Chapter 12
Struggle
Because she had an aversion to heights, Brielle kept her attention focused on the creature who cradled her in its arms as it flew over the Manhattan skyline. The thing never gazed back at her as it scanned the buildings below, which gave her ample opportunity to study its features.
It was definitely a gargoyle, or as close to being oneas physically possible. Initially her brain had refused to acknowledge that fact, that there could be a gargoyle statue hidden in the depths of the sand in Egypt, among ruins more ancient than previously discovered. Gargoyles were considered a French artifact.
Until her common sense kicked in to remind her of the fact that pyramid-shaped temples, once considered a purely Egyptianconcept, had also been found in other unlikely places such as Mexico and the Sudan, in Greece, China, and Spain, just to name a few. The same could be said for mummies.
So why not gargoyles?
The only difference here was that gargoyles were not considered to be, or had ever been considered to be, once living creatures. They were mythic, like ancient gods, unicorns, andcentaurs.
Apparently mankind had been wrong.
Or maybe something hadgonewrong. Maybe there had beengargoyles, but they’d been killed off or died off like the dodo?
She studied the creature’s profile. She should have known he wouldn’t have been able to speak English. No more than she could speak whatever ancient dialect he understood. But they’d manageda small breakthrough when they had exchanged names.
Garenth. He’d called himselfGarenth.
Was that his actual name? Or was that his word for what type of creature he was?
She forced herself not to gaze back where his wings were attached, or below at his belly and knees. There was no mistaking he was definitely ahe. She’d gotten a good gander of his masculinity,since he wasn’t wearing any form of clothing. Not that he would need any, she figured.
She rubbed the back of his neck where she’d looped one arm. If she didn’t know any better, she would describe his skin as rock. It looked like granite but it felt like limestone, but gritty to the touch, not smooth. It was nearly as resilient as rock, having deflected four bullets from that man’spistol.
Deflected, but not without consequence. There were four pockmarks in his chest where the projectiles had struck him. They resulted in a couple of hairline cracks in the surface of his skin. He’d been injured, but she had no idea as to what extent. But she did know one thing, and that was that rock wasn’t invulnerable.
“Brielle.”Garenthmotioned with his headat the expanse before them. She figured he was wanting to know where they could land. To her surprise, they were nearing the Hudson River where numerous warehouses lined the shores. She pointed downward, uncertain where to indicate exactly, but apparently it didn’t matter.
He angled head-first toward one dark building, landing so gently she was barely aware that they’d arrived. Heset her on her feet and strode toward a door leading to the stairwell. She followed him, feeling perfectly safe. Even if they came across some scummy drug traffickers or other unwanted criminals, she was confident he would protect her. Why he would defend her, she didn’t know, but she was certain of it, nonetheless.
When the door closed behind them, they were left in pitch blackdarkness. Brielle used her sense of touch to find the handrail and steps. She could hearGarenthmoving down the steps with a confident tread. There was the sound of a door being opened on the next landing, but no light came inside. She continued to descend the concrete stairs until she joined him. He loomed above her like a nightmarish creature, and for the first time she noticed he didn’t breathe.Or, if he did, it wassosubtle and quiet as to be unnoticeable.
“Garenth?” She held out a hand to reassure herself. He grasped her arm and drew her through the doorway.
The air was musky. The place smelled like oil and gasoline. It either was or had been a storage facility at one time, rather than an industrial complex.
He led her into what appearedto be an office. The room was lined with windows which allowed the people inside to view the goings-on on the floor inside the vast building. Out in the warehouse proper, more windows circled the building, allowing for light from outside to filter through.
There was enough brightness coming into the building to outline the desks and chairs within the smaller space. Brielle stood in the doorwayand surveyed the area. On a hunch, she ran her hand along the wall beside her and found a light switch. She flipped it, not really expecting anything to happen. To her surprise, the fluorescent panels in the ceiling flickered on, temporarily blinding her. When she finally managed to remove her hands from her eyes,Garenthwas standing on the far side of the room, staring at the ceiling with acurious look on his face.
“What? You’ve never seen light before?” she quipped, knowing he’d never seen anything other than lamps and torches. She plopped down in a nearby chair, weary beyond belief, and stared back. “Now what do we do? That guy who shot at you? The one dressed like a ninja? He got away with several priceless relics…but I guess you already know that, don’t you?” She rubbed herface. “Why are you here? How did you get here? Those crates that Uncle Chet sent were too small for you to fit in. So how did you get here? Did you fly?”
Garenthreplied in that language she couldn’t understand. He appeared to be just as frustrated as she was.
She tried not to gawk at him. In this light, he appeared even more intimidating. His massive bulk looked crowded in the room. Theupper portion of his wings nearly brushed the ceiling, which had to be ten feet above the floor. As she studied him, he sighed and parked himself on the floor, knees up and buttocks down. His arms dangled between his legs and he bowed his head.
“God, you look…” Depressed. The thing looked depressed, utterly despondent, and her heart went out to him.
She wanted to reach out to him and offersome kind of comfort, but she was at a total loss how to do so. What could she say that he would understand? What could she do?
A familiar ringtone rattled in her jeans pocket. She’d forgotten she’d slipped her cell phone into her pants. Pulling it out, she didn’t glance at the name on the display. She already knew who it was.
“Uncle Chet—”
“Oh, thank God! Brie, are you all right? Are yousafe?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She started to say more when he cut her off.
“My God, you don’t know how worried I was after the police called to tell me about the shooting at the museum! They told me you’d been kidnapped! That’s why I thought I’d try to reach you, to see if you had your phone with you.”
“I’m fine and unhurt, Uncle Chet,” she reassured him.
“What happened? Do you knowwhat happened?”
She stared atGarenth, who had closed his eyes. The slump remained in his shoulders, and she’d bet anything that if gargoyles could cry, he would.
“Yeah, Uncle Chet. I hope you’re sitting down, because what I have to tell you is going to knock you on your ass if you aren’t.”
