Endangered Ch. 09

They were back in the Ether before the man even had the sense to cry out. By then it was too late, he only managed to catch a glimpse of three accusing faces and a terrible world of shadows before he was ripped away into momentary nothingness. For a few brief moments, it must have seemed like a dream.

With a strangled gasp, Patrick blinked his sleepy eyes open, adrenaline pounding through his system. There was grass and rock under his soft bare feet. Someone had him by the elbow, a crushing grip. He turned in the moonlight, about to protest the treatment but the man beat him to it with a deep angry growl.

"Good evening Mr. Riker. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Christopher Baryst, perhaps you've heard of me."

"I don't... what's... oh god," the man's befuddled stammering was cut short as by moonlight, he watched the huge, dark shape of his kidnapper sprout a pair of wings. The creature cocked its head, that his prey might get a good look at him.

"You paid good money to have me kidnapped and experimented on," Chris smiled, displaying a beautifully deadly white maw. "It's time to pay the bill. Lillian, if you would."

A tall beauty stepped from behind the dragon, several sturdy cable ties in her fingers.

"Now look here!" he called up a little of his boardroom bluster. "I... ggguuuuunhh."

The air left his lungs in a rush, the blow sprawling him onto the dirt, ruining his best pyjamas. He gagged, gulping quietly, cradling whatever was left of his spleen.

The woman was leaning over him, grabbing his arm and rolling him painfully onto his front.

"Stop," he croaked hoarsely.

She struck him in the back. This time he passed out for a few seconds, the world going quiet and blissfully painless, if only for a moment. He wanted to scream, to rage, to fight against this injustice, this assault against him. His body failed him, going limp and submissive as his arms were bound together, his legs shackled in plastic. Worse, he knew he'd brought this all upon himself.

"You speak when spoken to, Rat," the woman leaned over and licked the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. "Or I'll keep hitting you until you stop squeaking."

Chris turned away from Lillian's 'softening,' he didn't have the stomach for it right now. Michelle was setting up their little blackout tent, her tablet and Patrick's laptop were already booting up on the driver's seat of the jeep.

That nervous, wary feeling was back. He scanned the darkness around the edge of the sheep pasture. Nothing. Still, he couldn't shake the sensation. His ears were pricked, his flattened, hybrid snout scenting for danger. Even his forked tongue slipped out to taste the air for peril.

Unconvinced either way by his senses, he decided to go help Michelle but stopped dead still after two paces. A pair of huge yellow eyes blinked at him from the lower boughs of their moonlit shade tree.

Chris froze, ready for an attack. He couldn't resolve the shape of the figure crouched in the foliage, only those owl-like eyes. As he stood there, wondered if it might simply be an owl. Then, with a quiet flap of leathery wings, those enchanting eyes slithered out of the tree to stand before him.

Lillian turned with a hiss, startled by the nearby noise and the breeze of wingbeats. Things did not usually sneak up on her.

She found her dragon face to face with a gargoyle.

"Ahh.. Hi?" Chris asked, unwilling to let the silence last.

It was clear now why she'd been impossible to see. Her skin was a deep, charcoal grey. Darker patterns, tattoo-like, mottled almost every inch of her skin, making a confusing pattern to the eyes. Only her large, vertically slitted yellow eyes and the tiny white horns growing from just above her temples were readily visible in the night, even to his dragon's vision. There was no doubt she was female though. Camouflage couldn't hide her athletic, womanly shape or the lighter grey buds of her small, bared nipples.

"Hello, I'm Chris," he tried again, smiling down at the unusual woman and extending his hand.

"Be careful," Lillian whispered as she slunk into position behind him, her prisoner left to recover for a moment. "She must be quite old to have such horns."

"She's a gargoyle, right?" Chris asked, watching as the woman assessed his outstretched hand cautiously. Finally, she stepped forward and grasped it in both of her own, bringing their bodies close.

"Wait Lillian," he pre-empted his lover's attack as the gargoyle began to trace his fingers with her own, feeling his hand all over. "She seems friendly."

Something dark slithered around his calf, wrapping softly around the muscle. Chris jumped at the alien sensation, almost stumbled over himself in fright. He'd been so absorbed in those eyes.

