Gargoyles I, II, III: Dark Angel Alliance Read online

  11

  Junior, Kingsley and Elizabeth checked into their hotel room in London, England. Elizabeth was too tired to change into her sleepwear and almost immediately passed out on the queen bed.

  “We’ll go to the Vanderburen castle tomorrow.” Kingsley whispered to Junior.

  “They actually live in a castle?”

  “I told you; they’re a very old family. Do you think you could track Awilda before sunup?”

  Junior shrugged as he removed his shoes and shirt, “Worth a shot.”

  The two shifters headed to the rooftop, leaving Elizabeth to sleep soundly.

  12

  Awilda sat on the edge of Sunders’ bed, cold with wet hair from the shower. It felt good to have the steady stream of warm water running down the back of her neck. The steam filled the bathroom and made her feel like she was in a safe place; a cave hidden from the world and all the terrors that lie within. Now, however, she was alone and shivering in a lifeless apartment void of color and affection. She didn’t feel like she could huddle underneath the covers, even though she’d be sleeping in them in a matter of minutes. Just as soon as Simon got out of the shower they would lay down together for some much needed sleep. Only when she was in his arms could she relax.

  Awilda’s eyelids were heavy as she listened to the sound of the running shower.

  “Awilda?” A familiar voice called from outside.

  Awilda turned toward the window, “Sunders?” She responded. When the Scotsman didn’t answer she stood on her tired legs and willed herself to head to the door. She rose onto her toes to peer through the tiny hole embedded in the door. She saw… nothing. She crinkled her nose and shrugged; she was hearing things. She turned back toward the bed and took only one step before that Scottish accent called out again. “Awilda, I need your help.”

  Awilda froze in place for a half second before reaching her hand out toward the large picture window. She parted the blinds with two fingers and peered out into the heavily fogged, dimly lit street. Her eyes caught a small movement in the alley across the street just as Sunders called again, “Over here! Can you help me, please?”

  What is he doing over there? She wondered; the only thing she could see in that alley was a dumpster.

  Awilda took a deep breath and unlocked the front door before exiting. The night air was cold and the wind was harsh. It rushed her body and made her instantly regret leaving the flat with wet hair. She narrowed her eyes to see Sunders’ shadow; he looked to be fiddling with something behind the dumpster across the street. She shivered as her body sprouted a serious case of goose bumps. She wrapped her arms around her torso and crossed the street. “What is it?” She asked, as she approached the dumpster.

  Sunders’ shadow suddenly stopped moving; the only sign of his presence being the sound of heavy breathing. “Sunders?” Awilda moved closer, “Are you okay?” She took a step further, preparing to round the dumpster when Sunders’ arm sliced through the darkness; his hand latching onto Awilda’s wrist. Startled, she gasped before trying to will her now racing heart back into a steady rhythm. “What’s going on?” She asked as her eyes drifted to his hand.

  A sudden dryness spread throughout Awilda’s throat and mouth, making it impossible for her to scream. The hand that held onto hers was not Sunders’. The fingers were long and boney with yellowish-brown, sharp nails. The skin was old, withered and a dark gray with darker liver spots. Awilda couldn’t blink; her eyes stinging from the wind as the creature stepped out from the shadows. It was tall with anorexic limbs and an exposed rib cage; its flesh sagging, begging for more body mass to stretch over. Its feet were dinosaur-like as it walked on the balls, as if it was walking on glass. A long tail hung limply behind it and frail, decrepit looking wings were propped on its shoulder blades like a homemade bat costume.

  The creature tightened its grip on Awilda’s wrist as it looked at her with oversized citrine eyes and miniscule pupils. It took a step toward her and smiled widely; exposing its tiny brown, sharp teeth. It opened its mouth to speak just as a burning sensation climbed Awilda’s throat and an ear-piercing screech escaped her lips; filling the alley and heavily fogged street. The creature’s expression changed to complete shock and it stumbled backwards as she yanked her hand out of its grasp. She turned to run back to the flat as the monster regained its composure and reached for her again; the darkened alley behind him painting the same hellish void from her nightmares. Her heart beat violently as she willed her legs to run as hard as they could; whisking her across the street at a neck-breaking speed. She leaped onto the sidewalk and reached her hand out for the door of the flat just as it flew open.

  Awilda ran into Simon’s arms as he pulled her into the flat, shut the door and locked it. He was still dripping wet from the shower. A black towel was wrapped around his waist, just under his sculpted abdomen. His muscular arms flexed as his hands held onto her shoulders, keeping her upright while she shivered uncontrollably. “What happened?” His voice was severe and alert.

  Awilda couldn’t speak. She’d exhausted her voice by screaming at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t form words through her whimpering. Simon gave up on getting an answer and grabbed the gun off of the dresser. He headed to the blinds and carefully looked through to the street outside. His lean, wet physique looked rough as he cocked his pistol and surveyed the night. After a moment of waiting for something; anything to make a move, he lowered the gun and relaxed his shoulders. He turned to Awilda with damp, slicked blonde hair. It didn’t bounce as he moved; it stayed in place, allowing his beautiful, strong features to show. She’d never seen him like this. He was raw and jagged and it excited her, taking away the fear of her realized nightmare only slightly. His gray eyes locked on hers as she tried to slow her breathing. He walked to her, the small black towel opening slightly with every forward movement of his right thigh, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his firm bare chest.

