Page 1 of Gargoyle Sentinel

Chapter One

Malachi spread his thick, leathery wings as he inhaled the cool, crisp mountain air, taking a moment to let his gargoyle freely stretch, to appreciate the raw beauty surrounding him. This part of the range had been untouched by humans, and sometimes he fantasized that if he were ever united with his Fated Mate, this would be where they would live. He loved the mountains, the stone of the Earth calling to him like a lover’s embrace.

Perched atop the highest point of the Shadow Slayers’ Colorado lair, hidden within the stone depths of the Rockies, he could see for miles in every direction. It might be past midnight, but his sharp gargoyle vision allowed him to view every detail within the darkness. While the modern cities of humanity held the occasional appeal, nothing matched the sheer grandeur of nature.

“Gorgeous," he murmured to himself, scraping his talons against the granite beneath him.

His human form was fine, no longer bothering him after centuries of use, but compared to his abilities as a gargoyle? Meh. Skin to skin with a willing human was fun, and almost worth having a mortal form. But otherwise, if the Divine Spark were to take away his ability to shift, he’d get over it soon enough.

He puffed out his chest, stretching again. Although once he found his mate… Malachi shook his head. No point in dwelling on his mysterious other half. Who knew when he might show up? Just because he was a Shadow Slayer, and had beenpromised his Fated One upon achieving the required kills, it didn’t necessarily mean there was a mate ready and waiting for him. It turned out there was a loophole they weren’t aware of until one of the Slayers reached his kill quota and was disappointed.

Pietro had reached a hundred and forty-four kills, even wiped out a few past that number, but no fated mate was to be had. Mal pursed his lips. Apparently, his mate hadn’t been born yet. With his luck, he’d end up in the same predicament, which was why he refused to dwell on when he’d be united with the one who was meant to be his. For now, he focused on the mission and took his pleasures when he could.

Malachi checked his weapon, which had been newly created by Archangel Michael. The battle to eradicate the shadow gargoyles and rogue demons had increased in intensity over the past few months. The consensus was that as the Slayers drew closer to their goal of ending the war, the enemy had grown more desperate, more brazen in their attacks. Time was no longer on their side.

Malachi ran his palm over the bronze hilt of his fighting blade. The metal was cool and solid in his grip, smooth under his calloused fingers. The weight of the blade was a comfort, a reminder of the power it held and the duties he was meant to fulfill while wielding it.

A tingle ran up his spine as he sensed an incoming message.

The mental connection slid into place with ease, and Michael’s voice filled his mind. Clear, powerful, yet tinged with urgency.

“Mal. We have a situation in Aspen. I need you here right away.”

Malachi straightened, his wings folding against his back. “What kind of situation?”

“A kidnapping. One of the Nephilim children has been taken by rogues, and they’re demanding a ransom.”

“The fuck?” This was a new tactic. “What kind of ransom?”

“You’ll find out with the others I’ve summoned after you arrive. Tune into my beacon and don’t waste any more time talking.”

And with that, Michael’s voice was replaced by a low-frequency hum that would guide him to the correct location. The archangel wasn’t typically the life of the party, but he was unusually terse. Whatever it was the rogues were asking, it had to be extreme.

Malachi mentally left a message for his fellow Sentinel that he was leaving his post, then shot into the night sky, his mighty wings beating against the frigid air. The beacon pulsed in his mind, drawing him eastward toward Aspen.

Flying as a gargoyle was one of life’s great pleasures. The rush of wind against his stony skin, the freedom of soaring above the world below—it never got old, even after centuries. But tonight, Mal couldn’t enjoy the flight. Not when a precious Nephilim had been taken by such evil filth.

The act was unprecedented. Shadow gargoyles generally focused on causing chaos and destruction, not kidnapping. They were brutal, mindless creatures most of the time, which made this calculated move all the more concerning.

The lights of Aspen appeared below, a constellation of human existence nestled between mountain peaks. Mal's enhanced vision picked out the subtle shimmer of Michael's protective barrier around a large estate on the outskirts of town. He angled his wings and began his descent.

Malachi landed silently on the expansive back terrace of the estate, his clawed feet barely making a sound against the polished stone. As he touched down, his form shimmered, bones shifting and skin softening as he transformed into his humanappearance. The change was second nature now, like stretching after a long nap.

“About time you showed up,” came a familiar voice.

Mal turned to see Dante leaning against an ornate pillar, arms crossed over his chest. The other Shadow Slayer looked as casual as ever in dark jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, but the tension around his eyes betrayed his concern.

“Some of us have actual duties to attend to.” Malachi rolled his shoulders as the last vestiges of his transformation settled. “Not all of us are lounging around with our mates in our fancy mountain cabins.”

Dante snorted. “Lounging? Hardly. I was pacing the carpet with Chara so Amir could finally get some sleep. In truth, so Leonardo could, too. She’s got an impressive set of lungs.”

Warmth filled Malachi at the mention of Dante and Amir’s two children. He never thought he’d see the day when the gruff Slayer would settle down.

“How old is Chara now?” A twinge of shame filled him that he hadn’t even visited since she was born.

“Almost six months. And before you say another word, don’t worry about it.” Dante pushed off the column. “You’re still officially on duty, and I’m supposed to be watching over my neck of the woods in the Cascades while taking care of my family.”

They strolled in tandem up the flagship stone walkway. “Which begs the question,” said Mal, “Why are you here instead of still pacing that carpet?”

---