“There is one more thing we need to do,” Ashlynn told the vampires. “If Elior wakes before we return, tell him we will be fine and will be back as quickly as we can.”
Rebecca arched an elegant eyebrow and exchanged a look with Jacinta sat on the couch leaning forward so that her cheek rested against Rebecca’s thigh. Rebecca stroked her fingers through the blond woman’s hair with absent minded affection. “We will not be fine, if we tell our father that his mates have vanished after making such a public example of themselves,” she told Ashlynn. “And potentially raising the ire of the entire Other world.”
“I am really hoping my appeal does not raise the ire of the Other world but rather their empathy and support, and we will stay away from humans. We just have to make one quick stop,” Ashlynn assured her. “We will be fine, really. Cael has his sword.”
“Both of them,” the devil murmured under his breath with a smirk.
Ashlynn groaned and rolled her eyes. “That will get old real fast, Cael.”
“Not for me,” he preened.
“Alright, going now,” she decided, taking him by the crook of his arm and dragging him after her towards the door. The two vampires watched them depart without comment, looking, Ashlynn thought, very much like an editorial spread in a fashion magazine, elegantly draped over the couch in their very modern and expensive apartment, with the light streaming over them through the windows.
“Gently,” Cael protested as the door closed behind him and Ashlynn pulled him across the glossy tiles in the tidy entry foyer towards the elevator. She jabbed the elevator call button. “I think you underestimate your improved strength. That is my sword arm. I need it in order to smite your enemies.”
“I am sorry honey,” she backed him into the corner of the elevator and slid her hands up his chest lifting her lips to him. He leaned down to kiss her and had just gotten heated when the doors pinged open. “Sorry for that too,” she said to him cheekily, with a wink.
“Ashlynn,” his tone was dark.
“We have stuff to do,” she reminded him, catching the door at the sensor so they did not close again. “We will have lots of sex later. Shhh now, we do not want to wake our vampire, he needs his sleep.” They tiptoed out of the elevator and into the stairwell to take the last rise of stairs up to the roof.
The wind picked up her hair and billowed out her top as Ashlynn stretched out her wings. “Oh, that feels so good,” she said stretching them out fully again for the sheer pleasure of feeling the muscles release and the tendons stretch seeming to the very points of her feathers.
“It is exceedingly uncomfortable to be forever retracting and re-opening them,” Cael agreed indulging in his own stretch, reaching his arms out to their full extension in order to stretch his shoulder muscles. “On my realm, we rarely retract them once we open them. It is simply unnatural to do so. There is a reason it hurts. They are part of us and are meant to be used.”
Ashlynn approached the lip of the building, looking down uneasily, the building seemed to warp with its length, the line of window impossibly long, and the street so far below them, with the humans gathered at its base like ants.
“It is really very high,” she muttered.
“You have wings,” he pointed out. “You have nothing to fear from height.”
“It does not make throwing myself off of a very tall building any easier. My instincts tell me it is a very bad idea,” she confessed. “Perhaps should have just walked up here and dived straight off rather than give myself time to think about it.”
Cael snorted his laughter and with strong and sure wing-strokes walked casually off of the edge and mimed walking through the air with exaggerated movements and a sarcastically marvelling expression on his face. “Come on, pigeon,” he teased. “There is nothing to it.”
“Hmph,” she closed her eyes and stepped off, shrieking as she fell, until her wings caught the air, the resistance of gravity pulling her body against the boney extensions until she engaged her core muscles to support herself. It made sense, she thought, why Cael’s stomach muscles were so fabulous, he needed to use them when he flew. She managed to gain height. “This is harder work than I thought,” she complained, breathlessly. “I guess it is like building any muscle in your body, if you haven’t used it, it takes a while to build strength up.”
“You do not have to move your shoulders,” he sniggered. “Just relax. Your body knows what to do. If you stop dwelling on it, instinct will take over. I will hold your hand if it makes you feel better.”
She accepted his extended hand and let him guide them into the shifting currents of air. “See,” he said, watching her face as he eased them from one current to another. “There you go, you are starting to get a feel for it. It should not be so much work. So,” he added. “Where are we going?”
“Not far. That building over there,” she pointed to it, one of the oldest buildings in the city, an elegant tower bearing all the details of eras past in the stonework around the windows and corners, in the sculpted stone supports for the penthouse balcony, and in the stone balustrades that edged it.
Once, she knew from history lessons as a child, it had been a marvel of modernity, the tallest building in the city, but time and man’s aspirations had reached higher and higher in the centuries since and now it was one of the lower buildings in the area, but also one which occupied the most ground space.
