Rise of the Gargoyle

Fury. Cold dark fury shook Xanthe to the core; uncontrollable tremors had her falling to her knees, sharp rocks and broken bits of rubbish cutting her skin. She clenched her teeth in frustration and agony as muscles in her back felt like they were being torn asunder.

A terrifying scream of fear was wrenched from her throat. A scream so loud and fearful it broke through to the frenzied battle. That instant was enough for Rasputin to gain hold, throwing the wolf to land hard against the closest building as he raced to Xanthe.

Gorg froze at the sight of her.

“How can she change? It’s not possible, she’s not one of us.” Wulfgar cried as he backed away, others followed his lead.

Xanthe screamed again, pain wracked her small frame as muscles split and reformed. Bones snapped and regrew. She tried to unclench her teeth as her jaw ached, only to find it impossible as an unseen force reshaped her body. Her ears buzzed as the pressure grew; her vision blurred as her jaw became squarer; her cheekbones pushed higher; her forehead bugled slightly before hardening.

Xanthe tried to slam her head to the ground in a desperate attempt to counteract the pain, knowing it would be futile, pointless; but anything had to be better. Pain knifed again, she suddenly was no longer alone, warm hands cradled her head before it connected with the ground. She tried to break free from the warmth, but they only held her tighter refusing to release. Again, pain shifted to her back, with a force so strong she was torn from Rasputin's grasp and flung several meters away, landing roughly on the concrete as muscle, bone and skin were dragged from her back. With a final agonizing scream, the pain ceased as though it had never been but left her momentarily weak.

Looking up to where Rasputin and her family stood terrified, colours bombarded her; the dark dingy alleyway now appeared to be in full light, with details so sharp and detailed. Xanthe shook her head to clear the image, but it remained. Not only had her body transformed but so had her senses; not only vision but also, hearing and smell. Scents she had never noticed before now assailed Xanthe; rot, mold, stagnant water, and all manner of human and animal detritus the normal smells one would find a world of abandoned buildings but just as powerful the scent of terror, hatred, confusion, and love. Xanthe heaved from the onslaught.

Rasputin and her family watched on, rooted to the spot not knowing whether to approach or run, not knowing if this creature was still Xanthe or some new threat they would have to fight against. Somewhere down the alley behind came a new threat, their senses had alerted them to the oncoming danger. A scuffling sound, rocks skittered against the walls, as several rivals headed toward them, but they were not the only ones to pick up on the threat.

Xanthe.

As pain and anger still coursed through her body she stood to full height and cried. She would not take another threat to those she loved, they may fear and resent what she has become but they were all she had, all she knew.

As her family and Rasputin turned to face this new attack; Xanthe raced past and was on the trespassers before they had time to react; met them before they entered the alleyway colliding with the first in the group; a scout by the reaction as he saw her, his eyes widened, mouth opened in terror but not a sound escaped. She could see he wanted to flee; to escape, to move, but terror had him frozen to the spot. Suddenly she was lifting him off his feet and throwing him across the lane. He collided with the disintegrating bricks with a loud crack before sliding to the ground, no longer moving, no longer alive. The rest of the rival gang arrived in the lane as the lifeless wretch became another part of the refuse. They were not so terrified, charging on mass to avenge the lost member. They were fast. A few shifting has they raced to where Xanthe stood waiting. Teeth and claws collided. Two of the rivals connecting with Xanthe, she spun reaching out and punched the first in the throat, sending it to the ground; the second knocked her backwards as he connected with her waist. Xanthe grabbed her assailant, pushed hard from the ground; attempting to throw him over, instead both she and her assailant were hurled several meters into the air. Xanthe let go in shock; her assailant falling to the hard ground below, knocking him unconscious. Suspended in mid-air Xanthe was terrified she had no idea how to get down, let alone how she was staying where she was. With a terrified scream she fell, the ground rushing to meet her.

Then blackness. Nothing.

A warm, fragile hand brushed Xanthe’s forehead, a loving delicate touched she remembered, craved. It must have all been a dream; terrifying and so real, but Granny was here so it had to be a dream. Xanthe had not yet opened her eyes but sensed they were the only ones in the room. She was happy just to stay as she was and not face the day, only stay here with Granny.

Muffled sounds grew louder outside the room, she knew her family were arguing; she then heard her name mentioned and Rasputin’s. Rasputin. She had momentarily forgotten; forgotten the reason they had travelled to see her family. She had to get up. Had to be with him, to face the family together.