"Oh! Hello..." He frowned, looking down to see an inch-thick prehensile charcoal tail squeezing his pants softly. It ended in a cute little heart shaped bud which suddenly flipped over and stared right back at him with a third yellow eye. "What the..."

"Nyx," the woman finally spoke, a sharp-toothed white smile of her own brightening her dark face.

"Nyx?" Chris met her eyes again, almost thankful to have an excuse to look away from her unnerving tail. "That's your name? I'm Chris."

"Nyx... Dr... Dra... Dragnon," she stumbled in a thick accent, pointing at herself and Chris in turn.

"Yes," he smiled back. "I'm a dragon. You don't speak English, huh?"

Lillian stepped around Chris' big purple wing, right in the gargoyle's face. The two women looked each other up and down in obvious assessment. Eventually, Nyx bobbed her head in deference, her tail slid gently off his leg.

The woman squeezed his hand almost imploringly and began an animated spiel in a language he'd never heard. He looked to Lillian, who frowned in concentration as she listened. The gargoyle kept squeezing his hand and gesticulating with her other, even pointing at what he suspected was Lillian's tummy.

"What the fuck is going on?" Michelle emerged with her dimmed flashlight from the small interrogation ready bubble she was setting up. "Did someone have an epiphany and start speaking in toung... oh, fuck."

Michelle's hand fumbled straight for the pistol on her hip.

"Don't," Chris' voice rose in command, stopping Nyx's monologue.

Lillian quickly took the gargoyle's attention back, motioning she should continue.

They all waited in silence until the grey, winged woman stopped talking.

"You people are fucking bat-shit crazy!" Patrick moaned from the ground.

Lillian vanished from his side, a dull thump and a muffled squawk later, and she was back.

Nyx had eyes only for the hybrid dragon. In the low light of Michelle's filtered flashlight, he caught a glimpse of the woman's muscled perfection. He could swear there was barely an ounce of fat on the dark woman. She looked almost like something out of a bodybuilder's magazine and she was apparently not ashamed to show the world. For the first time, he wondered how things would go if this got violent, gargoyles were supposed to be very tough and almost immune to magic.

"She speaks some sort of ancient Greek," Lillian said. "I'm not sure. I think I got about forty percent, I'm rusty."

"That's amazing Lillian, what did she say?" Chris asked, genuinely impressed with her lingual skill. He'd never learned another language, he didn't think he would be smart or dedicated enough to manage it.

"I think she tried to introduce herself," Lillian started slowly as Nyx bobbed impatiently, apparently a little frustrated that her story wasn't spilling fluidly from the vampire's lips. "I missed a lot of that part but she's old, Chris. Really old. She mentioned the Elf wars and they were almost twenty-five hundred years ago. I think she was some sort of soldier. She kept saying something about sleeping."

"No way, that's older than Reyla. What does she want?"

"Idiot," Lillian poked him. "What do you think she wants, all meek and doe-eyed. She is a fierce, ancient, and very deadly creature. We are uninvited in the midst of her territory. It's a good thing she likes you too, I got the feeling she's run others away."

"Oh," Chris looked down at Nyx. "I ah... Look, I'm sorry Nyx, but we just met. I'll be honest the language barrier is going to be a little difficult to overcome."

She might not have been able to understand his words but his tone made his decision clear enough. She dropped his hand, turned on her heal and was about to launch herself into the air when Chris reached out to stop her, touching the edge of her wing.

She rounded on him like lightning, delivering a ringing slap to his cheek. Thankfully it hadn't been a blow meant to hurt but it was very dramatic. He stood stunned for a moment, gathering his wits.

"Fuck... Jesus, I've never been slapped before. Lillian, I was going to try to tell her she can visit us in Denver if she wants to talk about it more. I'm not going to mate with her on the spot. Can you please try telling her that?"

Lillian mashed a few halting words together, stopped and tried again. Chris rubbed his smarting cheek, smiling ruefully at the scowling gargoyle. He supposed he'd deserved it, rejecting a woman and then touching her without permission.

"It's not working, sorry. My Greek isn't nearly good enough for that."

"It's okay," Chris shrugged. "We tried."

"Try simplifying the message to something you can communicate," Michelle suggested from the jeep before turning and getting back to her preparation. Their prisoner wasn't going to interrogate himself and neither were his computer systems.

