Gryphon and His Thief Page 5

  Finally, her gaze rested on him. "You are not an item," she told him and lifted her chin in defiance. "You're flesh and blood. You're real, and these are not." She pointed, but not at anything in particular.

  He chuckled without mirth. "I am indeed an artifact as you shall soon learn for yourself. I am cursed and at the curators' mercy. I am neither alive nor dead, but I have traveled the world along with everything else in this museum, but have never seen the sites of any of the places. My only purpose is to guard." Her brows furrowed and he didn't blame her for not realizing what he spoke of, but as soon as the sun rose high in the sky, he would once again be still as the objects around him, a soul trapped in the statue of a Gryphon. "When you arrived tonight to steal Hecate's Stone – the official name if you didn't know—"

  She rolled her eyes heavenward and he had a hunch she'd known the name. Then he remembered the curators always labeled everything. She most likely noticed the card beside the artifact when her nimble fingers removed it from its berth. "You stumbled upon a statue of a Gryphon, did you not?"

  "How do you—" she began, but he interrupted her.

  "Your hand caressed the statue as if you admired the fine art."

  Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips as if they were suddenly parched. "The Gryphon statue was you?" Her voice held a note of doubt.

  "Cursed, remember?"

  "Wow. The story just keeps getting better and better. I'm still getting used to the idea Gryphons exist, and now you want me to believe you can turn to stone." She chuckled, a nervous laugh as if all she learned was still being processed in her mind. She ran a hand through her hair. The long strands slid through her fingers, lifted away from her face, and floated down around her features again like flames of dark copper and even darker red. "Go on," she told him and he had to blink to concentrate once more. His gaze caught sight of her striding over to a chair, intent on taking a seat.

  "No, do not sit there!" he warned, panic making his heart beat faster and his body tensed as tight as the wire of a bowstring ready to spring forward. His booming voice made her jump, but at least it stopped her from making a big mistake. Her gaze swept over him, fully expecting an explanation and he didn't disappoint. "It's the chair of a convicted murderer," he told her. "Upon the day of his execution, his last request was to have that item – you were about to place your derriere upon – delivered to his cell. It was from his favorite restaurant where he had spent hours upon hours when he had been a free man."

  "So what, he cursed the chair?" she asked in confusion and when he nodded, she threw up her hands. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

  "He didn't want anyone else to enjoy his spot in the restaurant. Of course no one believed the curse and the chair was returned to where it belonged, but when the patrons started succumbing to horrible deaths, they changed their minds soon enough."

  Her lips pursed and she placed a hand on her slim hip, not appearing convinced in the least. "Come on. Everyone dies. I'm sure every death could easily be explained away."

  "They died within a week of sitting in the chair," he added and her face paled. "Go on. Test the theory and plop down for a rest." He waved his hand at the item in question, knowing it would be a challenge she would not take. She was a thief, but she calculated her moves and didn't take unnecessary chances.

  "Okay, fine," she finally said with a harrumph. "I believe you. So where do I sit?"

  "At the curator's desk." He pointed to the wooden structure near the back of the room. "Should be safe enough. I haven't found the curator's body decaying among the artifacts."

  "So nice to know," she said with a grumble as she strode over to the desk and pulled out the leather chair stationed behind it. She plopped into the chair and rolled it back so she could place her booted feet on top of the desk. All nice and comfy, she leveled her gaze on him. "Okay, spill it. Tell me the rest of your tale."

  He shook his head with a sigh and glanced toward the broken window where the approaching day could be seen with the sky lightening with each second that past. "I do not have much time."

  "You going somewhere?" she asked.

  He turned to look at her. "Once the sun is high in the sky, I turn to stone."

  Her haughty expression slipped from her face and she swung her feet to the floor and scooted to the edge of the chair. "What do you mean? Like you're going to be a statue and you can't just… I don't know," she snapped her fingers, "use your magic and be human again?" Then it must have all clicked into place. "You awaken when the sun sets," she said more to herself before her gaze riveted to him. "When I broke in, you were still sleeping, or whatever it is you do when you're frozen in time."

  "Frozen in time is a good description, but when you arrived the awakening spell was at work. It doesn't just happen. It is a slow process."

  She leaned on the desk and folded her hands. "Go on then. Tell me as much as you can before you can't."

  "And what of Hecate's Stone you took?" He had to know she would not turn it over to the professor while he lay dormant and useless to stop the transaction.

  "I'll keep it safe." He must have thrown her a skeptical expression because she added, "You have my word. I will not make a decision until I know all the facts about the stone and what it can do."

  Still, he debated if he could trust her, but really what choice did he have? He could let the beastie kill her right here and now and be done with the charade, but his human half preferred it did not harm her. Finally, he relented and gave her a nod. "I will have to trust you, I suppose."

  "Jeez, thanks." She sat back in the chair once more. "Time's a ticking." She tapped her wristwatch.

  At times, he believed her attitude was designed to irk him, but he let out a long tired sigh and began his tale. "Gryphons were the guardians of treasures," he stated.

  "I see nothing's changed," she interrupted before he could say more.

  "Do you wish to hear the tale or not?"

