Authors: Christopher C. Payne
The drive to Roberto’s took a little longer than anticipated, but they managed to find their way up the rolling driveway in a little less than an hour. It seemed to Stefani that Matt drove more from memory than written directions, but she was still attempting to open herself up to trusting somebody.
The chateau was breathtakingly beautiful. Trees lined the driveway and an intricately built brick wall surrounded the entire estate. The two burly guards who manned the entrance made Stefani and Matt wait for 15 minutes while somebody tracked Roberto down to inquire as to whether he wished to see them.
When they finally made it to the front door, Stefani’s mouth fell open, and she quickly grew silent, stunned at her surroundings. It looked more like a castle than a house. The place was enormous and appeared to be as old as the countryside itself. She wondered how long Roberto had lived here.
With the people I’m meeting these days, he could’ve been here for a few thousand years,
she thought to herself.
She wondered what it would be like to live that long. It would be difficult to see your friends die, their kids grow up and die, as well, generation after generation. It seemed more torturous than allowing oneself to pass peacefully into the next world or to slip into the black nothingness of oblivion. Wouldn’t a dark hole be better than seeing the suffering of so many people over so many hundreds of years?
Stefani had seen more than her fair share of death, and she’d grown tired of it. Everyone she’d ever known had been killed in their prime. They were denied a normal lifespan, let alone the tortured existence of several. Seeing so many people pass away was exhausting, and she didn’t know if she had the energy to witness too many more deaths.
They rang the doorbell. It sounded more like the Notre Dame Bell Tower than a chime. Maybe Roberto was so rich he’d flown in some of the bells all the way from Paris. Of course, Stefani had never seen nor heard Notre Dame’s famous musical chimes, but she had heard them in movies.
The entryway had more marble construction than she’d seen in photos of Roman cathedrals. But that was nothing compared to the living room where they were quickly seated. The tapestries on the wall were overwhelming, and Stefani focused on the details of a particular battle depicted in painted brilliance.
“That is one of my favorites,” said Roberto, as he sauntered over to her side. He seemed to sneak up on her as if he floated over the floor. Stefanie hadn’t heard a footstep, no breathing, nothing. Then, he had appeared. She did smell him, though, and that alone told her he was a gargoyle. Her ability to decipher scents was rapidly improving.
“What battle is this?” she asked, sheepishly.
“It’s a battle during the French Revolution of the 18
th
century. If you look over in this corner here, you can see a section devoted to the beheading of Marie Antoinette. I was lucky enough to have been an eye witness at the event, if you must know. Bloody business beheadings, but they had their place in history. Nobody lives forever.”
Roberto began laughing.
“And how are you doing, my boy? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the likes of Matt around these parts. Have you told her yet?”
“Just keep your mouth shut, Roberto, or…”
Roberto seemed to fly across the room faster than Stefani could blink her eyes. He leaped next to Matt, picked him up by his throat, and held him three feet above the floor, choking the air out of his lungs.
“Jesus, what you are doing?” Stefani screamed.
Roberto dropped Matt to the floor where he curled up in a ball, holding his throat as if it were on fire.
“My little fish, you have no idea what you’re doing or what this is all about do you? Your little buddy here made a pact with the devil. He bears the mark on his soul. Once you hone your senses, you’ll be able to tell this, as well.”
“And you, you walking lowlife. Who have you made pacts with over the centuries?” Matt squeezed the words through his throat as he gagged on his own larynx. His lungs felt as though he were breathing ash from a burning room.
“You see, Stefani, I make no qualms about who and what I am. I’m not a nice guy. You’ll see that up front. I did owe Hector, who thought that his debt might pass through his death to you, but alas that is not the case. I’m afraid he might have sent you here to your demise. Matt, on the other hand, is nothing more than a sniveling toad who works for Greg. You’re being played for a fool, little one.”
Stefani looked at Matt, pleading with her eyes, but no words escaped her fragile lips. She didn’t have the strength to be betrayed again. All she could muster was, “Matt, is that true?”
He just lay there, looking at her. He didn’t speak. His face betrayed what he was not man enough to say.
