Page 4 of Gargoyle Defender

Ronen frowned. “Why would the rogues do that? I thought they needed the shadows to search for the relics.”

Michael’s lips quirked into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Apparently, they've grown impatient. The shadows have been taking too long to locate the remaining holy artifacts. You know demons—not exactly known for their patience or loyalty.”

Cassiel crossed her arms. “Then this same thing must be happening at lairs all over the world.”

Michael lifted one eyebrow as he regarded her. “Obviously. Which is why I sent a message to the other angels within seconds of my appearance.”

Ronen would never admit it to Cassiel or anyone else, but the mysterious ways of the angels intimidated him.

A particularly loud bang against the door made Ronen flinch

“Stand back,” Michael ordered, not bothering to look at them. “I’ll handle this.”

Michael moved to the entryway, his demeanor shifting from annoyance to resigned duty. He placed his palm against the door, and a soft golden glow emanated from his hand.

Ronen exchanged a quick glance with Cassiel. Her jaw was set tight, clearly unhappy with being kept in the dark. He was filled with the same frustration, though he was getting better at keeping his emotions buried behind a neutral mask.

The archangel spoke in an ancient language, his voice resonating with a power that made the air vibrate. The banging on the door ceased immediately.

“Enter,” Michael commanded, stepping back as the heavy barrier swung open.

Ronen tensed, ready to shift back to his gargoyle form at the first sign of treachery. His hand hovered near his blade, his body shaking from the effort to keep his gargoyle at bay.

Michael had been caught unaware of the shadow gargoyles’ imminent return. If an archangel could be tricked, then how could they take his word regarding these traitorous beasts? Ronen bared his teeth, his fingers curling tightly around the steel hilt of his weapon.

“I don’t give a fuck what he says,” whispered Cassiel. “I see one gleaming fang or pointy claw, and it’s on.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You in?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Ronen tensed as the first traitor entered the room. The sight that greeted him was not at all what he’d expected.

Chapter Two

A group of shadow gargoyles stumbled into the lair, their obsidian skin dull and cracked in places. They looked nothing like the fearsome monsters Ronen had faced in battle. Gone were the glowing crimson eyes, the misshapen, perverted form. These creatures were beaten, desperate—some even wounded.

“Thank you,” gasped the leader, a male with stony skin marked by jagged scars. “We didn't know where else to go.”

Ronen’s stomach knotted with revulsion. These were the enemy, the traitors who’d sided with the rogue demons against their own kind. Every instinct screamed at him to attack, to eliminate the threat. He glanced at Cassiel, whose expression mirrored his own internal conflict.

Michael raised his hand, silencing the group. “Before you say another word, understand this: your fate is yet to be decided. The Most High will determine if you deserve mercy.” His intimidating gaze swept over the group. “Now, speak, or be gone from here and face your doom without any hope of our protection.”

The leader’s eyes darted between Michael and the Shadow Slayers. “We were promised power, glory, a chance to break free from the constraints of our sworn duty,” he continued, his voice breaking. “But we were nothing but pawns—disposable tools to be discarded once our usefulness ended.”

Ronen’s fingers remained tight around his blade. These pathetic creatures before him bore little resemblance to the savage enemies he’d fought. Part of him—the part that still woke screaming in the night, phantom pain searing across his scarred flesh—wanted nothing more than to cut them down where they stood. They’d made their choice. They’d betrayed everything sacred.

“How many of you are there?” Michael asked, his tone measured but firm.

“Twenty-three are on the Eastern Seaboard. We’re all that’s left of our cell.” He lowered his head. “The demons…” His voice hitched before continuing. “They started eliminating us when we could no longer find any relics. They said we'd served our purpose.” His voice trembled. “Those who tried to escape were killed immediately. The rest of us they tortured for sport.”

Ronen’s grip on his weapon loosened slightly. The word ‘torture’ reverberated through his mind, triggering flashes of his own ordeal. His scars seemed to burn with remembered pain.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Yet here you are. I find it laughable to believe they would release you without an ulterior motive. Don’t lie to me.”

“I agree. I assume they hoped we would run to a lair to reveal your location.”

Cassiel gasped as Ronen tensed and Nash growled. Bastards. Michael chuckled, and Ronen wondered if he’d lost his mind. He couldn’t imagine what was humorous about their predicament.

The shadow gargoyle leader’s shoulders slumped. “We've been running for days. They were closing in, but we split up. Went in different directions before banding together again. We believe we’ve eluded them completely.”