Avisha

by Vi Lily

  Which makes me feel super guilty.

  But I know the DEE-men aren't any match for two gargoyles. I relax a little then, mostly because I remember that this time, those a-holes can't get Carlie. That thought alone gives me a reason to smile. Just a little.

  Of course, then I have this seriously horrifying thought: If something happens to the guys, then I have no way of getting to Carlie in the sixth century. She'll be stuck with Osgar and his mob. And I don't care how many times she's got them wrapped around her chubby little finger, there's no way they're going to treat her as good as I can.

  Okay, that last statement is debatable, I admit. Being homeless, constantly on the run, hiding, being forced to eat gross dehydrated camping food when we can't go into a town, shivering in the cold because you're afraid to build a fire…

  Maybe she would be better off with the Scottish version of Maurice.

  But if I can maybe stay in the sixth century, keeping Carlie completely safe from DEE and Dr. Smythe, then yeah, she'll have a great life. I could pretty much guarantee it. I'm sure Avi will let us stay with him at his fortress. I mean, come on, everything he says, every emotion I sense from the guy, screams that he doesn't want to let me go.

  And I feel the same way about him.

  With the thought of a future in the past—and I don't even try to wrap my head around that oxymoron—I jump up and dash to the closet to get my boots and a jacket. I know Avi told me to stay in the room with the door locked, but now I'm itching to fight. To get a chance to kick some DEE ass. To finally put all that training to use.

  As I tie my laces, I think about how many countless times I've had to run, to hide. I couldn't stay and fight the jerks, not with the fear of Carlie getting taken. I knew exactly what would happen—I'd be fighting one or two of the guys and while they kept me busy, the third guy would grab my little sister and before I could even duck a punch, she'd be back in Smythe's evil grip.

  The only time I'd ever gotten to give them a beat-down had been the few times they'd managed to corner us, or had caught me off-guard. Those were the times that the DEE-men found out just how mad a mama bear can get when protecting her cub.

  I hear a few more crashes as I stand and pull on the jacket. I cringe, feeling bad that Bog's beautiful mansion is getting torn up. But I know for a fact that the dude's seriously rich—he told me that all of the Fallen Moral were well-off. Bog figured it was sort of a natural consequence of living for thousands of years. He said he had more money than he could spend in a hundred human lifetimes.

  Guess he can afford to buy more furniture.

  It sounds like most of the fighting is coming from the living room area, so I make the decision to do a sneak attack from the rear, because if I go down the stairs, they'll see me. So instead, I go out the bedroom window and climb down the rock wall of the mansion.

  And this way I'll technically be following Avi's orders by leaving the door closed and locked. Not that I'm prone to following orders anyway.

  The bedrooms are on the third floor, so it's a pretty long drop if I fall. Not something I want to do. Good thing I'm a pretty good rock climber. Not anywhere near as good as my friend, Janissa, with her sticky feet and hands, though. Plus, she's like really fast at climbing. We call her Spider Spazz.

  It takes a few minutes to find enough good hand- and foot-holds, but I'm finally close enough to drop to the ground. I land right in front of a window, but it's the dining room and I assume no one saw me as I make my way toward the rear kitchen entrance.

  The door is already open, which means the DEE-men came in the same way. I look around the kitchen and then move into the dining room. All clear there, too, so I flatten myself against the wall and peek my head around the corner.

  In the living room, there's a gargoyle with his back to me. I know it's not Avi, because the color is all wrong. Avi is sort of a dark gray, but this one is more of a brownish-gray, so it has to be Bog. Obviously, duh. I roll my eyes at myself.

  I'm not sure what Bog is doing, but he's not fighting anyone. He's just staring at the floor near the sofa where we'd just been watching cartoons not half an hour before. I notice the television is on and still on the cartoon channel, despite Bog's complaining about my viewing choices. I make a mental note to tease him about that later.

  Bog turns toward me and I see then that he had been staring at two bodies. Pretty sure they're dead, judging by the weird angles of their heads. I cringe at the sight, but Avi had told me the Fallen Moral weren't allowed to kill humans unless they were "true evil," or something, so I guess those guys were for-real bad guys.

