Chapter Nine
Fern
Those bat bastards all file out and the lights in our cages go out. I curl my fists in frustration. From what I can tell, at least two of the groups are interested in me being their baby-mama.
Fuck that shit.
I press my calves together to feel the comforting weight of my short sword. I’ll take at least one of those shitheads out before they end me, I promise myself. If I could get two, I’d feel like it was a fair trade.
My eyes close as I let my face rest on my pulled up knees. It’s been a hell of a day, and I’m sure it’s far from over. Fuck.
Suddenly, a green light fills my cell.
Oh fuck, that’s the group with the two obvious military goyles.
The way they stood, walked, gave it away.
It’s odd, how eerily similar their stance and carriage is to human military.
I can recognize it a mile away. It’s served me well in knowing which goyles to avoid. Or only take out from a distance.
Being given to a chime with two military officials was bad. Really bad.
A guard steps forward and unlocks my cage.
I quickly consider my options. Stab him: Good vibes, bad plan. Make him drag me out of here kicking and screaming: Bad vibes, good plan. Walk out head held high... ugh, that’s the one, isn’t it?
Fuck, I’d rather stab him.
I stand up and shake my skirts out. The guard takes my arm roughly and I bite my lip, allowing it. I’m marched out a different door than I was carried through when I was thrown in this shithole.
I blink, trying to adjust to the bright light and I can’t resist the urge to yank my arm away from the guard.
The three goyles I pinned are all staring at me. They have their wings back and down, which I know is meant to show me that they are not threatening.
I snort and cross my arms under my chest.
The tallest, with a blue-tint to his grey skin, steps towards me slowly. One of the militants. The third, with a brownish color to his skin, is obviously some pencil pusher. A lab rat maybe.
Their technology has outpaced ours and yet, many of our living standards have gone backwards. No cars, minimal electricity, all guns and large weapons confiscated and destroyed, disintegration of mega cities in favor of compounds made up of thirty to fifty homes.
The leader smiles, the almost friendly look on his face making me recoil. It’s wrong, they are not calm, not good.
He holds out an open hand, as if he wants me to put my hand in his. A hand big enough that he could crush my skull.
“My name is Earl alpha Archibald Walsh. We are the Ryleck Chime. My bonded: alpha Ebenezer Walsh and alpha Theodore Walsh.” He gestures to the two males behind him.
I stand, staring at his extended hand. Chimes have sex. All members.
I raise an eyebrow. “Brothers? That’s kinky.”
Quicker than I can track, this gargoyle has a hand on my lower back as he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Watch your mouth, bride. I’m not keen on allowing others to see your bare, upturned ass while you’re punished, but I cannot allow disrespect to stand.
This will be your only warning to watch your sharp tongue in public.
” He steps back, keeping a hand on me possessively.
Or maybe he’s worried about what I might do. He fucking should be.
The other militant grins, “Not brothers, little bride. We take the name of our leader when we bond.” He slides closer to me, sniffing. The third goyle eyes me nervously.
The second continues, “Let’s take our bride home,” his voice huskier and lower than it was a moment ago. A look passes his face that I recognize. That any woman would recognize.
It burns the fear right out of me, fury settling deep in my bones instead.
The leader steps into me and scoops me up as if I was a wayward toddler. I quickly bend my knee, making sure my sheath is hidden. His body is hard, sturdy, heavy-feeling.
But I know that their flesh parts just as well as a human’s under a sharp blade. I hear the others follow as he leads them outside, in the open air of the evening.
“Hold tight, bride,” he whispers, “For you’re about to get your first taste of flight.” And he bends at the knees before leaping into the air, his wings flapping strongly. I bite down my squeak of fear. I will not show weakness to these statues.
My Mom had told me that when I was a babe, we flew on an airplane to Florida to visit my grandmother. It was right before the flights were grounded by the goyles. I don’t remember it, and our photos were lost. But I’ve seen the big metal birds, all rotting now, and stripped of anything useful.
Yet, I cannot imagine that that could have been worse than this.
Each time the goyle’s wings folded down, his body dipped in the air disconcertingly.
Occasionally he held them out horizontally and glided.
I found that more stressing actually. I watched his wings flap over his arm, as I absolutely refused to rest my head on his chest. I saw the other two flitting in and out of view like overgrown insects.
I’m trying to track our general direction so I have some idea of where they live in relation to Sylrya. Generally north, it seems.
Soon enough, I’m jarred by a rough landing, but this big brick wall doesn’t seem bothered by it and he drops my legs and slides me down his body. His hands hold my elbows until he’s sure I’m steady.
I narrow my eyes. False kindness will not sway me.
I quickly turn to take in my new cage. We’re on a large balcony a few stories up that appears to run the entire length of the house.
I see some tall juniper trees near the balcony.
No other homes; higher-ranking gargoyles often live separately.
Part of it is because they can travel distances fast, but I think part of it is merely to rub it in our faces; that we can no longer move freely.
I know that most gargoyles have empty lower floors to their homes, often without doors, using their wings to get upstairs instead. That will pose an issue for me, but it’s not unsurmountable.
The stone arches are open to the living space inside.
A hand touches my lower back and I jump away without thinking.
The stone bat chuckles and I realize it’s the other militant.
I study his face. His skin is very pale grey and his hair is white and tied back and small horns protrude from it.
His features look chiseled, as is common for them. He’s beautiful in a cold way.
“My name is Theodore, but most call me Theo,” he smiles, his white, human-looking teeth disturbing in his face.
The lab rat clears his throat, “Our female will call us ‘Sir’ or ‘Alpha’ until we are satisfied with her training. Then, perhaps, we will grant her use of our names.” His hair is pure white and tied back in a bun.