  “It’s time to sleep.” Crisp said softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “It was a Limrid.” Awilda’s quiet, vulnerable voice said.

  Crisp held her tighter, feeling the contours of her small frame against his damp skin. “You’re safe now.” He whispered.

  Outside on the opposite side of the street and up on the rooftop sat two gargoyles with narrowed eyes and peaked senses. Kingsley and Junior were on Awilda’s trail when her blood curdling scream verified her whereabouts. They reached the rooftop just in time to see her run into the arms of the blonde doctor; half naked and wet. They watched through the fog as he slammed the door shut. A moment later he peered through the blinds on the front window before losing interest and turning away.

  “What do you make of it?” Kingsley asked.

  “Looks simple enough,” Junior shrugged, “I say we grab her and go.”

  “Not so fast; you’ve already gone one round with Blondie and you limped away with a bullet hole in your stomach.”

  “And I’ll be happy to return the favor.”

  The street sat deadly still and quiet as the wind swirled around their heads, weaving through their hair and filling their noses with the sweet smell of early morning dew. “I don’t like the looks of it.” Kingsley shook his head. “It seems too easy.”

  “You think it’s a trap?”

  “I think it’s very likely.” After a moment of contemplation, Kingsley looked to his large, eager friend. “It’s almost sunup. Now that we know where she is we can go to the Vanderburen’s tomorrow and ask for help.”

  “And if they say no?”

  Kingsley smiled, “Then I guess its time for Junior vs. Blondie: Round Two.”

  13

  Sunders woke in his office with a sticky note stuck to his right cheek. He’d fallen asleep at his desk. He couldn’t remember his dream, if he had any, but that wasn’t unusual. He rarely dreamed anymore. His office was slightly brighter from the natural light of the sun shining through its one window. The realization that it was morning slowly crept into his
brain only to punch him square in the jaw. He jolted upright. “Shit!” He cursed under his breath. Quickly, he lifted open his laptop and powered it on. His fingers rapidly ran across the keyboard as he typed in the website he’d foolishly visited the night before. After entering the search criteria the same image from last night appeared on his screen, only now it was brighter under the morning sun. He could clearly see the gray shingled roof of the white house. He could see the small plastic playground in the backyard and the hand painted mailbox in the front. He frantically checked his watch to verify the time. Where were they? A second later the front door opened as a young boy with dark brown hair walked outside. He wore a red backpack; his favorite color. Sunders smiled and his eyes softened, only to wince as a woman followed the child.

  Darla Addison, formerly Harper, emerged from the home. The sun shined on her dark hair and even though the streaming satellite footage only showed the top of her head, Sunders could clearly see her face. He could remember her pale, fragile skin and the light pink blush she always applied to her cheeks. He could remember her slightly crooked smile, her long neck and the slope of her shoulders. He could tell she was wearing a green sweater and knew it complimented her green eyes perfectly. She was exactly as he always remembered her, except for one very large difference; the small blonde child she carried on her hip as she walked to the end of the driveway. Sunders had no knowledge of the wean’s face; he could only see the gold locks and knew it was a trait inherited from the father; Darla’s new husband.

  Sunders’ eyes moved to the oncoming school bus and watched as it stopped in front of the eight year old, brown haired boy. A small tear welled in his eye as he watched the child climb into the bus, waving goodbye to his mother. He wished like hell he could hear his voice. What he wouldn’t give to know his son again. Darla waved back and Sunders felt the usual sense of hatred and disgust that he felt during these school mornings. The woman that he only a moment ago missed desperately had now become the woman who moved on. She found a new life and got to have moments like these. He felt robbed. He wouldn’t let his tear fall as he slammed his laptop shut, wheeled his chair around, stood and punched the beige colored wall. He made a dent this time. He’d only made dents a handful of times in the past. He could count them all in that one section of the wall. Another good reason to have his office always dark; no one could see the property damage.

  Sunders emerged from his office, hoping no one would see him. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk; but it was well into the morning now and the place was bustling with activity. He decided not to peek into his team’s workspace. As far as they knew he was still in America. They were probably taking the unsupervised time to check social media sites and make personal calls. Normally he would grow agitated from their lack of determination, but he was so close on this personal mission he’d undertaken that he didn’t care. He figured he’d let them have one more “free” day. He turned down the hall to head toward the elevator when out from an adjacent office appeared his longtime manager, Bill Maines.

  “Ah, Sunders m’ boy; haven’t you left yet?”

  “Aye, and now I’m back.”

  “Already? That was quick. I take it you found something then?”

  “Aye; we’re close this time Bill. Almost close enough to touch.” Or shoot with a sedative dart.

