The Wolf (Everdark Tales #2)

14.

Queen

F ollowing Alex’s noiseless footsteps as we make our way to the East Wing, he briefly explains to me how the next days are going to go. Without him. I focus on the sound of his otherworldly voice, trying to memorize the deep timbre, as if it might somehow keep me steady when he’s gone.

Gone…

I can’t believe it’s already Halloween, and they’re leaving first thing in the morning. The mere thought alone sends a lump rising in my throat. But I hold back my tears. Not now, not here. The last thing I want is for Alex to notice how close I am to breaking. He’s got enough to deal with. I know he needs me to be strong.

I’m so scared, though. The fear feels unbearable, like a weight pressing down on my chest, and my nerves are frayed to the edge. Of course, it doesn’t help that my damn period is coming, making everything more dramatic than it needs to be with my emotions spiraling out of control.

“Everything will be fine,” he says softly, sensing my mood.

“It’s just…” I manage to whisper, though my voice feels scratchy and tight. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures me, but it does very little to calm me down.

“If I don’t die out of boredom first.” My laugh is too loud, too forced, yet I cling to it like a shield.

He lets out a heavy sigh, clearly recognizing my sarcasm for what it is. “It’s not like I’m leaving you alone.”

“Oh, right. Because that makes it better.” I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “So who’s this mysterious he , anyway?” I ask as we continue our way to the forgotten part of the castle.

“A gargoyle,” Alex replies matter-of-factly.

“A what ?” I stop in my tracks in the middle of the corridor, staring at him dumbfounded. “You didn’t mention gargoyles.”

“Well, there aren’t any left. He’s the last of his kind, and not the most social one,” he clarifies. “My mother freed him from his captivity at Notre Dame, but he quickly became a problem after her death. Now, he’s bound to the castle to keep him contained.”

“And it’s necessary for him to act as my bodyguard?” I press, folding my arms and leaning back against the mossy stone wall.

“Yes,” he says simply, his unwavering tone making it clear he doesn’t intend to argue. “I’m not sure how long we will be gone.”

“Ugh, it’s either you being back before I know it or you gone for hell knows how long.”

“Both can be true at the same time, silly.” He seems slightly amused. I’m fucking glad he finds my panic hilarious. Guess I’m a comedian now.

“You never even told me what this whole operation is about!” I snap, the words spilling out before I can stop myself. And that’s that for my composure—it lasted a good five seconds. I may be acting childish, but I’m too frustrated to care. I’ve seriously had enough of the secrets.

“There’s this highly classified and very remote military base in Nevada—”

“Area 51?” I interrupt, raising an eyebrow.

He nods, looking both tired and unbending. “They conduct experiments there, using ancient technology.”

I stare at him, the words taking a moment to sink in. “What kind of experiments are we talking about here?”

“Splicing DNA. Mixing species. They’re playing god, just as they used to back in the day. There’s no new thing under the sun,” he tells me, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disgust. “We’re planning to break out as many as we can.”

My stomach tightens, remembering the hybrids we fought in Michigan. “Won’t they be dangerous?” I keep my face calm, but it’s hard to ignore the small pangs of unease building inside me.

He shrugs, his gigantic stature shifting slightly. “Some of them, sure. But why should we let our kind suffer? And maybe some of them will join us. We need numbers.”

I narrow my eyes at him, suspicion creeping into my voice. “Numbers for what?”

“To fight Lilith and her demons,” he says bluntly.

I blink at him, stunned. “But isn’t she sealed away?”

Alex’s jaws tighten, and his expression hardens. “The government isn’t necessarily our biggest opposition,” he says, his voice lowering. “Some of the top world elite—powerful families—they’re actively trying to bring Lilith back. They believe they’re descended from Nephilim bloodlines, and they’re the ones pulling the strings from the deep shadows.”

My breath catches, and all I can think is, Meg was right . This all sounds exactly like one hell of a conspiracy theory.

“That’s the endgame?” I ask slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alex nods. “Yeah. Create the New World Order with Lilith as the ruler like it was when she first overthrew Satan.”

