Page 2 of The Gargoyle's Captive

There’s a part of me that wants to defy him out of sheer spite, but the truth is that I entered the contract of my own free will. Throwing a hissy fit now serves no one, and would be, frankly, embarrassing. “I would like to know what happened to my mother.” It’s the same question I asked him right after he teleported me here.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Without another word, he turns around and walks out of the room. Again, the door swings shut with a force just short of slamming. I’d love to blame Azazel for that, but I was watching him walk away when it happened. He never touched it.

Sometimes I fucking hate magic.

Even my own; especially my own. Because, before Azazel turned around and walked away, his aura shifted to a pale blue that I am all too familiar with.Sorrow.

Just like that, I know my mother’s dead.

I want to say it’s exactly what I expected. She made a deal with a demon and never came home. I’ve been operating on the assumption that I’m an orphan for years now. It’s just that... after I saw the contract, a small part of me wanted to believe that maybe she had chosen to stay in the demon realm for some unknown reason. That maybe she was still alive. That maybe I’m not really the last of my family.

I knew better, but apparently that hopeful little child who misses her mama hasn’t quite died of sorrow yet. Or at least she hadn’t until she saw that same emotion reflected in Azazel’s aura.

I go through the motions of getting dressed. There’s no point in defying the order. I have a feeling I’ll be dragged out to the auction no matter what I choose to wear, and my pride isn’t dead yet.

I find a purple dress that’ll serve my purpose, and I even take the time to put some cosmetics on my face. They’re an identifiable brand, which means they’re imported from the human realm. How thoughtful.

Exactly two hours after Azazel left, my door opens softly. A clear invitation. It’s all I’ve wanted for days on end, and yet I find myself reluctant to walk through. There’s no going back after this. The thought almost makes me laugh. There was no going back from the moment I signed the contract.

No, we can trace the line of this even further back, to when I heard Azazel’s name on Mina’s lips. Or even further, to when my mother made the demon deal in the first place, leaving behind only a note with the barest details.

There’s never been any other choice but to take that first step and walk out of my room. I’m not remotely surprised to find four others in the hallway. I take them in at a glance, but ultimately they matter less than what happens next. None of them look like me, like a hunter. They’re just normal people. I don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying.

In the end, it makes no difference. I turn and stalk in the direction that feels best, distantly aware of the fact that they follow, little ducklings led to the slaughter. Except not a slaughter. Just because my mother died doesn’t mean Azazel’s bargains are bullshit. My life would be simpler if they were. There would be fewer questions keeping me up at night.

Around me, I feel the magic of the castle moving. The sensation was more muted when I was in my room, which confirms what I suspected: there were spells as well as walls locking me in. This is an honest-to-gods enchanted castle.Charming.

The castle finally spits us through a door that leads to a large room. The lights are all aimed at our faces, but as I move to the short dais, I catch sight of scales, tentacles, and wings. Monsters. And not the kind you find back in the human realm. We are so far removed from the bloodlines that run through the beings here that most of our monsters don’t look any different from the rest of humanity, at least most of the time. I have a feeling the ones in this room are currently as human as they’re capable of looking.

Before the realms split and crossing them became all but impossible, these were the types of creatures my ancestors hunted.

Maybe the thought should fill me with some kind of purpose or generational rage, but all I feel is tired. My head is too full of the color blue to worry about a past that stretches generations before my birth.

I thought I was done mourning my mother. It took so long before I gave up hope that she was ever coming back, and I knew better than to rekindle that feeling when I found Azazel. And yet here I am, feeling just as lost as I was at twenty.

I bury the feeling down deep, shove it into a little box, and wrap it in chains before I toss it into the darkest corner of myself. I am surrounded by predators, and I cannot afford to be distracted. I’ve been promised safety, but the contract specifies consequences for harm—not magical protection from it.

I’m so distracted, I don’t realize the auction has started. If “auction” is even the right word. The few that I’ve attended have multiple bidding scenarios, and for this one, they are simply speaking of colors... Oh.Oh. The colors of our dresses. I hear someone say purple—what I’m wearing—but the lights are too bright for me to identify who has claimed me.

I can see their auras, though.

There’s plenty of red anger and the sickly yellow green with a hint of brown that is hate. These beings don’t like each other. But more worrying is the bright pink of lust threading through the entire room. These monsters want us. There may be language in the contract that prevents us from being forced into any kind of intimate situation, but if we’re sent off, out of Azazel’s watchful eye, who will be there to enforce it?

I can defend myself... probably.

But what about the others?

Even as I look down the line of us, noting the fear on many of the other four’s faces, in their all-too-human auras, the lights shift. Azazel moves with purpose, and what comes next happens almost faster than I can follow. Each of us is shuttled to a different door that I’m certain wasn’t there before. I get a better look at the monsters.

A dragon. A kraken. A being who looks almost human, except for their size, smoky skin, long tail, the coal-black claws on their hands, and their cloven hooves. So, really, not that human at all. And, finally, one who looks even more human. They’re big too. They’reallbig. The shadows shift, and I pick out their massive wings and two pairs of horns peeking out of their white hair.

They’re looking right at me.

2

BRAM

There’s a flavor to desperation that I’ve become all too familiar with, and it soaks into every inch of this space. All us leaders are feeling it in our own way though each of us would die before we’d admit it. Sol, the dragon, feels backed into a corner, but there’s a cautious hope in his energy that sticks in my throat. Thane, the kraken, flat out doesn’t want to be here at all. And Rusalka... Well, there’s no desperation inherenergy, just a deep anticipation that worries me.

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