by Marie Dry
Chapter 7
The thing that grabbed her was big, made of black and gray marble, and so frightening and strong, even if she wasn’t petrified, she couldn’t have broken his hold. His arms tightened around her and he ran toward the window.
She screamed, a shrill terrified sound ripped out of her body.
Glass splintered again when the thing flew out of her window with her clutched in his arms. Behind her she heard wolf barking and Mark shouting her name.
The monster flew higher, and higher still. Sabrina opened her mouth to scream again, but the wind stole her voice. She looked down and her feet curled upward, away from the lights of streetlamps and cars that changed Cape Town into a fairytale.
Gargoyle, it had to be a gargoyle. The arms around her and the chest he held her against had the unyielding substance of rock. That was about all she knew about gargoyles--that they turned into rocklike creatures with wings. Sabrina would’ve thought that flying by gargoyle wing would be slow compared to an airplane. Instead, the creature flew at a dizzying speed and height that had her close her eyes and swallow her dinner down again. Cold infiltrated her body until she shook so much, she was afraid she’d fall. The wind chafed her skin and caused tears to stream down her cheeks. How could this thing that had her see where to fly. What if they flew into a plane? Would Mark find her? He knew gargoyles existed and she prayed he knew where this one was taking her.
What felt like hours later, they descended and she opened her eyes, afraid of what new horror she’d face. Nausea clutched at her stomach again and, for a moment, she was tempted to try and throw up on the gargoyle. It would serve him right. She swallowed and looked down cautiously. They were approaching a farm with a large traditional Cape Dutch style house surrounded by a flowing lawn and big trees. She screamed when he flew straight at the gable.
“Stop, we’re going to hit the wall.”
He approached it at such a speed that, for several fear-filled minutes, she was convinced they’d slam into the wall. Then she saw the window set into the gable. With the speed they flew at, she still feared they’d slam into the wall.
He slowed down at the last moment and flew through the open window into a spacious room where he set her down and shook her. “Stop screaming, human.” He sneered the word human.
It didn’t hurt, but she got the message. Mark would find her, she knew he’d find her, and then she hoped he made this creature sorry he ever thought to break her window and kidnap her.
Sabrina stumbled and only sheer stubbornness and her resolve not to crumble to the floor in front of this creature kept her upright. “Why have you taken me?”
She looked at up at her captor. His features were sharp, as if cut from stone, and surprisingly handsome in a rough, troll-like kind of way. If it wasn’t for the gray and black marbled skin and large leathery wings, he could pass for human. A very ripped human that was on steroids and worked out frequently. Something tugged at her memory.
The creature snorted. “I heard Marku Tiber Badon Dimir came to my country and took a bride.”
“So, what’s it got to do with you that we got married?”
This creature knew Mark’s full name. Why did she never realize that she didn’t know his full names or his birthdate or where he was born? Sabrina looked around for somewhere to sit before she fell down in front of this arrogant gargoyle.
Nothing. The room was empty, probably because they used it for landings.
“I know that Marku Tiber Badon Dimir has come to the Cape to claim the crown.”
“What crown?”
“The crown to rule the gargoyles.”
The world tilted around her, as if someone had shaken out reality like it was a dish cloth. “Mark’s a gargoyle?” That would explain the wings she thought she saw.
“He’s only considered a gargoyle because of his royal blood. He’s part vampire.”
“Royal blood?” She really went down a rabbit hole this time. “There are royal gargoyles?”
“When the king of the gargoyles die, I will take the crown and the seat of power will move from Eastern Europe to Africa. No half pint will take the crown from me.”
“Royal Blood,” she said again. Obviously this creature was looney tunes and she didn’t know if that was better or worse. But she definitely didn’t like the way he called Mark a half pint.
“Less than a quarter pint. No need to belabor the point,” he said.
Gargoyles could sound sullen, who knew? It wasn’t hard to see that Mark’s so-called royal blood really chafed at this gargoyle. “How can you rule the continent? I’ve never heard rumors of winged men in Cape Town. So how do you move around and...uh...rule.”
