“Well, we seem to have a problem before us,” Theo turned as the elevator opened, and Blaise and Charon stepped out with the witch and warlock, and the newly awoken Jacinta and Rebecca. The vampires were furious, and glared daggers at the warlocks and witch.
Blaise looked around at the gathering. “So, what did we miss?” He wondered.
Elior sighed heavily. “Let us take this into the apartment,” he turned without waiting for an answer, and walked through the doorway. His mates and children followed as if pulled by string, Dior observed with amusement. For all that Cael and Ashlynn were mouthy and full of attitude, Elior was very much the alpha and authority of their triad.
Dior led his mates and the witch and warlocks into the apartment. Elior had taken a seat in an armchair in the living area, and Ashlynn perched on one arm, Jacinta on the other, whilst Cael leaned against the back. Rebecca was in the kitchen arranging glasses onto the counter.
“Please sit,” Elior gestured to the couches before him. Blaise immediately wandered into the kitchen and began to help Rebecca with pouring wine and blood for the company, as Dior led Etienne and Charon to the couch.
Charon’s thigh rested against Dior’s as he and Etienne sat close on the couch in order to leave a space available for the witch, the heat of the winged man’s leg against his causing Dior to harden, the throb of his erection an uncomfortable press against the fabric of his trousers reminding the lion gargoyle of the pressing need to reclaim their female mate.
Dior inhaled, keeping a wary gauge on the triad’s pheromones, aware that in a closed space things could quickly get out of hand. The last thing they needed was to become distracted by an orgy with the vampires and the warlocks, neither party of which Dior felt any attraction to.
“We need to keep this brief,” he said to Elior. “My triad’s mating instincts have been triggered.”
“I must admit,” Elior rested his hand on Ashlynn’s thigh, and she place her hand over it, her thumb stroking his skin idly. “I know very little about gargoyles’ mating practises, only that you don’t turn your mates, like werewolves and vampires.”
“We are simple,” Blaise announced sunnily as he weaved between the couches handing out wine glasses. “We find a mate and we f-k. A lot. And then some more, until we cannot f-k anymore.”
He saw the vampire triad exchange a look of amusement.
“We share some commonalities,” Elior commented mildly.
“Verity was ovulating,” Dior expanded as he accepted a wine glass from his mate. “In response the males in the triad release pheromones to encourage receptiveness, in order to fertilize their female.”
“They are putting out the sexy, without their intended recipient being around,” Ashlynn realized and inhaled, her smile slow and wicked. “Oh, yes, I can smell it, can’t you honey?”
Elior fought the curl of his lips, pursing his lips on his smile. “I am assuming that anyone is susceptible to the pheromones,” he said.
“Correct,” Dior smiled with good humour. “So, unless you want to spend your afternoon with an indiscriminate assortment of bedfellows, you do not want us to linger overlong in your apartment.”
“Three in a bed is quite enough,” Elior replied on a chuckle. “In the spirit of brevity, then, my love,” he turned his eyes up to meet Ashlynn’s. “Whilst I agree that taking the warlocks to the werewolf pack would only result in issues, we do need to retrieve the healer, and the gargoyles obviously need the prompt return of their mate. I am sure that your father would agree to meet with them.”
“And what about us?” Theo bared his teeth in a grimace of a smile. “We were under no obligation to return your mates,” his eyes were glacial. “Or children, Elior, who invaded our property and yet we have done so, in the spirit of fostering co-operation and obtaining access to Alatar.”
“Dior and Ashlynn will appeal to Alatar on your behalf,” Elior’s grey eyes matched the warlock’s frost with sub-zero.
“That will not work,” Theo shook his head. “You do not know my son.”
“I do,” Ashlynn pointed out. “And my dad does. Alatar will listen to us. But,” her smile was vulpine. “You need to convince me first. Saying that you plan to disrupt the portals is all very well, but you have not said how, nor have you explained how you will return attack.”
Theo raised his eyebrows. “It is difficult to explain magic to someone who does not possess it.”
Ashlynn held out a hand and her fingers lit with flame. She danced it across her knuckles before closing her fist around it, extinguishing it in a wisp of smoke. “Try me,” she sneered.