  She waved her hand in front of her. "Go on then."

  "We were a noble tribe, both human and beast. We could shift at will, giving us an advantage some of the other shifters did not have."

  "Was Callista a Gryphon also?"

  He shook his head. "She was not a Gryphon, but a human. We grew up together, spent many afternoons talking and holding hands. She loved to talk, and she was clever and lovely…" He realized he was rambling and glanced at Calli. Her gaze was thoughtful and he had feared she would think him a besotted fool.

  "You loved her," she said as if she hadn't believed him when he had told her before.

  "Yes, I loved her," he repeated in a low whisper. For a moment neither of them spoke, as if they were giving reverence to the love he once shared with his sweet wife. "Callista's father approved our marriage for he loved his daughter more than any treasure he kept. He believed I would keep her always safe. He had no reason to doubt me since I had guarded his treasures well and had safeguarded his family from marauders for decades."

  "But something happened," she said not as a question, but he nodded and answered her anyway.

  "Yes. Isa..." He swallowed back the bile which threatened to choke him at the mention of the traitorous female who had stolen his love. "Isa was from my tribe and believed we should have been mated, but I did not love her the way she loved me. I cared for her, yes. I never encouraged her, but she mistook our friendship for more." He swallowed hard and fought the urge to cry out in anger and grief. When he had been free, and such emotions had plagued him, he would take to the sky for relief. Flying calmed his nerves, kept him centered. He glanced at the window with yearning.

  The beast stirred inside of him, demanding to be released, but he couldn't indulge. The curse would not let him shift and use his gifts for comfort. He didn't understand how it knew the difference, but it did. He flew only to retrieve stolen artifacts. It was the only time his wings would obey him. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He hadn't expected the recounting of what happen centuries ago to hurt s
o much, but it was like a wound that wouldn't heal and he was picking at it with his talons.

  "Are you okay?" Calli asked.

  He glanced at her and, in truth, worry marred her features. "It is difficult…" His voice broke and he cleared his throat.

  "It's never easy losing someone you've loved," she said. "No matter the how or the reasons why it happened."

  Their eyes met, and for a moment, he drew comfort and strength from her. He had to finish the story no matter how much it pained him to do so. "Callista and I were married for months and we spent as many hours as we could together. We could not get enough of each other. It always amazed me how much I wanted to just be with her, look at her, or listen to her tell me about her day. She loved to fly. She'd sit upon my back with the wind blowing in her hair. She never feared being so high above the earth. Not when she was with me," he added, and his lips curved at the memory of her sitting upon his back and her laughter sweet and pure.

  "She must have loved you dearly," Calli said, not as a question but as a statement.

  He nodded. "Yes." He inhaled deeply and let his breath out again, preparing himself to tell the end to this story. "As Callista and I grew closer, Isa's jealousy took on a life of its own. I was foolish not to see it, but I was drunk on our love and believed everyone shared our happiness." His hand rubbed the back of his neck, his body already feeling the effects of the morning light. He felt stiff and achy and knew he had to hurry. "I would soon learn the ugly truth about Isa and how far she'd go to have what she wanted. Isa spun a fanciful tale and had me chasing a thief who did not exist. While I was on this merry chase, Isa cornered Callista at our home. My sweet wife never had a chance against a Gryphon. Even in our human state, we are stronger than a mere person with no shifting abilities. Callista fought, that much was evident from the destruction left behind. Vases were broken and furniture was overturned…" He paused to take a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

  "Normally, I'd say take your time," Calli said, "but the sun…" she nodded toward the window and he turned to peer outside where the sky had lightened yet a few shades more.

  He glanced at Calli again. "Isa ran a dagger through Callista's heart. When I arrived home, she no longer stood in the land of the living. Her life's blood had seeped out of her." He lifted his hands and stared at them. He had tried to stop the bleeding even when he knew it was too late. "There was so much blood."

  "Did you go after Isa?" she asked quietly, but it drew his attention and he lowered his hands.

  "At first, I did not realize Isa was responsible for her death. Besides, I had something more pressing to face."

  "Callista's parents?" Calli asked.

  "Her mother wept uncontrollably, but Spiro her father was in a rage and wanted to have my head served on a platter. However, he thought of a more fitting punishment for me. A curse. Where I would never die, but would never truly live either. I would be a guardsman of artifacts best forgotten for all time. Do you know how lonely forever can be?"

  "I can't imagine."

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. It was a lot to digest. "What a horribly sad story," Calli voiced. "My heart breaks for all you've lost – your time with Callista and your chance for happiness, but…" She chewed on her lower lip as she worked out what she wanted to say. When she did, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. "In all the centuries, why haven't you found another woman to love? Please know," she hurried to say, "I'm not belittling your affections for Callista, but she could not be your one and only. Surely, there have been others." Her hand absentmindedly touched her lips and he wondered if she were thinking of the kiss they'd shared.

