When A Gargoyle Kidnaps Read online

  “You wanted me to abandon my mother.”

  Tom nodded, giving her almost a hangdog expression – not a sincere one mind. “That was my mistake. Your mother can move in with us, I mean, I’m sure she’ll be helpful when we have kids and…”

  “Kids?!”

  “After we get married, I think we should start trying straight away.”

  Gwen gaped at him. Damn! He didn’t just want his docile little girlfriend back; he wanted to lock her into marriage and get her to spawn his children!

  “Tom, I…”

  “Think about it,” he said with a wink, and before she could tell him no, or show him no by vomiting or something, he was gone. Sauntering out the library like he was walking on freaking sunshine.

  Marry that bonehead?! Was she really willing to go that far to save her house?

  Perhaps Tristan could… No, she really didn’t know anything about him; she couldn’t rely on him. Though, a message from him wouldn’t go amiss right now.

  *

  Tristan’s patience was wearing thinner than a tissue.

  He was itching to contact Guinevere but had no means to do so. The computer had not been replaced, and he had not been able to find anything else he could use. The humans always seemed to be tapping away on phones and tablets, and yet he could not find one when he needed it.

  He had already failed to contact her the previous evening. He would not do so again. He could almost feel the female slipping away him, and he knew he couldn’t let that happen.

  Perhaps Andrew could help; Tristan knew that the male owned his own computer. Something he called a laptop. Tristan was sure he could persuade him to lend it for an evening or two.

  Tristan strode into the garden, searching for the male. He found Grey and Cai sparring while Cai’s mate, Ingrede looked on, cheering her mate while holding their youngling Wolfe and patting her rapidly expanding stomach. It would not be long until she birthed their second youngling. Another young gargoyle; it was what the clan needed. Though, with all the human and gargoyle matings, soon there would be more than just Kylie expecting her own half human, half gargoyle offspring.

  “Where is Andrew?” he demanded sharply.

  Grey roared as he landed a blow on Cai’s right shoulder. The male stumbled back, growling and throwing his wings in front of him defensively. Ingrede bared her fangs while Grey smirked.

  “What are you doing out here?” sneered Grey. “Oh that is right – Luc destroyed your human computer. Finally managed to remember that you are a gargoyle and decided to join us for some sparring? I am already thrashing this one,” he jutted his chin at Cai.

  “By Hades, you are not!” howled Ingrede and Wolfe shook his little fist in agreement.

  “I’ll thrash you, too,” finished Grey, ignoring her.

  Tristan withheld the eye roll and turned to Ingrede. “Do you know where he is? I need to speak to him.”

  Ingrede opened her mouth to answer when Grey grasped his shoulder and Tristan reeled, his wings and fists flying in frustration, scoring a direct hit to the surprised Grey. Tristan sent him head over heels.

  Cai bellowed in laughter as Grey got to his feet, blinking in surprise.

  “Do not push me,” warned Tristan. He had just as much training as Grey, and while he may not be as large or strong, he was faster and perfectly capable of fighting.

  “No need to overreact,” scowled Grey.

  Though he was relieved that Grey seemed too stunned to finish the fight. Grey would likely annihilate him, and Tristan really didn’t have the time.

  Ingrede touched his arm, a small smile playing on her lips. “Andrew and Maggie are both out of the country. After they returned from Buenos Aires, they left straight away to go to Alaska.”

  Grey continued grumbling under his breath about ‘lucky shots’, but Tristan ignored him and nodded his thanks.

  Tristan needed a computer to speak to Guinevere. If he could not find one at the house, then it was time to go further afield.

  *

  Gwen had already walked halfway home when she realized she had forgotten to shut down all the library computers.

  She debated as to whether it could wait until the next day, but Myrna would be the first one in, and she wouldn’t be pleased. Gwen had been pushing Myrna enough recently by always being late and rumpled in appearance; she didn’t want to add to the reasons she was a bad employee.

