Before I even fully caught my breath, my attackers were already swooping down for the kill shot. Dark shapes closed in fast from overhead—fifteen seconds until impact.
Wings. Claws. Horns and fangs.
Fucking gargoyles.
Not the drunk mercs I’d seen earlier, but street fighters. No sense of honor or loyalty among them—and yeah, I was speaking from experience.
Garrison, Draven, and—worst of the lot—Mad Marco, who made up for his lack in stature with balls-out craziness. Three of the six Stone City homegrown assholes who’d slaughtered people I cared about, destroyed my old life in Midnight, and left me for dead.
Twice.
Haley’s fear spiked again, sending another zing straight to my gut. Pretty sure the other guys were in deep shit too. I needed to get to them—and fast.
I closed my eyes. Gave myself one more heartbeat to get my lungs working and get my ass out of the dirt.
Rage was the best fuel there was, and between Haley’s fear and my old enemies attacking me, I wasfurious. I stoked those flames hard, let them propel me out of the mud and onto my feet. I was still in warrior form, nothing broken far as I could tell, but I wasn’t about to give anything away.
Keeping my wings limp and my shoulders hunched, I struck a weak pose as all three of ’em landed and closed ranks around me, claws out and snarls twisting their gruesome faces.
Unlike last time they’d gotten the drop on me, they’d come alone tonight—no dark witch to do their bidding. But whatever they’d hit me with in the sky wasn’t gargoyle-made. It was magick. And there was a hundred percent chance they were packin’ more, because pricks like them never fought their own battles.
“Look what the cat dragged back from the human realm, boys.” Marco started in right away, predictable as fuck. His eyes were wide and crazy, his familiar gap-toothed grin splitting his face—the rare gargoyle who looked the same amount of ugly whether he was a statue or a human. Now, in his warrior form, he shook out his tattered wings and shifted from one foot to the other, twitchy as hell. “Guess your vacation on the other side didn’t work out so well.”
“Welcome home, motherfucker.” This, from Garrison, the biggest and dumbest of the lot. Talked a good game but sucked in a fight.
I pretended to cower in silence, keeping my head low. The closer they got, the less energy I’d have to expend taking them down, and no, that wouldn’t hamper my enjoyment of it in the least.
“What’s wrong, Hudson?” Marco taunted, tilting his head and peering up at me with those crazy eyes. “After all these centuries, you’re still not talking? Not even to your oldest friends?”
Talking? Totally unnecessary, much as he liked to flap his lips. Midnight-bred gargoyles were connected—long as no one was actively shielding, we could tap into one another’s minds to communicate. I’d been shielding against every last one of them fuckers since I set foot back in this realm, but now it was time to send out a broadcast.
That you, Marco? Hard to recognize you when you’re not cowering behind a witch. Shit, boy. You’re a lot shorter than I remember.
“And you’re a lot morealivethan I remember,” he sneered. “Guess we’ll have to do something about that.” He slammed a fist into my gut. I was ready for it though—saw it coming a mile off. I doubled over, feigning pain, and the other two rock-heads pounced on cue.
Yeah. Not happening, fuckholes.
I reared up to my full height and smashed my fists into their faces, sending them both sailing backward through the air. They hit the ground with twin thuds, and I spun around, landing a solid kick to Marco’s chest. He stumbled back but didn’t go down.
With a fierce growl, he came at me again, slashing his talons across my chest. I dodged the worst of it and ducked low, then plowed into him headlong, taking his ass down.
Set to the soundtrack of the still-thumping party music, we wrestled on the ground, trading punches and slashes—a blow to the jaw here, a gash along the ribs there. I was bigger and stronger, but that little fucker was fast and wily. One cheap knee-shot to the balls, and he sent me rolling off him, giving him just enough time to scramble back to his feet.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in my groin, I sucked in a breath and rose to face him once more. Garrison and Draven were back in the mix now, all three of the beasts circling me like wild dogs, panting and growling, salivating for a bite. Blood and sweat dripped into my eyes, but I didn’t dare blink. Didn’t dare give them fuckers a chance to take me out.
Three on one? They probably could’ve, had they been smarter.
Yet no one made another move.
Whole thing was fucking futile, anyway. Gargoyles in warrior form were nearly impossible to kill—aside from a soft bit of flesh at the throat that could be pierced with a sword or an arrow, we had thick, ultra-protective hides, massive muscles, and we could escape most ground skirmishes by taking flight. Best chance at killing us was to take us by surprise in our human form or get us to turn to stone, then smash us like bad pottery.
But here, tonight?
Without a sunlight spell to turn my ass to stone—or a few sharp weapons and better aim—these fuckers didn’t have much of a shot, and they damn well knew it.
Which meant…
Fuck.
