by Anton Strout
“Stanis . . . ?” Alexandra’s hand fell against my back.
“Steel-reinforced cable core, asshole,” the woman said.
I flexed again, but only succeeded in further tangling the netting around me. The cable within did, however, give a little, meaning it might take a little time, but I would get free. The question was whether my friends would be safe until then.
“Shit,” the woman said, backing away while looking high up in the air behind me. “Reinforcements.”
With my legs still free, I managed to spin myself around. Outside, the shadowy figures of grotesques were backlit by the building across the way, and seconds later they came crashing through the windows of the armory. Glass flew everywhere as their snarls filled the air, and by the time the sixth or seventh came through, Alexandra was already trying to pull the netting off me.
“Dammit,” the male detective said. “We don’t need real gargoyles screwing up our fake gargoyle scanner bait!”
“Friends of yours?” Alexandra asked me with hope in her voice.
I shook my head. “I am afraid not,” I said. “They may be grotesques, but I am not familiar with them.”
“I was afraid of that,” she said. “Are they attacking us or them?”
“The way they are staring at our group, Alexandra, I think we have our answer,” I said. “Forgive me. They must have been following me, hunting me.”
“Stanis Ruthenia,” a demonic-looking grotesque near the front of the pack said. “Our master sends his regards and demands the presence of you and the human known as Alexandra Belarus.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said. “Unless your master plans on surrendering to me.”
“It wasn’t really a request,” the grotesque said and headed for her. “You will join the Butcher, or you will die. Simple, really.”
Alexandra opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of gunfire broke out behind me. Bullets sailed toward the new arrivals, and as I had assumed, none of the shots proved effective.
“It’s no use,” Detective Rowland called out to her partner. “Stop firing. You’re not damaging them and you’re more than likely to destroy the property in here.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know there was going to be an art show here, Chloe?” Maron asked, his gun still raised. “I would have moved this setup somewhere else.”
“Not really the time to talk planning logistics,” she said.
“The Butcher?” Alexandra said, snapping with anger at our foes. “Who the hell is the Butcher? Is that your master? I suggest you run back to him before I shatter you and your fellow gargoyle henchmen to rubble.”
At Alexandra’s arcane command, pieces of stone artwork from around the room began drawing close to her while Aurora swirled her pole arm around in readiness. Marshall appeared to have the best idea of the humans, moving himself out of the aisle and away from the approaching grotesques. A wise move. Because as spirited as the two women were, I did not think their odds were good in attempting to hold off so many creatures of my kind at once.
Still trapped underneath the netting, I forced my way past Alexandra and Aurora, putting myself between them and the now-landed grotesques. I needed a strategy and quick. If these creatures and I fell to battle within the confines of this building, it dramatically increased the likelihood that the humans might get hurt. There was only one course of action.
I ran toward the oncoming enemies despite my upper body still being trapped in the net. The creatures stopped at my approach, readying themselves for conflict.
Which is not what I gave them. Instead, I leapt into the air over them, and while I was unable to fly, I was able to use the net that restrained me to catch some of the gathered grotesques. Having caught them off guard, I doubled the speed of my run once I hit the floor again, letting my momentum pull them along. Not all had been tangled in the netting, but I could not worry about the rest just then. I concentrated on my speed instead as I aimed myself for a section underneath the now-broken windows above.
The brick and mortar of the wall was strong, but I was stronger. At my impact the stone gave way, exploding out into the street beyond. Broken brick rained down over cars parked there and tumbled over the single empty police car pulled up on the sidewalk.
It was impossible to keep my footing. My netted grotesques and I fell over one another, rolling out into the middle of the street. A car’s brakes screeched to life and seconds later I felt the impact of it against our pile of bodies, but it was nowhere near powerful enough to move us. The crunch of metal filled my ears.
Quicker than the rest of my tangle of grotesques, I was up on my knees and free of the net. The front half of the impact vehicle was destroyed, crumpled against us, its driver obscured by a large white bag that filled the cabin. Movement against it was proof enough of his or her safety, and as I stood I turned my attention to the hole I had left in the side of the building.
Already Alexandra, Aurora, and Marshall were heading toward me with the remaining grotesques and two armed humans following close behind. Behind me, claws tore at the netting as ineffectively as mine had, but several of the grotesques were already managing to pull themselves free nonetheless.
Two stood: one looking like a centurion of some kind and another looking more like a snake-faced Egyptian carving. They came at me, and I spread my wings to their fullest, swirling them around to drive my attackers back. The Egyptian one was driven back but the centurion ducked beneath my wings and came in low, grappling me around my waist. Pain erupted along my midsection.
I brought my balled-up fists down hard on its back over and over until its grip weakened and it fell to the ground. While it struggled to stand, I turned to the other, only to find Aurora and Alexandra squaring off with it.
“No,” I cried out. “Do not!”
Aurora pulled up her pole arm, still keeping it poised for action, but Alexandra simply stared at me wide-eyed. “What?!”