"Hmm, it's going to have to be pretty basic," Lillian mused. One of her eyebrows arched in cold calculation. "That might work."

She spoke a single short word to the frozen gargoyle, but her countenance brightened rapidly.

"What did you say?" Chris looked to Lillian in worry at the sudden swing of mood.

"Well, I tried to say visit, I think it came out more as follow. Not too sure."

"We're not taking her back with us."

"I know," Lillian grinned evilly.

"So..."

"She's happy for now. Then, we leave."

"We leave her behind with no knowledge of where we live or how to find us," Chris scowled at his lover. "That's not really..."

"It's the best I can do, dear," Lillian said sweetly and turned back to the snivelling billionaire. She began dragging the man toward Michelle's tent.

That night, Chris learned what truth syrup could do to a man in the hands of two experienced interrogators. He sat on the bonnet of the jeep with a naked gargoyle while Michelle and Lillian wrung him out for every drop of information they could sponge up. Passwords, bank accounts, contacts, networks, they got everything.

It painted a far grimmer picture than they'd imagined. Patrick Riker was by no means the only human trying to capitalize on the Revelation. He'd been tipped off by someone in the military and he knew of other interests who'd bought similar information. Key members of his powerful family now knew as well, allowing them to organize their assets accordingly to best serve their interests. Indeed, among the truly elite of society, the existence of Beings was becoming common knowledge.

Chris sat in silence with a tentatively affectionate Nyx, listening to the man explain that there were already ways to purchase from the Being underworld. Information, spells, even magical muscle.

That was how he'd been kidnapping Beings. He'd simply bought the names, types, classes, and locations through an intermediary for a steep price.

Money. It was insulting that just money almost bought his kidnapping and almost killed Lillian. There was no great cause, no misguided sense of justice. Just money and greed. It was eye opening. So was the sheer wealth of the man, who found it easy to rattle off a list of his top assets at Michelle's command.

"Why did you do it?" Michelle finally asked the groggy, emotionally unfiltered man.

"Why?!" It sounded almost like he didn't understand the question. "I... Because I can? It's a huge opportunity. Too good to waste the chance of getting ahead."

So it had simply been for this man's desire for more money that he'd had to step into danger's path, get knocked out, poisoned, and spend a week in hospital? A cold, dark, little spark of rage began crackling in the pit of his stomach. Nyx shuffled nervously next to him, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"No, no," he reassured her, holding her calloused hand to his skin. "Not Nyx. Him. He's a bad man."

"Bad, maan?" she asked quietly when next Patrick spoke.

"Yes," Chris smiled, impressed with her grasp. Her willingness to stick with him in such an uncertain situation was surprisingly endearing, if a little creepy. "He's been hurting people and we're here to deal with him."

Lillian took over for a while as Michelle used what she'd learned to crack open his personal computer and begin verifying what she could.

The vampire asked specifically about how he'd contacted Beings, who had sold him the information, how it had been delivered, anything. On this, the non-human front, Patrick was unfortunately dry of actionable information. Her questioning did reveal that he had indeed taken steps to blackmail his life and freedom against the secret of the Revelation. Two different family lawyers back in the States had instructions to release information to the press if he were ever discovered dead or went missing.

Chris understood the appeal of the memory alteration charm now, even the necessity. Barbaric as it might seem, being able to use the charm now could have saved the man's life. Could have, because he had a feeling Lillian was out for blood anyway at this point.

He couldn't blame her. By his own admission, the man was a greed-twisted monster, buying people to commit the worst crimes in his stead. Murder, kidnap, intimidation, property destruction, tax evasion in the extreme, the list went on. How easy, how tidy it would be to cast a spell and remove all memory of the events from his mind, from the minds of his accomplices. Now they would have to kill him.

The man knew it, too. He was distraught under the influence of the truth-forcing syrup. The loss of control for someone so assured of their superior place in the world must have been traumatizing. All his life, money had saved him. He tried now, offering obscene bribes for his life. But when it became obvious that it only offended the vampire, he dissolved into unreserved begging, pleading.

"Do you have any more questions?" Lillian asked disdainfully.

"No," Michelle looked up from her work on his computer. "I'm cleaning house here."

"Chris?"