“It’s not that simple, Stefani. This man is a demon. You can’t possibly…,” Matt pleaded.
“IS IT TRUE?” she screamed, no longer having the patience to listen to lies.
“Stefanie, you don’t un….”
“IS IT TRUE?” she yelled again.
“Stefani, you can’t describe it so simply. It just isn’t….”
One of the interesting things about old mansions is the artifacts that lie around. Many men of all ages seem to possess a sword fetish. One of the first things that Stefani noticed when she entered the room was a plethora of the ancient weapons both on display and simply lying around. They stood upright on both sides of the fireplace in what appeared to be umbrella stands.
She grabbed one with her right hand and launched herself forward, twisting it mid-air and plunging it downward with all of her might. As she arched it toward its goal, she grabbed the hilt with her left hand, as well, using all of her force to drive it completely through Roberto’s chest. He fell under her assault, still gazing at Matt.
Roberto had lived longer than most gargoyles. He had weathered violent wars, personal assassination attempts, betrayals, all through a keen sense of anticipation. His skills finally failed him through a gross misjudgment. Stefani should have attacked Matt. Matt betrayed her. As he fell to the floor, buckling under both Stefani’s weight and the thrust of the sword, he gurgled out, “Why?”
Stefani twisted the sword in his chest a full 180 degrees, grinding his heart into a few chopped up pieces. She pulled it out and, in one swift motion, brought the blade down on his exposed neck, severing his head from his body. It rolled a few feet across the floor, coming to rest against the leg of one of the antique couches. Blood squirted from the open wound where his head had been only a few seconds before.
“Stefani, what have you done? We’ll be killed. They’ll think Greg authorized this, that I did this. Nobody will suspect you. You’re too young. How did you…..”
Stefani reached down, picked Matt up by his shirt, and lifted him off the floor as he stared at her. His arms hung limply by his side.
“If you don’t tell me the truth, you’re next.”
“You don’t understand,” Matt said, “They will be coming now. We have to run.”
But by then, it was too late.
Twenty Rogul slaves rushed into the room, all of them wielding swords. Apparently nobody believed in guns in Italy. Stefani had no real practice with the weapon, but she compensated for that with her dexterity and strength.
She tossed Matt through the air toward the closest Rogul who raised his sword and sliced directly through Matt’s stomach. Matt cried out in pain as he fell to the floor, holding his gut. The fresh slash leaked both blood and his entrails onto the floor.
Two Roguls were now within Stefani’s reach. Their weapons arched overhead toward her waiting torso. She nimbly sidestepped, squatted down as she slid forward, and severed all four of their legs in one swoop of her razor-sharp blade.
While gargoyles might heal, these guys won’t walk again,
she thought to herself.
She slid to a stop, rose to her feet, and thrust her blade deep into the closest Rogul’s belly. He fell forward, screaming as he dropped to the floor. But, as she stood, she felt a sword slice into her shoulder, nearly causing her to drop her weapon. The pain was like ice being injected into her veins. Her entire body screamed in response.
She whirled around, planted her weapon inside her attacker’s chest, and stopped his heart instantly as he fell to the floor. She yanked her sword out, twisted backward, and circled it through the arms of another Rogul who overreached his intended target. He screamed in pain as his blade fell, rattling to the ground, with his hands still firmly clasped to the hilt.
“ENOUGH!” Greg screamed as he walked into the room. Everyone froze, including Stefani who gasped for breath. She didn’t see the knife fly through the air before it embedded in her chest. She fell back on to the waiting marble floor. She thudded, then, slid a few feet, hitting her head against the foot of the black grand piano. It clanged in protest to the assault.
Stefani tried to rise, but she fell back, unable to pull herself erect. Her arms were paralyzed, and they no longer obeyed her command. Within seconds, four Roguls picked her up and carried her away, each holding one of her limbs. She saw another two slaves pick Matt up by his shoulders and drag him behind her with his feet scraping the ground. Not able to keep her head erect any longer, she passed out. The last sound she heard before the room went black was Matt whispering, “I’m sorry.”