“C’mon, Ben,” Theo practically whines.
The first, Arch, answers. “Ben is right. We will do things by protocol.” His tone brokers no argument and his long tail snaps out behind him.
I walk, unbidden, into the house, through the archway.
It’s a modern home, a large kitchen, extra space for their wings between the counters and the long island, a fancy refrigerator and oven.
To the right is a sunken living room, plush white couches and tall, dark shelves covered in books.
My anger flares and I spin, unable to check my mouth.
“Why do you get modern appliances and electric lights? We have candles and wood stoves.” I scowl.
“Our female needs a lesson, I believe,” Arch rumbles. “But since you don’t know the rules, I will be lenient this time. Your tone is unacceptable and rude. We will not be spoken to in such a manner without consequences again. Do you understand, bride?”
I manage to keep my mouth shut and nod.
Theo grins easily, “The proper answer is ‘Yes, Sirs,’ little bride.” His tapered tail seems to reach for me but stops mid-air. He turns and rustles around in a cabinet.
I take a deep breath in through my nose. I must comply until I can escape. “Yes, Sirs,” I practically spit.
All three goyles chuckle. “Good enough for a start,” says Theo.
The one with the horns, Theo, steps towards me and I flinch backward. He holds out his free hand open and drops his wings more. “Easy, sweetling. I just want to heal those injuries.” His other hand holds a jar with some off-white salve.
I consider for a moment, but then hold out my hand for the jar.
Theo snorts and steps into my space, twisting the jar open and spreading his wings around us.
I’m pinned by the island behind me, so I simply stand, eyes averted, as his big hand tenderly spreads the salve around my eye, on the throat and my lip.
His eyes show anger, but his touch is kind.
Anger that I’m wounded? As his finger lingers on my bottom lip, I glare at him.
He seems to bite back a smile as he steps away to return the jar to its location.
Arch continues, “To answer your question, we are allowed advanced technology because we know how to use it properly, how to conserve, how to fix broken things instead of throwing them out to rot. Because our energy is captured passively from the sun. Because our water systems recycle water and use grey-water for our garden.” His voice has an angry edge to it.
I say nothing, surprised by his answer. I pull my shawl tighter around me, suddenly cold.
Ben steps forward and his cool hand is tracing a line up my forearm. I freeze.
“Our female is cold, her skin has pebbled,” his voice contains worry and I frown.
Arch strides into the home, holding his wings out and gliding down the four steps to the sunken living room, straight to the fireplace.
He squats down, his large thighs obvious through his expensive pants.
He quickly lights a match and puts it to the already stacked firewood and tinder.
I watch his tail swish back and forth like a nervous cat.
He stands and turns, holding out his hand to me, “Come, little one.”
My face is going to freeze in a frown at this point, but I step forward. As I take the steps, he grabs my elbow gently.
“Sit, bride,” he rumbles, directing me to a chair by the fire. I do, making sure my skirts don’t slip up, and cross my foot with the blade behind the other. If I can get to my room and hide it, that will be better. I could save it for a good time.
“Theo, Ben, go light the other fireplaces please. We will need to remember that our female is more fragile than we are.”
They disappear for a time but soon they all come into the living room and take seats near me. My heart pounds as my mind rolls through different scenarios while I stare into the fire.
After some time, Arch clears his throat. “Bride, I think it will be best if we go over your duties and expectations.”
I somehow manage to bite back a growl that rises in my throat. Duties and expectations. What fucking trash.
Arch straightens himself in his chair, though when I flick a glance to his face, it’s almost... soft. “We already covered disrespectful speech. You may—”
“Am I not allowed to disagree with you?” I snap.
“Sirs,” Ben growls from the other side of me.
I take a deep breath. “Am I not allowed to disagree with you, Sirs?” I attempt not to snarl.
Theo chuckles, “Baby steps.”
Arch continues as if he wasn’t interrupted, “You may speak freely as long as you are respectful. That includes disagreement, but only in private. In public there is never to be any disagreement or questioning. If you are being punished, of course, there may be additional restrictions upon your behavior.”
I snort, unable to stop myself. “Restrictions upon my behavior? What the actual fuck does that mean?”
Arch’s eyes widen and Theo grins. Ben leans forward and in the silence that now lays heavily upon the room, I realize that I have well and truly fucked up.
Arch stands and his wings make a small flap before closing back in. Not trying to intimidate. Doesn’t really need to, does he? He fucking owns me now.
Before Arch can say anything, Theo growls, “I know what to do with a dirty mouth.”
Arch makes a noise of agreement. “Bride, you are never to speak to us such. Do you not think that swearing at us with your human words would be considered disrespectful?”
Nervousness dances in my belly as the other two stand as well.
“I’m...I’m sorry, Sirs.” I look down at my hands in my lap. “It has been a... hard day. May I retire to my room?” I have to hide this fucking sword.
Ben answers, “You do not have a room. You will sleep wherever we wish it.” The slender gargoyle’s skin seems flushed.
Theo speaks up, “I think perhaps she will listen better naked.”
Fury roars through me and I avert my gaze. Arch steps towards me. “I agree, I think perhaps our kindness is being mistaken for weakness.”
I snort. “Kindness? Do you mean not throwing me, a much smaller and weaker being, to the floor to be fucked the moment we landed?”
Arch’s hands take my elbows and pull me to my feet. He’s huge, nearly a foot taller than me and his hands are cool through the thin fabric of my blouse.
“Disrobe, little bride. You have lost the privilege of clothes.”
Panic beats its wings inside my chest. My sword.
“Please, Sir. I will. Of course, I will. But... may I use the bathroom first?”
Arch frowns and releases me. “You have five minutes. Come back bared to us.”