FREED (Angels and Gargoyles Book 2) by Brenda L. Harper Read Free Book Online Page A

time she remembered having it. Stupid thing to do, to lose the only weapon she knew how to use.
    “We only want the girl,” one of the gargoyles said in a voice that was ancient, like the creak of rusty metal.
    “No,” Wyatt said.
    “She is dangerous,” another said. “More dangerous than you and your kind.”
    Wyatt’s spine stiffened a little, but he continued to stand his ground. “If you want her, you will have to come through me,” he said.
    The gargoyles looked at each other, the sound of their necks moving almost like the grinding of stone on stone. The middle one, the one that had been first to speak, stepped forward and raised his weapon. As he did, Stiles appeared in front of Wyatt and Dylan.
    “Hello, Henri.”
    The gargoyle studied Stiles closely for a long moment. “Brother,” he said in that same rusty voice. “I heard a rumor you died in Viti.”
    “Sorry to disappoint,” Stiles said.
    “Get out of the way.”
    Stiles lifted his axe, not really in a threatening manner, but just swung it by its handle as though he did not feel threatened. “I can’t let you hurt the girl.”
    The other two gargoyles growled, the sound as menacing as anything Dylan had ever heard. The first held up his hand and gestured for the others to be quiet. He stepped forward, moving within a few inches of Stiles’ face so that there could be no mistaking what he was doing. And to whom.
    “We heard that you had switched sides, Brother,” he said, so close to Stiles that even Dylan, a few feet behind him, could smell the stench of his breath. “But I never would have believed it if I wasn’t looking at you right now.”
    “I didn’t switch sides. I just changed my opinion of the methods we use.”
    “And what is that?”
    “This is the future of humanity, Henri,” Stiles said. “This girl and her kind, they are the ones who are going to survive this new world.”
    “They are not human.” the one Stiles called Henri spat, the spittle flying all around the doorway where Dylan and Wyatt stood. “We were entrusted with the care and safety of humans, not hybrids.”
    “How many humans are really left?” Stiles asked. “What is there left for us to protect?”
    “It is not ours to question,” Henri said.
    “Maybe it should be.”
    Stiles pushed forward, knocking Henri back a few feet. Henri pushed back, his axe raised in front of him as his gaze rested on Stiles. “Don’t make me hurt you, Brother,” he said.
    Stiles pushed again. The other two moved forward to help their companion, and the ringing of metal on metal resonated around them. Wyatt turned and pushed Dylan back into the doorway of the building behind them. She stumbled into a room that was long and wide like the room across the street where the others hid. Wyatt pushed her again, encouraging her to run into the depths of the room. There was a staircase in the far corner. Dylan took the first steps two at a time without any further urging from Wyatt.
    The stairs went up four flights and ended in another large room. This one was stacked with boxes from one end to the other. Wyatt moved in front, grabbing Dylan’s hand and leading her into another corner, where the boxes made a kind of natural hiding place. They crouched down, snug together, as they had been inside the formation outside their camp.
    Dylan wanted to open her mind and find out if the others were safe, but she was afraid to know the answer. They could still hear the ringing of axe on axe, knew there was still a fight taking place in the street below them. But that didn’t mean that one or two of the gargoyles hadn’t left that fight to find another somewhere else.
    They listened for a few minutes without moving. The space was really narrow, smaller, maybe, than the last. Dylan was aware of every breath Wyatt took. Aware of every inch of his body where it was pressed hard against hers. He must have been uncomfortable, crouching the way he was. He finally slid onto his bottom,