Guardian of the Abyss

by Shannon Phoenix

  For a few minutes, nothing happened, then slowly her wings folded and shrunk until they appeared proportionate to her body for daily activities, rather than for flight. He waited, but they didn't budge beyond that.

  People around them were cleaning up a bit from the plaster disaster, but beyond that, there was quiet. No one spoke, and for long moments, he stood that way with her. "They're still there, but they're manageable."

  "I'm so destructive." Sarah was looking around them, clearly appalled.

  "You won't be, once you control it."

  "So we all want to know how Sarah became a gargoyle." Perched in a chair with Thanatos behind her, Alexis seemed to show no response to the destruction around her at all. "After that, maybe we can find a way to save Sarah's company." He understood her through Sarah's understanding and the bond.

  "Alexis, I'm so sorry--"

  Alexis waved her hand negligently. "Thanatos has done worse. At least you didn't do it in the kitchen."

  Thanatos shifted uncomfortably behind her. "I got it fixed. And upgraded."

  "Which you wouldn't have had to do, if you hadn't had your tantrum in my kitchen."

  Thanatos scratched behind his ear, looking sheepish, but didn't say anything. Despite many years out of society, some things apparently never changed. Men still got chastised by their wives about past misdeeds that had never been forgiven.

  People once more sat down, or stood back up from ducking wings. Abaddon continued with his story, explaining how sick Sarah had been, and that he'd felt he had no choice but to use his sorcerer's skills to turn her into a gargoyle. He'd chosen a statue much like his, one that could be either a water spout or a grotesque. But the statue had also been made of different types of stone, so he suspected that was why Sarah could color her skin and hair.

  "So you can turn people into gargoyles?" Alexis was sitting forward, hampered by her belly.

  Abaddon shook his head even as Thanatos objected. "It's risky and terribly painful. If Sarah hadn't been dying..." he took a deep breath, hating himself for the truth, "...and if I hadn't been so selfish, I never would have done it. It's very, very rare for anyone to survive the transition to gargoyle. She was on the verge of death, or I wouldn't have even tried. She had a few hours left, at most, I think."

  Sarah's hand slid into his, and she pulled it against her cheek. "Don't feel guilty. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me." Her abyssal eyes met his and he felt emotion choke out his ability to speak for long moments.

  Someone coughed, bringing him back to the moment. Clearing his throat, he continued the story, choking up again as he told about his continued fear that she would die. He left out details such as her ability to dream and what had happened between them, stating only that they grew close during that time.

  A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, after all.

  When the conversation was done, the were who had discussed James earlier leaned forward. "So, I had an idea of how we might save your company, Sarah. It will take a vampire and a goblin, though, which means money. However, you can't tap into yours. So if Abaddon has a hoard--"

  "I have very little in my hoard of value," Abaddon stopped him. "Of value to anyone else, at least."

  "We'll use mine," Thanatos interjected.

  "No," Abaddon refused. "I've done enough to you, I won't take from your hoard--"

  "I owe you." Thanatos' firm words brooked no disagreement.

  But Abaddon could not be swayed by a firm tone of voice from his son. "It's my place to provide--"

  "There comes a time in every father's life where he must allow his son to prove his worth." Thanatos' arms were crossed and now he looked at Abaddon with challenge.

  Abaddon rose to his feet, facing his son. "Your worth will never be in your hoard, my son. Never. You have proven your worth many times over, and that's only in the time that I had the honor of watching your life unfold. Clearly, in recent years, you have surpassed yourself." He indicated Thanatos' family, his son climbing into Alexis' lap as they spoke.

  "Let me help Sarah," Thanatos said, his voice suspiciously thick.

  For a moment, Abaddon felt challenged as a man. He should be able to provide. Yet he had been frivolous in his collecting a hoard, focusing on personal matters rather than accumulating wealth. Now he must pay the price in pride.

  "Thank you." His voice sounded gruff even to him as he acquiesced.

