Wonderland Ch. 07

I froze from massaging his palm and cringed. "I said that?" I asked in horror, my face heating up with embarrassment as Thatcher nodded and laughed even harder.

"I just felt like right now that sounded aptly appropriate," he chuckled. "I feel like I could sleep until four in the afternoon," he tagged on, giving me a pointed look.

I flushed again and rolled my eyes. "I wasn't drunk!" I enunciated, his snort telling me he didn't believe it for a second. "I just...I just got a bug or something," I lied.

Quickly trying to change the subject, I turned the conversation back to him. "Thatcher, what else did I say to you when I was drunk-but-not-drunk?"

Thatcher blinked. "Nothing. You passed out after the flapjacks bit."

I tilted my head. "When was that?"

"When was what?"

"Well, when did you come over here?"

"Early morning-ish." He smirked. "Admittedly, I didn't look at the clock until your mom-" His eyes widened and he cut off.

I gripped his hands in mine when he tried to pull away. "What does my mom have to do with anything?" I asked slowly, narrowing my eyes as he squirmed a little.

"She came in to check on you this morning before she left for work," Thatcher said slowly, his eyes watching my face carefully. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, but I did and well..." He crinkled his nose a little. "She thinks we're..." He lifted our hands and made quotations. "Together," he finished.

The air flew out of my lungs and Thatcher made a face. "You have one serious case of morning breath," he noted dryly.

At my glare, he swallowed. "Are you going to hit me?" he asked a bit warily.

I tackled him instead.

The two of us fell off my bed and landed with a loud thump on my bedroom floor. "I can't believe you!" I yelled, plucking a pillow from my bed and knocking him on top of the head. "FIRST you sneak in! THEN you fall asleep IN MY BED and now..."

I paused from hitting him again and he peeked through his arms warily. "And now what?" he asked hesitantly, looking a lot like he was trying not to laugh.

"She's going to tell my dad," I breathed in horror.

Thatcher snatched away the pillow and gave me a dirty look. "I'm sorry I inconvenienced you, Tempest, but what else could I say? She caught us-" He cut off again with a huff and ran his long fingers through his hair to smooth out the wild strands, not looking at me.

"She caught us...what?" I asked timidly, suddenly aware that I was straddling his waist and one of his hands was resting low on my thigh, his warmth radiating through my sweatpants.

Thatcher met my eyes, his expression smooth. "She caught us sleeping together," he said quietly. "It wasn't just me doing all the snuggling. You were holding onto me too."

Once again, my inability to get my words out just screwed me. I caught Thatcher from getting up and sighed. "I'm not mad at what you said, not...really. I mean, I know you don't mean it, you were just saving your ass, which is fine," I told him, holding my hand up through his protest. "But you didn't 'inconvenience' me. I'm not ashamed of being your girlfriend -- not like we're together or anything -- but I'm not..."

I threw up my hands, giving up. "I can't get this to come out right."

Thatcher let out a sigh and turned back to me, placing both hands on my waist. With a soft push, he lifted me up and onto the bed before standing up himself and sitting beside me. I watched as he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes with another heavy exhale.

"I like you, Kitten," he said after a minute or so of silence, opening his eyes to look at me. "But you can tell your parents whatever you like. I won't make you play pretend." He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard enough that I could hear him. "I know I'm not your type...I don't exactly leave fang marks."

I froze instantly and fought against grabbing my neck. The bites were still visible? Fudge.

Thatcher knew what they were. He couldn't be pulling that out of his ass, any other person would've said bruises or hickeys or love bites. He said fang marks.

Warily I looked over Thatcher's surprisingly relaxed lithe frame, trying to figure out what in the hell I should say next.

Our eyes met and I swallowed hard now, knowing I should say something at least. The ball was in my court. Unfortunately for me, I always sucked at tennis and even more so at mind games.

"I know the difference," he said quietly, sitting up now. His dark eyes went to my neck. "Hickeys don't have puncture wounds, Kitten," Thatcher murmured, his eyes slowly meeting mine. The look in them was daring, as though he wanted me to challenge him and deny his claims. I should.

But he knew!

"Do you know?" I whispered, watching his face warily.

"That your friend isn't human?" he asked quietly.

