jaws_of_fenrir (jaws_of_fenrir) wrote in demona_elisa,
I read this fic years ago and was totally blown away, I contacted the author, but recieved no response. Alas, this person posted only one fic on http://adult.gargoyles-fans.org/

All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company.
No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder.
All original characters are the property of Canis Minor.

The Talon’s Edge, by Canis Minor. NC-17/X. CanisXminor@yahoo.com

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***WARNING***!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Explicit Femslash, n/c, BDSM, blood.
This is not a particularly nice story. It is in fact very dark, and has a high probability of squicking many of its readers. If you think you may be one of those people (or if you are not of legal age or for whatever other reason should not have access to this kind of material) I kindly invite you to go elsewhere. If the above constellation of descriptors excite rather than repulse you, then enjoy with my blessings! But you have been forewarned.
**************************************************************************
The Talon’s Edge
by Canis Minor
2003


She knew her plans were changing at that moment when red first blossomed beneath her talons upon the detective’s fine skin.

Elisa’s eyes were wide and dark and tense. Her slender body was rigid in the bonds that held her to the heavy oaken table and Demona could feel the feather of her pulse jump when the gargoyle traced her collarbone, drawing a fine scarlet line behind it, but the human made no sound.

Demona almost admired that.

“You’re foolish, human, ” she said conversationally, stepping back to enjoy the sight of her prey, bound spread-eagled to the sorceress’ work table in the mansion’s sub-basement with manacles at wrist and ankle that even a gargoyle couldn’t have broken. Her chest rose and fell quickly beneath her ubiquitous black t-shirt; Elisa was afraid, though doing a good job for the moment of containing it. This, too, pleased the blue gargoyle that lurked in the shadows of the small round room. Humans ought to fear her, this one most of all.

“You knew that I know where you live. You know that I absolutely detest you.” Her eyes flared briefly carmine before subsiding. “Was it arrogance, my dear? Or an acceptance of your fate?” She smiled, a slow cruel curving of full lips as she riffled through the pages of her grimore. It was nothing so grand or powerful as the Arcanorum, of course, but over the centuries she had assembled a fair number of useful spells and compiled them into an object of not inconsiderable power. “You were just too easy to catch.”

“What do you want, Demona?” The detective’s voice was low and harsh, trying too hard not to betray concern.

“Well,” said Demona, supremely confidant, casually inspecting her razored claws, “My original plan was just to kill you. Make short work of you, perhaps with my bare talons, because it would feel so good, and Goliath would never know what became of his sweet little human pet. Now? It seems a shame to get it over so quickly when I’ve gone to such trouble to aquire you.”

Ah...the mixed relief and hope and renewed worry in those luminous and expressive human eyes...that was nice. Though the detective would never know it, Demona’s decision to abduct her had been made almost impulsively. Nightstone’s CEO had needed to be present at a board meeting in New York, which had gone well, and Demona’s celebratory glide around Manhattan afterwards had accidentally (at least on a conscious level) brought her past the brownstone apartment building she had invaded once a few years before. Demona had circled it a few times, feeling the familiar smoldering fury mixed with a predatory bloodlust that an afternoon’s worth of corporate raiding had excited but been unable to sate.

I will have her, she’d thought. That human.

So she had. A quick glide back to her mansion had netted the necessary supplies. Winging back, the canny immortal cast upon herself a tiny spell that had been helpful more than once in the past: a glamor that encouraged humans to look away from her, that greatly facilitated her efforts to hide.

Sunrise was near, and there were no other gargoyles about. With grace and silence, Demona landed on the balcony. That human was inside; the beautiful killer could hear her humming to herself as she washed dinner dishes, going about her routine blithely unaware of the lurking danger.

When the sun rose upon another dreary Manhattan morning, the unwelcome guest bit back her scream as the transformation took her. It was difficult, so difficult as the pain flared through her to stay quiet, as her skin blanched, her wings shrank, her long muscular tail sunk into her body. But she did it, thinking with pained satisfaction of her prey, innocent within and entirely without protection, now.

