Nate’s accommodations were two levels down from Elior’s and the vampire accompanied them down before knocking at the door. There was a pause and Nate answered, looking dishevelled and unhappy.
“I have her contained,” he told Elior between his teeth. “Unless she chews through her own wrist, she will not be getting free again.” He looked beyond Elior, and his expression lightened. “Hey, guys.”
“Nate,” Blaise grinned. “Got your hands full, I hear.”
“You have no idea,” the vampire ran a hand through his hair. “I will just get my weapons and I will be ready.” The vampire had mistaken their presence as a call to duty, Dior realised.
“You are not going anywhere,” Elior’s voice was chill, his displeasure in this made-child evident. “The gargoyles will be taking the girl.”
“I have her contained now,” Nate replied. “Short of osmosis, she won’t be going anywhere again.” He opened the door wider to reveal the healer crouched within a heavy-duty animal cage, one wrist handcuffed through the bars to the bed leg.
“Looks comfortable,” Elior observed. He half turned to Dior. “An insight to the trouble that you are volunteering for. Her first escape was through the suspended ceiling of the room she was accommodated in. Her second escape was through dismantling the cage in which you see her.”
“Her third escape was off the roof of the building your soldiers were raiding,” Dior replied calmly. “There is a common factor to these escapes, Elior, besides the girl.”
“Is that so?” Elior’s lip curled. “I wish you better luck then. Nate, release the girl into the gargoyles care.”
“Gladly. I feel like I am doing you a disservice though,” Nate said to Blaise.
The goat gargoyle grinned sunnily. “We will be fine, I am sure, Nate.”
Nate went to the cage and released the padlock and then the handcuffs. “You can get out,” he said to the girl.
She crawled out, stood, and glared at Elior. “You have the power to do better for the people you rule over.”
“Do I?” Elior wondered heavily. “I wish that were so. Take her, before I kill her,” he said to Dior.
“Will you come with us,” Dior held out his hand to her.
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. He wondered if she felt the connection between them, that same sense of belonging and recognition. Ours, he wanted to tell her. You are ours. Come with us now.
As if responding to his unspoken command, she put her hand in his.
“Thank you,” he said to her, relief and triumph soaring within him as he turned towards the elevator. “What is your name?”
“Verity.”
“It is nice to meet you Verity. I am Dior,” he stepped into the elevator when the doors open, drawing the girl with him. Her hand was so small in his, he marvelled. Their fragile daisy flower. “This is Blaise and Etienne.”
“It is nice to meet you,” she said as the doors shut, and the elevator began to descend. “It is only fair to warn you that I will escape.”
“You are not our prisoner,” Dior replied. He met Etienne’s eyes and raised his eyebrow. The griffin inclined his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw and his eyes alight. Blaise’s excitement was almost palpable, his expression avid as he met Dior’s eyes and nodded emphatically. “We need your help.”
“You need my help?” She looked up at him suspiciously. “My blood? That is what the vampires want me for, but you are not vampire.”
“No, not your blood,” Dior wondered if she realized that he still held her hand as she seemed content to leave it against his palm. He was not about to release his hold on her, he craved her touch.
The elevator reached the ground floor, and Blaise and Etienne caught the doors, holding them open so that he could lead their mate out first.
“There is a rather complicated situation surrounding food shortages in the city that we need to resolve, and quickly,” Dior said to keep her mind occupied and distracted so she would not take the opportunity to try to flee them.
“That is not complicated,” her attention remained riveted to him as they strolled across the foyer and out onto the sidewalk. “The vampires simply need to release the supplies that they are holding.”
“That would only be a short-term solution to the problem. Food must be planted, grown, harvested, processed, and distributed,” Dior tucked her hand onto the crook of his arm, drawing her slightly closer to his side. Close contact was needed, he thought. He did not know if she would be as susceptible to pheromones as Others were.
Blaise and Etienne moved subtly closer.
“With the winged men attacking anyone in the open, this process has been disrupted. It is very difficult to guard open fields, or cattle, against attack from above. It is very difficult to guard a convoy of supplies into the city, let alone the transport required to feed the world,” he watched her eyes, and saw them dilate, indicating a response to the gargoyles’ pheromones.
“I can see that,” she agreed. “But there were warehouses of food, supermarkets full of food, there are herds of beasts, and fields of crops. Surely there is a surplus in this world to hold us for this time?”
“For how long?” Dior held open the glass doors into their building. “No one knows how long this will go for. And even if we should win against the winged men, and drive them back into their own realm, then it takes time to plant and grow food, to restaff factories and slaughterhouses, find drivers for trucks…”
She looked around the opulent and empty foyer. “Where is everyone?”
“This building is currently empty except for us,” Dior said as he pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened immediately.
“It is a lot of building for three men,” she was surprised. “Why haven’t the vampires taken over it? They normally take over functioning buildings with power.”