Stefani woke up a few hours later, and all she could think about was she turned 21 in five days. Would all of this – the betrayals, her life, the disgusting sadness and pathetic monsters – be over then?
She was hanging with her wrists chained to a wall, one on either side of her head. Her feet were clasped together and were linked to the floor two feet below her toes. She couldn’t feel her hands at all. The blood must’ve been cut off by the metal bindings which propped her body into place.
She blinked a few times and tried to focus her eyes. But it was so dark she could barely see who was next to her.
“Matt, is that you?” she whispered.
“Jesus, are you ok? You lost a lot of blood, but your wounds seem to be healing quickly. You’re changing faster than anyone I have ever witnessed,” he said.
“Yeah, you seem to be healing pretty fast yourself, Matt. That makes me think you’re a gargoyle, too. Funny how you’ve kept that hidden the past few days.”
“It’s complicated,” Matt said. “I’ve told you that before. There are more things at work here than you can realize. I don’t even understand what’s happening, but I know this much – you’re the key.
“I did make a pact with Greg and, yes, he is my father. I’m a gargoyle, but I’m also forbidden to change. I’ll be tortured and killed if I change and anyone finds out. It’s a punishment for a crime I didn’t commit. Greg promised to reverse this judgment. All I had to do was keep an eye on you, protect you.
“What he didn’t make clear was how I was to do that. So I thought I would bring you to people who could help you. Tell you what was going on. Help explain things to you. I was strictly forbidden from giving you any details.”
“Jesus, can you please shut up?” Stefani cried out. “I just can’t take anymore. You do have my word on one thing. If I find my way out of this, I don’t want anything to do with you. You’ve betrayed me. I’ll never trust you again.”
“Hey!” Matt yelled, turning his head in the opposite direction. “I told you this was stupid. Cut me down.”
The lights flicked on, bathing the entire room in a blinding, luminous glow. Stefani closed her eyes as tightly as she could, but the consuming intrusion still hurt as its rays sneaked through the flimsy protection of her eyelids.
“You have failed me, Matt,” Greg said as he walked into the dungeon. “I don’t tolerate failure well, my son.”
“I did everything you told me. I swear. I did exactly what you said I had to do. Please,” Matt cried. He sounded like a little kid now. It was the scene of a child being reprimanded by his father, only Greg was not a typical father.
Stefani blinked her eyes, fought the light, and tried to see.
“Stefani is angry at you, child, isn’t that correct, Stefani? And Stefani cannot be placed in a position of being angered. She must be relaxed in her time of transition. You know this, Matt.”
Matt continued to cry. He was also hanging by his wrists, shackled to the wall. Stefani could see a little clearer now. Other than his toes being only a few inches from the ground, the two of them looked eerily similar.
Greg’s arm flew quickly as it sliced through the air, holding what must’ve been one of the swords held over from the living room melee. Matt’s voice quivered for a second then came to an abrupt stop as his head fell to the ground. His heart quickly fell next after a few quick stabs and twists. It rolled to a stop next to his head, and his eyes seemed to stare directly at Stefani.
“We can’t have people upsetting you now can we, my darling?” Greg said as he turned to walk away.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Stefani screamed, but the entourage continued to exit without a response, following their master.
“I’m sorry, Stefani. Daddy doesn’t have time to play. You made quite a mess upstairs with Roberto. I’m going to have to work at fixing that, you know. You can’t just go around killing senior gargoyles like that. There are people that will be looking to punish you, and I can’t have that quite yet. You and I have some unfinished business to address.
“And, please do not worry about Matt. It would have been a little disgusting had you two gotten together, seeing as how he was your brother and all. You really need to pick your love interests a little more carefully.”
That was the last thing Stefani heard as the lights again went dim, and she was plummeted into darkness. She couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black, and there was no sound or movement anywhere.
Her brother? What did that mean, her brother? Stefani didn’t have brothers. She’d grown up all alone. She had nobody. Her mother was dead or Stefani thought she was dead. Her foster family had kids, but they had all died, as well. She had nobody. There was nobody she called family. She sobbed. She couldn’t stop crying.