“Watch it,” Dior cautioned Etienne, the two gargoyles lifting a large and awkward water tank between them. The tank itself was not overly heavy, but it’s size and material, as well as the hole to gather water, made it like a sail each time the wind blew around the buildings, and they did not want to lose control of it, smashing the windows of the building they lifted it over, or to drop it on the busy workers on the street level who worked to unpack the trucks.
“Where is Blaise?” Etienne complained as they set the tank down upon the supporting struts already on place on the rooftop, the gardeners pausing in their labour to clap in celebration. “We could use his help.”
“I don’t know,” the realization made Dior uneasy, though, he told himself sternly, there was little that could cause a gargoyle issue, even a prey species like Blaise. “I might check home. Check on Charon and Verity?”
Charon was watching over Verity donating blood again to the vampires. The frequency of her donations was worrying Dior, but she told him it made her feel as if she were contributing. Cael would be following them like a shadow, as he and Charon waited for the next portal.
The tension in the nest was coiling tight, Dior thought grimly, as Charon grew more and more anxious about his family, and the gargoyles grew more and more anxious about Charon returning to his home a second time, and Verity worrying about them all.
He landed on the balcony and could see Blaise within. He tilted his head, intrigued by his goat gargoyle’s actions as he pushed open the glass. His heart melted as he saw what Blaise was up to. “Ah, my mate,” he murmured.
The goat jumped guiltily and then sighed when he saw that it was Dior. “I came upon an art supply shop. The canvases that Cael and Charon brought back,” he gestured to the walls behind him where the canvases were now hung on display. “They are really,” the goat stood back and looked at the wall with an air of satisfaction. “Very good.”
Blaise had pushed the dining table closer to the couch in order to create a bare space in the L shaped area where the wing of the apartment which hosted the spare bedrooms formed the internal wall. He had set up an easel, laid drop cloths, and an artist’s stool, as well as a table with palates and paints neatly arranged. Stacks of blank canvas waited for the artist to select one and begin his next project.
“Will he like it, do you think?” Blaise asked anxiously.
Dior wrapped his arms around the goat. “He will love it.”
“Good,” Blaise released the breath he had been holding. “Talking about mates,” he frowned suddenly. “Verity has been in the bathroom a long time.”
“Verity?” Dior raised his eyebrows.
“I brought her back with me,” Blaise explained. “She was feeling tired after her blood donation to the vampires and needed to lie down. Perhaps that is what she has done?” He crossed the living area towards the bedroom, with Dior on his heels.
They tiptoed into the bedroom, expecting to find their female mate asleep in the nest, but the nest was empty, and the bathroom door closed. Blaise and Dior met eyes, and the goat shrugged, knocking on the door. “Verity?” He asked.
There was a long pause and the door opened slowly. Verity looked pale and tired, her eyes bloodshot and red, as if she had been crying. Dior was alarmed. “Is something wrong?” He asked her immediately moving forward.
“No,” she said, and held out a plastic stick, tears already running down her cheeks. “Not wrong.”
Dior took the plastic stick from her and looked at it blankly, and then he realised what it was that he held, and he almost dropped it in shocked surprise. “Cubs,” he said, meeting Blaise’s eyes. The goat beamed and seized hold of their female mate, crushing her against him as he danced a few steps, before catching her face between his hands and kissing her hard.
“Cubs,” Blaise confirmed.
“I am pregnant,” Verity was overwhelmed by Blaise’s enthusiasm, blinking.
“Cubs,” Dior pulled her against him and kissed her before dropping to his knees and pressing his lips against her stomach. “Hello in there.”
“Why do you keep saying cubs?” Verity wondered. “Like there is more than… oh,” she blinked. “Are all gargoyle births multiples?”
“All,” Blaise crooned nuzzling under her neck and breathing in deeply. “She does smell different.” He decided.
“More so closer,” Dior pressed his nose against her stomach and breathed in deeply. “Yes, I can smell them.” It was a good smell, he thought. One that made him want to taste her to see if she was as sweet to the tongue as she was to smell.
“Cubs,” Blaise wrapped his arms around himself, grinning widely. “Cubs, Dior.”
“We should tell the others,” Dior decided, rising. “It is cause for celebration. We will let the other gargoyles know. No more donations,” he added sternly to Verity. “Lots of rest, good food… Cubs,” he said to Blaise.
“Oh my god,” Verity laughed incredulously. “You are so excited. I never realised how important this was to you. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know, if that makes sense.”
“You are pregnant,” Blaise kissed her. “You are allowed to not make sense.”
Dior felt the vibration through the floor that indicated that another gargoyle had landed. “Etienne!” He called over his shoulder.
The griffin came into the bedroom having shifted into his man-form. He raised his eyebrows. “Are we having sex?” He wondered with a slow grin. “I am happy with that.”
“Maybe sex, soon,” Dior agreed, the scent of the pregnant Verity stirring him. He held out the test to the griffin, and the other gargoyle took it from him looking as confused as Dior must have, the lion thought with amusement. And then the expression shifted.
“C’est magnifique,” Etienne murmured, and his eyes flicked up to Dior. “Cubs?”
“Cubs,” Dior confirmed. By his reckoning, it had to be one of the gargoyles that had succeeded in getting Verity pregnant.
“Ah, Verity,” Etienne wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair. “Notre chou. No more blood for the vampires, c’est bon?”
“C’est bon,” she replied, her accent a perfect mimicry of Etienne’s, Dior thought with pride. They would have her swearing in French, in no time.
“Much rest, good food,” Etienne continued. “No more big healings.”
“I will let Elior know,” Dior’s cheeks hurt from the pull of his smile, and he felt as if the sun shone from his chest, his heart beaming from him with his joy. “Ah, Verity,” he pulled both griffin and female mate into his embrace. “This is such well timed good news.”
As gargoyle pregnancies trended to threes, Verity would give the species three new males within a few months. A major achievement for every triad, one that, in times of peace and plenty, would have every blood relation within travelling distance descending on their home in order to assist the triad and their mate through the pregnancy and early years of the new triad. Gargoyles believed heavily in a village raising their children, the village being as many blood relations as could be present, in shifts, to ensure that the pregnant mate rested and conserved energy towards growing the cubs.
“We should get Charon,” he decided, his eyes going to the window, and as swiftly, his heart twisted. A portal glowed on the horizon, turning blue sky rosey. He saw Blaise and Etienne follow his eyes and Etienne swallowed. “Tres bien, my mates. Such is life.”
“Oh no,” Verity’s eyes filled as she realised that one mate was already on a dangerous journey back to the Nephilim realm and the other three had to fly into battle. “When will this end?”
“Soon, Verity,” Dior’s lips grazed her forehead. “Soon. And our cubs will be raised in the world that we win for them. If that is not reason enough to fight and win, I do not know what is, hmm, my mates?” He looked from Etienne to Blaise.
“Un fils de pute,” Etienne muttered. “Verity, fear not, we will be back, soon, triumphant.”
She nodded, fighting back tears.
“Stay here,” Dior told her.
She did not reply as they headed through the living area, shifting into gargoyle form as they reached the balustrade, and hurdling it into the sky to answer the call of the rose-coloured sky, a call to arms.