“It is our building,” Blaise replied eager to capture her attention. He and Etienne stood as close as they could without physically touching her. “The vampires would not step foot in here without our permission.”
“Mmm,” she looked around at the three men, and then up at Dior again a frown drawing her eyebrows together. “I know where I saw you before. You were with the party of vampire soldiers when I dropped the vitamins.”
“Yes,” Dior waited to see what she would do with the information.
“I healed the winged man,” she looked away from him, her expression becoming strained. “I found him injured in the rubble and I could not just leave him to die.”
“Ah, of course,” he felt as if a knot had untangled for him. “You are a healer.” A healer’s compassion would not allow her to leave an injured man to die.
“I healed him, and then I…” She hesitated and shook her head, her face dropping so her hair hid it. “I ran away and dropped the vitamins.”
“I understand,” he said gently. He could smell the scent of her tears. He saw Etienne shift, disturbed by her distress, and shook his head slightly. Verity was like a wild creature, he thought, a rabbit, perhaps. Too much at once and she would scamper back into the warren of the city, and they might not locate her again.
“No, you don’t,” she heaved a sigh and looked up as the elevator pinged its arrival.
He led her out into the entrance hall to their apartment and waited for Blaise to open the door. “We remove our shoes,” he said as the men paused to do so, placing them onto the stand.
She removed the fragile slippers she was wearing. They looked petite and impractical on the stand amongst their oversized footwear he thought with amusement.
“Elior lies if he has told you he is holding back the food because this could go on indefinitely,” she looked around the apartment as she spoke, but did not move into it. “He knows from his mate Cael that this is a process known as a cull. The winged people will come and kill and terrorize us until they feel they have made their point, and then, they will return to where they came from.”
“You know this because?” Dior asked. All three gargoyles considered her thoughtfully.
“The vampires, Nate and the two women, they spoke of it. I guess,” she looked back up at him her eyes disarmingly earnest. “They thought I would die in their care and not live to tell others what I had learnt.”
“That would explain Nate’s anger,” Etienne said almost inaudibly, so that her ears would not hear him. “He feared Elior’s wrath should he find out that they had spoken incautiously before her.”
“Mhm,” Dior replied, he moved forward, encouraging the girl into the apartment, towards the couch arrangement before the windows to the balcony.
“There is still no time frame to their attack,” he pointed out, not just to the girl but also to his partners. “Elior believes that his stockpile contains only enough food to feed this city for one month.”
Blaise moved into the kitchen and began assembling a plate of food for them to share.
“Then he should feed the city for the month,” the girl replied.
“And then what?” Etienne asked her as he sat on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, the griffin falling in with Dior’s plan to keep her focused on feeding the city. His raven’s wing hair fell in unruly curls into his eyes, and he flicked his head to move them, his gaze fixed to the young healer.
“Crops planted before this war begun will be ripening every day. He should use that month to oversee the rapid harvest of the crops of abandoned farms.”
“And do what with the food?” Etienne challenged gently.
“Give it to the people,” she responded, letting Dior to ease her onto the couch, distracted by Etienne’s question.
“Which will feed them for another week,” the griffin pointed out. “And that is if Elior manages such a harvest without drawing the attention of the winged men, and if he manages to transport it into the city without the convoy being attacked.
“How many vampires would die in that effort?” He asked. “How many are too many for the amount of food obtained? One, five, twenty, more? And once that food is gone, does he repeat the effort, the losses, the battles, for another week without hunger? Eventually there will be no more farmers’ fields to harvest, because food does not simply grow itself, it must be planted.”
“Nothing is as simple as we would like it to be,” Dior told her with empathy.
“Maybe not,” she looked at her clenched hands. “But doing nothing and letting the people starve, is not an option, either.”
“This is our city,” Blaise placed the food on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen for wine and glasses. “We will not let our people starve.”
“Roof top and community gardens,” Dior said thinking of the old woman. “We need to get the city growing their own food where we can protect them.”
“It takes time to grow food,” Etienne was dubious but willing to play along if it contributed to keeping their mate calm and comfortable.
“We will need to fill the gap,” Dior sat next to Verity and passed her a glass of wine. He saw her inhale and hoped. He could smell fear and not desire on her, however. “Another way.”
Verity regarded the red liquid dubiously and looked around at the three large men that had deftly pinned her between the couch and the coffee table with their bodies during the conversation. Dior could see the process of her thoughts and the tension return to her posture.
“You are the gargoyle triad,” she set the glass onto the tabletop. “I recognize the balcony and the position of this building. You gave me to the vampires.”
“You were caught spying on the convoy we were guarding,” Dior explained. “After being seen in the company of a winged man the night before. Or so we thought.”
“It is funny,” she didn’t react to the fact that he had was close enough to her that their thighs touched, and that he had placed his arm across the back of the couch. “I was heading to the city because of you. The gargoyles that keep the city safe.” That they had betrayed her faith in them was evident in her tone, and Dior felt his heart pinch painfully.
