Chapter 3
Another bolt of lightning lights up the sky. Everything happened so fast, and I know I only have seconds until I hit the cobblestone path beneath me. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain.
It never comes.
Instead, someone catches me, strong arms stopping the fall with ease before I hit the ground.
So many thoughts rush through my head, with the first being how grateful I am not to be lying on the stones right now.
The second is wondering who the fuck caught me, though deep down, I already know the answer.
I twist, pushing against his chest. It’s bare. Hard with muscle. Cold from the rain. He lets me go, setting me down on my feet. I don’t have my gun, but I’m far from defenseless. Though one look at the man before me leaves me doubtful my years of martial arts training will do a damn thing.
In the dark, he’s a monstrous shadow, a looming shape inching toward me.
I curl my fists and inhale, ignoring my pounding heart.
The man steps forward, and another bolt of lightning flashes overhead.
His eyes, dark brown, deep, and holding back emotion, meet mine.
Suddenly, the air turns electric and everything around me stops.
The wind.
The rain.
Everything fades, and it’s just my heart beating along with his.
He’s familiar in a way that doesn’t make the smallest bit of sense, and I find myself craving to move closer, almost as much as I want to run away.
For a fleeting moment, as I look at him as he looks at me, something passes between us.
The rain pelts down harder, and thunder rumbles in the distance. I can feel the others closing in on me, and I whirl around to see three more dark shadows drawing near. They’re surrounding me, yet for some insane reason, I don’t feel threatened.
Then the power flickers back on, and light from the porch lamps spills into the yard.
I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit throughout the years as a cop, and I’ve never once come close to screaming.
But what I see before me right now makes a scream rise in my throat.
I inhale sharply, mouth falling open, and step back, only to stop and whirl around.
The three men behind me aren’t any different. I rapidly blink raindrops from my eyes, brain going crazy trying to discern what the hell I’m seeing. Because it makes no sense. I risk a half-second glance behind the advancing men, needing to be sure.
“What the fuck?” I mumble out loud. The gargoyles from the porch are gone. I look back at the men before me. It can’t be, but it is.
They’re not men, not exactly. But they’re not the stone creatures that guarded the house mere hours ago. It’s too much. I blink and shake my head, positive I really did slip and fall and am suffering a concussion that’s causing me to hallucinate.
The one who caught me is close. I can feel his heat against my cold skin. I whirl around, arms out slightly to my sides, ready to fight. But what I see leaves me breathless, and I unfurl my fists.
His mouth is slightly open, the tips of his fangs visible behind his full lips. Large wings are folded at his back. His flesh is the color of stone, but his eyes are all human, and right now he’s looking at me as if I’m his long-lost puppy.
He takes a tentative step forward, staring at me with such intensity it makes a chill run down my spine.
“Braeya?” he asks, voice rough and gravelly. His face softens, eyes filling with longing. He raises his hand and I jerk away.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. The others are closing in, and I shake away the shock, going back into cop mode. “Stop where you are,” I order.
And they do.
“Take a step back.”
The one in front of me moves backwards, looking confused. I exhale and push my brunette hair out of my face. Nothing has prepared me for this. For the first time, I have no clue what to do. My phone has no service, but even if I could call the station, what the hell would I say?
They’d think I’d lost my shit.
“I’m Detective Bisset,” I start, gathering my composure. “From the Philadelphia PD. You better do what you’re told or I’ll arrest you all.” I eyeball them all and point at the man who’d caught me. “Over there, with the others.”
His eyes go from me to the others, and the same look of confusion takes over their faces as well. He moves gracefully for a man of his size. I take a minute to look them over.
They’re all tall and muscular, and handsome in a strange way. They’re more human than monster, save for the wings, fangs, and claws where fingernails should be. I push my shoulders back, take a deep breath, and try to come up with something intelligent to say to them to show my place of authority.
But all I can come up with is another, “What the fuck?”
The largest of the four steps forward. “Who are you?” he asks. His voice is deep, and his words rumble through me, causing tingles to rush between my legs.
“How about I ask the questions,” I counter, not liking how damn attractive I’m finding these strangers right now. “What are you?”
