Harzl knew gargoyles counted time by the Gregorian calendar, but they didn’t count the time they spent as stone. “What are you in human years?”
“As far as I know, thirteen. They keep me in stone as punishment. Now they want to sell me to that wizard’s people so they can take my wings.”
“Who claims to own you?”
“That vampire clan in Chicago, I can’t say their name or they can track me.”
Harzl knew who he was talking about, the Vertasoturi Clan. They claimed to be an example of modern vampire cooperation, but many of the paranormals knew it was just another trade-off. They had to join an unjust clan to escape violent human justice.
“Alazavier Marcelle duFrancdeparis, you are no longer a slave. The laws that allowed gargoyles to be enslaved were abolished before you were born. I am honor bound to take you to safety.”
The kid looked hopeful. “How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“I am a troll. I swear on my clan that I am telling you the truth.”
It was a long few seconds of listening to beetles and rats crawling along the walls. Finally, the squeak of a bat seemed to prompt the kid. “Okay, I’m coming down.”
“Careful, don’t touch those cables,” Harzl said as he reached up to catch him if he slipped.
Harzl waited until the kid brushed himself off. “Alazavier, before we leave, I need your help with something.”
“What?”
“I need your help finding Snori. He went down the other tunnel chasing that shifter, and I have to rescue him and get him to safety too.”
“What about the shifter? Will you kill her?”
“No, it is a part of the troll code. We do not kill unless we have to, and we only have to if it is to save ourselves or another being.”
“What if they threaten someone? What if you know they will kill someone if you let them go?”
“That is a difficult choice, one that rarely comes up. It is a big thing to kill another being because you think they might do harm. Trolls believe we must persuade and protect without killing. Death should be a last resort.”
“That’s not what vampires think.”
“I don’t know much about them; perhaps you can tell me as we walk.”
“I’d like that.”
They didn’t get ten feet down the tunnel before they heard Snori bellow, “Arooo ro ro!”
They both stopped and looked behind them.
“Did that come from behind us?” Alazavier asked.
Then Snori let out a high-pitched squeal: “Hiiiyipe!”
Harzl’s heart felt like it leaped into his throat. “The tunnel intersects back that way; it’s a dangerous section but shorter to the new tunnels.”
“Then we have to go,” the kid said, and led the way back to the intersection.
“Wait, I will take the lead; you watch my back and listen for anything that sounds suspicious,” Harzl insisted.
“What would be a suspicious sound in here?”
Harzl wasn’t sure he should list the many things that lived in subway tunnels, but decided to give the kid a chance. “Rats can grow large and a few hunt in packs; they make a scurry sound and smell like vermin.”
“I’m used to that, mice crawl around in the basements of the Vertasoturi buildings. If you hold still long enough, you can kick them across the room.”