The December morning was cold. A small, pale woman leaned against Elisa’s wall, crossing her arms across her thinly-clad chest as, human, she began to shiver. For the first time she noticed the frost riming Elisa’s houseplants and window glass. Under her halter, her nipples stiffened in the chill. Her bare skin began to chafe.

Demona’s eyes, acid green now, narrowed maliciously. Another thing the human was going to pay for. In time. In any form, she was a predator, and she could wait.

The sun had barely warmed the thin frost when, cat silent, she let herself in. The place was warm, inviting, and Demona stretched with pleasure. Something soft and furry rubbed around her ankle and purred, and the transformed gargoyle looked down, nonplussed, at the gray feline. Trusting little beast, little knowing that it caressed death.

The red-haired woman knelt and stroked it for a moment, enjoying how it writhed in delight.

Gracefully, she padded into the bedroom. Elisa’s curtains had been drawn close, but a golden ray of the morning’s sun, still precious to the immortal predator, cast a line across the rise in the blankets that was the detective’s hip.

Goliath’s little human mistress slept the sleep of the innocent. Curled on her side, she was a paragon of vulnerability, the soft chest rising and falling with gentle rhythmic breath, the raven silk of her hair spread on the pillow.

She was beautiful, for a human. And braver than most of her foul kind, Demona had to grant her that. For a long time, the red-haired woman simply watched her, eyeing her faint movements, watching the pulse flutter beneath her long, caramel-skinned throat.

After several hours, the Detective began to stir. Demona slipped forward then and pressed the drug-wetted cloth to her nose and mouth, holding her tight with the warrior’s ferocious strength. Elisa wakened abruptly, long muscles tensing as her trim body came instantly on the alert, but her cries were cut short quickly enough. She looked up pleadingly before losing consciousness again and slumped bonelessly into the arms of her uninvited guest. Demona held her for a long moment, tracing the Detective’s high cheekbone with her soft fingertip, feeling the clean heavy texture of her hair. After a time, she lowered her back into the bed.

Night had seemed to come quickly after that, and the immortal huntress’ agony-scream as the spell tore her true form into being was a howl of triumph. She scooped the unconscious human into her arms in a mocking parody of Goliath’s protective embrace and was quickly gone into the fresh night.

The detective had been an easy catch indeed. And now she had her.

Elisa lay on the table, quite alert now, watching her captor with that wonderful expressive silence. Her dark eyes were like a snared doe’s before the merciful huntress had out her throat, an expression Demona had savored on more than one human face in her long and often cruel past.

But this human, on this human it was so much sweeter.

Demona padded close to Elisa again, her talons clicking softly on the polished, dark hardwood floor, the gold at hock and arm and brow glinting darkly in the workroom’s lamplight. That worried cast never left the human, and Demona gazed deeply onto her prey’s eyes, smiling somewhat, not wanting to miss anything in the detective’s expression. She let her talon drop to her rival’s cheek again, felt Elisa stiffen under her touch as she caressed the fine jaw. Demona remembered what it had been to touch Elisa while she was unconscious, the gentle yielding of her soft skin, quite at odds with the angry, nervous tension the human radiated now.

Demona dropped the talon lower, caressing her long throat carefully. The thin line of blood on her collarbone was beginning to dry, the subtleties of its darkening color beautiful to a gargoyle’s eyes. As she was, even Demona had to admit.

Such a nice balance, this cursed little bitch. Predator’s bearing with the prey’s human fangless, wingless softness. So fragile, physically, compared to one of her kind. Goliath must have so much fun with her.

Well, they always had shared their prey.

Demona dug her talon under Elisa’s jaw, feeling the warmth of human blood slick it immediately. The detective gasped, pulled hard against the bonds, her eyes filling with anger, the whites showing.

“Now, now, my pet,” Demona purred, catching the side of Elisa’s face and holding her still as she brought the other talon to Elisa’s shoulder, caressing her through the thin black fabric of her nightshift. “That hardly scratched you.” She brought her stained finger to her lips, licked delicately, and grinned, the faintest tinge of a ruby glow backlighting her eyes. “You’ve a delicious taste.”