  I don't see Avi anywhere, but I hear a noise behind me and I whirl around. I nearly jump out of my skin then, because there's a monster behind me. But it isn't a gargoyle…it's Dr. Smythe.

  With a gun pointed at my head.

  Bog growls and I can feel him move toward me.

  "Don't," Smythe says, "not unless you want your little girlfriend aerated."

  Okay, so a couple of things run through my mind then. First, my new and improved sense sensing—yeah, I know, that's lame—is screaming that Smythe is bad. Like rotting, stinking, oozing, wormy corpse evil.

  Second, I almost snort when he calls Bog my boyfriend. I mean, yeah, if it weren't for Avi already claiming that title—and I'm kind of unsure if an immortal-former-angel-turned-gargoyle can be called something so juvenile as a "boyfriend"—then I would be all on Bog like he was triple chocolate cake during that time of the month. But I'm a one-gargoyle type of gal, so no.

  And last, but not least, where the heck is Avi? Shouldn't he be the one growling at Smythe over my shoulder, drooling down my back? At that last thought, I elbow Bog in the gut.

  "Step back a little, big guy," I mutter. "You're dripping your gargoyliness all over my back."

  That makes Bog snort a laugh, which causes my hair to blow over my face. I toss it back over my shoulder, cross my arms over my chest and give Smythe my best glare.

  I realize that for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of him. Not at all. I don't know if it's because I have seven feet of snarling, shark-toothed, razor-clawed badass behind me, or if it's because Carlie is far, far away and DEE can't touch her.

  Probably a bit of both.

  "Holding a gun on me isn't going to get you what you want," I tell Smythe with a whole lot of snark in my voice. I'm enjoying not having to cower to him for once.

  "Carlie isn't anywhere you can get to her."

  He raises an eyebrow at me and it's then that I notice how he hasn't changed at all in three years. He looks exactly the same—gray hair, gray goatee groomed to a sharp point, steel gray eyes. He's just gray all over. Even his skin has a grayish cast to it.

  I suppose my mother's generation would consider him handsome at first glance. On a second look, though, you notice how stuck-up he is. "Cocky" is a good word for him. Like people are an irritation.

  I want to punch him in the throat. Repeatedly.

  "Carlie…is that what you're calling my UniGen?" he snarls.

  Okay, seriously, can I just punch him now? Why, yes, I think that's a lovely idea. Ignoring the fact that I'm answering my own questions, I tense up and I'm just about to knock his stupid teeth down his throat, not even caring that I'll probably get shot in the process, when Bog puts a paw on my shoulder.

  "Not worth it," he growls quietly.

  "Yes, it is, it so is," I reply, not taking my glare off Smythe. But then I crack my neck and try to force myself to stop the homicidal thoughts. I'm really not a tough chick at all. I'm better at running and hiding, but I definitely have a lot of pent-up frustrations. Years' and years' worth.

  Dr. Cocky Jackass laughs at me. More of an evil mad scientist chuckle, I think, but that could be my over-active imagination. Still, he's such a creep, that mad scientist—and evil, for sure—fits him to a tee.

  "So, let me guess—you've hidden my UniGen somewhere in the past. Most likely at Avisha's fortress some time in the Dark Ages."


  I'm pretty sure my mouth flops open then. There is so much going on in my mind that I can't even grasp which one shocks me the most—that he knows Avi's name? That he knows about time travel? Or that he knows about Avi's fortress?

  Smythe laughs at me and I sooooo want to punch him again. Mostly because he keeps calling Carlie his UniGen. Like she's not even human. And like she belongs to him.

  I'm not going to let Bog stop me this time. I ball my hand into a fist and rear back, but then a voice from the front door stops me.

  "Jonam. I should have known ye were behind it all." Avi is there. In human form, for some unknown reason. I want to shout at him to shift—at least as a gargoyle, he's less vulnerable.

  But wait—he seems to know Smythe, but he's calling him "Jonam." I know for a fact Smythe's first name is Jonathan, because the other norms and I used to say "Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!" whenever we'd see him.

  This whole thing is getting weirder by the minute.

  "Ah, Avisha," Jonam sneers, "it's about time you show up to our little party."

  I swear, the guy has been watching B-movies to get his acting skills, because he absolutely has the evil villain down pat. I can't help it. I start laughing and everyone looks at me. I just shrug.