Xanthe opened her eyes then, went to get up but Granny put a hand on her shoulder stopping her. Granny was not as strong as she once was, but Xanthe knew to obey her will. She was the one who found her, named her, raised her, defended her against the family. Xanthe had been found as a baby, no one knew where she came from. No one wanted her, only Granny. Granny was the final say. The clan had to concede to her wish, but they made it hard and pushed the boundaries of how far Granny would defend Xanthe. In a world of shapeshifters, a non-shifter was less than the scum on the rocks; useless, a burden. Only after defeating Wulfgar in a match of wits as a teenager had she been seen as more.

“Why Granny?” Xanthe whispered. Granny just shook her head. They waited.

The door to the room was flung open, several people entered. Rasputin went to rush to Xanthe, but one look from Granny had him rooted to the spot. Xanthe was confused. She closed her eyes as tears blurred her vision.

“I am Isobel, but all call me Granny. Who are you?” She commanded of Rasputin. She was a formidable woman, the matriarch of the clan. No one would cross her and survive if she did not will it.

The room was silent, all holding their breath waiting for his answer; would she condemn him or embrace him.

“I am Rasputin. My mother’s name was Hilda Crowther, she raised me until my stepfather dragged me behind the bikes and left me to die in the wastelands. My real father is Dominic Cad Gazin but that is all I know.” He stood, head up, waiting her response, her condemnation.

Several emotions crossed Granny’s face as she heard the names of his parents, but so fleeting you would have thought them nothing. Did she know them?

“Sit Rasputin. Gorg you stay as well, sit. The rest of you outside.” As her eyes swept the room she could see the rebellion at her orders, but no one dared disagree.

As the room emptied Granny opened the curtains to let the morning sun dispel the darkness. She turned back and took a seat at the foot of Xanthe’s bed. She sighed before looking at each of them.

“Where is your mother now Rasputin?” she asked.

“My mother?” Rasputin was not prepared for this question and looked out of the window.

“She passed away two weeks ago.” It was Xanthe that answered “We had gone to visit her; she had been barely able to see and was very frail. She thought Ras was his father. His real father returned to her. She told us what had happened. How she had lost both his father and then Ras when he was barely 14 years old. I…” Xanthe trailed off.

“What is it you are not telling me?” Granny asked, she knew her daughter too well.

“I used my skills to heal her eyes, she could see Ras clearly but then, passed away in the night.” Xanthe finished in barely a whisper, but Granny heard.

“You were lucky she did not take you with her, dear heart.” Granny held Xanthe’s hand.

Rasputin spun back to face them. “What do you mean, lucky she didn’t take her?”

“The skills Xanthe used are not meant for those destined to pass over. She could be trapped by them, forced to cross over with them. She was lucky your mother must have been aware enough to let Xanthe go before she left. For that I will be forever grateful to her. Another debt it appears I owe her.”

Confusion showed on all the faces in the room. “You knew my mother?” Rasputin asked.

“I did but it is a story for another time. There are more important matters to attend to. I heard that you aided my son and clan in our most recent fight, had you not you would not be standing here now. I am sure you are aware you have hurt my youngest grandson in the fight that you had previous, before Xanthe’s change. I am also aware you were fighting to protect Xanthe, although they would never have harmed her. But you were not to know that.” Granny shook her head at the stupidity of it all.

“Will he be alright?” Rasputin asked.

“He will. He has only just begun to shift and his emotions run high. He will survive.” Granny answered.

She turned to Gorg, who nodded in confirmation. He had not looked at Granny or Rasputin until that moment, having not been able to take his eye off his sister.

Granny turned to Xanthe. “So now we need to determine what has happened to you, don’t we?” She smiled.

Granny got up and crossed over to set of drawers on the other side of the room. She then returned carrying a plain looking wooden box. She sat next to Xanthe.

“This dear heart is all I found with you, those many years ago.” She smiled as she opened the box. Inside was a tiny mud coloured rag, Granny carefully unwrapped what was hidden within. Lifting it up to the light, they could all see a golden filigree heart locket, with a ruby red center.

“We need to find out what the changes have done, how strong you are, but most importantly I think its time we found out about who you really are. This I believe may be a start.” She smiled at Xanthe.

Xanthe reached past the locket in her Granny’s hand to hug her tightly, she knew she wouldn’t be kicked out of the family, that they would be there for her and so would Rasputin.