Page 70 of Taken for Granite
“So do that,” Juniper replied.
Tas wanted to tell her that Rhododendron was his tormentor, his nemesis, the twisted individual who thought that giving him years of physical and psychological torture was better than death.
“She said you were her friend,” Chloe said, crouching near Juniper.
“We are not!”
Chloe’s eyes never left the bleeding female. “Look, she’s not my favorite person, but we can’t leave her to die or eaten by bears.”
He looked at his two females, sitting in the dirt, concerned with the life of the female who would have made them the playthings of the Syndicate. Their hearts held more compassion and kindness than he thought wise, but he would not love them if they were not so.
“Very well. I will bring Chloe to the ship and return with a medic,” he said.
“How long will that take?” Juniper asked.
He looked toward the peak, to Mount Nirvana. He had memorized the maps. “With a favorable wind, thirty minutes.” He picked up the discarded firearm on the ground and handed it to Juniper. “Here. Do not hesitate to use this on anyone who is not with me.”
“And bears,” Chloe added.
“Bears?” Juniper looked toward the tree line. “Just hurry.”
He lifted Chloe into his arms, the youngling weighing practically nothing.
“Odious weed? Time to garden?” she asked.
“Was that not sufficiently theatric?” He had watched several action films with her in the motel and liked when the hero gave a dramatic line before a fight.
“It rocked.”
* * *
juniper
Gunfire echoed through the mountain pass and Juniper jumped with each report. Each shot was another gargoyle injured or captured. She hoped that they would be able to reach the ship before the Rose caught them. As much as she hated to wish ill on another person, she sort of hoped the Rose agents got caught in an avalanche or attacked by wolves.
She flinched at every snap of a twig, constantly scanning the area for bears.
Bears.
That had to be a lame attempt at humor, right? Chloe didn’t know how her joke would get under Juniper’s skin. The day was strange and long and she had another person’s blood on her hands and pants, and Chloe thought it’d be funny to joke about bears.
Her last day on Earth was certainly memorable.
Rhoda shivered. Juniper took off her coat and covered the woman. Sitting in the sun, the cold didn't bother her, and clearly, Rhoda needed the warmth more than she did. The cold actually hadn’t bothered her at all, not even last night when the windows inside the house had frosted over. Chloe had piled on the layers and complained loudly, but Juniper thought that was just a teenager being dramatic. Tas had said that his mating fluid—juice? What word did he use?—would change her in subtle ways. She could appreciate not being bothered by the cold. What other changes would she find?
A figure appeared against the gray and white of the peaks, derailing her thoughts. At first, Juniper was unsure if she saw an illusion of shadows moving across the rock or another gargoyle. As the figure grew closer, the distinct wings and horns of a Khargal profile became evident.
Not Tas, though. It was a stranger.
Juniper held the pistol with both hands, aiming at the gargoyle.
The male landed, immediately walking when his feet touched the ground.
He smiled, baring fangs, and spoke in a soothing voice, the words guttural and so not English.
“Where is Tas?”
The gargoyle wore a blue and gray form-fitting uniform. He pointed to Rhoda and placed a bag on the ground. Juniper’s grip tightened on the pistol, following the gargoyle’s movements. Carefully he opened the bag and withdrew a silver canister. Again, he pointed to Rhoda and repeated his guttural words.