  "You sound like you're trying to channel every bad guy in the history of cinema." I wiggle my fingers at him.

  "And your little dog too," I say in my best cackley witch voice. Avisha winks at me and I grin back. I made the guys watch that with me just last night.

  Of course, this pisses Smythe/Jonam/Johnny off and he moves forward and hits me across the face with the gun before anyone can react. The dude moved like a lightning flash, no lie. He was five feet away, then in my face in point oh one second.

  The hit hurts like crazy, but I'm glad he hit me with the gun instead of shooting me with it. Well, obviously. Go ahead and state the obvious, Yoda No-Duh.

  The room explodes then. Bog is closest since he's still drooling at my back, but I swear, Avi crosses the room so fast that Bog doesn't even have a chance to grab Dr. Whatever His Name Is. Bog starts to pull me into his chest just as Avi—thankfully now a gargoyle—grabs the doctor by the throat.

  But the jerk is still pointing a gun at me and he tells Avi and Bog to back off or he's going to shoot me. I take no small amount of pleasure in hearing his voice all garbled from being strangled.

  The guys have no choice, so they do as they're told. But Avi is so pissed, he's shooting daggers out of his eyes. Well, not literally, but that would be freaking awesome if he could. But he's glaring enough heat at Smythe to burn down the mansion. Also not literally. Also equally awesome if he could.

  My face is throbbing and I gently run a hand along my cheek. There isn't any blood, but it's already swelling. I test my jaw and I don't think anything is broken, but dang, it really hurts. Avi sees me wince and he growls. Growls. Like a beast.

  Which he is, I guess.

  What's-his-name smirks when he sees me touching my jaw. "Now that your smart mouth is shut, you will listen to what I have to say. I want my UniGen back, and you're going to take me to her."

  "She's not yours," I growl. I'm feeling pretty beastly myself at the moment. But then Smythe laughs. Like throws his head back and laughs, laughs.

  "Au contraire." Yeah, he really says that. He's an uber dork. Like the worst. Actor. Ever.

  "She is mine, as are you and all the other UniGen failures. What do you call yourselves?" He taps a finger on his cheek and looks at the ceiling. I start to tell him that I'm going to start a GoFundMe page to get acting lessons for him, but he continues.

  He turns his ugly eyes back to me. "Ah, yes, the 'norms and abbies'," he sneers again, making sure I know he thinks they're childish titles.

  "All of you belong to me."

  Despite the pain it causes my face, I sneer back. "Just because you mixed some DNA and eggs in a test tube, doesn't mean we're yours, Dr. Douchebag."

  His face twitches at my nickname, and Bog snorts again behind me. Smythe then raises an eyebrow at me.

  "Are you certain? Just whose DNA do you think I used?"

  I want to yell that he used my father's, Jason Harmon, but something tells me that is the wrong answer. My skin starts to crawl and what I'm thinking must show on my face, because the a-hole starts laughing at me.

  "You don't have to call me 'Daddy'," he shrugs. "Dr. Smythe suits me just fine."

  I'm not shocked enough by what he's saying that I don't think to open my senses. I do and dammit, he's not lying. He's evil and disgusting, but he's telling the truth. Everything in me wants to scream in denial, but I know it won't do any good.

  I'm Smythe's progeny. His daughter. Oh, gawd, I'm gonna be sick.

  At this point, I'm so grossed out that I can barely breathe. The edges of my vision start to blacken and the room starts spinning. I know I'm going to pass out and this time it's not because of a blow to the head. This is a blow to my soul.

  I hear Smythe's voice again, but it's like it's at the end of a long tunnel. "The UniGen is my only success…thus far. The rest of my, ehm, children, are failures, just as you are, Gwendolyn. But until I can find another donor that matches your mother's DNA, then the UniGen will have to do. Now, you're going to take me to her."

  He reaches out to grab me, but Bog reacts so quickly that I don't even have time to blink before I find myself in the foyer. He's pulling me toward the stairs, probably to lock me in a closet somewhere.

  While I appreciate that Bog is trying to protect me, I start freaking out. There're so many reasons why. For one, we left Avi in there to deal with Psycho Daddy by himself. And I'm not liking the "daddy" part of that, not one bit. Psycho, I can deal with, but to know that I share a gene pool with that freaking monster is just too much for my brain.