I grabbed the creature around its neck, and pulled it back from the two of them, looking behind me. The other grotesques were now mostly free, and the armed humans were coming up behind my friends.
I met Alexandra’s eyes.
“Run,” I said.
“And leave you alone in this fight?” she asked. “Never!”
Another of the grotesques grabbed for me and I tore a hole through one of its wings as I kicked it away.
“This is a fight I fear not all of us will walk away from,” I said. “You and your friends are in more danger here than you can imagine. But I will do my best to remedy this situation. I promise.”
Marshall joined the two of them. “How?” he asked, breathless.
“This is a fight you cannot win,” I said. I knelt down and grabbed the edge of the now-empty net with my free hand. “Therefore, I will remove what I can of the fight itself.”
I snapped my wrist and the net sprung into the air. It settled over the main group of grotesques, their wings and claws tangling once more within it. I tightened my grip on the net and spread my wings to their fullest, taking one last look at my companions.
“Now run!” I shouted, and shot off into the night sky with both captive and free grotesques following after.
Nine
Alexandra
Normally I’m not one to run from a fight, but when a gargoyle like Stanis shouts out that it’s time to do so and guns are also involved, hoofing it definitely has its appeal.
Stanis was no sooner in the air with a steady stream of gargoyles flying off after him than I turned to my friends.
“Split up!” I shouted. “Rendezvous at the Bat Cave!”
If we went three separate ways, the odds of any of us getting shot by a cop or torn apart by claws went down by a lot. I didn’t wait to see who ran off first, and took off on my own. Marshall and Rory knew the drill. Hell, it had been Marshall’s idea
to set up a rendezvous point. We’d ditch this scene and meet back up at my great-great-grandfather’s guildhall, or as Marshall liked to call it, “the Bat Cave.”
Running down Lexington Avenue, I headed for the first opportunity to get off the street I could find. I aimed for the open space between two of the buildings coming up on my left.
Please don’t be a dead end, please don’t be a dead end.
My legs already ached, but turning the corner into the gap between the buildings made my heart soar. Other than a few scattered trash bins, the alley was clear. As long as I could reach the end of it before the cops figured out which one of us they should chase after, they wouldn’t get a shot off.
I ran hard.
That was, until the sound of crushing metal rose up behind me accompanied by screams, stopping me in my tracks. I spun in time to catch the empty police car sailing past the open end of the alley. It flew into the deli across the way in a shower of glass and bricks, the front end of the vehicle crumpled like paper.
Fuck.
At least one of the gargoyles hadn’t taken the bait. Worse, from the sound of it, they had decided to go for the detectives we had been trying to ditch.
The selfish part of me wanted desperately to flee for my own safety, but I simply couldn’t. I ran back up the alley toward the commotion, pressing my legs even harder than before. Those two detectives might have been the asshats from the Cloisters—and clever ones at that—but they were only doing their job. None of that justified leaving them behind to be torn apart by monsters.
I slowed at the end of the alley, moving to the edge to assess the situation before diving headlong into it. Already the street looked much different than it had seconds ago. Parked cars were now flipped over on top of one another, some lodged into the lower floors of nearby buildings, traffic at a standstill behind a street covered in broken bricks, glass, and the twisted metal frames of gargoyle-damaged cars. The source of it all was a more reptilian-looking grotesque. Scaly wings like those of a dragon were spread wide, its snarling face sending a chill down my back. The creature towered well over the female officer, the gun in her hand looking like a toy. Across the street, the other officer lay with his leg trapped beneath a pile of rubble where the police car had crashed through the storefront.
“Where is she? Where is the Spellmason?” the gargoyle shouted as I snuck out of the alley, hiding myself behind one of the overturned cars to my immediate right.
Was he asking for me by name? More to the point: How did this monstrosity know of me?
While the creature was distracted with the female detective, I chose the easier of rescue tasks at hand and stepped with caution across the littered street to aid her trapped partner. The man stirred at my approach, but remained silent. By the look on his face he was more dazed than anything.
“Is it broken?” I whispered, kneeling down next to him and setting myself to the task of shifting broken bricks off of his trapped leg.
“Hurts like hell,” he hissed out, “but no, I don’t think so.”
“Good,” I said, and continued working on the pile until I had his leg free of it.
The man tried to stand, but his leg buckled under his weight. I rushed forward just in time to catch the bulk of his form on my shoulder, struggling not to fall over myself.
“Easy,” I said. “I’ve got you.”
“Who’s got my partner?” he asked.
“I will have her,” I said, “but first things first.” Not waiting for a response, I hobbled the man as best I could behind the safety of an overturned car across the street, feeling a sense of relief—until I heard his partner cry out in pain.
From where the two of us were, I couldn’t see anything. I laid the man down and moved to look around the car, but before I could, the female officer flew over the vehicle. Crumpling unconscious against the car behind us, she slid down the side of it onto the street.
“Stay here,” I said to the man.
As I turned away, he gave a grunt and a pained laugh. “Where do you think I would go?”
