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Hmm, guess I was wrong.
Regardless, the thing has a distinctly masculine energy.
I squint, closing the distance between us, and find I can see through to the truth of the creature. It has a human form, or at least, something that looks human, but as soon as it notices me, it begins to fade—no doubt attempting to shift back into its mist form.
Not wanting the thing to escape, I take a running start at it, managing to grab the gargoyle by one of the two horns on its head before it can change into mist again and disappear. I twist the horn until I hear the creature cry out in anger, a human cry by the sound of it. Using all my strength, I drag the beast to the place where my knife is lodged in the tree and reaching out, I pull the blade free with the hand that isn’t holding the beast. Strangely, the thing doesn’t appear to be fighting against me. Instead, it seems as if it’s more interested in freeing itself—something that definitely isn’t going to happen. I rear back and then slam my arm forwards, plunging the knife into the gargoyle’s neck. It screeches and bristles so violently that I drop my hold of it. In another split-second, I blink to find a man bleeding from his very human-looking neck.
As surprised as I was to find the mist turning into a gargoyle, I’m even more surprised to find the gargoyle turning into a man. A man without a stitch of clothing. Not that his nudity throws me—truly, there isn’t much that can surprise me these days. And as to his human appearance, I don’t trust the thing any more than I did before—humans will kill you just as easily as beasts will.
But by the look of this one, he’s on his last limb—clawing the ground as he fights to catch his breath. Soon blood will replace the air in his lungs. And he’ll die as naked as the day he was born.
Unafraid, I walk over to the shifter and satisfied he’s no threat to me, I lean over and remove my knife. For some reason, I give him a second look. I don’t usually stick around to watch my kills take their last breaths. They’re unsightly things, at least, to my eyes, but something about this one stops me in my tracks.
The gargoyle’s true form, the one beneath the veneer of the beast, doesn’t appear wretched and desiccated. He looks like a man, as I mentioned, but it’s almost as though I can see his gargoyle reflected through his handsome features—as though I’m experiencing some sort of mirror trick. The man I see within the gargoyle is handsome, yes, but that’s not what causes my interest. My interest is reserved for the fact that I can feel something around him—a cloud of energy, of power.
It’s almost as though he’s trapped beneath a viscous curse of unwanted magic,I think to myself, even as I wonder at my own thought. I don’t know where the thought even came from, but there it is. Not that it matters anyway because whatever this thing is—be it man, mist or gargoyle, it’s nearly dead. The disappointing part is that I can’t decide whether I’ve broken my own rule.
See, I have an agreement with myself about killing humans.
I don’t.
But, then again, whatever this creature is, it’s not fully human. And that has to count for something.
Before I can take another blink, the man suddenly disappears right in front of my eyes—as if the air simply swallows him whole.
“What the,” I start as my heart starts beating in earnest and I circle around myself, trying to understand where in the hell he’s just gone. But all around me, there’s nothing and no one there.
“I’ve got a few licks in me yet.”
The voice comes from directly in front of me and I whip my body back around, only to find myself face to naked chest with the man who, only moments ago, was on the forest floor, taking his last breath. I make a sound in my throat, a sound which is sucked away as soon as he moves his arm unbelievably quickly and slams me in the chest. I feel the air swoosh past my face as my back crashes against the tree behind me. The wind knocked out of me, I collapse against the ground, my knife falling from my hand to land uselessly in a mound of leaves.
“I don’t wish to fight you,” the man starts as he approaches me, his arms, chest, abdomen, and legs heavily muscled and covered with a fine layer of dark hair. I refuse to allow myself to even notice the meat between his legs even as it hangs directly in front of me. With the way the man stands, he doesn’t appear to be in the slightest bit concerned that he’s completely without clothing.
“I have no ill will towards you and I wish you to remove yourself from my forest,” he continues.
His voice is strange, familiar but not in an overt way.
As soon as he’s within distance, I lift up my leg and kick out as hard as I can, instantly connecting with his femur. That causes him to back up a few paces, but it doesn’t take him down—something I find surprising. Clearly, he must have enhanced, shifter strength.
“Fuck!” he screams, clutching his leg and cursing like a sailor, something I’m familiar with from spending time with myself for so long. “Damn it to Shadow Dark!”
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat and assuming a fighting stance with my feet shoulder width apart and a slight bend to my knees. Yes, I could go for my knife but I’m afraid to take my eyes off my opponent. He’s already demonstrated that he’s uncannily fast. Go for my knife and he could go for me.
“You’ve got a bloody lethal kick on you,” he says as he stands up straight and glares at me and once he sees me—really sees me, as in looks me in the eyes, his expression changes. The anger leaches out of it, to be replaced with complete shock.
“It can’t be,” he whispers.
I have to admit his human voice and appearance are throwing me for a loop. Usually, monsters tend to look a bit more… well, like monsters. They have hooves and horns and teeth and matted fur and wild eyes. This particular creature—he doesn’t seem to have any of that. But his humanity could be his shield—his attempt to make me feel less frightened of him so I drop my defenses.
But that’s not going to happen.
“How is it,” he continues, shaking his head as he still stares at me in complete awe. “Possible?” he finishes.
Clearly, he’s in leave of his senses or he’s just playing a game with me, trying to throw me off mine.
Physically, he’s much larger than I am. Point for him. And he appears to be faster than I am too. Another point for him. But he’s broken the first rule in combat—long hair. Even though mine’s long, it’s pulled back into a braid and wrapped into a clean little knot at the nape of my neck—thus, out of the way.
Those unruly waves of his—they’re going to prove to be his Achilles Heel.