  Her stomach growled threateningly. After Tom’s visit, she didn’t have the stomach to eat – she had thrown out her unappetizing looking sandwich, which had leaked all over her purse anyway. That was a mistake as she had been in a rush and missed breakfast. Now, she was pretty much running on empty and starting to feel a little woozy.

  But, she dutifully turned on her heels and marched back to town. Hey, people went on hunger strikes all the time – she’d manage for another hour or two.

  *

  Tristan took a few moments to wander around the town library.

  “So many books,” he murmured wondrously.

  In his time, he had found books and scraps of writing wherever he could. His clan had not been close to humans, and he was never permitted to enjoy any of their libraries. In his new home, the professor’s library was impressive for a private collection, but this was wonderful.

  He recalled Martha a few nights ago talking about the library, and how she was trying to raise money to buy newer computers than they already had and to have an alarm fitted. It meant at that moment, there was no alarm and there were computers, waiting to be used. Therefore, ideal for his purpose.

  The library had been easy to find. He had kept to the shadows and managed to pick the lock to the back door. Many gargoyles eschewed skills such as lock picking. Their clawed fingers were not ideal for the task, and they thought it far too sneaky. No, the correct gargoyle thing to do was to break down the door and cause as much mayhem and damage as possible. But Tristan understood the significance of stealth. It was a concept he had worked hard to teach his old clan before he realized they were un-teachable.

  He browsed a few of the titles, frowning at the large selection of paperbacks sporting pictures of females wearing very little and males bearing their chests. Apparently, this section was called romance. He picked one at random and flicked through a few pages. But realizing the need for urgency, he quickly found a computer, already happily turned on. It was a slower version of the mansion’s computer and fortunately he had no issues in using it.

  Tristan found the web page and sent a message to Guinevere, grimacing at the several messages of worry she had sent him. He apologized for not replying sooner and hoping she was doing well.

  He waited impatiently for a response, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He didn’t even hear the front door.

  *

  Gwen made her way through the library in the dark. She didn’t need lights; she knew the layout like the back of her hand.

  She paused as she was approaching the computers. Something wasn’t right.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  A figure turned, looming out of the darkness. It rose to its huge height, and illuminated against the computer screens she could make out wings and horns and…

  At that point, she fainted.

  *

  Now… post kidnapping

  “What is going on?” asked Grey approaching, and eyeing Castor and Tristan suspiciously.

  Tristan groaned. Yes, this was just what he needed.

  “It appears Tristan has kidnapped a human.” Castor was not quite as horror-stricken as Tristan assumed he would be. He actually seemed pretty calm.

  “Not on purpose,” hissed Tristan, cradling the small human a little closer as Grey tried to peer at her. “It just happened.”

  Grey nodded, his steel-like eyes turning even harder. “I see. You plan to ransom her back to the humans to teach them a lesson. Ruthless - I fully support it.”

  “No!” cried Tristan, glancing down at the still sleeping female.
/>   Grey pursed his lips in thought for a few moments before an idea seemed to strike him like lightening. “Then this female has done you an injustice, and you plan to punish her. Despicable – I fully support it.”

  “Of course not,” sighed Tristan.

  “Then why?”

  “It was an accident,” he maintained, though he wasn’t exactly sure how long he could maintain that, and by the looks on Castor and Grey’s faces, they didn’t accept that as an explanation even for a second.

  Castor took on a guarded look as his eyes flickered between him and his precious bundle. She was precious, too. The moment he saw her he had been struck by her face. It was perfect, absolutely symmetrical and appealing in a way he couldn’t understand, never mind explain. Her skin was pale, stark against the black of her hair and the rosiness of her cheeks – indeed they looked like two ripe apples. He was reminded of the fairy tale Snow White. She was how he imagined she would look, and she looked very much like the princess from the animated cartoon that Joely’s youngling adored. If he recalled, she ate a poisoned apple and had to be resuscitated by a prince. He did so by kissing her – quite unlike the resuscitation method he had read about in a medical journal, but it seemed to do the trick. Perhaps he should kiss her… Tristan blushed at his own fanciful ideas.

