Taken by the Gargoyle (Taken 2)

Taken by the Gargoyle (Taken 2)
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Megan Slayer

Belle Isle had to get to Eerie. There wasn’t another option. She drove and kept looking back, just in case Arthur was still back there. He’d been indignant. She wasn’t to go to the imaginary town. So her mother wanted her ashes spread there. So what? Her wishes didn’t matter according to Arthur. He should’ve been the one to decide what to do with Marina Isle.

He’d given Marina a new last name and married her when she’d been at her lowest, but he wasn’t a good man. Belle knew that firsthand. Her stepfather settled arguments with his fists and visited her bedroom when he thought no one else knew he’d woken in the middle of the night. She shuddered at the memory.

Arthur claimed her mother wasn’t special. He’d thought her pretty enough and smart as could be, but she didn’t have the uniqueness he desired.

What did he know?

He claimed Belle was special.

She might be, but she refused to share her gift with Arthur. He was a dirty old man. Gross, handsy and disgusting. But he’d been the father figure in her life. It didn’t make him a good man. Made him a pain in the ass and destructive.

She kept driving and headed for the town she knew wasn’t imaginary. She’d been there. The town of Eerie wasn’t what some might have expected -- it was fanciful, not fancy, and outlandish rather than stylish. That was what she liked about it. There were creatures of every type there, too. She wasn’t a freak, and her gift wouldn’t stand out. She could belong there.

She spotted the city limit sign and reached over to pat the box on the passenger seat. “I might not have gotten you here before you…” She hated to say the word died. It sounded too final. “But I’ll get you here, Ma. You’ll be home.”

As she passed the sign, smoke billowed from her engine. What the hell? She smacked the steering wheel, then coughed as the smoke filled the cabin of the car. She’d checked her levels before she’d left. Plenty of oil, gas and washer fluid. Power steering fluid was fine, and so was her brake fluid. The engine cut out and sputtered, forcing her to pull onto the shoulder. She’d have to walk, she supposed. Not great, but she had little choice. She had to get her mother’s remains to Chester’s Corners, the crossroads within Eerie where her mother had grown up.

Belle withdrew her phone. She’d stored the numbers of a few people from Eerie in her contacts. Maybe they could help. She held up the device and grimaced. No cell reception. Of course. Nothing in her life was easy.

She smacked her left hand on the steering wheel. She’d have to walk.

Belle gathered her phone, wallet and papers in her purse, then draped the zipped bag across her body. She picked up her mother’s ashes, then checked the traffic before opening the car door.

Something swooped above her head, blotting out the sunshine. She turned her head and glanced in the general direction of the object. A bird? She was close to Eerie. For all she knew, the flying thing could be avian or something cryptid. Might even be a figment of her imagination.

She closed the car door, and as she tucked the box under her arm, a gigantic eagle slammed onto her hood. She yelped and jerked away from the vehicle. The bird wasn’t dead. No, it was very much alive and staring at her. Its frill of feathers stood out like a halo, and it tipped its head before ruffling its feathers. The animal had destroyed her windshield, yet bore no visible injury.

She knew better than to offer her hand to the animal. Eagles, even if they sure resembled harpy eagles, weren’t friendly. The fact she wasn’t dead yet shocked her. Harpy eagles didn’t show up for no reason. This one had to have a handler or at least a partner. She wanted to check the ground to ensure she hadn’t accidentally hit the partner without realizing it. Maybe a collision was the reason her engine had died.

Except she didn’t remember hitting anything. She’d been careful.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, knowing damn well the thing wouldn’t answer her in words. It’d probably snap her head off.

She couldn’t run. The eagle would catch her in seconds. She trembled but held onto her mother’s ashes. What are you doing? she asked herself. “Get out of here, you eagle.” She forced herself to remain calm. Her gift wasn’t any help right now. Even if she did spark flames in her hand, the harpy wouldn’t care. It might force the bird to lash out faster.

At least Arthur hadn’t found her. Not yet.

The longer she stood on the edge of the road, the more she risked him catching up to her. He wanted to exploit her. To make her bend to his will and use her gift for his financial gain.

What a guy.

Before she could come up with any plan for escape, her feet were no longer on the ground. Something grasped her under her arms and tucked her to something else hard. Like stone. The ground sank beneath her, and within seconds, she looked over the skyline of Eerie. Something had her in its clutches. The harpy’s partner? She didn’t feel claws in her arms. More like hands.

When she struggled, she couldn’t move much.

“Put me down,” she managed. “Hey.” She kicked, but whatever held her had her tight in its grasp.

She struggled again but noticed the tower of the Eerie Hotel came into view. She’d stared at pictures of the hotel so many times and wished she had towers and turrets in her house like those in the hotel. Maybe then she could’ve hidden away in those high places. Maybe then Arthur wouldn’t have found her. Or he’d have locked her up there and done even more dastardly things to her.

She didn’t want to think about her past.

Just as soon as she’d been lifted into the air, the thing that had her placed her on her feet at the top of the tower. She collapsed next to the crenelated top and thanked the Goddess she still had her mother’s ashes in her hand. She fought to catch her breath. “What are you?”

The being who had lifted her from the ground settled on the stones before her and folded its wings, giving her a better view. This being wasn’t an eagle. No, it was a man. She stared at him, not realizing what she was looking at. He wasn’t a regular man -- no, he had wings and his skin was tinged gray, like stone. He folded his arms, and his muscles bulged. He spread his feet, and the loincloth he wore barely contained his manhood. He reminded her of a statue, and his imposing shadow practically blotted out the sun.