I said nothing, just waited, not wanting to give away anymore than I already had. The tension was so thick between the two of us that I felt like the air had grown heavier. I barely took a breath, afraid that I would do so too quickly and he would know that I had so much more to say.

"I will tell you what I know," Thatcher continued, "but not here." His eyes drifted to the outdoors and his brow furrowed. I followed his gaze and gasped.

"It's snowing?" I breathed.

Thatcher swore and shot up off the bed, his hands clasping the ledge as he looked out the window. "This isn't good," he gritted out.

"How is snow bad?" I asked him, coming to stand beside him. It was pretty early for snow, I had to admit, but it was bad? I eyed him then, trying to read his expression. Just like Talon, though, I couldn't read a frickin' thing.

In that moment, I sorely wished that Talon had told me more about the four other species. If I knew what to look for, if I knew why they hated each other, why they decided to begin a war, hell, if I knew anything this conversation with Thatcher would've played out differently.

If Talon hadn't left me, so many things would've happened differently.

"It's only June," Thatcher said quietly. "It shouldn't be snowing yet."

I stood a bit closer beside him and looked over his face critically. "Are you saying this snow is unnatural?" I asked slowly. "Like something unnatural caused it to happen?"

Thatcher swallowed hard, his grip on the window sill tightening. The wood gave in to his fingertips, splintering it beneath his strength. The skin of his fingers slowly turned black as his fingertips narrowed into points. The air began to smell of forest leaves and musk...with a hint of strawberries, all radiating from Thatcher.

Ice trickled down my spine and I took one large step back from Thatcher, realizing instantly what he wasn't saying.

"You're not human, are you Thatcher?" I whispered, swallowing hard.

Thatcher dropped his head, his shoulders rising and falling as he released a slow sigh. "No," he said quietly, his voice hollow.

I took another step backward, feeling my hands shake as I reached back to find the bed, ready to place as much distance between the two of us as I could.

"Remember when I asked you about the halfers?" Thatcher asked in the same hollow tone. I eyed the room quickly for a weapon, for anything to defend myself, but all my heavy objects were on Thatcher's side of the room.

"Yea, I remember," I answered, my voice quivering despite my attempt to sound nonchalant. I bumped into the bed and swiftly went around it, my eyes never leaving Thatcher's hunched form.

Thatcher hesitated, his head tipping slightly to the side. I knew then that he was aware I had moved, but my stumbling wasn't exactly incognito. I sounded like a rhinoceros bumbling around my room. "I'm sort of like that," he said quietly. "My origins are a bit...complex."

I shook my head slowly, trying to sort this out through my own panic. "So what are you, Thatcher?" I asked, trying to not sound abrupt. "You're not human, you're sort of a halfer...what does that make you?"

Thatcher took off his jacket and turned to me as he folded it. With his eyes downcast, he set the jacket down on my bed and reached down to his t-shirt hem and took that off as well. My breath caught in my throat at the series of scars across his chest and stomach, his arms marked up as well. Removing my hand from my mouth, I looked at his face to find he was still not looking at me.

"Thatcher...what happened to you?" I whispered in horror.

Thatcher swallowed. "If I show you what I am," he began slowly, "if I tell you what I know, you have to promise me something."

I licked my dry lips and felt my palms grow slick with sweat again. "O-Okay," I stammered. "What is it?"

Thatcher lifted his eyes to mine, the irises glowing red. "Promise not to scream," he told me in a metallic voice.

So I did what any girl would do. I opened my mouth and belted the air out of my lungs in a high soprano. A split second later, Thatcher became a blur and appeared before me, his hands cupping my face and his mouth clamping over mine, sealing the scream inside my throat.

With eyes wide open I stared at Thatcher's new face, not even aware that the kiss had broke or that I had stopped screaming.

Thatcher stared down at me with warm brown eyes, the color flaring and shifting under his heavy black eyelashes. His skin was still the same pale shade, but unlike his human form, it glowed like luminescent bulbs had been planted under his skin. His lips parted to reveal fangs, like that of a Gargoyle, which led me to his pointed ears. The piercings in them fit perfectly. With a closer look, I noticed each band was marked by a symbol or letter that resembled the squiggles and circles that I had found in the books at the castle library where Talon had been imprisoned. Making note to ask Thatcher what they meant, I turned my attention to his torso, which like the rest of him, was covered by a soft layer of black fur formed into a V that faded off just below his knees. At his elbows were two silky black tufts of hair, like a lion would have. His fingers and toes, unlike Talon, were tipped with elongated black claws that reminded me distinctly of a rat.