The warlock looked astonished. “Alatar has taught you magic.”
“A little. The rest I learnt from my mother.”
Something changed in Theo’s eyes. “Cecelia Alexis,” he murmured. “Someone’s indiscretion? No one has claimed her to my knowledge.”
“My mother’s parentage isn’t up for conversation,” Ashlynn dismissed it. “The fact remains, that I can understand what you intend to do, or at least, enough of it.”
Theo considered for a long moment. “We have a variety of ideas on how to do it,” he admitted leaning forwards slightly so that he could meet her eyes. “If we can get to the portals they open, we hope to be able to cast a tracer spell into it, from which we hope we will be able to obtain the coordinates for their origin.
“Once we have the origin, we can cast our own portals to their location, enabling us to transport witches and warlocks into their realms, armed with a number of disruptive spells, similar to the tactics you employed against the humans during the siege of Vampire Square.”
Ashlynn’s eyes slid to Cael, who straightened and stepped away from the back of Elior’s armchair, going to stand against one of the windows overlooking the city. In profile, Dior observed, the devil was perfect, each feature in absolute balance, as if he were a rendering of an artist’s attempt to capture the ideal image of man.
He saw the devil swallow heavily, and a muscle ticked in the corner of his jaw. It was interesting to see him discomforted, Dior thought. Cael might have taken mates from this realm, he might fight for it, and prey upon his own people for food, but he was not without confliction about this plan to take the battle back to his birth-home.
A trace spell for the origin of the winged people’s realm would not be necessary, Dior thought, if Cael or Charon were to disclose the location. Cael, at least, he knew, possessed the ability to cast portals, and so must have the required information.
“Disruption,” Ashlynn returned her eyes to the warlock. “What you are discussing is the equivalent of shaking a hornet’s nest. For a moment, you might rule the hornets, but when they swarm, you will feel their sting.”
“We have some more advanced spells that we would like to try,” Theo was not discouraged. “With the full power of the coven behind them, we will not just shake the hornet’s nest, we will poison them.”
“They have their own magic,” Ashlynn pointed out. “Considerably more than we possess here, even amongst the covens. You underestimate their abilities,” her eyes flicked to her golden-haired mate, who remained against the window.
“There is,” Cael winced and braced a hand against the window frame. “Merit to the plan. But not to simply release a coven of slaves upon the realm. It would need more,” he said heavily. “We could use portals to release an army onto their realm, combining magic using slaves, and Others. They will not expect it. It may be possible to overwhelm them. But,” he turned and looked at Ashlynn. “The aeries would present a challenge to a flightless army.”
“Not simple,” Elior obviously knew as to what his mate referred, and Dior could guess. A people with wings would seek heights attainable only by themselves, which meant that an attack upon them by a people without wings, would give the higher ground, quite literally, to the denizens of the realm.
He saw the realization dawn on Theo’s face, the man compressing his lips, causing the brackets around his mouth to blanch. “Shit,” the warlock muttered. “That is a very good point.”
“Those that attack this realm,” Charon said, his eyes on Cael. “Do not do so willingly. You wage war against the victims of a corrupt hierarchy.”
“Victims who still kill our people,” Ashlynn pointed out. “How many did you kill, before you were brought down, mate of gargoyles?” She challenged him with a sneer.
“My point is,” Charon ignored her attack and did not, Dior noted with triumph, dispute that he was their mate. “Is that you have a winged army. You just need to persuade them to fight for you.”
“Now that,” Elior tilted his head and arched an elegant brow. “Is an interesting idea.”
“Gargoyles,” Ashlynn added, meeting Dior’s eyes. “We also have the gargoyles. When they made them, they unwittingly created a race resilient to their attack, both physical and magical.”
“Is that so?” Theo looked at Dior with more interest.
“Nous ne pouvons pas mettre en danger notre avenir avec cette guerre,” Etienne murmured.
“Why is that?” Elior asked him, obviously fluent in the language. “Why would your future be in any more danger from gargoyles fighting for us, than fighting here?”