“Go to hell, Demona!” the human spat, eyes flashing. “And I am not your pet. What do you think you’re doing?”

Demona ran her talons through Elisa’s long hair, brushing the back of her skull. “You think not? Well, you keep a feline...my little human pet. You should know. I’m having a bit of fun. Playing with my next kill.”

Ah, such a lovely widening of the big black-coffee eyes, so pretty watching her try to hide it, appealing how the heartbeat leapt under the talons that lay in graceful threat over her throat. Almost a shame to slay this one. At least immediately, anyway. Demona felt at that moment almost protective.

The cobalt-skinned gargoyle traced Elisa’s cut collarbone again, and then swiftly drew three talons across the black nightshirt in a long downward slash. Elisa gasped, tried helplessly to free herself, arching hard against her bonds. There was no escaping from it; her captor had seen to that. The shirt fell away, a ruined tatter now.

“Well,” purred Demona. “Let’s have a look at exactly what Goliath finds so appealing, shall we, little prey?”

Elisa said nothing, but how fiercely her eyes did burn, hotter than the coals in the brazier. Demona could almost feel their gaze like a physical impact on her flawless hide, and they warmed her, almost exited her as she let her own sharp gaze rake the human’s body.

Elisa’s breathing came faster now, moving the elegant narrow chest, quivering the soft breasts, their dark tips stiffened in the room’s faint chill and perhaps in fear. Elisa was finely made, the muscles a warrior’s, the skin beautiful in its tender, vulnerable way, the lines clean and broken only by the low black scrap of the panties she wore. Demona looked her over carefully, appraisingly, made sure that Elisa saw her looking. How she loved to watch the human squirm.

“You’re marred, pretty one,” she breathed, flicking her tailtip once, drawing her talon through the drying blood at her collar and throat, caressing the white, torn scar just above and between the human’s breasts. “This looks like it should have killed you.”

“It almost did.” The detective’s words were clipped and reluctant.

Are you attempting to buy yourself time, my human pet? This can take a great deal of time.

“You took a bullet doing something noble and heroic, I suppose.”

“No, actually. It was a stupid accident. Broadway shot me when he was playing with my gun.”

Demona actually barked a startled laugh and flexed her wingtips. “Now that, I wasn’t expecting. Broadway is truly an idiot. Shame he didn’t aim a bit lower and do the thing properly. But then, if he had, you and I couldn’t be having this pleasant little encounter now, could we?”

Elisa’s expression darkened. “Broadway is a good person. He’s very sweet and very young. He didn’t know. He does now, and I think he’s a better gargoyle because of it. Better than some I could name.”

Demona glared cooly. She wasn’t about to let the human goad her, but Elisa would pay for that. She wasn’t the one strapped to the table entirely at the mercy of a predator several times stronger and naturally equipped with razored claws.

The thought had to have occurred to her captive. Elisa looked up at the ceiling. “The one on my leg I took in the line of duty. Just grazed me but it hurt like hell, let me tell you.”

Demona stroked the human’s thigh possessively, enjoyed the flinch and the tensing as Elisa tried hard not to react. Sure enough, a long white line trailed across her smooth tawny leg like a comet. The gargoyle explored it with her clawtip, traced its end to just behind her right knee and lightly raked the soft skin there. She ran her talon up the tenderness on the inside of that thigh, felt Elisa jump as its sharpness came perilously close to the scrap of black cloth that covered the last of her and finally rested on her flat belly. She smiled. “Goliath must have turned the fellow inside out who did it.”

“That was before I met Goliath.”

Demona regarded her for a long moment as Elisa glared stubbornly at the ceiling. The very end of her tail twitched once. “Is it working,” she finally asked, “Between you two?”

Elisa’s eyes flicked to her suspiciously before returning doggedly to the wood panels above her. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Does he ever harm you,” the azure gargoyle asked with a quiet purr, “when he mates you?” Her claw moved again, traced a delicate line down her belly, across the slim muscular thigh, insinuated itself under thin cotton.