She’d seen Mark’s wings, sometimes felt his skin become hard as rock against her and still couldn’t comprehend it. Still it came as a shock. A part of her had hoped that she was delusional, that Mark was a normal man. Why didn’t he simply tell her he was half vampire and half gargoyle?
“Your owner has not told you anything about immortals?”
“Owner?” Maybe she’d be able to get in a good punch without breaking her fist against his rocklike skin. Now she knew why her hand had hurt so much that time she slapped Mark’s chest. “He’s my husband, not my owner, you winged freak.”
He made a rumbling threatening noise and stepped closer to her. “You will show respect, human.”
His eyes glowed but it was different than Mark’s glow. The best she could describe it as was black lava combusting and bursting into flames. Mark’s blue and white eyes were much nicer, and scarier, than this pompous idiot could ever hope to look.
“We came here in 1891. We now have nests in most of the countries in New Rouen.”
“New Rouen?”
“What you call Africa.” He said it with such arrogance, as if renaming a continent to suit himself was a natural act.
“I see. Don’t you think it’s a little arrogant? Giving Africa a new name?”
He crossed his arms, looking like a giant statue. “We rule it, we get to name it.”
“I haven’t seen it mentioned on Facebook that you rule Africa.”
“I like Facebook. Got an ugly picture of myself up, but I like it,” the gargoyle said in all seriousness.
Sabrina shook her head, still dazed from being kidnapped, flown here, and then having this weird conversation. Her sarcasm had gone right over his head so she’d have to be direct. “How come nobody knows gargoyles are ruling Africa?”
He shrugged and briefly flared his wing. In her panic she’d not noticed that his clothes turned to stone as well. “We have glamor.”
“Glamor?”
He clicked his tongue in a pitying sound that made her hand itch to stop him. “Not very agile in the mental department are you, human?”
She drew herself upright and glared at him, the glare she gave Wolf when he growled at her. “And you’re rude and arrogant, aren’t you, gargoyle?”
He sighed. “When we go out, we put on a glamor which means that any human seeing us simply sees a human walking about,” he said in a deliberately slow way that set her teeth on edge. “A very handsome human, of course.”
Sabrina gritted her teeth at his condescending tone. “Who are you?”
“I am named Thailog Baine Charles Van der Merwe, the King of the Gargoyles.”
Sabrina blinked. That was an impressive list of names. But. “Van der Merwe?” And she should’ve guessed. Somehow she’d expected him to have a typical eastern European name. Not an Afrikaans one.
“My clan have adopted the name of the owner of this estate out of respect for his sacrifice.”
“What sacrifice?”
His shrug did not show a lot of respect for the previous owner. “He gave up everything for us.”
Her stomach turned. Did they sacrifice the previous owner when they moved in?
“I see. Why would the king of the gargoyles live in Africa. I’d think you’d be living in a palace in Europe.”
“
I am the king of the gargoyles in Africa. When the king of all the gargoyles dies, I will take the throne. That is all you need to know.”
Yep, looney tunes. “So what will you do with me if Mark--Marku--doesn’t want me back?”
What if this niggling feeling she’d had this last month, that Mark married her for reasons of his own, was true? He’d certainly lied to her from the beginning. Who knows what was real about their relationship?
The big gargoyle towering over her didn’t seem worried. “He’ll definitely come for you. Do not fear, female. I will tell him I did not pleasure you.”
There was a rough, almost grudging kindness to his words. She could see that women, who hadn’t been kidnapped and flown out of their homes at high speed, might find him attractive.
“Uh, thanks, I think.” Apparently, Mark had been right when he said they were sex crazed. “Do you want Mark, I mean Marku’s, phone number?”
The sooner he phoned Mark, the sooner she’d be gone from here. She wouldn’t stop to pack. Once Mark rescued her, she’d just keep going and get far away. Then it hit her, she still didn’t have his number, and she didn’t want to admit that to this creature.