“Of all the Others,” Dior explained carefully. “The gargoyles are slower to breed, and our numbers were never great. There are perhaps ten thousand gargoyles in this realm,” he held his hands out palm up. “Fifteen hundred that I could call upon. The rest,” he shook his head. “Too old, too young, or not yet in triads.”
“Why does not being in a triad matter?” Ashlynn was intrigued.
“A single gargoyle fights alone,” Dior explained. “Within a triad, one watches, two fight. It is our way. We do not engage in battle until we have a triad.”
“Five hundred triads,” Elior inhaled as he considered it.
“The potential loss of five hundred triads,” Etienne protested. “Would decimate our mating population.”
“Something to consider,” Dior agreed. “That asking this of us, could mean the end of gargoyles. We do not have the ability to turn in order to increase our number and we are entirely male, with each triad sharing one female mate.”
“A slow birth rate,” Elior understood where Dior was going. “And no other form of reproduction.”
“Exactly,” Etienne was disapproving of the entire plan. “It can take hundreds of years for a triad to form and find the right female mate,” he added. “To then die, before reproducing…” He shook his head grimly, his mouth and jaw tight. “It is not good.”
“Which is why you are so eager to retrieve Verity immediately,” Elior’s grey eyes were empathetic. “Whilst she is fertile.”
“Exactly,” Dior confirmed grimly. “It may already be too late. Human females ovulate for only so long. It will be another month before we can try again, and much can happen in a month in times such as these.”
“I am sorry,” Ashlynn said quietly. “I will take you to my parent’s run. It is not where Alatar is,” she added. “So will not be where Verity is. But my father will know which run Alatar is at.”
“Why would Alatar not be with Raiden?” Theo was puzzled. “They were friends. I assumed that their friendship was behind Alatar’s actions.”
“Alatar is newly mated,” Ashlynn said with enjoyment. “And will be turned at the next full moon. His mate is not amongst those that are staying with my dad, and so Alatar has relocated to be with him.”
“Him,” Theo repeated, and his eyebrows raised. “That is unexpected.”
“Is it?” Ashlynn replied deadpanned. “It wasn’t to those who love Alatar.” She rose to her feet. “I will take Dior’s… quartet… to my dad’s run,” she said to Elior. “And I will tell my dad that the pack and Alatar need to meet to discuss this plan of the coven.”
“Thank you, my mate,” Elior lifted his face for her to kiss him. “The warlocks and witch and I will continue our discussions,” he looked at Theo. “It seems to me that for the coven’s plan to have any success, it needs the Other world’s assistance.”
“Agreed,” Theo leaned back in his couch and took a sip of his wine, the tension leaving him.
“Cael?” Ashlynn asked her other mate.
“I will stay,” Cael said taking the spot on the arm of the chair that she had vacated and draping his arm over Elior’s shoulders, leaning heavily on his mate. “If they are planning on making war on my people, they will need me to point out the flaws in their plans.”
“Alright,” she turned to Dior. “Shall we?” As she led them up the staircase to the roof, she glanced over her shoulder. “The warlock has put a trace on someone. He agreed to easily. I am thinking it is me,” she pushed the door open to the roof and the wind threw her hair back. “But you should check yourselves, as well.”
They spent a moment stripping to the skin to examine themselves for runes, or any addition to their clothing that would betray the warlock’s spell, the chill wind pricking skin into goosebumps, and teasing the tight skin of Dior’s balls.
“You weren’t kidding,” Ashlynn leered. “I could line you guys up and use you for coat hooks.”
Dior glanced at his mates and saw that the vampire did not exaggerate. All his mates were hard. It would be humorous, he thought, except it was not. Every hour that slipped away was another chance lost to sire a cub.
“You have a rune at the base of your neck,” he told Ashlynn when the wind swept her hair to the side, revealing the edge of a marking. He licked the pad of his thumb and used it to rub the mark from her.
“Thank you,” she pulled her clothing back on. “Alright then, time to fly.” She opened her wings, the fabric of her shirt tearing loudly. The triad did not bother to dress, shifting into gargoyle form and catching their clothing into bundles to carry with them. Charon grimaced as he opened his wings.
“Look as us,” Ashlynn purred. “All pretty with our feathers. Alright, boys, let’s go.” She leapt off the edge of the building, her wings catching the air.