Suddenly, a soft pink rat's tail curled around my ankle and Thatcher murmured in that same metallic tone, "I am half Raspan, one quarter Drul, and one quarter Gargoyle. My father is Fuyher-se, Raspan King, and the reason why your precious friend Talon, or Tze'sic as he is known in my world, went into hiding over two thousand years ago. I am Fuyher's bastard son, Táxim-se, born to him by a half-Drul, half-Gargoyle woman who died giving birth to me. I am the only one of my kind." He swallowed hard.

"Tze'sic did not tell you much, did he?" he asked quietly as he looked over my face, his tone not condescending, but he definitely sounded disappointed.

I swallowed my surprise and choked out, "Nothing." The tail at my ankle gave me a reassuring squeeze which was reflected in Thatcher - Táxim-se's -- smile.

I wasn't very reassured.

It must've shown on my face, because then Thatcher vowed in a tone reserved for a calming a frightened child, "I would never harm you, Tempest. Not intentionally."

He took a step back and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. "If you want to ask me questions, I won't mind."

When I didn't move, Thatcher's calm broke and he put his face in his hands. "I knew I shouldn't have shown you," he hissed. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have even tried to talk to you."

Realizing then that if I let Thatcher leave, despite my willingness to let him do just that, I would never get the answers or information I needed. Quickly, I caught his wrists in my hands, admiring for a brief second at how his change had given him definite body muscle. Shaking that thought aside I looked up into his face and swallowed.

"I was in shock, okay?" I sighed, sitting beside him now. "I froze up when Talon turned from stone to living breathing Gargoyle before running in the opposite direction as fast as I could, so don't feel bad. This whole nonhuman thing is really a great way to fry someone's nerves." I laughed nervously and released his wrists. "Reading about nonhumans is way different than them appearing in the flesh."

I eyed his tail and shook my head in slight wonder. "How...how did the clans even come about? I mean...you look so human, but then you aren't." I eyed him and watched as the honey gold look to his eyes faded; turning them back to the soft brown they were before. He quickly looked away from me and coughed nervously.

"Kitten, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but...I'm currently in the nude. The fur covers everything, but I'd really rather talk to you with my clothes on."

Heat rushed to my face and I shot up off the mattress like I had been burned. "Sorry!" I exclaimed. "I'll be in the kitchen," I blurted, rushing out of the room before he could say another word.

Ten minutes later, I heard Thatcher's footsteps on the kitchen tile and I turned at the stove to see him dressed in yesterday's clothes with one of my over-sized college sweaters over his t-shirt. He plucked at the hem and raised his eyebrows questionably.

"It's fine. It's more comfortable than your leather jacket." I turned back to the stove and bit on my bottom lip in thought. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Whatever you're having is fine, thank you," Thatcher responded quietly.

I pulled out the items for chicken and rice, greasing a large Pyrex pan and went through the ministrations, unable to restart the conversation Thatcher had begun upstairs. I had just pulled the defrosted chicken from the microwave when Thatcher came up beside me at the oven and caught my right wrist in his human hand.

I closed my eyes and stopped fumbling around the kitchen senselessly. I had been putting off the talk and he knew it.

I opened my eyes once I was in control again and looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Thatcher. It's not anything that you did...it's me. I thought you were human and now...now that's all changed too. I mean, even Connor showed me he was not human once he saw the fang marks, but you didn't. You lied to me." I shook my head and set down the knife I was using before turning to him. "Why would you lie to me, especially if you knew all along that I knew Talon? What do you have to hide?"

Thatcher's brow furrowed slightly as he sought to explain. "Because I exist, I am the enemy of the Gargoyles. Being what I am and who created me...I am feared, hated, and repulsed. I lied to you because I hoped you would tell me how you found the Gargoyle, who I know now is Talon, and why you took him in. It's not like you invited your best friend to a sleepover. You brought an Ancient warrior into your home. Things like that don't happen everyday."

I frowned. "I don't follow."

Thatcher gestured to the food and I slowly started to make dinner again, watching as he got the pan for frying the chicken out.