“We are brothers Templar.”
Rain starts to soak through my jacket. I suppress a shiver. “You’re Templar Knights?”
“We were.”
I blink, lips parting as I’m once again at a loss for words. “But now you’re…”
One of the men who was perched on the side of the porch cracks a smile. He’s youthful, looking the youngest of the bunch, and very good looking, even with the fangs.
“Now we’re gargoyles.” He laughs, and the odd sense of security I felt earlier vanishes. Gargoyles. No. Fucking. Way. I pull my arms around myself, trying to stay warm.
“How?”
“You’re shivering,” the one who caught me says.
“Yeah. It’s forty degrees and raining.”
“You should take shelter.”
My fingers are starting to feel numb, and the colder I get, the harder it will be to take part in a fight if one was to break out. But the thought of having those things inside the house with me is unnerving.
“Please, my lady,” he urges, looking at me as if he knows me…as if he misses me.
The cold is starting to seep into my bones, and the temperature is low enough for me to become hypothermic. Seeing that my options are either to stand here in a stare-off and slowly freeze to death or go inside, I choose the latter.
I move onto the covered porch, feeling better just to be out of the rain, and go to the door. Then I stop, whirling around. The door is locked. I came outside from the open window upstairs.
“Is something wrong?” one of the younger ones asks. He has sandy blond hair, a chiseled jaw, and rough stubble covering his face. Like the others, his flesh is more gray than tan. The discoloration webs across his broad chest, moving along with the veins under his skin, mottled and blotchy.
“It’s locked. I didn’t intend on being thrown off the roof when I went out there.” I’m impressed with the strength of my voice. I’m standing here shivering like mad, looking down the porch steps at four half-man, half-gargoyle creatures. I’m teetering on the edge of losing my shit for real.
“You slipped.” The dark-haired one moves in front of the others. “And I caught you.”
“I wouldn’t have slipped if you hadn’t startled me.”
He diverts his eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. With your permission, my lady, I can take you back to the roof.”
My mouth falls open and I slowly shake my head. He extends his hand and waits on my response. Things are already crazy. Why not take it one step further?
“Sure.”
Heart in my throat, I go down the porch steps. Thunder cracks and he lunges forward, arms going around my waist. It’s been so long since any man has touched me, I’d forgotten how good it feels to be in someone’s embrace.
Even his.
He’s strong, his hold on me unfaltering. My heart jumps and the strange urge to throw my arms around him takes over. Before I have a chance to process anything, he spreads his great wings and takes flight.
Landing on the top of the porch with grace, he keeps his hands around my middle to make sure I’m able to get my footing.
He slowly looks me over, hands still on my waist, and inhales deeply.
His lips part and the air fills with static tension again.
For a brief moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.
And for a brief moment, I want him to.
“Gargoyles aren’t supposed to be able to fly,” I say to myself, and shake off his embrace. Hell, gargoyles aren’t supposed to be at all. They’re just creepy statues. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Until now.
My gun is lying near the window. I make a dash for it, feeling a shade better when it’s back in my hands. I turn, expecting him to take a swing or something. My heart is racing and every nerve in my body is on fire from adrenaline.
Yet he just stands there, watching me.
I back away to the open window, mind racing with what the hell to do once I get inside. Slam it shut? Run downstairs and call for backup? Grab my keys and make a run for it? These things can fly. I don’t think I’d be able to get away.
“I’ll open the front door,” I tell him, and slip inside. Water drips onto the hardwood floor as I pull the sash down and twist the locks back into place. I don’t have any spare clothes, and stripping down and wrapping up in a blanket until my clothes dry isn’t an option.
The dresser near the door catches my attention as I leave the room.
I pause, turn on the light, and then take a step back to open the top drawer.
I rifle through the old clothes and pull out a long black dress.
Moving into the bathroom—just in case my new winged friends were watching—I quickly strip out of my wet clothes and slip the dress over my head.
It’s the last thing I’d choose to wear, but at this point, I’m so cold I’d welcome a potato sack if it was dry. I take the back stairs down, hanging my wet clothes on a kitchen chair to dry, and go to the front door.