No matter how much he wanted to shield her from harm, admiration for her determination and loyalty shone through. “You must be the most stubborn woman on Earth.” He smiled to soften his tone.
The incubus stirred. Damn, he’d recovered more quickly than Roman had expected. The next moment, the demon’s eyes opened wide, gleaming with a red glow. He fixed on Larissa, soaring toward her with an outstretched hand.
Roman knocked him onto the cobblestone and the struggle resumed. Holding the metal shard overhead, he smashed the sharp edge down on the demon’s neck with a powerful blow. Blood spurted over him as he partially severed the head.
Larissa shrieked.
“Don’t look,” he commanded.
With the next blow, he decapitated the demon. Black wisps of smoke floated up from the demon’s body while its corpse charred and blackened as if being burned from the inside out. Within seconds, it had vanished—not even a drop of blood on the cobblestones remained.
Whether he had destroyed the demon for good, he didn’t know. As no indication of it remained, he exhaled with relief. The last tendrils of the vengeful lust faded. “Come on.” He took her in an embrace. “We’re flying back.” He cloaked them and flew toward the dome.
As they soared, he spotted three winged beings hovering over the dome. In all his time surveilling cities, he’d never seen anything like this. The truth settled in as the pieces fell together, far worse than he’d anticipated. Demons had descended on the city. The dome had to be a trap; one that had clouded his senses.
Yes, a trap!
He tried to communicate with Arto, but received no answer. Damn it! He sent messages out to the other sentries, with only fragmented replies. All must have been engaged in battle.
Bring weapons from the arsenal. Especially swords.
He hoped the message got through, reaching at least one sentry who would bring weapons.
“Oh my God!” Larissa pointed to a church across the road. “They’re flying off the buildings. More gargoyles.”
Roman tried to send the message again, but received no response. Could his gargoyles hear him?
He could see his sentries—why couldn’t they communicate? Dark magic had to be interfering with their signals.
“Why didn’t I see it before?” he said as they approached. He had to assess the scene before he went into battle.
“See what?”
“The demons must have brought the dome in.” His thoughts unraveled the options. “Yes. It would be like them. A way to lure victims in. Plenty of bodies to satisfy their carnal desires.”
“But we both went in there.” In a smaller voice, she added, “And Janie.”
He turned to her. “Did you notice anything weird?”
She glanced away as her cheeks flushed. “I’d say I was definitely less inhibited. I mean, I invited you home with me.”
“And you said that’s not what you’d typically do, right?
“No.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Guess I was quite turned on.”
“That must be it. They added something to create that exact response, to reduce inhibitions.” He clenched his fist, furious at himself for not figuring it out earlier. “I smelled something—a floral kind of fragrance that clouded my thoughts. I thought it was romantic overkill for the ambience. Not so they could lure victims.”
“Now what do we do?”
“Stop them.”
They landed on a spot on the grass close enough to see what was happening, but far enough so they wouldn’t attract attention from the demons. What was happening at the dome was far more disturbing than he’d anticipated. Gargoyles flew in, some fighting demons in the sky while others struggled to force their way inside the dome, which was guarded by other demons. When he saw what was happening within, he understood why.
He had to get Larissa to safety before going into battle.
“Don’t look.”
He covered her eyes, but she pushed his hands away. “I’m a police officer, not a child. And I’ve seen a lot of shit.”
When she looked at the dome, she blanched. No wonder. Blood and guts streaked across the interior. The carnage was unspeakable. Demons had taken females, their massive bodies covering them. The human males fared no better—many were torn to pieces, their wide eyes and open mouths a testament to their final terror.
Larissa gagged beside him. “We need to do something. I have to call for backup.”
“Human cops? If you do, you are signing their death warrants.”
“What the hell do you expect me to do? Watch?”
“Listen to me, Larissa. Those are demons. Immortals. You must stay here, away from them, while my clan and I fight them.”
Larissa squared her jaw and continued. “Why aren’t the cops here?” She searched for them. “There was a detail here earlier.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “They wouldn’t let this happen.”
They were likely dead. “Demons can be quite persuasive, easily bending humans to their will.” He glanced around the surroundings of the dome. I sense dark magic. I can’t communicate with my clan. The demons probably cloaked it before they began their killing spree. The humans don’t even know what’s happening.”
“But I see it!” she protested, before clamping her mouth shut. “Oh.”
“You have rare powers, Larissa.” He took her by the shoulders. “But you’re not immortal.”
She exhaled.
“I must go. Promise me you will find safety.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I need to warn others. I have to.”
Of course she did. It was her duty, just like he had his. “Keep the humans away. Remember, guns will only anger the demons. The only chance they have at destroying them is to decapitate them.”
“With what?”
“Anything they can.”
She threw her arms around him. “Be careful.”
He held her tight. She smelled so good. And human. Fragile. What he would give to ensure no harm would come her way. “Stay alive,” he whispered. “For me.”