Elisa’s pulse jumped. “Did you take me here to kill me or to ask me personal questions that are none of your business?” The human’s words rang with tough bravado, but there was the faintest note of panic, and a hoarse timbre that was not panic at all.

Demona smirked and her claw sheared the fabric more easily than butter, leaving Elisa utterly, painfully exposed. Her ribs rose and fell more rapidly than they should, and the dim light gleamed on the human’s long black hair and the glossy dark curls at her sex. The gargoyle traced down the contours of her lithe body then, returning to the long trailing scar that ran from thigh to calf before suddenly digging the very tip of her claw in and shallowly re-opening its length.

Elisa jumped against the bonds hard enough to bruise her wrists, eyes wide, swearing. “Answer my question, human,” Demona said almost gently. “Does Goliath ever harm you when he mates you? You must have a certain degree of...durability, to easily withstand the desires of a gargoyle male.”

“I never said anything about easy,” she snapped, her tone furious. “Goliath is very gentle and careful. But yes, occasionally he does hurt me. If you’re that curious you ought to have tied me so that you could look at my back. That’s the only spot he ever left any scars.”

The gargoyle’s red lips curved. “I might just have to take you up on that.” Oh, the look of concern on Elisa’s face, that was delicious. Didn’t mean to give me ideas, did you?

Demona stroked Elisa’s forehead then, smoothed the ebon silk of her hair, cupped her chin so that the human was forced to stare into her captor’s midnight eyes. “I want to enjoy you a bit before I remove you as an annoyance in my life forever, little one. So you’ll answer my questions. At least it appears that the spell is beginning to work.”

“Spell?” The human’s voice was full of anger and suspicion.

Demona ran her claw through the fresh blood that still flowed from Elisa’s wounded throat and began to trace patterns upon the fine, thin hide, marking it with tiny threads of scarlet. The human’s dusky nipples stood taut and hardened from the soft roundness of her breasts, and the gargoyle began to toy with them, flicked first the one and then the other ever so gently with her wicked claw. She was rewarded by Elisa’s ragged gasp.

“A very minor spell.” Demona’s softly accented purr was hardly more than a whisper now. “To make this a bit more enjoyable...for me, at any rate. It decreases your resistance. Suggests that you obey. You see...my delightful little quarry. I want you to ask for what I’m going to do with you. I want you to thank me when I finally decide to end it and bury my talons in your ever so fragile human hide. I want you...responsive.”

Moisture shone beneath eyes squeezed shut, just a drop, as Demona played with her breasts, carefully caressed the honeyed skin. I have you, don’t I, Elisa Maza? I’ve found so easily what you cannot bear. The loss of that exquisite control, the arrogance, the pride.

Elisa’s back arched helplessly, a fine and perfect Platonic curve, as Demona’s talons rattled along her ribs, the sides and belly tautly stretched. “You prefer gargoyles, don’t you?”

“Go to hell, Demona.” She winced as the sharp talon dug below a rib that stood so clearly against the smooth flesh, and swallowed. “I suppose I do, now that I’ve had the experience.”

The predator, fascinated, reached again between the human’s spread thighs, felt heat caress her talon even at a distance. Elisa’s scent had changed, gone deeper, more intense, a rich and heady musk indelibly female. It did not repulse her, incite her to mayhem. But Demona felt her eyes begin to burn.

“Goliath’s trained you well, hasn’t he?” Her voice was a low growl, barely audible.

Elisa’s teeth gritted, as if willing away the reactions of her own body. “Goliath...hasn’t trained me...to do anything.”

“I believe I disagree.” Demona smiled cruelly, barely touching the very edge of the human’s most privately female body. Elisa was spread for her, and the exiled gargoyle eyed the fine, deeply rose-tinted structures that the human could not keep from her now. Moisture glinted there, a faint, tempting, honeyed gleam. “Do tell me, detective. Is Goliath the only gargoyle that...attracts you?”