  “I fear this is a result of all your book learning,” droned Grey in an insufferably self-righteous voice. “This is why I refuse to learn how to read. Books can be dangerous.”

  Only when throwing them, Tristan thought acidly. He would remember to throw a few at Grey when this was all over.

  “Thank you for that, now what on earth should I do with her?”

  Grey snorted. “Have not your books taught you anything?”

  “I was talking to Castor.”

  “She has seen you?” rumbled the large gargoyle.

  “Yes,” he admitted reluctantly, “that is why she fainted.”

  Tristan adjusted her slightly in his arms, and her pale pink lips twitched. He had not known what else to do. She saw him. Hurt a little that it immediately made her faint, but humans were not used to seeing his kind.

  She had midnight black lashes that fanned over her cheeks. Her face was heart shaped and her mouth like a small rosebud. Her pert nose wrinkled as a lock of her silky black hair fell over her face. Carefully balancing her, he pushed it away. He did not like it covering her – he wanted to see her, all of her.

  He had thought to ask Gracchus for help, but the male was away somewhere and asking Luc and admitting his stupidity was not an option… yet. He thought Castor was the next best thing to Gracchus. Grey was just an unfortunate interloper to the situation.

  Castor looked at her thoughtfully. “Could you return her home, and perhaps she will believe it was nothing more than a dream?”

  “I am uncertain where she lives.”

  “Then return her to where you found her.”

  “Then he should not have taken her in the first place,” said Grey.

  “You are not helping!” snapped Tristan.

  He probably should have just left her. It had been dark; she could easily have believed she was mistaken in what she saw. But he had not wanted to leave her alone, unprotected. He had looked down at her small form and something stirred inside him.

  “We do not know that she would have simply thought it to be a dream. She could have told anyone and gargoyle hunters might have turned up at our door,” argued Tristan defensively.

  Castor let out a low, throaty sound. “Perhaps we could reason with her not to say anything.”

  “We?” huffed Grey.

  Tristan narrowed his eyes, wishing the male would take the hint and take himself away, far away – preferably Mongolia. “I am sure any reasoning you possessed would have her running to the nearest human authority she could find.”

  Castor nodded. “When she wakes up we will try and talk to her, for now, we can put her in the house – out of sight from the others.”

  “I will put her in my room – I never use it.” Each gargoyle had been given a room. Some of the couples used theirs for, well, coupling, but Tristan barely set foot in his.

  Grey let out a mirthless laugh. “Yes, I’m sure waking up a stranger’s bedroom will not scare her at all – oof!”

  That earned him another hit, and this time it was intentional.

  *

  Gwen awoke to a lot of whispers. Two deep voices – one of which could certainly be described as surly, and another voice, a softer voice, a gentler voice and one that made her toes curl.

  “What exactly will you say to her?” That was the surly voice.

  “I do not know,” replied the gentle voice.

  “Do you plan to keep her here against her will?”

  “Of course not!”

  “She is waking up.”

  “Well, obviously!”

  “Mom?” she said through a thick mouth and a sense that something was very off.

  Her stomach gurgled in a deafening and embarrassing way. She really should have fished her gross sandwich out of the trash earlier.

  “She is hungry, go fetch her some food.”

  “Why should I?” groused the surly one.

  “Just do it!”

  There were grumbling noises that sounded strangely like thunder before some thumping sounds indicated that somebody large was leaving.

  Was it the TV? What was happening? The bed she was on felt a lot more comfortable than her usual lumpy mattress.

  “What happened?” she mumbled.

  She opened her eyes, trying to focus on the face staring at her. The first thing she saw were his kind eyes, large brown eyes filled with concern and haloed with short dark lashes.