  Then there's the fact that I just found out that my dad—Jason—isn't my dad. Instead, that distinction goes to the one person in the entire world that I hate with every fiber of my being.

  It also doesn't help that Bog has wrapped me protectively in his wings, and I'm kind of claustrophobic. Stupid, I know, considering how many tight places Carlie and I have had to hide in over the years. But I can't help feeling panicky whenever I feel like I can't move.

  My new sense-projecting thing must kick in then, because Bog loosens his grip a bit. He obviously isn't letting go of me, but at least I can breathe now. I'm still worried about Avi and I struggle against him, but he won't let me go.

  Okay, so I know what I'm considering doing isn't fair, but at this point I'm willing to use whatever weapon I have in my arsenal. Trying hard not to project my thoughts so he doesn't read my mind, I push back as far as I can away from his body and I turn so I'm facing him. Bog doesn't read my mind, thankfully, but he makes an assumption, because he uses his hands to cover his man parts.

  I roll my eyes at him. As if. I'm not that cold-blooded, not unless I'm having to kick some DEE butt…or kick some DEE man parts, rather. Well, and then there was that time with Ven. But no man part kicking is going on today.

  Not yet, anyway. If I get the chance, I'm so kicking Smythe in the nuts, just cuz.

  Instead of ball busting, I lunge forward and start tickling Bog's sides. I know for a fact he is seriously ticklish…like, if an enemy knew this about him, it would definitely be used against him. He literally crumbles to the floor giggling like a five-year-old girl when you run your fingers up his sides.

  Thankfully for me, the gargoyle Bog is almost as ticklish as the human Bog, despite the thick leather hide he has. He immediately starts twitching and jerking like one of the stupid dances from ten years ago. He's begging me to stop, then he tries to grab me. But I'm fast at ducking and he's at a disadvantage, thanks to being unbalanced with his wings folded forward. He's forced to open his wings and let me go before we both fall on our faces.

  Once I'm free of the dude, I turn and run back so I can see what's happening with Avi and Smythe. I barely get to the entrance to the living room when Bog stops me. He doesn'
t wrap me up again, but just grabs my arm and pulls me to his side. I swear the guy is vibrating, probably from wanting to get into the fight.

  I once loved dragons. Adored them. It wasn't so very long ago that I fantasized about being swooped off my feet and flown around a magical kingdom. Wished that someday I could be a dragon queen.

  Not anymore. After falling in love—yeah, I just admitted that—with a gargoyle, dragons don't even compare in coolness…and hotness.

  But standing at the entrance to Bog's living room, I can now honestly say that I hate dragons, despise them, loathe them. Because guess what?

  My "father" has turned into a freaking dragon!

  My eyes are bulging, I'm sure. They're probably in danger of popping right out of the sockets at any moment and then they're going to be dangling by their optic nerves on my cheeks. I briefly wonder if I'd still be able to see, like would I be staring at the floor? Would I get all dizzy because my eyeballs would be flopping all over the place, like little balls of yarn hanging from a string?

  It's these types of thoughts in the heat of the worst moments that make me question my sanity.

  From convos I've had with Avi, I now realize that Smythe must be one of the Fallen Immoral…a demon. Because, no way is that jerk a Moral fallen angel. He's too evil. The badness comes off him in waves. And as far as I know, only the Fallen have the ability to shift into creatures.

  Well, there are the Fae, but they live in another realm and Avi said they never cross to ours.

  I wonder then if the Fallen are assigned to the creatures they can shift to, or if they get to pick. Maybe it's like some sort of drawing…"Oh, Jonam, you lucky bastard, you got the long straw. Dragon it is. Oh sorry, Sinon, your itty bitty straw piece means a wee rodent for you."

  And that means that I'm the daughter of a freaking demon. A demon dragon. I guess that makes me a demi-demon dragon daughter.

  I might be on the verge of hysteria, judging by my thoughts. Someone should probably slap me.

  So now my brain has caught up with the situation. The guys apparently know that Jonam is a demon, and that means they know that I'm a…halfling? Is that even a thing? Pretty sure I've read too many paranormal romance novels.