Mona Lisa Darkening

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Halcyon mentally cursed the weakness of his body. The mutiny of his physical strength, which had always seemed so endless and abundant. For the second time in his long afterlife, he knew what it was to be weak. And like the first time around, he found it a most inconvenient state. Even his mental power had started to drain by the time the gargoyles had flown to their rescue.

He recognized exactly who and what had come to their aid. And the reason for it — Mona Lisa — did not overly surprise him. He was grateful for their timely intervention. Even more grateful to have them as friends instead of enemies. Halcyon knew of the gargoyles from his demon past — from demon legend. He doubted, however, that Gryphon had any inkling of what kind of power they were capable of wielding. If they were lucky, that power would be demonstrated shortly. Unfortunately, luck did not seem to be much in evidence at the moment. The giant obor had apparently encountered their kind before; it didn't allow any of the gargoyles near enough to touch it, especially the gargoyle that came deliberately at it with bare hands.

Halcyon had known that the Nether Realm affected the oldest demons most severely — the first to feel the new realm's denseness, the last to recover from it. It was part of the reason he had allowed Gryphon to accompany him here, pairing Gryphon's youthful strength with his older mental power. But in truth, had it not been for Gryphon's presence and his surprising loyalty, Halcyon would have long ago been devoured by the obor, weakened as he was from the arduous trek down the mountain. So much time they had wasted, hours of it, doing just that.

The odds had been against their finding Mona Lisa before the doorway his father had carved out closed with finality between their realms. Their chance had grown even slimmer with Halcyon's growing fatigue and ever slackening pace.

"Go back," he had told Gryphon when they had stopped yet again for a rest.

"Fuck you, my lord," had been Gryphon's polite, impertinent response.

He'd been about to order Gryphon back when the obor had sensed them and attacked. Now, miracle of all miracles, Mona Lisa was here, safe, and they had several hours yet to reach the doorway. They had a chance, a very good chance of making it, if only they could neutralize the one obstacle in their way — the giant obor.

The obstinate beast wasn't cooperating. Far from it. A lucky swat with its thick tail struck a gargoyle, sending him tumbling down to the ground, his weapon knocked from his hand. The creature wheeled about, its two front legs lifted up to crush the downed gargoyle. Shouts of alarm sounded from the others, but they were all too far away to be of help, and none of them were successful in distracting the beast's attention away from their fallen comrade. As those two massive legs came crashing down, something darted in.

The ground shook like a small earthquake at the stomping impact. And there was a shocked, still silence as dust swirled up violently from the ground. The obor lifted one giant leg and then the other, backing away. And all peered down at the ground. Nothing. No trampled body. No crushed gargoyle.

From behind the huge body of the beast, a gargoyle flew into view, the one who had stood beside Mona Lisa dressed in royal purple attire. In his arms was the fallen gargoyle he had plucked out from beneath the obor's descending feet. A few words spoken to the other gargoyle he carried, awake and conscious now, and his arms dropped away as the other gargoyle spread wide his wings. The two of them flew, weaponless, near the head of the giant obor. one on either side of the big head, like fat teasing moths.

The obor gave an enraged shriek, snapping its sharp teeth at them. They flitted away, one up, one down. As the massive jaws crunched on empty air, the gargoyle dressed in purple slapped his bare hand upon the obor's heavy snout. The creature's angry roar changed to a horrible, high-pitched shriek of terror as it froze, unable to move, and began to solidify in a visible wave moving down its body. Immobilizing death was spread with that one touch. Or a state as close to final death as you can come here in this realm without reaching that actual state.

The spreading petrification was like a giant, unstoppable wave that undulated slowly down the creature's body, turning it into solid rock. Another gargoyle, the one who had rescued Gryphon and flown in Mona Lisa, laid his hand on the obor's massive rump. The twitching tail froze and turned to rock and, unbelievably, the petrifying process began from that end also. Life leached out, or life as it existed here in NetherHell. It slipped away from the hardening flesh, froze out all the suppleness from the skin. The second wave of stony transformation washed through to the center of the massive body and met the first wave. For a second, the obor was captured perfectly still like an exquisitely carved rock sculpture. Then the creature exploded as the two colliding forces met. Fragments of rock flew in all directions. Dust filled the air. When it settled, there was nothing left of the obor but crumbled pieces of stone spewed out over a hundred-foot radius.

The gargoyles looked shocked. For good reason, Halcyon thought. Because only one gargoyle, the king, was supposed to possess the ability to turn flesh into stone. And yet two gargoyles here had wielded that ability. Which of the two, then, was the gargoyle king?