He had a point, but I didn’t bother to answer, instead stepping out into the center of the street like I was in an Old West showdown.
“Hey!” I shouted, gathering my arcane will around me as I pulled my notebook free and started flipping through it. “Looking for me?”
“Groovy,” the monster said, baring its fangs at me. “Just the chick I was looking for.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of what he was saying. Groovy? Whoever he had been in his human life, this gargoyle sounded like he must have shuffled off this mortal coil sometime back in the seventies.
The gargoyle wings spread to their full expanse in a move no doubt meant to intimidate, but I had seen enough of them over time to know it was nothing more than the equivalent of peacocking.
I willed my power out all around me and into the fallen bricks strewn everywhere. The power of the cantrips I had memorized might get them in the air, but for what I intended to do I was going to need a little more juice from what was written in my spell book.
I motioned quickly through the arcane gestures, then lashed out with my power. One by one I lifted the loose and broken bricks, sending them sailing at my target. The first smashed into the gargoyle’s torso, evaporating into a fine red dust around him.
“Really, now?” he asked with some attitude. “Girl, are you trying to annoy me?”
“Nope,” I said, adjusting my aim. “Just disable you.”
My next brick sailed off toward its actual intended target, which was the dead center of the open expanse of the creature’s left wing. I pressed my power full blast into the next two bricks. The first cracked the dragonlike “webbing” of the wing, allowing the second one’s impact to shoot right through it.
The gargoyle laughed, but there was nervousness in it. Its face filled with ferocity as it assessed the damage to its wing. I had hoped to drive it off, but instead it launched itself across the distance between us. The gargoyle tried to take flight with its charge, but damaged as he was, his movement was at best erratic. Rather than crashing to the ground, however, he managed to find his footing, and continued his charge unabated.
I launched the remaining handful of nearby bricks at the gargoyle. The first three flew right past him while I tried to gauge his movement to win a hit, and when the last of them actually did strike, it had such little power in it that it bounced off the gargoyle’s chest like a bullet off Superman.
Before I could run, the gargoyle lashed out at me, catching my jacket in his clawed hands and lifting me off my feet until I was staring into his dead stone eyes.
“You’re coming with me, girl,” he said.
“Like hell I am,” I shouted out, struggling, but to no avail.
“We will make you our servant.”
The struggle went out of me as his words sunk in. “Servant . . . ?” I repeated. “And who’s we?”
The gargoyle spread his wings, pointing to the large hole I had just punctured there.
“That my master wants you is all you need to know,” he said, running a clawed finger around the inside of the puncture wound. “There are none who can fix the damage that our kind experience. For that, we require your services. You were our maker; now you will be our healer.”
“I’m not fixing anything that happens to gargoyles who act like this,” I said, shoving my feet up against the solid stone of his stomach. In a bid for my freedom, I pushed off, hoping my jacket would tear free or maybe his grip would break, but neither happened, leaving my legs swinging back and forth as they dangled there. “I don’t know what master you serve or how you know I am your maker, but I’m not uttering spell one to help you.”
“We shall see what the master has to say on this,” he said, attempting to take to the air with me in tow, even with his damaged wing.
I needed to stop
him. Force wasn’t going to work now. I could only hope to reason with him to gain my freedom, but before I could say anything else, a voice spoke up from behind the creature.
“Not so fast, asshole,” Detective Rowland said, although she sounded full of pain. “The lady has already got a date with me.”
The gargoyle opened his mouth to admonish her, but was met by a deafening boom that filled my ears. The stone serpent’s head vaporized in front of me, becoming a gray cloud, a few of the large chunks of sharp stone tearing into me.
The twin barrels of a shotgun sat point-blank at what was now the creature’s neck stump, the sound of its blast still washing over and through me. The pressure of its sound wave continued to build in my ears and head until all my body wanted was for it to stop.
And it did—darkness closed over me and my eyes fell shut. My thoughts slipped away from me like my sight had, my mind shutting down to embrace the calm quiet of nothingness.
Ten
Alexandra
My mind swam up to the bare hint of consciousness even if my eyes resisted opening. I hoped there was a special ring of hell for those who created hospital beds, and I hoped its abyssal equivalent was made of jagged glass, steel wool, and pain to match the kind I was currently in.
I’d hated hospitals ever since my childhood stay when I had my tonsils out. Through my current haze of clouded thoughts, my only fond recollection of that time was Rory sneaking Ben & Jerry’s in to me until the nurses caught on and kicked her out.
I went to laugh at the dreamlike memory, but something about my body definitely didn’t feel right. There were bandages across my face and arms, bringing the events of my evening back to me: gargoyles, cars flying through the air, the shotgun blast . . . After all that, I had to be in a hospital bandaged up, didn’t I?
As my brain focused in, I assessed my situation to figure out what exactly seemed wrong. For one, the bed beneath me felt less like the painful hospital kind and more like the hard coolness of a steel slab, which, thanks to every police procedural show on TV, reminded me of a morgue freezer drawer.