“No.” The human’s whisper was hoarse, tormented. Demona allowed her talon to slip upwards a bit farther, to caress the inner lip. Elisa exhaled a tiny hiss, and her hips moved involuntarily.

It was a good scent, Demona decided, for a human.

“Broadway, I suppose?” she taunted.

“No,” Elisa growled, “Not Broadway, damn you. You are a demon.”

With a motion swift and decisive, the gargoyle slid her index talon into Elisa. The human almost growled, pressed herself faintly against the intruder. She was staring up at the ceiling again, her eyes white-rimmed. She was trembling, and the war was clear in her dark gaze between the threat of that deadly claw probing her most intimate anatomy, and a ferocious, betraying desire.

The human’s juices, clear and sweet, slicked Demona’s elegant hand. She moved the talon slightly deeper, allowed Elisa to feel the prick of its sharpness even as her thumb rubbed at the tiny sensitive nub of flesh just above. That brought a stifled groan from her quarry.

Her prey responded well.

Why, she wondered in some remote corner of her preoccupied mind, am I doing this? I took this human to kill her, to repay her for her temerity, to punish Goliath for his betrayal. I mean to kill her. I really do.

“Please,” Elisa gasped.

“Is that, please stop, or please continue?” The azure killer mocked quietly, but flicked her talon against that most sensitive place a bit harder, curved the claw that was inside of her victim. Elisa bit back a pleasured keen.

“You know.”

“It seems that my little spell is working quite nicely, isn’t it?”

Pent tears spilled across the aristocratic pane of the human’s cheek now in a silver track, the whole of her long sleek body flushed and trembling minutely with desire. Demona brushed them away with the knuckle of the hand that was not buried still in the superheated flesh of her prey’s violated interior, lifted the moist knuckle to her fangs, tasted salt.

The taste of this human’s vulnerability was so sweet, the salt tears a tender and innocent echo of the blood that clotted darkly at collar and throat, that flowed freely from her re-injured calf to stain forever Demona’s oaken table. A sudden surge of protectiveness shocked Demona, a violent, possessive need for this, her old mate’s new plaything. And now...hers.

“Do you like this, little pet?” Her voice was low, dangerous with honeyed threat. The azure length of her tail lashed; her wings rustled as though she might spring. “Would you have me stop?”

“Don’t.” The word spoke volumes, a strangled, pleading cry. The human was close; she had to to be from the flush of her skin, her excited, high scent. Demona withdrew her talon, teased that burning center of the human’s pleasure one final time. She raised her clawed hand then, sampled that other, finer essence of Elisa. The moisture sleeking her vicious talons reflected the carmine glowing of her eyes.

She stroked the human again, smeared the tracery of drying blood on her skin with that richly perfumed dampness. She brought the talon to Elisa’s mouth, which opened readily, obediently, for her. Elisa bit down, not gently. Demona hissed satisfaction.

“Let me up,” Elisa whispered. “I want to touch you.”

The cobalt gargoyle raised a brow ridge. “And why should I allow that, human?”

Elisa’s dark eyes still held a challenge. “Because this can’t possibly be all for my benefit,” she hissed. “Because you can’t do...what I know you want to...with me tied to the table.”

Demona’s wet claw found the wound beneath the detective’s chin and swiftly cut deeper, and Elisa cried out with the sudden pain. But she stilled, her whole body tensed as Demona held her there, jaw poised on the vicious claw as carefully the gargoyle undid her heavy leather bonds.

Demona did not remove her talon, but slowly pulled it forward, forcing the human to follow or risk a far worse injury. Elisa’s eyes widened in a wonderfully evocative horror as she hastened to abide by her captor’s unspoken command, scrambled and half-fell off the table. She stumbled on the smooth hardwood floor, her joints stiff and aching from the bondage, her wounded calf bleeding sluggishly. Watching her struggle with a steady, expressionless gaze, the gargoyle showed her no mercy, leaving the clawtip embedded under Elisa’s jaw as she fought for her footing, tried for a scrap of dignity.

