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Ashes	By : SelbenCoirlo Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 8216 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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This chapter contains: Violence, MDom, FDom, M/F

Chapter 3: Fraternity

Demona wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She stared at Evan’s lifeless corpse, at the bloody empty holes where his eyes had been, at the swollen purple tongue pushed from his mouth. She hated him; she hated so well, she had had so much practice, and with every bit of her expertise she hated Evan. But still she stared, and she hated that she still had to reach up every few minutes to wipe her eyes as they blurred with tears.

She lifted her head. Something had changed, or was changing. The small hairs along her arms lifted up, and she shuddered. She felt the familiar excitement in her belly again; it was not in her nature to wait. She had to take action. And this was her chance, she knew it. She stood up at looked at the black ceiling and smiled, though her beautiful green eyes were still rimmed with red, though her body still hurt, though her neck was still covered in bloody scabs and she still stunk with her filth and a dead man’s cold semen dripped from her crotch. She looked up towards the artificial heavens and smiled, then doubled over and shrieked in pain as her legs twisted, as the cuts on her face abruptly repaired themselves, as new bones forged themselves and tore their way out of her back. It was an agonizing transformation, but it was over quickly and she was used to it. Afterwards she stood. She smiled, the excitement building within her, and with a deep roar she threw herself at the door.

Clawed fingers scraped along to wood, tearing away chunks and slivers but doing very little actual damage. The wood was old and incredibly hard, and she could already tell that within it was a core of steel which, if she could break it at all, would probably not be quiet. Shrieking with frustration she threw her body at the door over and over again, eyes burning red with frustration and wings flapping uselessly behind her as the door shook in its frame and clouds of white dust raised up from the walls. Finally, exhausted, she slumped against the door.

She perked up her ears as she heard it; a quiet cracking noise. She looked around, wide eyed, as she heard the snapping sounds surround her, and as white plaster powder fell upon her a slender black line surrounded the door. It fell outwards into the hallway with a resounding boom, almost undamaged but taking chunks of the wall it was anchored in as it went. After standing stunned for a moment, Demona stepped out into the hall and roared her freedom. She looked both ways quickly, then took a quick step down the hallway before being frozen in place by a voice from behind.

“And where are you going miss… Demona?” The man’s voice came from directly behind her. The thought was never even put into words; she dropped down into a crouch and twisted around, whipping her tail around in a heavy blow behind her which the man narrowly stepped back from, and without hesitating she leapt while he was still off balance.

‘No time for hesitation,’ she thought, ‘no time for mercy. The last time I dared to believe I had a friend all I got was pain; the last time I hesitated I was hurt and violated.’

‘Kill him before he has a chance to betray you.’

Her weight forced him onto the floor; he grunted under her. The same unfeeling cold blue eyes that haunted her relentlessly looked up at her, from a hard and slender gray face which sneered up at her. She roared and pulled back with her right fist, then slammed it into his face expecting it to crumple like one of the many Scottish warriors she had murdered in her time but screaming in dismay as the bones in her hand shifted and snapped with a crunch. Demona rolled off of him and slumped against the wall of the corridor, cradling her broken hand and writhing in pain.

The man was dressed all in black; black jeans, black shit, black leather jacket. He was already back on his feet, laughing at her sadistically. “You can’t hurt me whore. You think you’re a monster but you’re still just meat.” He stood above her, sneering down at the naked gargoyle woman, still covered in the filth of her earlier murder, and chuckling. “But trying to kill me is trying to kill steel. Your fragile bones, you claws and teeth. Against me they’re worthless.”

She looked at him, growling deep in her throat, a trail of spittle dripping from her mouth. He opened his mouth to laugh at her again, but it was arrested in his throat as her left hand dove in and with a screech her claws dug deep into the steel flesh of his belly. He screamed shrilly and took a step back, sweeping his arm backwards across her face and stumbling backwards as he felt her claws slip free, glowing sparks raised by the torn metal sputtering out and leaving smoking holes in his clothes and the carpet. As his arm whipped across her face a spray of blood from her mouth stained the wall behind her.

“You fucking bitch!” he shrieked, holding his hands to his belly as silvery metal liquid flowed out between his fingers. “You dirty cunt!” he screamed, and dove upon her, driving his heavy fist as hard as he could up into her belly. Demona coughed harshly and curled around his fist, grabbing at it with her one good hand as tears of pain sprung into her eyes. As her claws once more dug into his steely flesh he screamed with rage and pulled back with his right fist. “I’m going to crush your fucking skull you fucking winged shit whore!”

A hand gently wrapped itself around his elbow, and a sad and gentle voice interrupted, a voice at once similar to a man’s yet completely inhuman. “We’re on a timeframe Kyle. If you kill her like that she won’t wake up for quite a while, and mom wants to start her punishment immediately.”

A tall man with harsh, sad features and a strangely hard and shiny face stood behind them. Kyle looked up at the man who had stopped him and sneered. “Fine,” he said, and as the restraining arm fell away he drove his fist into Demona’s face, crushing her nose and spraying her blood down her front and over her tits. As she groaned, feebly pawing at her face with her broken right hand, the man behind him sighed. “What?” Kyle asked a touch defensively. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Let’s just go,” the other man said as he turned and walked slowly down the hallway. “Before one of you kills the other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kyle shouted querulously as he stood, taking Demona’s mane of red hair in his grip and dragging her, moaning, behind him. “I always follow your fucking orders Robert, because mom tells me I’m supposed to. And this whore just got lucky, and barely scratched me!”

“That didn’t look like a scratch to me. That looked like a couple of inches short of a gutting.”

“She couldn’t kill me if I gave her a hundred chances–“

“But,” Robert said as he turned back around to face Kyle, “She doesn’t have a hundred chances. She has a thousand. A million. As many as she needs. And you only have one. You can kill her as often as you like, but if she kills you once then it’s over for you.”

Kyle didn’t respond, but stared angrily at him.

Robert gazed at him sadly. “Let’s go. Mom’s waiting.”

*****

They heard the low, guttural moans of satisfaction long before they arrived. The building seemed to breathe with them, and Demona knew that with each step they moved closer to the source. Her hip had been rubbed raw by the carpet; every time she tried to stand Kyle yanked on her hair and she fell back down, so he kept dragging her until they came to the door at the end of the hallway.

Miriam was inside of course. She sat naked at the edge of a huge bed and Edgar knelt before her, kissing at her thighs as she idly ran one foot up and down his massive prick. It wasn’t a smell and it wasn’t a sound, but the feel of her lust filled the room and Demona moaned as she felt the tightening in her belly, the unbidden lust which humiliated her.

The room itself was astonishingly large, and while one side of it was sumptuously decorated with every luxury you might expect from a rich woman, the other half was strewn about with savage iron and leather implements of torture. Beside the bed where Miriam sat with Edgar licking at her crotch there was a huge brazier whose ruddy light was the only brightness within the room.

Kyle waved to Miriam. “I brought her like you asked Mom. She was trying to escape.”

“I know,” Miriam murmured quietly as she ran her fingers through Edgar’s hair. Although she spoke quietly, for some reason they could all hear her. “That’s why she’s going to be punished.”
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Ashes