Chapter Sixteen
Indeed, Archer was.
The reason Hermes suggested Witchmere’s guardian was simple. Gargoyles were made of the earth and not subjected to the whims of the Gods.
Or not usually, anyway. There were a few rare cases. Steps could be taken to protect them from Payton’s seductive vibe, and Hermes would do whatever was necessary to help his star-crossed charges.
Why the devil had he let Brelenia talk him into another project?
Because he was a sucker for love. He hadn’t always been.
But since meeting and falling for Storm Bringer, Hermes had softened toward romance.
Granted, Stormy hadn’t. She was still furious with him after all these years.
Yet, if he could help her sister, as he had with Elara, he might sway her—eventually.
His biggest concern? Payton’s pull. Sure, she was sexy, and before Hermes realized her connection to Stormy, he may have entertained the notion of becoming lovers.
Then he encountered his love again. Upon seeing how accepting she was of Elara, how willing she was to help her transition into her nymph-Titan self, he was forced to acknowledge he didn’t want another.
Only her.
His Stormy.
She was as volatile as her name, and he was down for it.
But even Hermes wasn’t immune to the boots anymore.
They had gone rogue, becoming strong enough to snare anyone alive.
Maybe dead, but hopefully those less fortunate souls would stay buried.
It would take the whole gargoyle crew working overtime to defend themselves from Payton’s new eau de tap that pheromone.
“I will ensure Vorren returns to his realm, Roche,” Hermes promised.
“You can’t.” Payton shook her head. “Dragon Daddy’s on a mission to find future babies. He was pretty fierce when he first landed. I wouldn’t bet on anyone’s chances if they try to stop his easter egg hunt.”
“Payton’s right,” Dailey said. “There’s no way he’s leaving without his ‘children.’”
“I’ll be there as soon as my clan arrives,” Archer said, voice tight. “Vorren can stay, but his henchmen go.”
“Consider it done,” Tripp assured him.
Hermes headed outside, leaving the others to handle arrangements with the gargoyle laird. He was halfway to Vorren when Dailey stepped in front of him.
“Are we risking a full-scale war, Hermes?”
“I don’t know, Law Dog,” he answered honestly.
He’d been unable to resist the nickname and smothered a grin when Dailey scowled.
“The gravel statues and pyromaniac lizards have been sworn enemies since the dawn of civilization. They were forged from opposing sources, fire and stone. After a boundary-breaking betrayal shattered their ancient pact, hell broke loose, ending whatever peace they’d maintained prior. ”
“What betrayal?” Dailey asked, as they resumed walking.
“A reckless youth decided he wanted the loot sealed inside a sacred tomb. The guardian didn’t appreciate the intrusion. Some believe he overreacted when he ripped off the dragon’s wings and had them stitched to his own body, using an enchanted thread.”
Dailey jerked to a halt. “Are you fucking serious? They can do that?”
“Technically, yes. The idiot faced his partner in crime, prepared to thank her. Unfortunately for him, he forgot who he was dealing with. When he met Medusa’s eyes, he was turned to stone.”
“But they’re already stone. That’s part of their makeup and lore,” he argued.
“No, not then it wasn’t. Gargoyles were once flesh and bone, no different than you.
Their power, however, is interwoven equally throughout the entire species.
A shared magic, if you will. Medusa’s curse spread through their bloodlines, binding them all to the crypts, churches, and buildings they once guarded. ”
Dailey blew out a breath. “Well, we know they can shift, so how did their ability come about?”
“There were those who petitioned the Gods for a reversal, arguing the creatures were essential in protecting their holy sites and castles. Without their guardians, the dragons were stealing their treasures, claiming their women, and eating their livestock. A few of the bolder ones commandeered fortresses or manor homes for their own.”
“It must’ve worked. Archer can change at will.”
“Yes, to a point. But every gargoyle must spend a minimum of twelve hours per day in their monolithic form. They can never be released completely. This is why there are multiple gargoyles on the richer estates. They take turns securing the property.”
Vorren didn’t bother climbing to his feet as they approached, and he continued using the blade of his pocketknife to scrape beneath his nails.
“Where did you get the knife?” Dailey asked, appearing disconcerted.
“Corvack. He remembers my superior throwing skill and feels it would be useful for me to have many weapons.”
Brows reaching his hairline, the law dog shook his head. “Dare I ask where you’ve stored them?”
Vorren shot him a mocking grin, to which Dailey rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, never mind.”
“I was never going to mind,” Vorren replied with a dismissive shrug and focused on Hermes. “What is it you seek, Trickster? You are here for a reason, and probably not a good one.”
“The Titan’s curse is growing stronger—” he began.
The dragon prince snorted. “No thanks to your wicked magic.”
“—and she needs defenders against the townspeople, as you are aware,” Hermes concluded.
“Is this not why I am here? To kill your villagers when they arrive with their pitched forks?”
“There will be no killing of villagers. And it’s pitchforks,” Dailey corrected.
“No, he literally means pitched forks. It’s a dragon euphemism for hard cocks,” Hermes said, sighing heavily. “Vorren, we don’t want you to kill the villa—er, townspeople. Most are decent, however simple they’ve become under the spell’s influence.”
“Yes, your foolish magic.” The dragon prince rose and crossed his arms. “You will never learn not to meddle, Trickster.”
“Probably not,” Hermes agreed. “But there are gargoyles on the way and—”
Vorren spat at their feet, and the fury in his eyes said he was one huff away from lighting them up. “You dare? I will not be in the presence of those curs!”