"No," he answered, his voice almost failing him. He was too ashamed to face the man in his final moments.

Patrick Riker's last seconds were wasted with a piteous wailing. He never felt a thing as the vampire broke his neck with a soft crunch.

Nyx sat close beside him, casually tracing the contours of his forearm as he shook. It didn't seem to concern the woman at all, she bumped her head into his shoulder with catlike affection. Was this what he'd become, a calculating killer?

"That was better than you deserved," Lillian spat inside the tent.

"Agreed," Michelle said with satisfaction. "He deserved to rot in prison for several lifetimes. His money won't buy him freedom this time. Chris?"

"Yeah, I just, I wish we didn't have to."

"If not us, who?" Lillian asked. "We came here tonight to cut out a little weed and instead learned that our garden is infested with them. Our work is just beginning."

"You're right," Chris admitted. "I know. I guess they shouldn't have made me worship vigilantes as a kid if they didn't want us taking things into our own hands."

Michelle unzipped the tent and came to stand before him in the spewing light.

"These people don't play by society's rules. In their world, might is right. Through you, we have the power to reach out and do something about it. People like him are right now poisoning any chance of the Revelation with their own greedy schemes. The world is a better place with one less Patrick Riker."

"I know."

She took a step up onto the bumper and kissed his purple forehead.

"But I like that taking a life isn't meaningless to you. Don't lose that, Chris."

He followed her back into the tent and pulled Patrick Riker's corpse into the Ether. With a firm tug, he sunk through the ground, swimming through the jelly-like ethereal shadows of soil, rock, and root. He left him there to decompose, to feed their shade tree or any of the tiny Ether denizens who took care of such detritus.

They were subdued as they packed up their little camp by moonlight. No congratulations or talk of success. The discovery of a larger problem robbed them of catharsis.

Several hours of driving took them out of the immediate area. Lillian practically entwined herself with Chris' large, now human body and their pile of equipment in the back seat. Michelle drove doggedly, fighting fatigue.

Nyx sat up front, her wings folded primly behind her. From the gargoyle's excited exclamations, Chris had to wonder if she'd been in a car before.

It was obvious she didn't understand what was coming and guilt rose in him. While he wasn't looking forward to their unceremonious goodbye, what choice did he have?

The jeep was left abandoned on the outskirts of a large village. Someone would find it, keys in the ignition. From there, its fate would not be in their hands.

They hauled their equipment a little way, underneath the broad leaves of a fig orchard. Michelle and Lillian exchanged a telling look and took up position on either side of Chris, taking all but his backpack from him so they could each hold his hand. Nyx stood a few paces off, her head cocked in curiosity as she looked around the plantation.

Chris let his magic free, flowing out over Lillian and Michelle, over their equipment. Nyx turned sharply to him, her lips making the cutest little 'o' of surprise before they vanished.

The gargoyle's anger eventually faded with her need to find shelter before dawn. She flapped almost silently to a nearby rocky hillside, taking perch on top of a huge boulder. As she settled in for the day, her magic worked around her, concealing her to appear as a perfectly natural outcropping. She spread her wings wide this morning, more surface area to absorb when the stone-skin came. Strength would be vital.

***

"Hold it steady!" Kat lifted his earmuff and practically screamed at him.

"I can't, they're shaking," he put the heavy pistol he was trying to aim down on the bench in frustration. He held his trembling hands up for his taskmistress to see. His big mitts were visibly quivering.

"Clear that weapon!" she screeched in glee, pouncing on his mistake. "You're in my world now, dragon. You will God damn remember the safety protocol for this firearm or I will..."

"Give him a break," Samantha opened the door and slid into the booth as Chris hastened to disarm the pistol he'd just laid on the bench. At least the barrel was pointed down range and the safety was on. "This isn't the Marine Corps you know, Katherine."

"But if it was, this sorry little boot-bitch would be skuzzing the floor all night for such a piss poor performance!" she continued joyfully, ignoring the warning use of her full name.

The older woman looked around at the brass littering the floor, the empty ammunition boxes, and the large H&K pistol. She shook her head disappointedly, clearly Kat wasn't the most understanding or thoughtful teacher, which was important to know.

"And I suppose you learned to shoot with a .45? You put one hundred and fifty rounds down range on your first day, too?"