There had been efforts to buy the building from its owners, development companies intending to build four or more tall, shiny towers in its place, but the owners had no interest in money. She suspected they, like the vampires, accrued more than
“Ugh,” he made a sound in the back of his throat. “Them.”
“Oh dear,” she shot him a wary look. That did not bode well. “What have you done to the gargoyle triad?”
“Nothing!” He protested. “I just dislike gargoyles. Gargoyles were the failed attempt to create winged slaves in our own image. I find them ugly and graceless.”
“Alright, you are going to keep your mouth shut the entire time we are there,” she decided. “Look pretty, say nothing, are we clear, Cael? The last thing I need is for you to run off your mouth whilst I am trying to persuade them to shed their glamour.”
“What, you do not want me to tell them that they are caricatures carved by a talent-less artist, and have the aerodynamics of an elephant with wings?” He replied, his lips curling in the corner.
“You are trying to provoke me,” she told him. “If you persist, I will turn you over my knee when we return to Elior’s apartment and spank your glorious behind.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Or, even better, I will let Elior do it. He would enjoy that.” She slid him a sideways look. “You know our vampire would like to do you, don’t you?”
“He is my vampire too, of course I know,” he replied with dignity. “Oh look,” he pointed with a sneer. “The cement blocks are flying.”
She could see the gargoyles winging towards their perches along a generous balcony, their wing spread impressive as they angled into the descent and their bodies powerful. She directed her wings to the same angle trying to mimic their smooth athleticism of flight. Her landing was not as neat as Cael’s, having to run off a few steps of momentum, but overall, she was pretty proud of her effort.
The gargoyles ignored their arrival, remaining statue still, crouched on their podiums as if on the verge of flight rather than having just landed from it. She moved up to the ornamental stone balustrade, her hand feeling along its smooth surface.
The glass windows behind her were original to the building, the area of glass broken into many smaller squares reflecting the technical abilities of glass blowers of the era, and the glass showing small bubbles of imperfection adding to the overall charm.
The apartment she saw within, however, had been updated, the kitchen very modern and large, the lounge area dominated by a l-shaped couch in dark natural leather, and a solid dining table with eight seats arranged around it. There was artwork on the walls that she imagined, like the windows, was original, and probably bought from the artists themselves long before fame had made their work priceless.
She imagined human curators thought these pieces lost to time, as no one other than the triad had set eyes on them since their creation. She recognised a few of the later pieces from photos in history books. The photos had not captured the vividity of the colours.
She had never had the opportunity to see the gargoyles close up, but she had seen them often winging over the city, and as a child she had been fascinated by them. Cael was wrong, she thought, the gargoyles were not like those used on human buildings, mould poured and carved to the grotesque, but rather were artwork, like that which hung on their walls.
The one closest to her was a massive, winged lion, his lip curled back from snarling fangs, and his mane magnificent in its fullness. For all the lion-like face and mane, his body was man-like, heavily muscled arms with five fingers catching the edge of his pedestal, toes curling over the lip, and a huge, jutting…
She averted her eyes and swallowed back the comment about competitive swords that sprung to her lips, just in time. Cael caught her eye and raised his eyebrows mouthing a word at her. She sent him a glare, cautioning him to silence. He shrugged and returned to his examination of the lion’s prominently displayed assets.
She remembered reading that gargoyles formed triads of lovers, before attracting a female, and that they used pheromones, like many Others, but more potently. Virile was the term her mother had very primly used when teaching Ashlynn about the Other world. Ashlynn had another word for it, and she smothered her grin, trying to focus on the matter at hand.
“Sir,” she said to the lion politely, instead of the many lewd thoughts that rattled through her brain despite her effort to focus. “We are both aware that I can see through the glamour, and that my companion and I aren’t human.”
The lion gargoyle did not acknowledge her and remained statue-still, aloofly disdaining to acknowledge her presence.
She blew out an irritated breath. The next gargoyle was a goat, horns curling back from his brow, and his expression leering. Like the lion, his body was mostly human, heavily muscled, though his feet were hooved, and like the lion, he was sporting an impressive hard-on.
“I don’t know how much you keep up with social media,” she said. Did the gargoyles even have social media? She could just imagine their profile pages and dating profiles. Enjoys heights, fine art, and nudity.
Focus, Ashlynn, she scolded herself, but their hard ons were perfectly rendered right down to the curving path of the major artery and veins, and she would have to be blind not to be distracted by it. “But you may be aware that the humans have declared war on the vampires.”