  “Well, did you bring one back with you?”

  “Something like that,” Sunders thought of Awilda sleeping in his flat. “I better get going. I’ll be out for the rest of the day. You know my number in case anything comes up.” He took a few more steps before Bill continued the conversation.

  “I got word from the sixth floor that you’ve submitted a request to the Protectors.”

  Sunders stopped and turned to face his manager. “Aye; I’m awaiting their response.”

  “They might be a little hesitant considering last time.”

  Sunders cringed as he thought about Egypt. “I know; but I think they’ll see the value in this request.”

  “Well,” Bill looked to be contemplating something, “I think I have just the thing to help smooth things over with them.”

  Sunders lifted his brow in curiosity.

  “We’re getting a new recruit.” Bill continued. “He’s coming over from the dark side; he was a Protector; last name Jones.”

  “A Protector transferring to the Finders?” Sunders found that to be odd. Rarely did anyone think of the Finders division as an upward movement in the hierarchy of the DAA.

  “Yes well, I suppose they like the thrill of the hunt over the mindlessness of the chase.” Bill’s voice went flat at the end. He felt the same way that most Finders did about Protectors; savages, the lot of them. “Anyway, Jones comes highly recommended. I’m putting him on your team Sonny. His kind of knowledge in that faction might be just what your team needs. Not to mention, it might not hurt to have one of them on your side for a change.”

  Sunders wanted to argue; he didn’t want the new recruit under his wing. Bill made it sound like an asset, but Sunders knew it would entail training, a lot of answering dumb questions, and could possibly create a distraction from the bigger picture; but he didn’t have time to object, not that Bill would have listened anyway. When he got an idea stuck in his noggin there was no reasoning with him. Sunders did the only thing he could do; he nodded his head and walked away.

  14

  A rental car approached a long driveway. It slowly drove over the paved, shadowed length of private property. Kingsley, Junior and Elizabeth stared out the windows at the rows of trees that flanked the drive, creating a canopy above them and protecting the vehicle from sunlight. Finally a massive, ominous castle emerged in front of them. It was expansive with a gray stone exterior and a large round fountain in the center of the driveway. Kingsley parked the car and the three stepped out onto the pebbled drive. They walked up the steps to the front entrance and knocked the large, wrought iron ring against the oversized wooden doors. They stood for a moment in silence.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone is home.” Elizabeth observed.

  The shifters looked at each other. “On the contrary,” Kingsley answered, “I can hear three.”

  “Four.” Junior corrected.

  Kingsley knocked again. Now even Elizabeth could hear the movement inside. She recognized the sound of footsteps approaching the door. The three took a step back as the right door opened slightly to reveal a young girl still in her teen years. She looked at them with large, brown doe eyes. “May I help you?” She asked with a heavy English accent.

  “Yes, madam,” Kingsley smiled and bowed slightly, “Is Mr. Cooper Vanderburen home?”

  The girl crinkled her nose. “And who are you?”

  “We’re old friends; we’ve come all the way from America to meet with him.”

  “I’m sorry,” the girl shook her head, “but there’s no one here by that name.” She started to close the door when Kingsley’s hand reached out and stopped it. The girl looked appalled. “Sir,” she started, “I suggest you leave this property before I call the bobbies.”

  “I’m sorry sweetie; I just need to speak to the heir of the Vanderburen family. It’s a matter of upmost importance.”

  The girl scowled. “Well I’m sorry sweetie but the Vanderburens sold the castle years ago; and the last of the family died not long after that. Good day.” She slammed the door and locked it.

  “Well that was a bust.” Junior mumbled. “What now?”

  Kingsley sighed disappointedly, “Plan B.”

  15

  Awilda didn’t know where she was. She wasn’t in Portland, nor was she in Bellingham; maybe she was in London? She stood on a dirt road that ran through a decrepit city street in the middle of the night. There weren’t any streetlamps but thankfully just enough moonlight to see by. She tried to look for a road or building sign that would give her some indication as to where she was; but none was to be found. She began walking slowly with her arms wrapped around her chest. The street
was deserted and narrowed the further she walked. She looked down to see a layer of fog at her feet. She could barely see her shoes as she continued her slow pace.

  A small rustling sounded behind her. She whipped her head around to see what it was but the fog was rising and thickening. She stopped for a moment to listen for any other sign of life.

  A faint light sparked at the end of the street. She couldn’t tell if it was a lamp or a fire, but someone had to have lit it either way. She picked up her pace and headed toward the blaze. Another rustling came from behind. She didn’t stop her strides but looked over her shoulder just long enough to see three tall, skinny shadows moving in the heavy fog. She didn’t need to see them any closer, she knew exactly what they were. She could tell by their lanky arms and the slow, calculated way in which they stalked her. She started to run, trying to scream but her voice was barely louder than a whisper. Somehow the creatures kept her pace. The wind whooshed past her, chilling her to the bone but she wouldn’t allow herself to stop. Her heart pounded excitedly as the figure of a man appeared through the fog.