“No. He should be strong enough to find you.”
He tilted his head and the door opened to reveal a smaller gargoyle. A female dressed in an indecently short dress and very high heels. She also had a bald head that accentuated her high cheekbones and exotically slanted eyes. Her wings were more delicate than Thailog’s. She might be smaller and more delicate but she was equally scary. That night at Jo’s house, when that woman had been hysterical after she claimed to have seen a giant bat--could it have been a gargoyle? Maybe a curious teenager that had looked through the window at the party?
“You rang.?” The young female gargoyle struck a pose that would do Madonna proud. It was such a typically teenage way to behave, if Sabrina wasn’t so frightened that she had to clench her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering, she’d have smiled.
When would Mark come for her?
“Take her to the cellar and chain her. But don’t harm her. It would displease me,” Thailog said.
Sabrina stumbled back from them. “What?”
They’d chain her in a cellar?
Chapter 8
“You can’t be serious. Mark won’t stand for this.” She thought she saw unease in the way they glanced at each other, but then Thailog shrugged and she could’ve cried.
“If he valued you, I wouldn’t have been able to take you.”
The girl grabbed her arm and Sabrina winced. Being smaller didn’t mean she wasn’t strong. “Come on, human. Let’s get you locked up. There’s a game with my name on it waiting to be played.”
“No, let go of me. You can’t do this.” Sabrina tried to kick and hit, but she only managed to hurt herself. The gargoyle never lost her grip on her arm.
The girl dragged her outside, across a manicured lawn, and then entered a white painted rectangular building. Once inside, Sabrina was blinded for a moment by the sudden dark, she stumbled and almost fell when they descended stone steps into a cellar. By the time the freakishly strong girl dragged her toward a large wine barrel, Sabrina could make out some shapes. She was relieved to realize it wasn’t pitch black. Dim lights were set in the wall at long intervals. A motion activated, muted light came on when they descended the stairs.
“Please let me go, don’t do this.” Sabrina shivered, still cold after the long flight. She pressed her fist into her mouth to stop hysterical laughter. She’d flown here in the arms of a gargoyle, and it had been cold. No in-flight blanket.
Without answering, the gargoyle chained her foot to the iron bar underneath a barrel. Sabrina tried to make eye contact with the girl. Surely she had to have more mercy than the men. “Please help me, let me go. I won’t go to the police, I promise.”
The girl adjusted her earphones and left with a casual swagger, as if she hadn’t just chained someone in a cellar.
The door slammed shut and Sabrina was all alone. Chained in a cold cellar by gargoyles with no way of escaping. The chain around her ankle looked like the slave chains she saw in the movies. She tried to pull it open, to pick the lock with a rusted nail she found on the floor, but with no success.
Sabrina shivered and pulled her thin evening jacket around her. They could at least have left her a blanket. She drew up her knees and crossed her arms with her cheek resting on them, stared unseeing at the rows and rows of wine barrels. Never again would she think of a wine cellar without shivering. Sinister shadows and ominous patches of light played havoc with her nerves.
When would Mark come for her?
Hours later, sitting on the cold stones, massaging her aching knee, she was so cold she feared she’d get frostbite. Winter in South Africa was relatively mild and this was only the beginning of winter, but she was so cold, she might as well have been sitting in snow.
The gargoyle had chained her to the iron rail holding the large wine barrel in place. If only she’d used ropes, Sabrina could’ve found a way to get loose. Listlessly, she moved her foot and the chain scraped over the cement floor. Her life was seriously crazy--married to a vampire-slash-gargoyle who may or may not have married her for sinister reasons. Being trapped in this awful cold cellar had given her time to think.
Could she ever return to a life of blissful ignorance, where she didn’t know creatures such as vampires and gargoyles existed? What else was out there? She shuddered and clutched her arms tighter around her legs. Maybe now that she was aware of gargoyles and vampires, all the other things she’d previously thought were legend would crawl out of the woodwork, as well.
