On Your Knees, Prospect (Kings of Hell MC 3)

Plywood and chunks of insulation sprinkled the floor as the gargoyle stampeded on all fours down the hallway, toward the noise of the wedding reception.

His voice was a torrent of rusty nails falling into a cauldron, and his body so large it filled the entire width of the hallway, dragging the webbed wings behind him as it ran like a mother bear on a rampage to protect her cubs.

“No. No fucking way,” Gray roared and pulled the wire all the way off Vars’s throat before speeding after Azog with his gun drawn and ready for use.

Vars choked on the amount of additional air that suddenly boosted his brain, but even with his balance sending him back to the floor as soon as he tried to stand, he moved forward, drunk on the sudden intake of oxygen. The floor was cold under his palms, hard to his knees, but when screams erupted ahead, and the dreaded sound of gunshots tore through the air, he pushed himself up and ran.

The gargoyle could stand more than a human, but its high-pitched squeal resonated with terror that sank into the invisible hole in Vars’s chest like a pang of guilt. It was all his fault. He could fool himself into believing that he’d done the unforgivable to ensure Jake’s safety, but a part of him had been so afraid of Damon, so afraid of dying all over again and the nothingness that wanted him back, that he called on the gargoyle to cause havoc.

He’d done it to save his own skin.

Vars stumbled into the reception room to witness pure madness.

Bullets flew through the air, over the heads of screaming civilians, who fled through all doors or behind the armed men as the gargoyle thrashed along the walls, frantically looking for a way out.

As if to quiet it all down, Azog’s next step in his fury was pouring a stream of fire out of his throat, straight onto the tables full of food that blocked his access to the windows. In the corner of his eye, Vars noticed the beautiful wedding cake, the one to still be cut up, melt and fall to the floor tier by tier.

The curtain behind it caught fire, and the flames momentarily climbed halfway to the ceiling. People dispersed, some running to the exits, others seeking cover behind fallen tables, but in the chaos created by the huge monster stampeding over carefully decorated tables like a trapped animal, Vars noticed the only constants—members who didn’t run, ready to protect their territory with blood.

Beast rolled behind the ghost table, which was broken on one side and now provided little to no protection anyway, and shot at Azog, only missing the head because of the gargoyle’s abrupt spin.

Azog let out a deafening roar, but instead of fighting, smashed the massive window. He was halfway out already when Knight managed to shoot through his wing. The gargoyle screamed in anguish, but when it turned its head for long enough to find Vars, his eyes were blue again.

Jake had gained consciousness.

Vars ran, wanting to yell out an order, bring Jake back, but his throat was still constricted, aching, and he started coughing half-way through a sentence.

It was no use. Jake fled through the window, half flying, half limping through the expanse of snow, soon disappearing in the far-off forest.

Chapter 18 - Vars

Fox climbed one of the tables that were still upright and unleashed the fire extinguisher on the flames consuming the curtain. Still in a daze, Vars looked at the other Kings, who checked their weapons, alert and in combat mode already, even though they’d all been drinking and dancing just minutes ago.

Beast stood in the middle of it all, assessing the damage to the room that was all overturned furniture and broken gifts hidden away by lingering smoke. He was steady as a tower made of rock, but his wide eyes told another story.

“Should we try and catch it?” Knight asked, staring at the broken window as if he expected it to spew legions of infernal beasts.

In another corner, Laurent crawled out from under a table, his face remaining strangely expressionless as he walked to the tables of charred food on wobbly legs.

Somewhere in the back Vars heard a woman shriek hysterically, while someone joined her, offering words that were meant as soothing yet actually sounded like yet another cry for help. Rev pushed his gun into the holster and grabbed Gray’s arm, tugging him to one of the exits. “This thing must still be out there. Its wing’s damaged. If the guns aren’t enough, let’s get rifles.,” he said in a voice that radiated excitement, as if he were about to hunt lions at a safari.

“No, you can’t,” Vars tried, but his voice was still thin and got lost in the noise around him.