Page 5 of Gargoyle Defender

Cassiel stepped forward, her posture still defensive. “Why should we trust you? How do we know this isn’t some elaborate trap?”

The leader regarded her with hollow eyes. “Because we’re dying.” He gestured to his cracked skin. "Without the demons’ dark magic, the corruption is eating us from within. We can’t even shift to our original human form anymore.”

Ronen’s throat tightened. He’d seen death in many forms, but watching these gargoyles slowly crumble was unsettling. Their dark skin, once gleaming with unholy power, now resembled weathered stone, fragile and brittle. Despite his hatred, something uncomfortable stirred in his chest.

“We have information,” another shadow gargoyle spoke up, a female with one wing partially shredded. “While still shadow-bound, the rogues had looser tongues. A few of us overheard what the demons are planning next.”

Michael’s expression remained guarded. “And what would that be?”

“They’ve infiltrated human governments,” she said. “High-ranking officials, possessed by demons who can mask their presence even from angels. They’re calling it 'Operation Deep State.'"

Cassiel scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. We would’ve detected—”

“That’s enough, Cassiel,” Michael snarled. “I will be the one to decide what is and isn’t ridiculous.”

Cassiel mumbled something under her breath but took a step back. “Fine.”

Michael shook his head at her as if she were a misbehaving child, then returned his attention to the female shadow. “Where are these supposed officials now?”

The female shifted from foot to foot, and some of the others looked around nervously. At last, she spoke.

“We’re… we’re not entirely sure. I heard something about Miami, but others have spoken of Atlanta and Houston.”

Michael placed his hands on his hips. “Well. In that case, you will be escorted to the lair’s prison until we investigate those locations. After that, your fate will be decided.”

“Thank you for your mercy,” she said, the others murmuring their agreement.

Michael snorted. “Don’t thank me yet. Remember, the Most High has the final word.” He turned to Cassiel. “See if either Ezekiel or Archer is available for a healing session. This vermin is useless if they turn to dust and have to be swept up.” He glanced back at the shadows, pursing his lips. “Actually, summon them both. This crew is a mess.”

Ronen regarded the broken and battered gargoyles, his stomach twisting and turning as he fought the growing compassion rising within him. Would he have also faltered, succumbed to the darkness, had his torture continued? Maybe he was only minutes away from giving the rogues everything they wanted so he could save his own ass.

After the shadows were properly secured, Michael ordered them to the conference room. “Nash, you will remain here as lead sentinel of the East Coast lair. I will appoint an additional three warriors to back you up.” He turned to Ronen. “I want you to lead a team to Miami, I will choose who accompanies you. Cassiel, you’ll head up the mission in Atlanta. I’ll have Victor handle—”

“Wait!” Ronen interjected. “I’ve never led a mission. And Cassiel has much more experience than I do. This seems way too important to entrust to someone who hasn't had decades in the field.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “And here I thought you were ready.”

He glared at Ronen, and fear gripped him. Could Michael see into his soul, know the real reason he was afraid to lead?

“I…I will be someday.” Ronen despised how weak he sounded.

“Hmm…” Michael stared down his nose at him. “Then, perhaps you should stay behind.”

Ronen’s gut clenched. “No, please. That’s not what I meant. I can fight, I haven’t failed to do my part in battle.”

Cassiel nodded. “I’ve fought alongside Ronen and trust his ability and loyalty. He pulls his weight, is a valued comrade.”

Michael sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with you mongrels.” He waved his hand around dismissively. “Fine.” Michael jabbed a finger at Ronen. “But you can’t hide from yourself forever. I’ll be watching you.”

Ronen didn’t doubt it.

* * * *

Three days later, Ronen stood at the back of the lair’s tactical room, lips pressed together as he surveyed the gathered Shadow Slayers. Victor had arrived from Chicago that morning, and his weathered face was grim as he studied the map spread across the table, the jagged scar across his cheek more pronounced.

“Miami,” Victor said, tapping a thick finger on the southern tip of Florida. “If what those shadow gargoyles told us is true, then our intel doesn’t track. When our scouts verified the demon energy signatures, they appeared disproportionately thin.”

“How do you mean?” Cassiel asked with a frown.