Elisa met her eyes, jet on jet, pools of anger and fear and fathomless desire. “Yes,” she growled at last, never dropping her eyes from the gargoyle’s hawkish glare. “I am afraid of you, Demona. And I am attracted to you. Very much. Your damned spell, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” challenged Demona as, ignoring the sharpness still threatening her tender throat, Elisa raised her tawny hand and stroked the thick softness of her rival’s flame-red mane, trailed small human fingers across the hard, set jaw.

Demona’s tail snaked harshly around her ankle, pulled, forcing Elisa’s thighs apart. Elisa swallowed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head almost wearily against Demona’s shoulder. The gargoyle felt blunt human teeth nip the fine cobalt skin there, felt passion ignite within her with a ferocity too near to rage.

She was a human! And Goliath’s at that.

But such a..delectable one. And wasn’t that part of the attraction?

Demona released her throat and allowed her claws to roam the detective’s bared flesh again, inciting and demanding and insistent. She permitted Elisa’s bold touch, not hesitant at all to embrace and welcome this awful threat as she probed Demona’s back and the insides of her velvet wings, quickly found the catch of halter and loincloth and let them fall. Demona allowed her captive to watch her for a moment, the admiration shining in the rich dark gaze. Elisa dared to caress the gargoyle’s side and belly, dip lower to stroke the short, amazingly soft pelt that rose like a small, bright flame above her sex.

“Aren’t you going to attack me, human? Attempt to get away? Make a bid for your freedom and your life?”

The silvered tracks on her cheeks were beautiful, so exquisite and fine. “No,” whispered Elisa. “I don’t think that I can.”

I care nothing for her, Demona told herself as she smoothed the ebon mane, brushed away those tears yet again. “Kneel,” she growled, and her tail pulled at the human ankle with threat and demand.

Slowly, Elisa knelt before her, never taking her eyes from Demona’s, which did not miss the quiver in her limber form. Her hair fell in a tangled riot around her shoulders as the darkened scarlet trickled slowly down her throat, across the tops of her breasts.

Demona caressed the back of her skull, traced a small wound, nearly healed, at her nape. “Goliath really is careful with you, isn’t he? This is hardly a scratch.”

“Yes,” breathed the human, “he is.” And she leaned forward boldly, unbidden, to taste the sweet nectar between her tormentor’s thighs.

The gargoyle’s eyes blazoned, and her claws tightened as she held the human closer. Elisa’s mouth was wondrous, soft and careful and demanding all at once, unexpectedly skilled. Patiently, fiercely, the detective examined, probed, tasted the intoxicating seat of immortal need now offered to her.

Demona growled, a fierce, low, animal snarl. Her breath caught, quickened, and the mingled tang of the human’s desire and her own rose to flavor the still air.

Elisa’s thighs were spread wantonly, needful. Demona, watching her with eyes hooded and half-mad with desire too long repressed, admired the slim curve of her back and hindquarter. She flexed the long, deadly cord of muscle that was her tail and stole it up behind, brushing delicately along the human’s smooth flank.

Elisa whimpered and lapped all the more insistently, steadying herself against the gargoyle’s long, tapering hock. Her spine tensed, knowing what was coming, what had to come, as the tailtp teased her, played with the folds and petals of her sex, tormented that hidden nub of abject need.

Demona entered her then, swiftly and with a devastating, brutal thoroughness, pressing deep as the human could take and the most minute length deeper. Elisa howled, clutching Demona’s long fetlock, her blunt human nails digging into the skin as, with her tail, Demona actually lifted her briefly from the ground.

“Demona...” From her lips, the name the gargoyle had been given so long ago became a caress, an anguished plea.

The gargoyle worked her with the fierce smooth tail even as Elisa made her own subtle demand, drove her captor closer and closer to that inevitable edge. When finally it erupted, flowing through her in a burning riot of light and sensation hotter than the wildness of the sun, Demona snarled, her whole body one great, responding spasm. She fell to her spiked knees, still holding the human who bucked against her in helpless abandon. Demona felt the human’s muscles close hard on her tail, stronger than she would have ever have thought.