Cael yawned in the background and made a show of trailing the tip of his sword between the stones laid on the balcony, but he didn’t speak. He met her eyes and made a lewd gesture with the sword.
“Behave,” she said to him through her teeth. “And put your sword away.”
He pouted, but his eyes danced, thoroughly enjoying himself.
The third gargoyle was a griffin, the details of feathers belying Cael’s claim that they had been made by a talent-less artist, the ruff sitting like a collar on the impressive shoulders of a man’s body, and his beak sharply pointed. His toes were clawed, the edge of the pedestal puckered by their grip.
“The vampires have amassed an impressive military force,” she appealed to them. “And if this war continues, they will be forced to retaliate or perish. If they use their military against the humans, the world will never be the same. The vampires will become overlords, the humans will become slaves, or the vampires will risk continual uprisings by the humans.
“I am pleading with the Other world to shed their glamours, to stand proudly before the humans, and say – we have been here all along. We have lived amongst you since time began. You do not need to fear – but the vampires do not stand alone.”
“You are talking to stone,” Cael muttered, irrepressible and disobedient as always. “Stone bodies, stone hearts, stone heads.”
“Ignore him, he is still learning social skills,” she apologized returning to the lion. Lions were leaders, right, she thought. “On the subject of stone heads,” she glowered at Cael. “Someone’s stone head was not listening when I said not to speak. Please, sirs,” she turned back to the gargoyles. “I beg of you.”
Cael perched on the handrail, taking up a pose similar to the gargoyles around him, his sword held in one hand, and the wind flicking back his golden hair. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, gazing out over the city, his wings held behind him at the same angle as the gargoyle’s.
“How do I look?” He asked through clenched teeth.
Despite herself, she snickered.
The gargoyles did not respond though she thought she saw the goat’s eye move slightly as if unable to resist looking at her and Cael.
“Fine, then,” she said to the gargoyles, losing her temper. “I had hoped as the guardians of the city, to persuade you to set an example for the Others who live here, to show them how not to be cowards, how to stand for what’s right and noble, but maybe Cael’s right, and the only part of your anatomy the sculpture got right will sag before use.” She demonstrated with a finger and a sneer.
The goat shifted on his pedestal and glowered at her, provoked.
“What,” she needled him. “Truth hurts?”
The lion heaved a sigh. “Blaise, ignore the pigeons. They will fly away eventually.” His voice was worthy of a lion, deep and rumbling. It was the voice of command and leadership, a voice that drew attention and obedience.
“I am not a pigeon,” Ashlynn was outraged, especially when Cael snorted with laughter, still trying to maintain his gargoyle-esque pose.
“Dior,” the goat ground out between clenched teeth. “Give me five minutes to persuade our pretty pigeon that gargoyles know how to use their assets.” He leered at Ashlynn and reached between his legs to stroke himself. “She will not want to leave our nest again.”
“I think the fool with the sword will object to that,” the griffin observed in cultured tones holding the poetry of another land. “She reeks of him, and a vampire.”
“My mates,” she replied. “Elior Cohen, and Cael.”
“Cael Jovil,” Cael supplied helpfully.
“Good, pretty pigeon,” The goat flexed his muscles impressively and grinned with mischievous charm. “Then you are used to handling more than one man at a time. Etienne and I will share you between us and have you begging for more. You will not want to leave our nest, we will make sure of it,”he winked.
“My men are not cowards,” she goaded him, seeing as he was the most reactive so far. “I doubt you will impress by comparison.”
“Blaise,” Dior’s use of the goat gargoyle’s name was repressive and held a power similar to an alpha werewolf, Ashlynn noted. The goat returned to staring loftily out over the city obediently and immediately, without protest.
The lion turned his crouch and stepped down to the balcony floor, skin color flooding his delectable body, from toes up heavily muscled legs, delineated stomach muscles, broad shoulders, to a handsome, strongly boned, square jawed face from which he shook back long tawny hair as full and thick as his mane had been.
His assets were no less impressive, she noted, in human form than in gargoyle.
His eyebrow jerked up in amusement as he noted the direction of her glance. “Feel free to take a picture,” he mocked her. “If you require the visual stimulation whilst your brave men f-k you.”
“Had to do a size comparison,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “To see if your balls were bigger in this form, seeing as they were so shrunken in the other.”
“There is nothing that happens in this city child of Raiden and Cecelia Grenmeyer,” he ignored her insult. “That does not occur without us knowing. Of course, we are aware of the human and vampire war.”
“So, you are just cowards, not ignorant cowards.”
