Dances With Demons - A Phoenix Chronicle Novella by Lori Handeland

he was a tall, dark, handsome man, the next his very being folded inward. His skin went gray and shrunk. His eyes went panther; he sprouted a tail and ears, some fangs. I tried not to blink; I wanted to see it all. But eventually I had to, and when my lids lifted, Quinn was a statue once more.
    I lifted him with shaking hands, strode to the back door then the garden. I’d just reached the tangled mass when the shriek of a big cat split the night. I whirled.
    Out of the darkness stepped another black panther. I bobbled the gargoyle, and it fell toward the ground.
    Right before it hit, the thing changed. Instead of stone bouncing then shattering, a second panther crouched.
    “Quinn,” I murmured, and let my fingers trace his back. Beneath the ebony coat, muscles bunched.
    And then he was gone, bounding toward the intruder, snarling. The two bodies collided, rolled, massive paws shot out, spiked claws scraping, shredding. Blood flowed. I had no idea which panther was mine.
    Mine. Huh. I’d examine that thought later. If we survived.
    One of the creatures gained its feet, swung its head in my direction and snarled. The revelation of fangs gave me a sudden desire to run inside. Fantastic idea. I did so and retrieved my sickle.
    When I returned, they were rolling and slashing and bleeding again. Only death would end it.
    The moon peeked over the horizon, spreading silver across the grass, across them. Their ebony coats shone slick with blood, the ground was spotted with black dots of it.
    One of the beasts managed to fasten its fangs on the other’s throat. Instead of waiting for surrender, it jerked its powerful head, ripping out the other’s jugular. Blood sprayed. The degree of viciousness made me think Nephilim, which meant the dead panther was Quinn.
    “No,” I whispered. Hot tears threatened to blind me.
    The creature stalked in my direction. I tightened my grip on the sickle. I could lop off its head and hope for the best, but what if...
    I stretched out the blade, brushing its tip along the panther’s fur.
    Zzzt!
    The scent of burned hair and ozone rose along with a thin veil of smoke. That didn’t mean this creature was Quinn. It might just mean they were both gargoyles.
    Shit. Now what?
    It stood between me and the cottage. No red door test unless it moved.
    Then the panther’s snout lifted. Tiny sparkles of light swirled around its head like a drunken bunch of fairies. Was it a drunken bunch of fairies?
    Quinn Fitzpatrick.
    The voice came from those lights, neither male or female, but something in between. I was too bowled over by talking lights to feel the level of gratitude I should that the panther was Quinn and not... whoever.
    You have gained humanity. Bow and accept the gift.
    The panther shimmered, shifted and became Quinn. My breath caught. He’d done it. He was going to become human and then...
    Then I’d have to think twice about ditching him.
     

Chapter 11
    The sight of Megan with the sickle, uncertainty on her face, fear in her eyes, had made Quinn want to shift so she could see it was him and not the other, but he hadn’t been in gargoyle form long enough to return to his human one.
    However the lights—God, an angel, who knew?—had trickled over him, through him, and then he became himself and he was glad. Because only as a human could he voice the inevitable.
    “I choose to remain what I am.”
    The lights, which had been swirling so madly they made his eyes hurt, paused.
    “Quinn?” Megan whispered.
    He ignored her, gaze on those lights.
    You have killed legion. You have saved multitudes. It is your destiny.
    “No,” he said. “She is. And if I’m human, I can’t protect her against those that aren’t.”
    “Quinn, don’t.”
    If he was a gargoyle, he would lose her. He’d seen that truth the instant she’d seen what he was.
    But if he accepted his due, that gift he’d worked so long for, the humanity he’d strived even harder for once he’d found her—then she would die.