Well, that was Elisa altogether, wasn’t it?

The human curled against Demona like a cat, pulling trembling knees to her chest and laying her head in the gargoyle’s lap. Demona covered them with wings that still shook in the wake of what had transpired, felt the human move as close as she could, as if for comfort. Bemusedly, Demona stroked the raven hair, watched the rise and fall of the human’s uneven breath.

What would it be, to still that?

“It’s time, my little prey,” she growled, and Elisa looked up, startled, doe-eyes still hazed with passion. Demona’s lips curved in a cruel smile. “You’ll ask, my pet. I’m going to finish you. Finally.”

“You can’t,” Elisa whispered desperately.

“I can,” she said, her voice rich with insinuation, “do anything that I please with you. I believe that we have just proven that in a very concrete fashion.”

The dark eyes lowered, the proud head bowed. “Then do it,” she whispered. “Whatever you’re going to do.”

“You’re mine, human.”

Elisa could not look at her. “Yes.”

So swiftly that Elisa could not possibly have seen it coming, with terrible, ultimate force, Demona slashed her talons down across the lean golden thigh in a clean, diagonal path just above the older scar. Elisa’s eyes blazed with sudden anger, and with a furious scream she pulled away from the gargoyle; but with inexorable and unbreakable strength, Demona held her tight and close.

Helpless and shocked, Elisa looked at Demona and then to the three narrow, deep parallel lines that were only beginning to well.

Demona smirked. “And you are now marked as such.”

Elisa said nothing, but, shaking, allowed the immortal to pull her into a close embrace of arm and wing.

The moment seemed timeless. If Elisa felt her captor’s minute shift or the scrape of her tail on wood, she paid it no mind. But she yelped a protest when she felt something cold lavished upon the newly ravaged skin, felt the burning of it hit a half second later.

“Hush,” instructed the gargoyle. “Be still. This will stop it bleeding, which you’re going to need if you want to stay conscious for much longer.”

Elisa did, in point of fact, look more than a little dazed. “What,” she mumbled, “You’re concerned for my safety, now?”

Demona’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she stroked Elisa’s back and neck. “Hardly, my little pet. The night’s young yet. Do you actually think I’m even close to being done with you?”

Demona’s claw forced the human’s thighs apart again, rested possessively upon the flank now marked as hers. Oh, the expressive volumes in those depthless human eyes, the moment of realization. Simply lovely.

***

“You never did intend to kill me, did you?” Elisa asked groggily, pressed against the gargoyle in flight, shivering through the thin coat that Demona had permitted her.

“Do not presume to know, human,” Demona growled, but held her even closer.

She landed with the consummate grace born of centuries. The alley was empty and dark, pristine with the newly fallen snow. The gargoyle released her.

Elisa was unsteady on her feet, eyes just a bit hazy with shock. The tiniest drop of carmine stained the snow as she shivered. “Where am I?”

“Close enough to the castle that you should be able to get there without too much further damage, if your luck holds. ”

“I suppose I should thank you.” Even now, that edge of sarcasm wavered through. It warmed the sleek blue predator even as snowflakes alit upon her flame-bright mane.

“Yes,” she grinned. “You should. Go, human. While you have a chance.”

“Demona.”

Roughly, swiftly, the gargoyle caught her and pulled her close, capturing Elisa’s narrow chin in her talons; without drawing blood, this time.

“You do well for yourself, my pet.”

“I’m not...”

“Hush.” Demona’s talon traced the contour of her swollen lip. “There was no spell, you know.”

Shock layered on shock in the sable eyes. “What?”

“I’ve never used magic to do anything to you, oh human of mine.” And she tilted Elisa’s head, very gently nipping her at cheek and jaw.

The gargoyle was swift and powerful as a hunting cat. She launched herself from the snowy ground against an alley fence, using that as a springboard to throw herself into the lightening sky. Shivering, Elisa watched her go, her hand at her throat, her eyes wide and worried and dark.

end
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