“All I need to add to this mixture is a tokkelosh.” The moment she said it, she looked around uneasily. She’d never again feel safe in the knowledge that such creatures didn’t exist.
Five hours later, when she couldn’t feel her toes and she prayed for the escape of sleep, the big door opened. Bright sunlight streamed through the door and hurt her eyes.
She expected to see the teenager, but two males, almost as large as Thailog, walked into the cellar.
“Get up, human.”
One of them knelt and unlocked the chain. The other one grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Sabrina screamed. Pain tore through her knee and she stumbled.
“Useless, they’re all useless.” Big and burly, they untied her from the iron bar, but re-shackled her feet. She thought she heard them sniggering. She was so cold, her teeth made an audible chattering sound. She couldn’t walk and they dragged her to the door. It hurt, her feet and knee taking the worst of it.
“W--w--where are you t--ta--taking me?” Please let it be someplace warm. “Did Mark come for me?” He’d make them sorry for this.
As long as it was warm, she didn’t care where they took her. They dragged her up the stairs and over cobblestone to the big Cape Dutch style mansion. Her evening shoes scraped over the gravel, grass, and wooden floors they dragged her over. She didn’t care, as long as she got out of this alive, she would sacrifice all her shoes. Her knee bumped against the ground and ached unbearably.
They took her to a large sitting room and threw her down on the carpet. “Here she is, your useless human.”
She lifted her head and saw Mark drinking coffee.
Thailog stiffened and took a half step back, a look on his face that said he saw his end coming. “Oh shit,” he said.
And, if she wasn’t so cold and sore, she’d have laughed with sheer enjoyment at what Mark would do to them for treating her like this. She was only vaguely aware of Thailog, her attention riveted on Mark, who put down the cup with a slow deliberate thunk, a look of unholy wrath darkening his features. The slow deliberate way he stood was frightening. He seemed to grow bigger. All the other gargoyles took a step back.
Before she could blink, he punched the gargoyle who’d dragged her here with a vicious blow to the neck, grabbed the other one by the throat, and lifted him. The strength it took for Mark to hold him
aloft scared her. She’d always known he was strong, but he’d been so careful with her, that she had no idea of the true strength in his body. Did his vampire blood make him stronger than the gargoyles? She really, really, hoped so because he was severely outnumbered. Sabrina looked around for a weapon, in case they had to fight their way out.
“Take those off. Now,” Mark said without lowering the gargoyle.
Thailog stepped forward.
“Not you,” Mark said and Thailog halted.
In spite of his earlier bravado, Thailog didn’t seem keen to take on Mark, who motioned to the gargoyle who’d pushed her. “Him.”
The young gargoyle struggled to his feet and staggered over to her. He unshackled her with shaking hands. Even cold and miserable, she couldn’t help but wonder why all of them would fear one man. Mark’s eyes tracked the young gargoyle like a predator hungry for prey.
“Why do you care so much? She’s just bait. You’re not even married,” Thailog said. He acted as if trying to betray no fear, and Sabrina thought he was either very stupid or very brave.
The atmosphere changed, chilled in that way that Mark had of altering the air around him. Vampire or gargoyle trait?
“Shut the fuck up.”
She’d never heard Mark use profanity before.
Then the gargoyle’s words registered. Not married? Sabrina tried to get to her feet, but her muscles were too cold and cramped. She fell back down on the floor with a cry. A gurgling sound alerted her. She looked up and forgot about her knee, managing to stumble upright. “Mark, no.”
He was crushing the young gargoyle’s neck with a look of such unholy fury, she feared he might kill all the gargoyles present. Thailog obviously had come to the same conclusion, because he didn’t try to interfere.
“Sabrina, get behind me.” Mark’s voice sounded different as well, harsher, as if he struggled to get it past his throat.
“He’s just a boy.” When they’d come for her in the cellar, she’d only seen two large male gargoyles. Now she noticed the features of the gargoyle who’d pushed her were those of a very young man, almost a boy.