I shake my head, disbelief churning in my gut. “But… you’re the Antichrist,” I blurt out.

Alex chuckles, a humorless sound that echoes faintly in the empty hallways. “According to their religion, I’m the one who’s supposed to bring the Apocalypse—which, for them, is the war against Lilith.”

My mind races, trying to process everything. “So… we’re the good guys?” I ask finally, though the question feels absurd even as it leaves my lips.

Alex tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “Depends on who’s telling the story.”

For a moment, silence falls between us, the enormity of what he’s just told me settling over me like a thick fog. I can almost feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest.

But I take a deep breath, the realization sinking in. He doesn’t keep me in the dark out of malice—he’s trying to protect me. And maybe I don’t need to know everything right away to not drive myself insane. And yet, I can’t help but feel this sinking pit in my stomach.

“Come, let’s wake him up.” Alex grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “He’s just a precaution, I should be back in a couple of days. We’re strong, and with Satan, it’s a sure win.” He squeezes my hand in his grip a little harder. “Julia, I don’t want you to stress over this so much.”

Victory may be certain. But nobody ever talks about fatalities. What if Alex falls in the heat of battle?

What if we don’t have our future together?

“I’m… fine ,” I only reply. All I know is that he needs to have a clear mind and not stress over me .

At the end of the corridor, Alex opens a tall, aged oak door, leading me inside. The chamber seems colder, a creeping chill seeps deep into my bones. A single blue orb flickers against the granite walls, ghostly shadows ripple along the vaulted ceiling, and my eyes land on the gargoyle crouched in the far corner. At first glance, he’s nothing but a lifeless statue, yet something about his stillness makes my skin crawl. He sits hunched, his featherless, bat-like wings folded tight against his back, his smooth, marbled grey skin blending into the pedestal he’s carved from.

Alex strides ahead confidently, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing presence. I hesitate, lingering just behind him, peeking out nervously from the side of his furry arm. His voice is deep and commanding as he suddenly speaks in Latin, the words roll off his tongue like an ancient spell… or maybe that’s what it is.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the air shifts, and with almost imperceptible movement, the gargoyle’s eyes roll from the back of his head, revealing a silvery-violet glow in their depths, reminding me of amethyst crystals. His chiseled, alien face, both terrifying and intriguing, turns slightly as his gaze sharpens into focus—unearthly, penetrating, and immediately unnerving. The horns curling from his temples are symmetrical, sleek, and deadly looking.

A dark purple, spear-shaped tongue flicks out briefly before he speaks, his voice a low, resonant, inhumane growl that echoes in the cavernous room. “Who dares to…” His words trail off as his eyes lock on Alex. Recognition crosses his stony features, followed quickly by a sneer. “Ugh. You ,” he scoffs, his tone dripping with disdain. “What is it that you want from me?”

Alex crosses his arms, his towering frame forming a long, shadowy silhouette over the gargoyle. His expression doesn’t falter, steady and unyielding. “Is that really how you want to address me?”

“You’re not my king,” the gargoyle snaps, his low-pitched voice laced with venom.

Alex’s eyes narrow, and I catch an eerie warning flashing in the molten gold pools. “You will show me respect.”

The gargoyle leans forward, his claws scraping against the edge of his pedestal. “That was me being respectful.”

Alex doesn’t rise to the bait. “I have a job for you.”

The gargoyle straightens, his wings moving in sync with his back muscles, creating a gentle, pulsing vibration in the space between us. “No.” The refusal is immediate, flat, and final. “I’m not interested.”

“You live among us,” Alex counters, his voice sharp as a blade, “so make yourself useful for a change.”

The gargoyle laughs bitterly. “I didn’t choose this prison.”

“You once promised your alliance to the Queen.”

“The Queen is dead,” the gargoyle replies, his voice quieter now, though no less scornful. “I owe you nothing.”

“I’ve taken a queen.”

There’s a pause. The gargoyle tilts his head, considering Alex’s words, then his lip curls upward in a mocking grin. “My service was to your mother,” he says, still defiant, “not you. Never you.”

