Page 11 of Gargoyle Sentinel

Malachi whispered in her ear. “Signal the reinforcements, but instruct them to remain stealth as they close in.”

They used their enhanced vision to guide them down the dark, winding hallway. After rounding a corner, they froze at the sight before them. In the center of a cavernous basement stood an improvised altar draped with black cloth. Candles formed a wide circle around the sacrilegious display, their flames unnaturally still despite the draft whispering through the room. Danny lay across the altar, his wrists and ankles bound with what seemed to be living shadow, tendrils of darkness writhing against his skin. His eyes were open yet vacant. Clearly, he was under some kind of spell.

Surrounding the altar were what must be forty or fifty shadow gargoyles, their twisted forms hunched in reverence as they continued their unholy chant. Gideon stood at the head of the altar, hands raised, a malevolent grin distorting his once-familiar features. A curved obsidian dagger gleamed in his right hand. He held it up high, perched on his palms as if he were about to auction it off.

“The time draws near,” Gideon announced, his voice deeper than Malachi remembered, as if something else spoke through him. “As soon as our enemy brings us the Holy Grail, I will plunge this dagger into his heart, catching the blood of the Nephilim in the sacred vessel.” His lips peeled back in a hideous grin. “Thenwewill be the ones who will have power over all the rogues and shadow gargoyles!”

The rage building in Malachi’s chest threatened to explode. Danny’s long blond hair spilled across the black altar cloth, his lean body trembling despite his trance-like state.

“Now, Cassiel,” he snarled. “Summon the Slayers!”

With a feral battle cry, Malachi rushed forward, focusing only on saving Danny, getting him away from the filth who had dared to touch him.

The shadow gargoyles whirled at Malachi’s cry, their ruby eyes flaring with surprise and hatred. In an instant, the basement erupted into chaos. Snarls and screeches replaced the unholy chanting as the creatures abandoned their ritual positions.

“Slayers!” Gideon roared, his voice no longer human. He yanked Danny up by his hair, pressing the twisted blade against his throat. “One more step and I’ll end him now!”

Malachi froze mid-stride, his entire body vibrating with barely contained fury. The crystal against his chest burned like a supernova, Danny’s fear pulsing through their connection.

“You won’t,” Malachi growled, his voice dropping to the dangerous register that had made even Michael raise an eyebrow on occasion. “You need him alive for your pathetic little ceremony.”

Gideon’s face contorted into something gnarled, features shifting between his familiar face and something grotesque beneath. “Perhaps. But I don't need him unharmed.”

The dagger pressed deeper, drawing a drop of blood from Danny’s throat. Even in his trance-like state, Danny flinched, a small whimper escaping his lips. The sound pierced Malachi’s heart like an arrow.

“Let him go, Gideon. This isn’t you, you’re not like them.” Cassiel stepped forward, her weapon gleaming. “You’re surrounded. The others are already here.”

As if on cue, the remaining Slayers materialized from the gloomy recesses of the basement, weapons drawn. The shadow gargoyles hissed and snarled, their twisted forms shifting restlessly, primed for battle.

A cloud of doubt passed over Gideon’s features, his expression reminiscent of his true self. But Malachi didn’t have time to ponder whether Gideon could be redeemed. All that mattered was Danny.

With a roaring shout, Malachi called out, “Attack!” He shifted in mid-air, his wings bursting from his body, blade dropping to the floor as his talons extended. He slammed into Gideon, wrenching Danny free from his clutches. Danny fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, and for a split second, Malachi was also distracted.

Gideon lunged toward him, slicing the black blade across Malachi’s chest, tearing his stony flesh. No earthly blade could cut gargoyle skin, only the claws, fangs, or spikes of a shifted monster. Whether born of heaven or hell, a grotesque could only be injured by another of a similar kind. Malachi stumbled backward, holding his palm to the open gash. It wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding profusely.

“You can’t win, Gideon!” Cassiel shouted, decapitating a shadow gargoyle with a graceful arc of her blade. “The rest of our team is destroying those who follow you!”

Behind them, Ronen and the remaining Slayers engaged with lethal precision, their weapons flashing as they cut through the shadows. The narrow space worked to their advantage, funneling the creatures into a deadly bottleneck.

Malachi remained between Gideon and Danny, determined to stand his ground, Cassiel now standing beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“You heard her, Gideon. Give up.”

Malachi wanted to appeal to the brave warrior who had once fought beside him, reach past the darkness, and bring him back to the light. But his overpowering rage toward the piece of shit who’d dared to hurt and threaten his mate couldn’t be contained. If Gideon didn’t drop his weapon that second, all bets were off.

Gideon's eyes blazed with hellfire as his form shimmered between his human shape and something far more monstrous than his gargoyle.

“You don't understand what power they’ve promised me,” he snarled, his voice oscillating between his own and something ancient, guttural. “This Nephilim is the key. His bloodline carries the essence we need.”

“And you believe them?” Malachi spat, edging closer. “The rogue demons lie, Gideon. They’ve been lying for ages. Lucifer taught them too well, which is the only reason he came to the Divine Spark for help.”

“Don’t you remember, Gideon?” Cassiel interjected. “You were once a sentinel, a proud Slayer. It’s not too late to let go of your power lust and return to the fold.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Gideon’s features before his expression hardened once more. “Too late for regrets now.” With inhuman speed, he lunged toward Danny’s prone form.

Malachi intercepted him with a brutal tackle, both of them crashing into the altar. The obsidian blade sliced across his forearm as they grappled, the pain white-hot but secondary to his need to protect Danny.

“Get Danny out of here!” Malachi shouted to Cassiel as he wrestled with Gideon on the stone floor, talons raking against the traitor's flesh.

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