Page 48 of Taken for Granite
“I imagine it doesn’t look good on your record that you lost me, blind and broken as I am.” He flexed his one good wing to demonstrate. “How embarrassing for you.”
“Bring the creature to Holding Room Three,” Rhododendron snapped. She shoved Chloe into Juniper’s arms, both females sobbing and babbling. Juniper ran her hands over Chloe, inspecting for any damage. Two large males took Tas by either arm to lead him away.
He dug his heels in, willing his feet to marginally turn to stone and increase in weight. “Once the females depart,” he said.
Rhododendron sighed dramatically. “Fine. If you’re quite finished with the melodrama, ladies, can you get on your way?”
Once Juniper and Chloe departed, Tas allowed himself to be led inside.
The barn appeared to be that and nothing more, but a service elevator under the hayloft gave a clue to the building’s true nature. The agents led him into the elevator and Tas complied, acting the part of a docile gargoyle.
The taller man with sandy hair punched a code into the keypad. Tas memorized it. He had been in many Syndicate-run facilities and determined that they all used the same security measures. The layout was similar in that the front-facing, publicly acceptable aspects of the organization were on the ground floor. At least the ones in England had been. He hoped it proved true on the other side of the Atlantic.
“This facility is for animal husbandry?” he asked.
“Forest conservation,” the tall male answered.
“That’s why this is a horse farm.”
“Forest. Conservation,” he repeated.
The elevator descended several floors and made no indication of stopping.
“Don’t talk to it,” the other male with fox red hair said.
“And if I do? You gonna squeal to that English bitch?”
“She is in charge of this operation, so yeah.”
“And it’s going so well. She already lost the creature once,” the tall man said in a snide tone.
“But captured the new specimen.”
Tas placidly took in that information, but his pulse picked up. The Syndicate had their filthy hands on another Khargal.
The doors opened, revealing a stark white corridor. Sterile and cold seemed to be the guiding principle for Syndicate decor. The two agents continued to bicker, paying little attention to their prisoner.
Under the hum of the lightning, Tas could hear the footsteps of approaching agents and voices behind doors.
Well, no time like the present.
Twisting his wrists, he shucked the binding. Making a fist, he swung at the man with fox red hair, connecting solidly with his chest. The man fell to the ground. Tas gave a satisfied nod. Even if he did not have the stone-summoning abilities of those in the warrior class, he could still deliver a blow.
The other agent swung a pistol device, the ends crackling with electricity.
Tas dodged to the side to avoid the electrified prongs, grabbing the agent’s wrist and slamming it down on his knee. The pistol clattered to the ground, where Tas stomped on it, crushing it underfoot.
Grabbing the man by the collar of his suit, Tas held him up to the retina scanner at the nearest holding cell. The door unlocked and Tas shoved him and the unconscious male inside.
“Wait! You can’t do this!” The door slammed shut and the man’s shouts stopped, though Tas could see he remained quite animated through the window.
Soundproof. Nice upgrade.
Hurried footsteps approached. With his stone-hardened fists, he smashed the overhead lights, plunging the corridor into darkness.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched out his wings. This was his element.
Voices shouted in confusion. An alarm blared. Bullets fired. He moved to avoid the gunfire, but he knew he could heal any damage by slipping intoduramnaagain after this was over. The only true danger was sleeping darts. The tips could pierce stone and render him unconscious.