My breath catches as Alex steps aside, revealing me. I swallow hard, my blood pounding in my ears. The gargoyle’s glowing eyes land on me, and his attitude changes. His body angling toward me, his gaze softens, curiosity replacing derision as his nostrils flare. I can tell he’s caught my scent in the draft.

“A human?” he asks, his voice filled with quiet surprise.

“Julia is related to Mary, Queen of Scots,” Alex says, his voice steady. “Perhaps you remember her?”

I glance up at him, confused by what’s the significance, but the gargoyle’s interest visibly spikes.

“Of course.” He exhales, the sound like wind rushing through a canyon. “I was at Notre Dame on the day of her wedding.”

Alex nods, and there’s a long silence again after that. “We are at active war with hunters,” he finally begins, his voice firm but tinged with pressing urgency. “I have to leave. We are all leaving tomorrow. I’m asking you for help to monitor her while we deal with the matters.”

The gargoyle’s gaze shifts between us, unreadable. His wings twitch some more and open a bit, the sharp points at their peaks casting jagged shadows against the walls. But he remains quiet.

Alex then sighs, a hint of weariness slipping through his regal demeanor. “I’ll free you after you do me this service. You have my word.” The promise hangs in the air, heavy with tension.

Free him?

I steal a glance at Alex’s profile, and I can’t help but swallow the lump forming in my throat. He’s making arrangements for my safety— because he won’t be here to protect me himself . That thought has been circling my mind all day, sharp-edged and unwelcome, too raw. I tighten my arms around myself, forcing my expression to stay neutral, but inside, my heart feels like a clenched fist. How many dangers will he face while I sit here, waiting?

The gargoyle stirs, coming fully to life, wings unfurl, creating a thundering sound of dry leather cracking. His movements are fluid as he rises from the pedestal, unfolding to his full height. His form is as graceful as it is spooky. He stands just a smidge shorter than Alex, though his massive wings and horns give him an aura of size that seems almost impossible to contain in this room.

His body is lean and muscular, shimmering faintly in the dim light, with hints of lilac in the undertones of his greyish skin. His bipedal legs are powerful, ending in wide feet with hooked claws that resemble some ancient reptilian predator. A long, pointed tail trails behind him, balancing his weight with every precise step. His wide arms, equally strong, end in large, clawed hands, much like Alex’s. He has elfish-like ears and dark, short, curly hair, while his face is angular with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and sharp, defined features.

When he stops in front of me, his eyes measure me carefully, and I feel my heart hammering in my chest. Up close, he’s far more monstrous and intimidating. Where Alex’s canine traits are familiar enough to soften his appearance into something scary but fluffy, the gargoyle is so outlandish, almost grotesque. If he chased me through the woods, I would honestly have a heart attack. He’s the embodiment of a nightmare, and I can’t shake off that panicky feeling just looking at him.

At last, he pans his eyes over to Alex. “For the Queen,” he says, ever so slightly bowing his head. “I’ll do it for the Queen.”

Alex places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to exit the chamber. He stops in the doorframe, giving the gargoyle a glance through his shoulder. “We celebrate Samhain tonight if you’d like to join us.”

He huffs in response, then, without any more words spoken, returns to his pedestal, freezing back into a statue.

“Charming, isn’t he?” Alex comments wryly, looking amused, his arm tightening around my waist reassuringly. “But he’ll keep you safe. That’s all that matters.”

I can’t hold back my question any longer, and I lean in closer, whispering, “What’s so important about my background?”

“The gargoyle understands monarchy. He responds well to the strong leadership of those with a lineage he respects. In his past, he was used to protect royals from creatures of the night—werewolves included.” Alex glances down, locking eyes with me, his golden stare steady. “He despises me but his loyalty to my mother runs deeper.”

I peek over at the now-lifeless marble carving, his monstrous form shrouded in shadow, a chill prickling my skin. “Um, I hope you’re correct about this,” I murmur, more to myself than Alex.

“He’ll do right by you. It’s in his nature.” His mouth twitches faintly as he adds, “And he has a weakness for beautiful women.”