“I notice that the werewolves have not stepped forward and dropped their glamour,” he replied, his tone tolerant and patient, with the world weariness of someone who had lived a long time. “Run along home, little, feathered non-wolf. You are young and foolish. When you are as old as we are, you will understand that these moments of conflict are fleeting, and the Other world will persevere beyond these human quibbles.”
“So, the Other world will just stand by, and watch humans enslaved again?” She challenged.
The lion gargoyle frowned. “Are you arguing for or against the vampires? Or do you not know?”
“I am arguing for a future in which the Other world participates equally with the humans, where vampires do not stand sentry between the humans and ourselves, where sentries are not needed because we all stand tall and proud of what we are.”
“An impossible world,” Dior dismissed it disdainfully.
“We were once slaves,” she pointed out. “We were once all human. There is no such thing as impossible, other than in the limits of foolish men’s minds. Sit here then on your cold perches,” she snarled and used her wings to propel herself onto the podium that Dior had abandoned. “And watch your city burn.”
She leapt off, and saw, from the corner of her eye, Cael follow.
“So,” he said when he had closed the distance between them. “I have a suspicion that you are picking up your diplomacy skills from me, rather than our vampire. Whilst I am exceptional in every way, I may not be the best example to model yourself on when it comes to making friends and influencing people.”
“Oh, they will come,” she was confident in that. “Lion represents pride. I pricked it, plus they consider this city theirs to guard, and their responsibility. They will come, to preserve it, and it’s civilian innocents.”
“Risky game plan, I am not sure that our vampire would approve,” he, however, did.
“I think we are about to find out,” she observed, spotting Elior on the roof, immaculately put together in one of his own suits, watching as they coasted towards him.
They landed, Elior catching Ashlynn as she skittered clumsily, not judging the distance quite right. “I need more practice at landing,” she confessed, and grinned up at the vampire holding her against his chest. “You look much better after your nap. Very handsome.”
His returned grin was rueful. “I should be angry,” he observed. “You two seem to make a habit of disappearing whilst my attention is elsewhere. However, here you are, apparently unharmed, and just in time, as your warlock’s coven and your mother are ready to raise the shield.”
“Flying lessons,” Cael lied, lightly.
“Hmm,” Elior did not believe it for a moment. “Well, shall we go downstairs and watch the show?”
“Sounds good,” Ashlynn caught a hand of each of her men and swung them as they headed towards the stairs.
“You seem very cheerful,” Elior observed as they stepped out into his foyer and waited for elevator.
“Two pretty men at my side,” she smirked. “And I pissed off the gargoyle triad by insulting their balls.”
Elior smothered his grin as they stepped into the elevator. “Of course, you did. And what was Dior, Etienne, and Blaise’s reaction to that, I wonder?”
“Of course, you would know them by name,” she flicked a look at him. “And probably have had them over for tea and biscuits.”
Elior smirked. “They prefer to attend my club on Friday nights for drinks. I know all my regulars.”
“You still have the club?” Ashlynn glanced up at him in surprise with a hint of a smile on her lips. “The one where my parents met?”
“It still serves its purpose, and is profitable, so yes, of course I still have the club, and attend it regularly myself.”
“If you know the gargoyles, then, why haven’t you called them and talked them into coming and fighting?”
Elior’s brow pinched and then smoothed, but his grey eyes remained shadowed. “The Other world would never respond to a vampire call for help,” he replied as if the very idea was impossible. “It would be a waste of time to ask them for it.” He paused, a frown pinching his eyebrows together. “What, exactly, have you been up to, Ashlynn?”
“Besides putting out a social media broadcast asking the Other world to shed their glamour and step out in support of vampires?” Cael murmured. “And a visit to the gargoyles, not much, really.”
Elior closed his eyes and inhaled a breath he didn’t need. “Ashlynn,” he murmured. “They will never come. The Other world does not care about vampires except when vampire affairs cause them inconvenience.”
The elevator doors opened, saving her from any further comment, and Serena called out excitedly to Elior the moment they stepped into the foyer.
A foyer which was unrecognizable as being one, Ashlynn noted, impressed with the work that had been undertaken. Nets had been strung over the glass front of the building, and items of furniture divided the highly polished tile floor into kill zones manned by armed vampires.
The walls and floor bore runes scrawled in what she suspected was permanent marker pens and lipstick, creating magic traps far more sophisticated than the hastily rigged booby traps she had left behind, which, she saw with pride, remained, even if they were slightly redundant compared to the far superior magic in use.
Most of the vampires had their mobile phones out, and she could see herself and Cael on every screen.
“Ashlynn,” Elior murmured under his breath, his eyes taking in the many screens. “What have you done?”