His Sanctuary, Her Love

Here it is! Chapter two for you all! Thank you so much for reviewing. I'll try and keep updating as often as I can. Of course some updates will depend on the mood of my muse. She's such a flightly thing sometimes. ^_^
*disclaimer: all characters and story belong to me, the gargoyle idea stemmed from the Disney cartoon though*
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When they had finally arrived back at the old manor Taryn was fighting to keep her eyes open. It was so late she wondered how long she had to sleep before the sun would start her day all over again.
"We're home again ma'am." her soft voice woke the old Lady Monroe, who was always a light sleeper unless she took one of her droughts to help her on certain evenings, usually ones where she actually missed her deceased husband, the late Lord Monroe.
With a grunt and a sigh Lady Monroe waited for the girl to step out of the carriage first wanting a moment longer to fully wake before following after. It was one of those few nights when she really didn't care about protocol or anything of that sort. She was tired and simply wished to go to sleep in the warmth of her large feather down bed.

Taryn led Lady Monroe into the house, the young orphan’s thoughts still not able to stop thinking about the gargoyle from the carnival. She truly wished she had the courage or something to go back there and set him free. He didn’t deserve to be caged like that. She wondered how the men of the midnight circus had even managed it, of course they probably had cruel hunters ways.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a screech and she quickly ran towards the kitchen where Lady Monroe had gone ahead for her nightcap. Taryn quickly went thought her head of what could possibly be wrong. Was it a mouse? No, that wasn’t possible because she had spent the last few weeks painstakingly making certain that not one unwanted rodent showed it’s little whiskered face around there. She knew it couldn’t have been a mess because she had helped Norah, the cook, clean the room from top to bottom before leaving that night also.
When she finally entered the kitchen she saw Lady Monroe sitting in a chair, fanning herself, and Bartholomew bending down to pick up something that was on the floor.
A rodent. Was the first thought in Taryn’s head and she nearly groaned at the thought of going through the whole trouble of getting rid of those things again. Not that she hated them entirely, it’s just they ruined the food , carried illness and Lady Monroe demanded their extermination. If they were outdoors, wild where they were meant to be Taryn would find them quite adorable.
A closer look erased that thought and filled the girls throat with a tight gasp. It was a dead dog, a scrawny little mutt with shaggy fur and large floppy ears. The same dog that she had been meeting in the alley every night after supper to feed scraps to. It had taken only a few days for the two to become something of friends, the dog though still wary more trusting of her than anyone else around. As she watched Bartholomew carry the poor thing outside to the garbage pile she felt a sharp pang at how it must have come by again tonight looking for her offerings of food and after not finding her must have stayed to wait for her to return. But for it to be dead now it must have been quite ill. Had it come back just to say goodbye? It made her want to cry at the thought, that the poor creature, not a friend in the world save a penniless orphan girl who could only offer it a few moments of comfort and companionship, had waited for her to simply say it’s final farewell, and instead died alone.

“Oh that wretched thing! Such a disgusting creature. Have you ever seen anything so pathetic in your life girl?” The Lady’s voice cut sharply through her thoughts and she turned around to look, open mouthed at the old woman. “Oh don’t give me that look. That thing deserved to die. It should have been put out of it’s misery long ago. I can’t imagine why of all houses it had to die in mine. Now I’ll not be able to sleep the rest of the night after such a sight.” Her creaky voice was dripping with vile disgust, her wrinkled nose impossibly became more so as she scrunched it up the way that the wealthy often do when confronted with anything unpleasant. “Just like that evil creature at that carnival tonight. Oh if only they’d just kill it and be done with it. I very nearly fainted at the sight of it; so hideous.”

Her words started something in Taryn’s heart, the same stirring that she had felt when she had gazed into the amethyst eyes of the gargoyle, only in this moment it was stronger. Her mouth set into a firm line, and her thin dark eyebrows lowered in anger, but she turned around before she forgot her place entirely and spoke words that she shouldn’t In a few moments Bartholomew came back inside, shutting the door firmly behind him and latching it smoothly. Besides Norah, he knew that the dog was something of a little alley pet that Taryn was taking care of and he felt sorry for the girl for her knew she would more than likely miss her little canine friend. Without a word his eyes conveyed his sympathy to Taryn before he went back to his quarters in the east wing of the house. Lady Monroe nodded her dismissal to him and then beckoned Taryn to her with a list of orders to be done that morning before she awoke from sleep.
With a repressed sigh Taryn immediately set to work as Lady Monroe took herself to bed that night, excusing the girl from the duties of getting her ready for bed.

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Again the whip cracked against his back, followed by cruel taunting laughter from his master. The gargoyle had long since resigned form crying out, and no matter the amount of pain they caused him they would never get him to break a sound. If he could hold onto and control anything, then that would be it.
He knew why he was being beaten this night. Because of the slip earlier in the main tent. They had been happening more and more often now then before. A part of him wanted to take that chance, use the last of his strength and energy and burst free from his prison, destroying any who got in his way and fly all the way back to his home. Why he had ever left was a question he had since given up on answering to himself. His need to explore and experience stunted and forever cut off from his desires. His white hair was no longer the beautiful sheen it once was, now a dingy grayish color, matted and gnarled all over. His master refused to cut it for some reason. He figured it was because it made him appear even more wild and untamed for those human spectators. Another series of cracks made him clench his teeth together, his hands balling into fists to fight off the sting of pain. He knew his back and wings were a bloody mess now but he no longer cared. Of course the master insisted on cleaning the wounds and giving them some kind of wrapping to ensure his creature of darkness continued to live and didn’t die of something as pathetic as a little infection.
Finally the whip was put away, the final lashes falling across the backs of his thighs and buttocks, and he was cleansed with buckets of cold water being quickly dumped over his head and wounds.

“Once you have it cleaned up take it to the split tent, make sure he’s nowhere near the other animals.” The ringmaster ordered his crew. The split tent was one of the largest tents where they kept the animals on one side of the divide and their provisions on the other. It was on the side with the food that they cruelly kept the near starving gargoyle, away from the other animals as his presence always sent them into a near wild frenzy. That decision had come about quickly when one of the animals caretakers was entering with some food and instead of waiting for him to dump the meal into the cage a particularly large lion, stolen years ago from some wealthy prince’s menagerie, decided to eat the hand that was feeding him. They quickly saw that anytime they went to the gargoyle, treated it in their harsh usual manner, the rest of the animals would create an uproar and could hardly be calmed down again, not until the beast was removed from their presence.

So the gargoyle was kept on the far end of that tent, chained within his cage and bolted quite securely to the floor. Any chance of escape would have to come from an outside means, and the gargoyle had long since given up on that hope. But as they took him into the tent, his wounds wrapped but still stinging badly, his thoughts went back to the one pair of eyes, of soft doe-like brown eyes, that had not looked at him the same as all the rest did. He didn’t know why the human females face remained so etched in his mind but he felt that uneasy stirring of hope begin again deep in his chest. Why hope? What could such a small and frail human female do against such odds as this.

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As always tell me what you think! I promise good stuff awaits.