“Eat,” Blaise encouraged her, leaning over the back of the couch, his blond hair falling over his shoulder and almost brushing her cheek. “You are hungry. You will feel better when you have eaten.”
“We will get the maps out once you have eaten,” Etienne said, leaning closer. “And begin to locate places in the city where we can source supplies for rooftop gardens.”
“Gardening shops,” Blaise suggested.
“In the city?” Dior arched an eyebrow. He took an olive from the plate and ate it thinking that it might encourage the girl to do likewise. “Suburbia, perhaps.”
“We will need the vampires to transport the items into the city,” Etienne pointed out leaning forward and taking a slice of cheese and a cracker. His knee rested against the girl’s.
She did not move hers away. “I think Elior will assist. It will be good public relations for his people.”
“It will be good for him,” Dior agreed. “His conscience is troubling him.”
“As it should,” Verity edged forward on the seat and took an olive. She closed her eyes as she ate it, savouring the flavour. “What he is doing is horrible.”
Dior met Etienne’s eyes and flicked them to Blaise, who grinned widely as he realized the lion gargoyle’s intentions.
“I think you judge Elior over harshly,” Etienne replied quietly. “We will get the maps whilst you eat.”
Dior rose and followed him into the library, closing the door behind him. He waited for the griffin to speak, watching as Etienne ran his finger along the spines of the books until he found the one that he sought.
He turned the pages carefully, before unfolding the meticulously hand drawn picture – a bird’s eye view of the city block by block as seen by gargoyles in flight.
They heard a burst of startled laughter from the other side of the door. Dior smiled widely with approval.
“It was a good idea to leave him out there with her, he will disarm her,” Etienne smiled back. “I can only imagine what he has done to make her laugh like that, the foolish goat.”
His expression shifted as he braced his hands on the table and leaned onto his arms, his head falling forward from his shoulders with a heavy sigh. “She is a na? ve innocent bruised by war, Dior.”
“She is ours.”
“I am not denying that.” The griffin folded the map back into the book. “It may not be an easy feat to win her, however. She is afraid of us. She is afraid of her own shadow. And with good reason, Dior. The vampires had her in a f-king cage.”
“I did notice that.” Dior commented mildly. “But I think you underestimate her. She is afraid, but she is also brave. She is delicate, but she is strong. She is innocent, but she is clever. And, like us, she is willing to fight for our city. So, we will feed this city together, and she will learn not to fear us, and when she stops being afraid, she will realize that she is our mate.”
Etienne turned and rested his hip against the desktop, his lips curled in a slow smile. “Is that your plan, Dior? To win our mate through feeding the city? It would be one of the most unusual courting methods in the history of gargoyles.”
“We live in unusual times. Our mate needs to be handled delicately. She is, as you said, already bruised by this war.”
“We are creatures of stone,” Etienne pointed out playing devil’s advocate. “Delicate is not our area of expertise. And Elior is right. People are going to die, either way. A slow death of hunger, or a quick death from above. She will become disillusioned.”
“And when she does, we will comfort her.” Dior replied. “We have a duty to the city, either way.”
“That is true,” Etienne’s smile was wry. “And we, as always, will do our best by the city.”
“And in doing so win ourselves a female mate to bear us young. Come, let’s see what that goat is up to.”
Blaise was lying across the couch, his head not quite on the girl’s lap and his hair a spill of almost white strands across the leather.
She was drinking the wine in between feeding him olives and looked up at them as they entered. “Your friend is a fool,” she told them with amusement.
“He is that.” Dior agreed with a grin. “Are you going to share the couch with us, Blaise, or continue to hog the seats?”
“I am good,” Blaise didn’t open his eyes. “I have it worked out. I shall just lie here and let the pretty girl feed me.”
“Is she feeding herself as well?” Etienne wondered.
“An olive for an olive,” Blaise replied. “I am yet to persuade her onto the cheese.”
A red glow on the horizon caught their attention. Etienne met Dior’s eyes. The timing could not be worse. Either they left the girl alone in their apartment and hope she would still be there when they returned, or they divided their triad up, leaving one behind.
“You go,” Blaise decided for them. “I have just gotten comfortable and there are still olives left on the plate.”
“An attack,” the girl looked from them to the ominous red spot in the sky.
“It is far out,” Dior told her as he began to undress. “You will be safe here.” He hung his clothing over one of the dining room chairs.
Etienne left his clothing on the couch, the colour draining from his skin as he shifted into his gargoyle form, stretching his feathered wings out and rolling his neck as he did so. The griffin’s claws tapped the tiles as he walked to the balcony door, his muscles flowing smoothly with athletic grace.
“Blaise will keep you company until we return,” Dior saw that the girl was watching from the corner of her eyes, her cheeks hectic with her blush before the shift stole the colour from his vision rendering the world into shades of black and white.