The arrogance in his tone spoke of his lineage, as did the proud stance. At his full height of six-and-a-half feet, with shoulders wide enough to block the sun, the dragon appeared as formidable as Hermes knew him to be.
“It will be one—Archer—and he has agreed to a truce for Payton’s benefit, but only if your men leave,” Dailey said.
Vorren turned his fiery gaze on him. “You were not addressed, Law Dog. I am speaking to your devious friend.”
Whether it was the officer in Dailey or his ego, Hermes couldn’t begin to say, but the man’s back went ramrod straight, and he stepped into the dragon prince’s space.
“You’re not a ruler here, Vorren. You’re nothing more than an overgrown pyromaniac lizard with an attitude, and you certainly don’t call the shots in my town.”
“Pyromaniac lizard,” Vorren said silkily, his eyes narrowing.
Hermes beamed and slapped Dailey on the back.
“Our Law Dog here is a fast learner. He got that particularly fine insult from me.” If he could deflect the dragon’s rage to himself, his love-lorn charge had a better chance of survival and fulfilling the boots’ demands, so the rest of the world survived.
“Incoming!” Tripp shouted from behind them.
FWOOOOOOOSH—
Hermes glanced up and swallowed hard. The meteorite above them was the largest yet. Without pausing to consider, he froze time.
Vorren shifted and glanced upward, but his movements were slow, similar to a person running through water. Hermes checked Tripp’s response, wondering if he, too, had registered the dragon’s ability to push through a god’s magic.
His dark frown attested to the fact that he had.
“Free him to destroy the threat, Hermes,” Tripp ordered.
The instant he did, Vorren half-shifted, as only royals of his realm could.
His wings unfurled, wider than the expanse of the cabin, and he launched himself skyward from a dead stop.
A single, forceful flap of those iridescent appendages bent trees under its tropical-storm strength winds.
The second beat kicked up debris into the faces of those present, and Hermes quickly redirected it from those on terra firma.
Vorren’s hands, now larger than a normal human’s, sprouted talons, allowing him to grip the flaming rock. And, like an All-Star basketball player, he palmed the meteor and landed with grace, as if touching down from a slam dunk. Meeting Hermes’s gaze, he said, “Unfreeze him.”
Since Dailey was the only one still locked in place, there was little doubt about who the dragon prince referred to.
“If you intend to brain him with the rock, I’ll have to object,” he said, crossing his arms to show he meant business.
Tripp shielded Dailey by stepping in front of him. “Yes, no killing the mortals, Highness.”
“I shall not kill him, but I am not beyond a physical display of strength. He should know who it is he insults.”
Hermes shook his head as Tripp sighed and shifted away. “He won’t be moved,” he said.
Tripp nodded his agreement. “Likely, he’ll double down on his rules for your visit.”
Vorren lifted a brow, happy to wait them out.
“Fine.” With a snap of his fingers, he reset time, then pointed behind Dailey when the man’s face scrunched in his confusion. “There.”
The instant the officer’s gaze touched on him, the dragon prince pulverized the rock. Though he paled, Dailey squared his shoulders and stalked forward. “Another meteor.” His tone was measured, face neutral. “It appears I must offer my thanks once again for your timely actions, Vorren.”
“It was heading for me,” the dragon prince retorted. “You tried to harm me with your sky stones!”
“Not on purpose.” Dailey gestured to Hermes with his thumb. “You can blame that fucker.”
After a long, measuring look, Vorren retracted his claws, dusted off his hands, and held one out. “Your bravery is noted, as is your wisdom of who the true culprit in your drama is. We shall become friends, you and I.”
Dailey opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Accepting the overture, he shook hands. “At the very least, friendly acquaintances.”
Mouth twitching, as if fighting a grin, Vorren nodded and turned to Hermes. “I will require none of my detail to remain if you three shall vouch for the gargoyle. But if he betrays the truce, I will burn your village to the ground with all your people inside. Understood?”
“There is no need to threaten them, brother-mine.”
Shimmering light encircled their group, as one by one, a small hoard of dragon guards appeared. There were ten in all, with the largest dressed all in black. He grinned in the face of Dailey’s shock.
“You did not feel us? This is good,” the man said.
The weighty stench of sulfur filled the air around them, and Dailey, unprepared, gagged.
“I suspected you were around, but not this close.” His free hand fell to his belt, and Hermes suspected it was an old habit when he felt threatened or needed to resume control of a sticky situation. Too bad the arm covering his mouth and nose ruined his big-man-on-campass look.
“I present my half-brother, Nazek,” Vorren said, ignoring Dailey’s building tension and the offending smell. “Do not expect too much from him. He was dropped on his head at birth and is slower than most.”
Nazek barked a laugh. “Yes, I am all brawn, no brain.”
He was charming and relaxed, whereas his princely half-brother was haughty and rigid. Hermes attributed the difference to their stations in life. Vorren carried a burden he didn’t wish to, and Nazek was free to be himself, without the weight of expectations or crowns.
“We’ve met.” Tripp shot Nazek a grin. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
“And you, Nightshade.” Turning to the other men, he said, “You shall return to Drakoryth.”
To a one, the security detail protested. “King Rhagorr will disembowel us should we leave Prince Vorren unprotected.”
“You aren’t,” Vorren said succinctly. “Nazek will stay. He, along with these gods, will ensure my safety.”
Archer touched down on those words. Two gargoyles flanked him, and every dragon in the clearing went still.
Dailey hung his head. “Fuck.”