"I'll start from the beginning. Our beginnings are unknown. We are as uncertain as how we got to this world as you humans are. As usual, at the start of it all, we were peaceful. We adapted to changing climates and so on. Eventually, humans began to populate the earth. While their numbers grew, ours diminished. It was our ancestors who for whatever reason, got in their heads that mating with humans would keep our kinds alive. It worked."

After the oil had heated, I rolled the chicken into the flour and egg mixture and dropped it into the pan, waiting for him to continue. "The first generation, or the First Age as they are known in our history, was powerful, deadly, and uncontrollable. My father is the only half-human, half-Raspan in existence and is part of the First Age. His brothers and sisters were pure Raspan with few human qualities. Nonetheless, they were docile and my father was able to control them. The same goes for the Gargoyles, the Lunar, and the Druls. Pure beasts mated with humans, and thus our species were born."

Thatcher watched as I flipped over the chicken and leaned his back against the cabinet and crossed his arms, his lips pursed in thought. "Despite humans being not even remotely advanced as you are today, the four species evolved into powerful thinkers and innovators. We lived in small tribes, we had hierarchies in place, we each followed our own beliefs and customs. We stayed close to the humans, but only as a breeding source. When human and species matings first began, there wasn't a concept of 'mates' or companions. Just more bodies to help hunt and protect." He eyed me apologetically but I shrugged. I hadn't been alive two thousand years ago, so I didn't really find that bothersome.

"As our tribes grew bigger, we began to fight, as humans and beasts are wont to do. We scrabbled over everything and eventually...it grew ugly. The descendants of my father's brothers and sisters up until this point had been easily controllable. During one argument, a Raspan male lashed out at the offending Gargoyle and tasted its flesh."

Thatcher shifted uncomfortably and gestured to the stove. "Chicken's burning," he told me.

Quickly I flipped over the chicken, making sure it wasn't burnt through (it wasn't) before gesturing wordlessly for him to continue with my spatula.

"Raspan's are, undoubtedly, the most foul of the creatures created," Thatcher sighed. "They are the vultures of the four species. They bury themselves in the earth and feast off the rotten corpses of the dead and certain vegetation. The only human-like qualities Raspan's possess are the abilities to plot, strategize, and execute. We're mindless war machines, and when focused on a single goal, we can be deadly. So imagine what happens when the Raspan explains how exquisite the flesh of a Gargoyle is to his pack."

I froze at the stove, eying the chicken that was currently sizzling, and my stomach flopped.

"Everyone wants a taste," I whispered.

"Exactly," Thatcher said bitterly. "The Great Battle began because one Raspan fed off something alive, with its own dark magic, and became something that should've never been created. Raspans, for the first time since their creation, evolved. They became more human, they were smarter, they were...disgustingly perfect. Ugly as shit, of course, but perfect for means of war. My father recognized this, and being a half-insane beast with the intelligence and sway over the children of these evolved species, he manipulated them. He started the Battle and desecrated every species apart from his own, hunting them to the point of extinction."

I removed the chicken from pan and placed the strips among the bed of rice before popping it into the oven. After setting the timer, I gestured to the kitchen island where Thatcher sat and continued his story.

"Tze'sic -- Talon -- has a very important role in all of this," Thatcher said firmly. "His father, Tze'hoc, was the founder of the Tze'hoc bloodline. He was the last of the First Age Gargoyles until the Great Battle, and Tze'sic is his only son. That naturally makes him the equivalent of a king to the Gargoyles."

Thatcher leaned forward, his eyes flashing as he continued his tale. "My father and Tze'hoc were born at the same time. They knew each other, respected one another, and equally hated each other with a rivalry that I never understood when I was younger, at least not until someone pointed out my origins. Tze'hoc took a Gargoyle as his mate and she bore Talon -- Tze'sic -- though in secret, as the rumors play out, he took another as his wife. She was a freak show of bloodlines, part Gargoyle and part Drul, though on the surface she appeared full Gargoyle." Thatcher hesitated then, his eyes darkening as he looked over my face. "She was also Fuyher's mate. Fuyher discovered Tze'hoc with her and a year later, I was born. The Great Battle erupted not long after."

I gasped and put my hands over my mouth, unable to believe it.