Hard as Rock

by Stephanie West

  “Enough, Cohosh. You promised you were going to contain your emotions.” Another more civilized voice interrupted the bastard’s rant. “Roc, I must apologize for my associate.”

  “Clearly you know my name. So, who are you?” he demanded.

  “You may call me Nightshade.” Obviously an alias. “And I believe we have aligned interests.”

  Doubtful.

  “Sir, don’t…” John hollered in the background.

  “Shut up!” the piece of shit stalker, who apparently went by Cohosh, yelled, cutting John off.

  Roc heard the distinct sound of the bastard striking something and John’s responding groan. He snarled viciously, a red haze invading his vision.

  “I said enough!” Nightshade hollered to the thug. “All this distasteful business could've been avoided, Roc, if you would've taken a moment to hear us out in Quebec. We were merely interested in acquiring the relic and were willing to make a very fair offer."

  “You call breaking into my home and holding us at gunpoint a discussion?” Roc attempted to ask as calmly as possible.

  "Ah yes, well, my associates were a bit eager."

  “I gather you want the combination to my safe in exchange for my butler, since I’m guessing you didn’t find whatever it is you want in my flat.”

  “Ah monsieur, your safe posed little obstacle,” Nightshade laughed but it wasn’t sincere. “No, I believe given your true nature, you know exactly what we are looking for and that we didn't find it in your safe.”

  He didn’t reply. Acknowledging the existence of the sigil wasn’t a good idea. Neither would admitting he didn’t have it. They’d just kill John and be done with it.

  "Regrettably, not finding the relic, the unfortunate demise of Cohosh’s brother, and given your formidable capabilities, my associates feel like you've forced their hand. Despite my efforts to reason with them, they have made some hasty decisions.” This time the over ingratiating bastard did sound genuine.

  Roc didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. “If you’re threatening me, get to the point.”

  "I fear it is too late to undo what's in motion, but if you agree to bring the relic to us, I think I can persuade them to spare your friend here,” Nightshade replied.

  “Sir, it’s a…” John called out but was struck again to shut him up.

  "You tell your associates that if they touch another hair on John's head, I'll rip out their entrails and shove them down their throats," he snarled, at the end of his patience.

  “I’ll give you a day to think on it and text you an address.” Nightshade hung up without saying more.

  Roc repressed the urge to crush the phone. John didn’t know all his secrets, but he was his oldest friend, besides Zaek. His gut churned with guilt and rage.

  I never should’ve involved him. I knew the risk. He snarled, repressing the urge to shift and take out his wrath on the ancient headstones. There’s still time. Just calm down and think.

  The sound of tires spinning on gravel caught his attention and Roc glanced toward the main road in time to see a van take off.

  I fear it is too late to undo what's in motion, Nightshade’s words echoed in his head.

  “Meline!” Roc roared as he looked frantically toward the shed. This had all been a distraction.

  His wings burst from his back and he launched into the air. The van disappeared. They didn’t have their headlights on and trees obscured the road, but he could still hear the engine as they sped off. Roc barreled over the church rooftop, fear and rage fueling him. These fuckers thought they’d seen his dark side, but they were wrong. They were going to pay for threatening Meline. But if there was a single scratch on his female, the assholes would learn the meaning of true agony as he peeled their flesh one shred at a time.

  The wind shifted, and he caught scent of something that instantly brought him to a halt midair. He looked back at the church in horror.

  “No!” he bellowed as he dove for the entrance. “Meline!” He threw himself against the old double doors, splintering the wood.

  meline

  Meline coughed as she came around. She was lying on tree roots and they dug painfully into her back. But her head hurt the worst. It throbbed, nearly bringing tears to her eyes. She didn’t remember hitting her head. Meline reached up to feel the sore spot and her hand slammed into something plush above her. She opened her eyes in confusion, but it was too dark to see.

  “Where am I?” She certainly wasn’t in the shed. “Roc?” When she called out, her voice echoed strangely.

  Another cough threatened to choke her. Wherever she was, the scent of smoke was getting stronger by the moment. It was starting to burn her eyes and she was beginning to feel warm, no, hot.

  “Oh God. Oh God.”

  Panic took hold as she frantically explored the confined space, desperate to find a way out. Her hand froze feeling the long knobby object stabbing into her thigh. It wasn’t a root at all. Meline screamed in horror, suddenly realizing where she was.

  “A coffin. I’m in a coffin.” And she wasn’t alone.

  Her breath burst out in rapid pants as she started to hyperventilate, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She had to get out of the small box and away from the dead body that shared it. Meline pounded and clawed at the lid, her nails shredding the fabric lining the casket.

  “Roc!” she choked on the scream and punched the lid harder. “Roc!”

  Tears rushed down her cheeks as more smoke poured through the thin gap around the lid. She held her breath to keep from sucking in the noxious smoke that seared her lungs with each labored breath, but could only hold it for so long.

  Please don’t let me die like this, she prayed.

  Her head swam. She blinked, trying to chase away the stars floating before her eyes. One side of her cramped prison was getting so hot, she didn’t know if she’d burn alive or succumb to smoke inhalation first. Her hands dropped from the lid, her knuckles bloody and raw from the futile struggle. It took all her energy to roll onto her side and shove the corpse to the hotter half of the casket.