  Chapter 21

  That evening, the werewolf, named Kyle, laid out his plan, and goblins were sent for. Sarah sat at Abaddon's feet again while he dwarfed a lazy chair that had been clearly reinforced in some way, yet still groaned beneath his weight. Sarah felt a burning rage at James. The person she'd thought was her dearest friend had double-crossed her to try to steal her company.

  A heavy, gentle hand caressed her hair, calming her before her wings could snap out again. It had taken all of her concentration to finally get them to go all the way back in. She was still in shock at the damage she'd done, given that she'd barely felt it. In a part of herself that she tried to hide from Abaddon, she was stunned by what she had become.

  It hadn't dawned on her before just how destructive she could be.

  "So what do you have in your hoard?" one of the gargoyles was asking Abaddon.

  Abaddon shifted and she felt his radiating embarrassment. "Portraits, mostly."

  "Portraits? If they were done by the right artist, they could be worth a fortune on today's market." Sarah felt excitement run through her. What if Abaddon had unknown portraits done by greats like Michelangelo or Da Vinci?

  He was now positively squirming. There was a long pause from him, then, "These wouldn't fall into that category."

  The goblin had arrived, and Sarah was surprised to see how accurately Abaddon had remembered them. He looked like a child had put him together, his body almost square, with tiny stick-like arms coming out of the top corners, and sticklike legs coming out the bottom. His vaguely toad-like head wobbled uncertainly on its short, skinny neck.

  He summoned gold and gems with a sparkle of real, live magic that looked amazingly like special effects from a movie. Sarah stared in awe as Abaddon watched her.

  "So while he's here, we want to see one of your portraits." Sarah smiled up at him.

  He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "It's a great idea," Thanatos interrupted their apparently not-so-private exchange on the gargoyle communication bond. "I would like to learn more about you."

  She watched Abaddon as his mind churned. She felt conflicting emotions running through him and wondered what he was thinking. At length, he seemed to come to a decision, stepping forward to let the goblin put his hand on his forehead.

  There was a brilliant sparkle of magic and an oil painting appeared, falling towards the floor. Abaddon grabbed it. He turned towards Thanatos, too far away from her for her to touch him.

  Sarah almost stepped forward, but something told her that this was a powerful moment between the two gargoyles. She watched as Abaddon spoke to Thanatos in Latin. Then they both turned to look at the portrait. Thanatos replied to something Abaddon said, his voice raw with emotion.

  When he stepped forward and embraced his father, Sarah felt a tear run down her cheek. Her eyes met Alexis', and she saw that Alexis was crying, as well. The two men held each other for a moment, Thanatos taller than Abaddon, but not nearly so broad. It was poignant to Sarah to see Abaddon at last have such a moment with the son he had loved so dearly for so long. The only son he had left. He had loved them all dearly, but only Thanatos remained.

  She didn't understand why the painting was so bonding for them, though. It was a picture of a simple peasant family. Then, she looked more closely, realizing that she recognized them. She got up and walked over, ignoring everyone else in the room.

  Her heart clenched. It was an incredibly, unbelievably accurate rendering of Thanatos' mother and her human family. She was so lost in the portrait that she didn't know Abaddon had pu
t his hand on her shoulder until his voice sounded in her head... "I painted it so that I would never forget her. I wanted to give it to Thanatos, but he refused to ever accept anything from me." She looked at him, feeling his overwhelming peace and joy. "Now I have finally delivered it." He leaned his head down to place his forehead against hers. "Thanks to you."

  "I didn't get us out of there," she reminded him.

  "No," he agreed, his hand running through her hair. "But without you to motivate me, I would never even have tried to get out." He gathered her against him. "You have restored my son to me and set me free from a prison I was locked into for four hundred years."

  "But now you're locked into this one," Sarah said, pained. "I saw that you couldn't come outside."

