Free Gargoyle Quest by William Massa

With an audible snap, his fingers elongated and turned into razor-sharp talons.  
    The pain was unbearable.  
    He shook with agony as his spine reared back with a deafening crack and a pair of giant batlike wings exploded from his mauled shoulder blades. A roar surging up his throat, he tore the cuffs apart in a ferocious explosion of steel. The monster that rose from the chair was neither man, nor beast—a thing caught in mid-transformation.  
    The stunned hunters brought up their crossbows just as the gargoyle knight attacked. Before they could fire, Artan’s monstrous bulk was upon them. Even as the hunters shrank away from the incoming gargoyle, the rational, human part of Artan wondered how he could change in the middle of the day. A year earlier he would’ve only been able to shift when the moon shone its pale light upon his cursed flesh. This time, the transformation seemed more fluid. It was as if he had wished for the power to break his bonds, and the gargoyle had answered.  
    A roar of bestial rage drowned out all other thoughts about his condition, reducing the world to one simple objective: Survival. The two monster hunters were trying to kill him. He would need to strike fast. Reality sped up as his fiery gaze landed on them. Moving with inhuman speed, he lunged at his opponents, bolts searing past him.  
    The first hunter’s face still wore a fractured grin as Artan’s gargoyle hand closed around his throat. His arms were larger and more heavily muscled than those of a man, but still lacked the reptilian texture of a fully transformed gargoyle. Artan fought back the need to sink his fangs into the man’s throat and taste hot blood, the human part struggling to keep the monster at bay.  
    These men are not my enemy, he told himself over and over again, but the gargoyle seemed deaf to his words.
    With inhuman strength, he lifted the terrified monster hunter off his feet and tossed him across the length of the loft apartment. The man shot through the air and crashed into the big-screen TV. Glass shattered and sparks flew. At the same time, one of Artan’s half-formed wings swept the hapless hunter aside, knocking the crossbow out of the man’s hands.  
    Within seconds, it was all over.  
    The gargoyle knight, chest heaving, body trembling with rage and adrenaline, towered over his defeated opponents. Furious frustration had given way to an explosive surge of power. Darkness pulsed, filling every fiber of his being. And with his newfound strength came the sick appetite for blood.  
    Finish them , his gargoyle nature whispered.
    Visions of death and destruction slashed through his mind, whetting his hunger for murder.  
    No. I am not a beast. I am a man.
    A king.
    Despite the terrible force raging within him, Artan regained control, disgust at what he’d become overcoming his lust for violence. Rhianna needed his help. He had to get to the MET as quickly as possible.  
    And this time he wouldn’t venture into battle unarmed.  
    He turned toward the sword that had twice ended Cael’s dark reign. The Blade of Kings caught his reflection, and Artan barely recognized the demonic visage glaring back at him. This face didn’t belong to the man who’d stumbled through Manhattan a day earlier, wondering what to do with the rest of his life. It belonged to a nightmare.
    One clawed hand closed around the hilt of the sword and pulled it from the hooks on the wall. Anyone foolish enough to harm his beloved would experience the wrath of the gargoyle.

C HAPTER E IGHT

    “PLEASE, HELP ME!”  
    The guard kept repeating the same words over and over again, a terrified mantra. His hands roamed wildly over the area where his eyes should be. They hadn’t been gouged out. No, they had simply vanished. Smooth skin covered the eyeless sockets, transforming his face into a grotesque mutant mask.  
    “For God’s sake, SOMEONE HELP ME!”
    Rhianna recoiled as the eyeless guard lurched toward her, arms flailing.