Her eyes searched his before she nodded and pulled back. Instinctively, he gripped her arms, reluctant to let her go. He released her, and she ran from him. His gaze remained fixed on her form as she disappeared across the street. He feared it may be the last time he saw her.
Flapping his wings, he soared off the ground to enter the battle. He spotted two of his lower sentries, Franco and Vidal, behind the mounted ranger’s station—with a stash of weapons.
He landed beside them. “Did you get my message?”
“Aye,” Vidal responded. “Some of it.”
“Fragments,” Franco clarified. “But we understood the gist.”
“Good work.” Roman scanned the young gargoyles—his newest sentries. Whether these gargoyles had ever been in battle was questionable—both appeared so young. Yet they had promise. “Take the weapons and distribute them to the other gargoyles.”
“Aye, Commander” they replied almost simultaneously.
“As for the demons, body wounds will slow them down but not kill them.”
Roman inserted as many swords as he could fit into a holster and threw it over his head and in between his wings. Then he followed it with a satchel that rested on his hip, stuffing it with as many weapons as he could carry.
Before he soared off into battle, he addressed the young gargoyles. “Aim for the neck. Sever the head.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
As she ran from Roman, scrambled thoughts fried Larissa’s brain. What the hell could she do? She needed to call headquarters and get some help out there, but she could be putting fellow officers in harm’s way. She’d be sending them into a blood bath.
No, she’d have to hold off until she knew how they could help. What good could they do facing a threat they couldn’t see?
Yet she couldn’t let the humans and gargoyles in the dome continue to suffer at the hands o
f these vicious demons. But like Roman said, she was mortal. Essentially helpless against those fuckers.
Contemplation and inaction would get her nowhere, while more died.
Fuck it. I’m not some ordinary woman.
A cop and maybe something more. He’d called her powerful, a rare witch. Maybe the differences that had tormented her most of her life would give her some leverage.
Against demons? Fat chance.
Where was she running to? Who could she warn without bringing them further into danger?
What was she in this situation? Useless. Utterly useless!
She stopped running and turned to the dome, searching for Roman. He was fighting a pair of demons guarding the entrance to the dome, and at some point he had acquired a sword. Her muscles clenched, every fiber pumping with furious anticipation as she feared for his safety.
He slashed at a demon who lunged at him, but the demon ducked in time. But when the demon recovered from the momentum, Roman swung the sword three hundred and sixty degrees, slicing the demon’s head clear from its body. It fell to the earth, eyes still aglow in the dark.
Larissa exhaled. Roman had survived the fight. Relief swooshed through her.
The second demon slid into the dome and hit a button that created another barricade. Roman pounded at the door with frustration. To no avail.
She had to help him. But how?
Whatever energy she’d summoned in the hotel room earlier, she tried to replicate. Commanding energetic sparks to shoot out of her fingers did nothing. A frustrated groan escaped her—she didn’t have time to practice any newfound skills.
Think, think. What happened earlier?
She stifled another groan. A demon had attacked her best friend. Emotions had been taut and she’d been fighting for survival.
A microcosm of what was happening before her now.
Focus your energy. Channel it.
As she tried to pinpoint an energy within, something shoved her onto the ground, knocking the wind out of her.
A clay-colored monster with rage burning through red eyes slithered on top of her.
Another fucking demon.
Without thinking, she reacted, shoving at him with hands, mind, everything. A massive surge of energy rushed through her, shooting the demon back twenty feet. He stumbled, injured, watching her with fear in his eyes, before he flew behind the dome. She tracked him through the translucent glass, but he disappeared. Into the air. She blinked. That wasn’t possible.
Her gaze returned to find Roman at the entrance. He was gone. Her gut clenched. Where was he?
* * * * *
Roman couldn’t get into the dome. If he couldn’t access it, he couldn’t help anyone. Gargoyles and humans would die. The demons would slaughter all.
He flew up along the glass, witnessing the battle within. Arto was there, fighting a demon with the powerful punch of a gargoyle, which could kill a human, but merely slowed a demon. A moment of joy at seeing his second-in-command flooded Roman, followed quickly by the realization of the danger Arto was in.
Roman had to get into the dome. Destroy it.
He reached into his satchel, rifling through its contents, and found something that would help. A small explosive device, the size of a cellphone.
He tried to send Arto a message: Will blast the top.
Nothing. Arto stared at him as he parried, no recognition that he’d received the message.
Roman held out the device and pointed to the ceiling. Arto nodded in reply, descending deeper into the dome, tugging at other gargoyles in the upper half.
Soaring to the top of the dome, Roman scanned quickly to make sure no gargoyles were in harm’s way. He affixed the device and pulled the tab to set off the explosive. With only had moments to escape the range of impact, he bolted through the air, hoping he was fast enough.
* * * * *
A massive boom pounded in Larissa’s ears. She fell forward onto the sidewalk, covering her ears. Her heart thumped. Like the pounding of feet on concrete. Like the marathon…
No. Not again. Like the marathon. Gray smoke billowed around the dome.
A ringing echoed in her ears. Humans must have heard that. If they had, they’d come to investigate. And then there would be more casualties.
