Wonderland Ch. 06

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Thatcher felt like an idiot.

He had the information he needed; he knew who the Gargoyle was, he knew what role Tempest had played, he knew what the tracking party was up to, and he had his lead. Instead of cutting his losses quick, he had just made another reason to stay.

WHY?!

Revving the clutch, he tore down the winding hill road into Wonderland, his Kawasaki hugging the curves. A flash of thighs clad in tiny baby pink exercise shorts flickered through his mind and Thatcher swore, swerving hard on the road until his bike skid to a stop.

Taking off his helmet he left his motor running, his breathing ragged as he half-walked, half-jogged towards the forest and away from the road, trying to clear his head.

This wasn't what he needed. Not now, not when he was so fucking close. A distraction wasn't going to serve him well and he had his experience with humans. It hadn't ended up well, to say the least.

Tempest was in truth, a secondhand deal. She had been used for food and protection and then tossed. She ached from an incomplete bond with a Gargoyle who Thatcher couldn't make any accurate assumptions about, not anymore. Tze'sic had been legendary for his heroics and his political maneuvers, but Casanova he was not. His interest in Tempest surprised the hell out of Thatcher, but everything about this entire situation did.

He should drive back to his camp, pack up, and head towards Queensland to meet up with the others. If he got there in time, he could stop this bloody war. What he knew could change...everything.

Thatcher came to a small clearing and closed his eyes, planting his feet firmly. Taking a deep breath, he could smell...Tempest.

Thatcher couldn't help it.

He laughed. He laughed long and hard until he fell to his knees and tears streamed down his face. He laughed until he couldn't breathe. Opening his eyes now, he clutched at the fallen leaves and grass, digging his fingers into the soft dirt, trying to regain a bit of control.

When he could stand again, the decision was made.

There was no turning back after this. He would finish what he started, what he had spent a lifetime planning. No more distractions, no more interruptions. The human world would not be safe for much longer, the Raspan King would see to that. And in turn, Thatcher would have to see to human's safety. It was his duty.

Thatcher turned back to the road, his faith renewed and his purpose redefined. He lifted the collar of his jacket to his nose, a clean, flowery scent filling up his lungs as he breathed in. A smile crossed his lips as he left the forest and fixated his dark eyes on the lone white house perched on top of its hill, a single window lit up at the very top of the house.

Well, Thatcher thought to himself as he swung his leg over his bike and kicked up the stand, not all distractions were unwelcome. At least, not where Tempest was concerned.

Thatcher revved his bike to life, overpowering the soft growls from the forest. He took off towards the city park, too distracted by his change of plans to notice the hulking black forms that followed him, their black pelts glistening like oil under the pale moon as they streaked through the trees. Black eyes glowed red when Thatcher turned into the forest, leading them far away from the city.

As though synchronized, the Raspan's dove into the earth, their slick fur easing the way through crumbled rock, tree roots, and compacted earth; tunneling deeper and deeper until a maze of tunnels began to form. The pack spread out, spanning their new kingdom far beneath the rumbling cacophony of the city above them, each Raspan claiming a section of tunnels for their own.

Later, when their work was done, the feast would begin.

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I'd like to thank my editor, mikothebaby, for going over the chapter for me. I made a few changes before the initial submission, so any faults you see are more than likely my own. And like I said earlier, in this story, everything is related. Don't forget that.

As always, feedback, comments, and votes are appreciated.