into the high school's lobby, I sauntered over toward the dressing room door. On my way, I caught sight of a girl in the crowd that I'd met before, Alexa. I didn't like the way she was eyeing Victor, no more than I liked the reddish glint in her hair. Not that I dislike redheads. MacKenzie's very red and, although it's taken me a while to admit it, she's a prize and Valor's lucky to have her. It's just that a lot of power comes with red
hair. Magic power. And if Alexa ever harnessed any of that power, I got the feeling she wouldn't exactly be a good witch, like MacKenzie. That might spell trouble for Victor and the rest of the pack.

  Absently, I wondered where her boyfriend was as I crushed the aluminum can in my fist and tossed it at the nearest recycling bin. The last I'd heard, she was going out with Ryan Myerson. But Dare had crushed him once when he said something ugly about Mim. And since then, Myerson had kept his distance whenever we were around. He wasn't exactly the type to support the girl's basketball team, anyhow. He was too into himself. So maybe that explained why he wasn't with Alexa. Or maybe they'd broken up. The way she was looking at Victor suggested that she considered herself available.

  With one hand, I scooped up a ball that had rolled into the corner of the big room. I bounced it a few times and enjoyed the way it jumped back to my hands as well as the feeling of awe that comes with the appreciation of a modern marvel. We had nothing like this back in my time. And for some reason, the simple bouncing ball seemed as big a miracle to me as the television.

  I bounced it a few more times and lifted my head, eyeing the basket at the other end of the court. Seriously, basketball seemed like a pretty pointless exercise to me. There was nothing to be gained by racing back and forth and dropping balls into nets. Back in my time, there wasn't much time for games like that…unless the game was meant to improve your chances of survival. Tossing balls around didn't meet that criteria…although a person's skill at throwing rocks might mean the difference between life and death. Or dinner and an empty pot.

  I stopped and hefted the ball up to eye level, wondering if my skills were still as sharp as they used to be. Wrapping the fingers of one hand firmly around the ball's large circumference, I dropped my arm and swung it in an arc then let go of the ball. The ball lofted across the court in a nice upward curve then dropped toward the basket, swishing through the rope net and banging on the floor beneath it.