No. Her stomach tightened. Legs tensed up ready to twitch.
No time for that.
The smoke dissipated, but the scent of gunpowder lingered. She stood and searched the wreckage. The top part of the dome was blown off; demons and gargoyles now fought in the sky. She sought the one whose safety mattered to her most of all. Roman. Was he okay?
Where was he?
* * * * *
Once the shrapnel fell, Roman soared toward the skeleton of the dome. Arto emerged from its gaping jaw. Alive. A sudden lightness filled Roman despite the chaos surrounding them. If they hadn’t still faced a battle, he would have hugged Arto.
“Glad you understood my message.” He tossed Arto one of the swords from the holster between his wings.
“Good, you brought weapons,” Arto replied, assessing the weapon. “We’ve held them off with our strength, but need these to inflict serious damage.”
Many demons in the top half of the dome had been injured in the blast. Some were missing limbs; others had gaping wounds in their torsos.
Finish them off with these, Roman ordered. He tossed the holster with swords to Manny, one of his sentries.
Aye, Commander, many sentries replied, soaring toward him.
We can hear each other again, Roman said to Arto.
The blast must have penetrated the demons’ shield, which had interfered with the gargoyles’ communication.
Manny had quickly distributed the swords. Howls pierced the air as gargoyles tore down the injured demons with powerful slashes.
Police sirens blared, coming closer, confirming what Roman had suspected. They’d erected a barrier to keep them out. Now that it was pierced, Larissa’s colleagues were driving right into danger.
Not all the demons were injured. Half a dozen or so who were near the bottom of the dome were intact. And furious. They soared at the gargoyles, eyes glaring with vengeance and fury. Roman and Arto shifted so they were back to back, the way they’d been many times in battle, and faced the onslaught coming their way.
* * * * *
At the hotel, Larissa had questioned how to call for backup without them thinking her insane. Now that a few first responders had arrived and witnesses from nearby buildings could see the carnage, they’d be in as much disbelief as she was. The few cops aimed their weapons at the gargoyles and demons battling in the sky.
The demons might be immortal, but she didn’t know about the gargoyles. Roman could get hurt. Or die. Her fellow officers could piss off the demons and get themselves killed.
“Stop.” She approached, raising her arms. “I’m Officer Larissa Riley. District D-14; Brighton.” She instinctively reached to her back pocket to pull out her badge, which she didn’t have. She didn’t have anything. Purse. Phone. ID. Nothing.
“Keep your arms up!” one commanded.
What the hell was she doing, reaching into a pocket? They had no idea what she intended to pull out and would immediately suspect a weapon. She raised her arms.
“May I approach?”
“Slowly.”
A sergeant said, “Yeah, I recognize you.”
She scanned his face. It didn’t ring a bell. In a profession where the men greatly outnumbered the women, she wasn’t surprised.
“I know it’s bad,” she said. “You need to know what you’re facing. This is not a terrorist attack; it’s something like we’ve never seen. Basically, the gray ones with black wings are protectors, like us. They’re trying to stop the bad ones, with reddish skin.” Hearing what she was saying, she knew she sounded crazy.
Wait, could they even see them? Roman was surprised she could on the roof earlier.
“What the fuck are they?” an officer shouted.
&
nbsp; So he could see them. Whatever magic they’d used to cloak themselves was probably gone, or they couldn’t project it while engaged in battle. Whatever had happened during the blast had likely had a bigger impact than what she’d seen.
Good question. She couldn’t explain what they were, since she didn’t even understand them herself. “Some kind of demon. Don’t shoot them,” she said. “It will make this worse.”
A nearby officer locked his aim on a nearby demon. When it swooped toward him, he fired. The injured demon slowed but didn’t stop, and plucked him off the ground while he continued to fire. Other officers fired to save him, but the demon continued, taking out its anger on its flailing victim. It tore off his limbs, dropping the dismembered parts.
Shouting blasted amid the gunfire and sirens. The sergeant yelled, “How do we stop them?”
“It’s almost impossible since they’re immortal. The only way is to behead them. Let the gray ones fight them while we focus on getting people safe, away from here.”
She hoped they would listen. The sergeant was on the radio. More cops converged on the scene. She could stick with them and try to explain the situation, but her gut told her to take action and help the gargoyles. She moved away from them, behind the structure leading to the train station below. When she spotted Roman, he was engaged with another demon in a hand-to-hand battle—the sword was gone.
Projecting any energy that way would be dangerous. She had no control over what she could do. If she hit him, the damage could be grave.
Seconds ticked by like a bomb counting down while she waited for them to break apart. When that moment came, at last, she focused all her energy on protecting Roman, projecting her hand at the demon. Shards of light, like splinters of lightning, shot out toward the demon, but missed.
Shit, shit, shit!
How was she going to fire at a moving target, one that didn’t follow a normal trajectory, with her hand?
Tempted by the Gargoyle (a gargoyle shifter romance): Boston Stone Sentries Page 11