  "Yes. I fear that the barrier that imprisons Thanatos recognizes my energy as well. Apparently it is too close to his. But this prison has freedoms which that one did not. Here, there is comfort... and family." He kissed her, holding her head with both hands, his touch gentle, perhaps even reverent. "If I were free, I would be right here, anyway."

  He turned to include Thanatos as he said, "Now, we must rest before Sarah goes to complete the plan to save her business. If you will beg our pardons to your guests, please?"

  Thanatos nodded, his eyes still and deep, his cool sandstone skin so different, yet so like, his father's. Sarah felt affection for him well up in her. She had hated him for hurting Abaddon, but now she couldn't help but feel tenderness. He had suffered, as well.

  Letting go of Abaddon so that he wouldn't know what she said, she stepped up to Thanatos and laid her hand on his cheek. In English she told him, "I forgive you for hurting him so much, for so long."

  He grasped her hand, his face tightening with pain. He squeezed her hand gently, nodding slightly. Then he let her go.

  Sarah turned back to Abaddon. "Let's go rest, my love." They walked back towards the bedroom they'd been given, only to find the door ripped from its hinges.

  Sarah raised an eyebrow at Abaddon. He shrugged. "Whoops." She turned her lips down in a mock scowl. He shrugged again. "It was very fragile."

  With a wry chuckle, Sarah shook her head. "Come on. Alexis said there were more bedrooms."

  They found one with an intact door, and Sarah turned and locked it when they were inside. The sudden shyness that rose in her took her by surprise, so she stood and looked at him. His back was to her, and he stood in the middle of the room. His broad, powerful back gleamed gold, while a brilliant glow emanated from inside him and overlaid his entire body. His thumbs were hooked into the front pockets of the borrowed jeans.

  He turned and looked at her, his black eyes stark against the gold of his skin. He looked like a mythical genie. As he stepped towards her, his wings sprang from his back, and she felt something inside her melt, even as it tightened. He was truly glorious, with his bald head and his bottomless eyes. Neither angel nor demon, he was something that transcended all such ideas and concepts. A man, certainly, but no ordinary man.

  He stopped in front of her, putting his hands on the door beside her head. Leaning down, he kissed her gently, softly. Such tenderness from such a huge, powerful man made her stomach flutter. He pulled away just enough that his breath whispered across her lips as he said her name.

  His thigh pressed against her leg, and with his lips unmoving and his gaze holding hers enthralled, he spoke directly to her mind. "Will you marry me?"

  Her heart sank. He shouldn't marry her, she knew that intellectually. He was probably suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something like that... she wasn't sure exactly what classification there was for falling for a fellow prisoner only because you didn't have any other choices.

  "You should meet other women first. You need to have choices--"

  His eyes narrowed and his face gave up legendary mythic status to slide into sheer barbarism. "So you can meet other men?"

  She blinked at him for a moment in consternation. He could even imagine she would want to meet other men? "No, of course not."

  "Then why? I don't want to meet other women any more than you want to meet other men." He was angry, she could feel it in him, boiling and churning. He gripped her on the upper arms, his grip firm but not painful. "I've already seen what would happen to your heart if I went to meet other women. Do you believe me to be that cruel? Or perhaps you think me too stupid to know my own heart?" he added before she could reply to the first question.

  She gripped his forearms. "You should have a choice, not just get stuck--"

  "I already made my choice." There was barbarous fury in his mind, burning and raging out of control. "Now you make yours."

  "I... yes. Of course I will," she managed, frightened by the fury burning in the depths of his eyes.

  He crushed her against him in an embrace just this side of pain as she felt relief blaze through him with the same intensity as his anger. His wings snapped into his back with an audible 'pop'. His lips took hers over, dominating them and turning her to a melting mess.

  He pressed her against his body and she felt his erection straining against the jeans that barely contained it. She made a mental note that he couldn't wear low-on-the-hips jeans. Ever. All was forgotten as he began to tug her shirt up, however.

  She was surprised to note that his hands were shaking and clumsy. Hands so steady and sure that they could paint stunningly accurate renditions of people were rendered uncertain as he attempted to remove the shirt.