  Roc flashed through her mind and more tears streamed down her cheeks. She hadn’t let herself think about what the future held with him, but in the back of her mind she hoped there would be something. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She certainly wasn’t supposed to die over some stupid alien communicator she didn’t even have.

  Meline’s eyelids slid shut. She snapped them open, but they were so heavy they drifted closed again. The loud crackle and a gust of scorching air forced her awake. A bright, flickering ruby and flashes of gold danced before her eyes. Groggily she wondered if she was hallucinating the foreign medallion or the raging fire as something tickled the back of her mind. A dark silhouette of a man swallowed up the image, his wings blocking her view of the mesmerizing sight.

  “Meline!” the vision called to her, sounding desperate.

  A pair of hands reached for her. Meline startled as they wrapped around her.

  “Meline!” Roc roared.

  She blinked and focused on him. He was real.

  “Roc!” she choked on the sob as he picked her up.

  All around him the crypt was ablaze, fire consuming the other caskets and licking up the walls of the old church basement. She screamed as a ceiling beam came crashing down.

  “Hang on.” His stony wings enveloped her, sheltering her from the nightmare.

  She felt Roc battle his way through the fiery tomb, using his body like a battering ram to escape the collapsing structure. It was unbelievably hot inside her cocoon, but his rocky wings kept the inferno from reaching her. She couldn’t imagine how Roc could stand it. He just kept moving forward, leaping over obstacles in their path as he held her tight. A gust of fresh air reached her as Roc finally staggered out of the church. His wings lowered, and she pulled in a deep breath. She glanced over his shoulder in time to see the entire sanctuary succumb to the flames. Her mouth dropped open in shock and disbelief.
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  “Thank you,” she wept as she clung to his neck.

  Her skin stung in the frigid nighttime air, but amazingly that was the worst of it. She couldn’t fathom how it was possible. Her clothes were singed and burnt in places, yet her skin was only pink, no blisters. Roc had found her just in time.

  Roc stumbled, nearly dropping her in the gravel lot. His steps slowed, and he faltered again.

  “I think I can walk.” She attempted to pull her shit together.

  Roc’s arms were rigid, and she had to work to get out of his grasp. There was something seriously wrong.

  “Roc, are you okay?”

  He didn’t reply, and she started to panic again.

  Of course he’s not okay. He just fought through a blazing inferno.

  The man was inhuman but not invincible. He was hurt. He had to be. His pants and shirt had been reduced to scraps of ash clinging to his naked skin.

  “Let’s get to the car.” Meline gingerly put an arm around his waist.

  Roc’s steps were sluggish as she helped him toward the SUV. She noticed the cell phone laying on the ground nearby and paused. He nearly toppled over when she tried to grab it.

  “Shit!” She quickly grabbed hold of him again.

  Meline was grateful they’d left the car unlocked as she yanked open the passenger door. She physically turned Roc around and gently urged him in.

  “Watch your head.” She cringed as Roc collapsed into the seat.

  Lifting his feet into the car was a struggle but she finally got him in, then shut the door and ran back to grab the phone. A dog howled in the distance, and she jumped out of her skin. Meline warily looked around the lot as she rubbed the knot on the back of her head. She hadn’t wound up in that coffin on her own. Meline sprinted back to the car, got in, locked the doors, and started it up.

  “Hang on, Roc.” She patted his arm. “Oh God!” His skin was rough and harder than she’d ever felt it.

  Meline flipped on the overhead light. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at him in horror. She knew Roc had the ability to turn to stone, but this time it was different—he was different. His tan skin was mottled red and the darker areas were riddled with cracks that appeared to be spreading. That couldn’t be normal.

  “Roc, I don’t know what to do to help you,” she cried in panic. It’s not like she could take him to a hospital.

  Just get the fuck out of here. Whoever was behind this was undoubtedly watching. She would have to figure out what to do on the road.

  Meline peeled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway, going west. She gripped the steering wheel just to keep her hands from trembling. Her gaze kept darting from Roc’s motionless body to the rearview mirror. No matter how many times she looked, he hadn’t changed, and she wasn’t some super spy so she couldn’t tell if they were being followed or not.

  “You’re going to wreck if you don’t watch the road.” She dashed away the tears streaming down her cheeks. At the very least her erratic driving would get her pulled over and then she’d have a lot of explaining to do.

  It wasn’t until they passed a road sign that Meline realized she was just aimlessly driving with no clue where she was going. There was no way she could pull over at a rest-stop or get a hotel with Roc sitting in the passenger seat like a statue. A thought occurred to her. They were a hundred kilometers from Montreal. She grabbed the cell phone and pulled up the map. It still showed Roc’s house just outside the city. She hit the button, calculating the route.

  “We’re going to your house,” Meline assured him, but wasn’t even sure Roc could hear her. A horrid thought occurred to her. She reached over and felt the side of his neck. “Please don’t be dead,” she sobbed, feeling only cold stone. Her trembling hand frantically explored his chest, but he was just as lifeless there, no hint of a heartbeat.