  He gave her a whisper of a smile. "I cannot leave this place, and even if I could, Gryphons mate only once. We love truly and completely, once we've found our soul mate. Callista was lost to me. She was a priceless treasure the world would never see again because I failed her. Don't pity me," he warned when she opened her mouth to speak, but he could see it in her eyes. She felt sorry for him and he wouldn't have it. "I deserve this fate, but if there was some way to redeem myself, I would. On my very soul, I pledge that I would." He met her gaze and didn't waver as he let the true meaning of his words sink in.

  The emotions flitted across her face – pity, anger, and grief being among them. Then her gaze leveled on him once more as the dawning of his words became clear. "You believe you can redeem yourself because of me. Because I look like her, right?"

  He had hoped as much, but not just to redeem himself. He loved Callista. To have her back with him again…even for a moment… He sighed heavily. "You are Callista." Calli opened her mouth to probably deny the fact, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Please, hear me out before you say more."

  She nodded and settled in her seat once more.

  "My very soul feels her in you, but you are also different. Perhaps each rebirth also allows for the soul to have its own individuality."

  She leaned back, a frown marring her features. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't buy into the whole reincarnation bit."

  "Did you believe Gryphons existed before tonight?" He lifted a brow, daring her to answer with the truth.

  "Well… no." She brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. A gesture Callista did often when she was deep in thought, or if something perplexed her and she needed to work it out. "I may not be an expert on Greek mythology," she said, "but I don't remember reading very many stories about Gryphons, and your love story and Callista's seems like a tale that would have made the books."

  "Spiro, Callista's father," he clarified, "made sure the Gryphons were forgotten, or so he hoped to achieve as further punishment. To be forgotten is the worse curse of all, don't you agree? It's as if you never existed, but somehow the word Gryphon has slipped into the languages all the same, however our glorious tales are all but gone." He shook his head as he remembered his tribe, his mother, father, sister, and all the others. As far as he knew, he may very well be the last of his kind.

  "I'll remember you," Calli said and drew his attention.

  Before he could comment, before he could tell her how much those words meant to him, the curse took hold, and he froze. The sun was in full power and he no longer could be. He felt the shift upon him and the hardening of the blood in his veins…his limbs. He would be a statue once more.

  Chapter Nine

  "What's happening?" Calli flew to her feet as she witnessed Darrien's body contorting at an alarming rate. His skin paled to a ghastly shade of white-gray then a horrible gurgling sound escaped his lips as if his breath had solidified in his throat. The awful truth dawned on her of what was happening. "The curse," she said in both awe and apprehension. "Oh, Darrien." She felt the tears prick her eyes at seeing him so vulnerable, and the agony he went through as the curse took hold and contorted his body into the statue he would soon become.

  He told her this is what would happen, but something else was taking place too. Her hand slipped into her pocket to retrieve her cell phone. Recording this seemed somehow important and she didn't hesitate, sliding her thumb over the record button. But as Darrien's change progressed, she felt guilty to be witnessing such a private event.

  "Omigod," she mouthed, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. Frustration and curiosity did a strange dance inside of her as she watched transfixed as the process took place. She couldn't look away.

  Just when she thought nothing more horrific could happen, Darrien's body divided as if he were two completely separate beings – a man and a Gryphon. It was like his soul was being torn in two. The Gryphon struggled, its wings fluttering to life, large and beautiful like an eagle's majestic span, but on a much bigger scale. It bellowed and its eyes – Darrien's eyes – met hers. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry, and she had to force herself not to go to him. She could do nothing to help him, but she could stay so he knew he wasn't alone.

  Her gaze then centered on the human essence which separated as soon as the Gryphon si
de of Darrien's existence completely hardened into the statue. This human form was not solid, but like a ghost…transparent. It didn't seem to notice her at all as it strode or rather floated toward the front door as if to leave the premises. She stared wide-eyed for two full seconds before she went after him, still filming as she wondered where he was heading.

  He floated through the front door and she immediately threw it open to give chase. She halted on the landing then caught sight of him heading around the corner and she hurried after it, only to slide to a stop when she spotted the ghostlike figure standing by a vehicle parked in the carport next to her car. She'd noticed the vehicle earlier, but didn't question it since it was dusty and had obviously been sitting there for a long time.

  Then the most amazing thing happened, Darrien solidified into a human form, clothes modernizing into slacks, dress shirt, tie, and cardigan. Black-rimmed glasses materialized on the bridge of his nose, making him appear studious and perhaps a bit geeky, but with a rough edge.

  For a long moment, he just stood there by the car, staring at it. His eyes seemed to shift back and forth like when a person dreams, only his eyes remained open as the process took place.

  "Darrien?" she called to him and lowered her phone.

  He jumped at the sound of her voice and stumbled back as he spoke, "Oh dear, you gave me such a fright." His voice sounded different. Still a deep masculine baritone, but the way the words flew off his tongue… Then it dawned on her. There had been no sign of an accent which revealed his Greek heritage. Instead, this version of Darrien was British. Interesting development. She wondered what else would prove different about him.

  "I didn't mean to startle you," she told him and smiled, hoping to put him at ease. She wasn't sure what Darrien remembered about his change inside, but since he never mentioned any of this, he probably didn't remember a darn thing. He seemed to be a very thorough man, a warrior who'd once been in charge, but this part of his essence appeared a bit frazzled.