  Moments passed as he managed the shirt and tried to understand the button on the side of the early-maternity pants she was wearing. She tried to push his hands away, but he gave a growl of frustration and ripped the button off, pushing at the pants with unquestionable urgency. Finally, he ripped them, shredding them with ease before he picked her up, his lips striking hers with ferocious need.

  They were on the floor a moment later, the carpet against her back and the golden man she loved above her. He fought with the jeans he wore until once more, he simply settled with the expedience of ripping them off.

  She was unprepared when he gentled once they were naked, his suede skin so soft and warm against hers. She realized he had never been that warm when they were under the water.

  "I'm at full power now." It whispered through her mind. "I'll feel warmer, as you do. Though you are still far from full power. I asked Thanatos to heal you, but he said it would be too risky with the baby..."

  He trailed kisses down the side of her neck until he reached her breasts, where he cupped her with his hands. They were steady now, gentle and powerful all at the same time. There was no more clumsiness, no more awkward fumbling. He was certain as he trailed a warm palm down her belly towards her legs.

  She didn't want to wait. She wanted to feel him in her, over her, around her.

  "I'm barely holding on, Sarah. I want to do this right. Don't tempt me."

  So she struggled to be patient as he teased her. His hands were incredible, teasing her as he nipped his way back up to her lips. He stopped to look at her belly, his hand caressing it. "My son," he whispered, and kissed the rounded evidence of her pregnancy. Her body had filled out again, fecund and welcoming towards the new life that grew within it.

  "Or daughter."

  "Daughters are rare for us, and always human. It seems that the woman's body is not welcoming towards our female offspring. Of course, it's likely that the sorcerers made it that way. The chance that you'll bear a girl are staggeringly remote. I would love her, though." He smiled up at her, a sad smile that held the story of an ancient pain. "Girl children are our rarest treasure, because they can be raised to know us and are more likely to risk loving us." He kissed her belly again, "But our child will be part of a new world as little Darius is. Children born of love..."

  He wrapped his arms around her, before running his hand down her side, lying beside her, his thick, powerful leg thrust between hers. She found herself so filled with desire for him that she couldn't stop herself from rubbing against him, the supple skin of
his leg teasing at her with the hint of greater pleasures.

  "Abaddon," she groaned.

  He smiled, a smug smile. "Yes, Sarah?"

  "Now."

  "Now... what?" he demanded.

  "What is it with that? You know already!"

  "It's nice to hear it, Sarah. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in my obsessive longing to be inside you. That the fact that I can barely control myself to give you proper touching and lovemaking isn't all my own."

  "It isn't only you." She grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss, loving that she didn't need to break it to tell him, "I want you inside me so badly that I feel like I'll fly apart if you don't come inside me and keep me together."

  His fingers slid between her legs, and she felt him teasing and touching her, pushing her towards orgasm with just his immensely talented fingers. It felt divine, but she ached to have all of him inside her. His motions pushed her to the edge...

  And she was over, falling into the abyss as her body shook and convulsed with the power of an orgasm that summoned his name and ripped it from her lips with a cry that hovered just outside of anguish.

  His roaming hands gave her time to come down from the edge, but then her lust was rising again, roaring to life from the momentary quiescence offered by the orgasm. This time, when she cried his name, it was a plea.

  Clearly he understood, because this time, he thrust into her, his powerful body between her legs and above her and inside her. Sarah wrapped herself around him and wept with the sweet wonder of having him within every part of her being. When he shouted her name, they dropped into the abyssal magic of their love together when Sarah followed him over the crest.

  Chapter 22

  James Halloran sat at the big desk that Sarah Holt had never bothered to sit at. He put his feet up, looking out over the city. She'd never known what she had. He'd been stuck as her sycophant. Granted, it had its perks. He had enjoyed diving everywhere in the world, taking grand vacations, driving fancy cars...