  Holding it together was impossible and the tears kept coming as she drove. She didn’t know what happened to a man like Roc when he died. There was so much she didn’t know about him or his people. She just knew that something was terribly wrong, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it except drive and cry.

  Eventually she reached the end of the little pink line on the GPS. Numbly she pulled up to the driveway gate of Roc’s palatial home. Meline rolled down the window and stared at the keypad.

  “Please work.” She typed in the number Roc had used on the phone, his birthday. “One, six, three, two.”

  Her breath burst out in relief when the gate opened with a creak. Meline followed the long driveway to the garage and again used the code to get in. She stopped and turned the SUV off.

  “We’re here.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she looked at him. His unseeing eyes stared straight ahead, frozen in the same pose he’d been in for the last hour. It didn’t matter to him that they’d arrived. But at least here she felt safe from prying eyes.

  Her lip quivered as she traced the sandy surface of his cheek, following one of the many deep spidering cracks that extended down his neck. It looked like a burn that had split open. She sobbed as she examined him all over, similar gruesome wounds covered his entire body. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t come to her rescue, yet again.

  “You shouldn’t have.” She didn’t want to burn to death in that tomb, but seeing Roc like this was killing her. The hole it was ripping in her heart made her want to double over. “Roc,” she sobbed as she leaned in and gently rested her head against his hard shoulder.

  Her life had been unexciting before Roc. She’d been relegated to a cubicle farm from nine to five and came home to an empty little condo day in and day out. Then he showed up in a dreary bookstore and her world lit up like a fabulous dream.

  “You can’t be dead. You just can’t be. I’ve fallen in love with you.” She closed her eyes and willed the dream to continue.

  12

  Meline

  Meline roused to find herself uncomfortably draped over the SUV’s center console, her head pillowed on Roc’s arm. She rubbed the dried salty tears from the corners of her eyes and noticed the light coming through the garage windows. She’d been asleep for quite a while, it was morning already.

  The moment she glanced at Roc she knew she shouldn’t have as tears welled up in her eyes again. Nothing had changed, he was still rock hard. She’d hoped there’d be some sort of difference when she awoke. In the light of day she couldn’t tell if the red patches and painful deep cracks that mottled his stony flesh were any better or worse. His normally lively silver eyes remained fixed straight ahead. She caressed his rough, cold cheek.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Meline shook her head morosely. That hadn’t changed either.

  There had to be something that could help Roc. She couldn’t just sit here feeling sorry for herself while some clandestine group of nutjobs hunted them down. The assholes found them last night at the cemetery, so it was probably just a matter of time before they tracked them down again. Her eyes widened when she noticed Roc’s phone. She grabbed it and quickly yanked out the battery, unsure if that was what led the bad guys to them in the first place.

  It was obvious the bastards had decided who was really important between the two of them when they tried to kill her.

  Of course you’re expendable. They think you already handed the medallion over to Roc and you’re just a plain old human. But Roc was special. And now that they knew what he was, they also knew he wasn’t easy prey.

  Meline shivered at the thought of what almost happened. Roc called her angel, but he was her savior. He arrived in the nick of time, but it was still a miracle she’d escaped unscathed.

  How is that even possible when Roc is like this? She frowned in confusion.

  He’d sheltered her in his wings, taking the brunt of the inferno, but it had still taken a bit for him to find her. The coffin had grown so hot and the smoke was choking, yet as she looked at her hands and arms there wasn’t a single burn, although her clothes were a wreck. Her knuckles w
eren’t even bruised where she punched the lid. At the very least she expected a lingering cough. But there was nothing, almost like it never happened.

  But it did. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Roc. No, no, this is counterproductive. She scrubbed away the tears and straightened her shoulders, determined to do something—anything.

  “I got lucky you came when you did. Now it’s my turn to help you. I’m going to look around to see if you’ve got anything in this house that can give me answers.” She kissed him then pulled herself away.

  Meline cast Roc a parting glance as she left the garage. She entered a hallway and opened the first doorway she came to, to find a utility room. The next door revealed a bathroom.

  “Oh, thank you.” She hadn’t realized how badly she had to go until she saw the toilet.

  Meline did her business then washed her hands.

  “Oh Jesus,” she blurted as she caught sight of her reflection. Her face was covered in soot, and her hair was a wreck. “Well at least it wasn’t all burnt off.” She splashed some water on her face then continued on.

  The short hall turned a corner and ended in a kitchen that would be the envy of any chef. She smiled wistfully as she looked through the window at the lavishly stocked wine cellar. Roc promised her any bottle she desired. Funny enough, though she liked good wine, she didn’t have the first clue how to pick it. He would’ve had to choose for her.

  Her stomach grumbled hungrily but she was on a mission. She wandered through the connected family room into a formal living room that spilled into an immense foyer. She spun in a circle, taking in the statues, paintings and antiques. They were magnificent, but she expected nothing less from Roc.

  I don’t even know where to begin.

  Meline glanced at the matching grand staircases leading to the second story. They reminded her of the ones in Chateau Frontenac. She then considered the other doors branching off the foyer. One led to a large coat closet. Meline paused when she opened the next.