The ginormous gargoyle person at the other table stands, pulling his person up off the table. They walk over with the human holding his hands in front of his junk.
The gargoyle up-nods Darcy. “What’s going on?” they ask in a deep, raspy voice.
Darcy’s hand ends up around my neck, holding me back from doing the task he assigned me. “Faulkes. Where the fuck are your clothes?” Darcy demands, looking at the gargoyle. They’re only wearing a loincloth, which is clothing, and honestly, they’re super buff and pretty to look at without a shirt on, so I’m not sure what Darcy’s on about.
Faulkes looks down their body. “I’m trying something new,” they rumble.
Darcy snorts. “I don’t like it. Your clothes are meant to be an outward expression of your inner divinity. This isn’t your inner god, boy.” He shakes his head, but before Faulkes can respond, he adds. “Evacuate the space station. Tell Maxime that The Hollow is entering the solar system. The Avatars are going to deal with it, but just in case, start moving people to Andromeda. It’ll take a few thousand years for it to consume this galaxy before it turns its eyes to the next.”
“That’s more pessimistic than I expected from you, especially after your whole plan with the council,” I point out. To Faulkes, because he looks like he needs a bit more optimism than the plan to evacuate the solar system, I add, “They came up with a whole plan for how to banish The Hollow again a few hours ago.”
“It was mostly, ‘We’ll wing it,’” Gregory snorts.
Faulkes’s thin lips disappear into a straight line on his face. “I don’t know what The Hollow is, but Maxime is looking into it. Is there information in the archives in Cairo?”
Darcy’s whole body twitches, but his voice is steady when he replies. “There should be. Previous Avatars banished it after the archive was established.”
Faulkes dips his chin. “I’ll get the space station evacuated. Do you want any of my brothers to help you?”
Darcy’s fingers flex on my neck. “There’s nothing you all can do for us that I can’t do myself.”
Faulkes dips his shoulders, getting in close to Darcy. “Just because youcando it all on your own, doesn’t mean youhaveto.”
“My man.” I hold out a fist to him. “Yes.”
Faulkes bumps my fist with his and gives Darcy a pointed look. “Well?”
Darcy looks between Bellamy and Santanos. “Do you want the gargoyles with us?”
Bellamy grunts thoughtfully. “Technically, rebuffing a solar system invasion is their job.”
Impressive. I didn’t know our solar system had appointed protectors keeping invasions at bay. That’s pretty cool, and it also explains why Earth isn’t under alien dominion, to be honest.
“It’s The Hollow,” Santanos points out. “We’re the only ones who can do anything about it.”
Darcy hums darkly and points in turn to Edovard, Hassan, Gregory, and then me. “If something happens, it would be good to have the gargoyles there to teleport our mates out.”
“You have a mate?” Faulkes gasps, full of disbelief.
Darcy’s fingers flex on me again, and I smile up at the big guy. “I think we’re as surprised as you are, but it makes sense. The emotional chemistry between us is off the charts. We vibe in harmony.”
Darcy’s grip on me relaxes, and he runs his hand up and down my back. “The other chemistry is also off the charts.”
“I like the idea of having gargoyles there in case our lovers need to be teleported out,” Santanos interrupts. “Do we need one for each of our lovers, or can gargoyles carry more than one passenger at a time?”
Huh. I bet that’s why Darcy had those other gargoyles with him earlier. They were teleporting him to my location. That’s fucking lit.
“One in each hand,” Faulkes replies.
“Then we would appreciate two of your brothers accompanying us,” Santanos informs him, then he clicks his fingers at the server. “We need Gregory’s clothes. And this gentleman, as well,” he adds for Faulkes’s partner’s sake.
Faulkes doesn’t so much as blink before two more really big gargoyles dudes arrive. They aren’t as big as Faulkes, but they’restill bigger than the rest of us. One is cosplaying the 1980s, and the other looks like a John Wayne movie era cowboy. They both do a double take when they see Faulkes, and the cowboy one gives him a dirty look. “What the Sam Hill are ya wearing?” he demands in an accent he definitely learned from watching old westerns.
You know what? Cowboy aliens in space? I’m here for it.
Faulkes points at us. “Solar system invasion is more important right now. I’m evacuating the space station; you are helping the Avatars.”
With that, he turns on his heels and marches out of the restaurant, taking with him his date, the server, the host, the kitchen staff, and a stressed out gray striped alien with at least twelve spindly arms who’s wearing a black form fitting shirt that says, “I own the joint.”