  Instinctively, she smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hello,” replied the owner of the eyes. He was the one with the nice voice; the one that warmed her stomach and had her as satisfied as a mug of cocoa and marshmallows on a cold winter day.

  His blue face crinkled into a smile and she thought how unusually pretty he was. Her eyes wandered over his features. Over his Romanesque nose, the two horns protruding from the top of his head and his pointed ears. None of this seemed particularly odd to her until she glanced over his shoulder, past his wings, and saw the other guy. This one wasn’t quite so warm and inviting. Just the look of him made her eyes widen and gave a sharp kick to her senses. She was in a strange room with two men who had wings, tails and freaking horns!

  What happened at the library jolted back to her memory, and she looked around her in a panic, searching for an exit.

  “Try not to be alarmed,” said the male in front of her, and as she focused on him, she started to calm. Then the other one snorted, and sense returned once again, and Gwen immediately started screaming.

  “Keep her quiet!” snarled the other male.

  “Please, calm down,” murmured the first one, holding out his clawed blue hands.

  Oh, hell no! She didn’t care how chocolatey his voice was, or how pretty his eyes. Gwen reached out and grabbed the nearest object – a lamp – and threw it at him. She scrambled off the side of the bed as he ably caught it and sighed.

  “Relax, female,” said the other male in an even voice, carefully approaching her.

  “Do not hurt her,” growled the first male, replacing the lamp.

  Gwen snatched hold of a vase and threw it at the second one. There was no satisfying crunch as he caught it too. Were they acrobats or something?!

  She pelted past him, through the door, crashing into a third creature that appeared to be carrying soup. It went all over him, the thick brown liquid smearing over his red-skinned chest.

  “Arthur’s sword!” he bellowed.

  “What is happening?” called a familiar voice.

  “Martha, come back!” snarled an irritated male’s voice.

  But as Gwen tried to make a run for it, she found herself facing a worried looking Martha wearing nothing but a set of lacy and extremely skimpy red underwear.


  “Martha?!” she shrieked in shock.

  Part of her was clinging to the thought that maybe this was a dream – but why would she dream about Martha in her underwear? Well, maybe that one time…

  Martha gently held her shoulders, her worried face peering down at her. But just as Gwen was prepared to stop panicking, another of the huge beasts arrived behind Martha, glowering at Gwen and he was…

  “Holy cow!”

  Completely naked, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination – and there was no way her imagination could dream up anything like that!

  Martha groaned. “Drago, please put something on. You’re scaring her.”

  Gwen heard the pounding of feet behind her as she pointedly avoided looking anywhere near the huge male.

  “What on earth is happening?” asked Martha, looking around at all of them.

  “Ah…” started the male still carrying the soup bowl – even though the soup was all over him. He stopped and stared at Martha. But his eyes didn’t get very far.

  “Stop looking at my mate!” howled the giant naked one.

  He had the soupy creature by the throat and started slamming him against the wall.

  “Help!” the male rasped.

  Martha and the second male ran to his aid. Martha took the big one’s arm - or at least hung from it.

  “Please Drago, don’t.”

  “Just remain calm, we are not going to hurt you,” said the one with kind eyes as he tried to approach an open-mouthed Gwen.

  Well, they weren’t hurting Martha, so maybe everything would be…

  “Let him down, you big buffoon!”

  Gwen whipped around to see a young woman with a shaved head, glowering at the male Martha called Drago. Her hands suddenly lit up with fire, and everyone shouted, “No.”

  “Martha!” snarled Drago, covering her with his wings.

  Gwen was body slammed as kind eyes covered her with his wings.

  “Tristan!” called Martha struggling under the weight of Drago, “is she okay?”

  “Tristan!” exclaimed Gwen, looking into those damn eyes. “I’m Guinevere!”

  Then she fainted again.

  *

  Guinevere. He had no idea it was her!