VVVVV
Consequences Part Five: Lady and Tiger (1/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2001, 2005
PG-13
VVVVV

Everyone belongs to someone. Disney and Buena Vista
Television own most of the characters and settings. Greg's
got dibs on a few more. Dr. Henry FitzMartin is the
property of Tara O'Shea, who loves me and gives me
permission to borrow her toys. If there's an original
character or two to be found, they're mine. Ask.

Thanks once again to Nicole Mason and Constance Cochran for
their editing skills. Without them, this story would have
sucked more.

The rating is for violence, overt and implied.

VVVVV
March
VVVVV

Everything was dark. From the corner of the room came a
quick hot flare. Flame sputtered into life, illuminating
the faces gathered in a ragged circle. At the center was
the focus of tonight's meeting: a small child, held tightly
in place by relentlessly strong arms. His blue-green eyes
were big and scared, and almost covered by unruly blonde
wisps of his hair. The flame moved closer, making him try
to squirm away. There was only this light in the whole
world, coming towards him without pause or mercy, a single
candle meant to forever disrupt his world as he knew it.

He began crying, as children do when faced with such
terrible unknowns. There was a hand on his shoulder, moving
to take his tiny fingers into large ones. He clung to it,
too young to know of death but not too young to fear it.

The face above the flame was golden, angelic. He looked up
into that face, so familiar, so beloved, and now so awful
with her blazing offering. He gave up his soul to whatever
she would do with it.

Music surrounded him, a rude cacophony unlike the pleasing
tinkling sounds from his big red windup record player that
tasted of old salt. His tender ears trembled, then without
trying, picked up on the tune. It was one he had heard
before, on one of those records, one his mother had sung to
him when he'd woken up from his nap that same afternoon.

The singing, chanting stopped. His father jerked his knee
up, bouncing him, as his mother set the dreadful fire before
him. The jiggling continued. His father said something in
his low voice, reminding him of the uneven rush that shook
their home at odd times during the day or night. He
understood only his own name in what his father said, but
the rest seemed to be important.

It was his first taste of ritual, something known and craved
by the part of him that was a human boy: gregarious by
species, needing community however it came.

His part of the tradition had come, and fear gripped him yet
again. What was he to do? He had not been prepared for
this, had no practice, wouldn't have known even if he had.
His father encouraged him, and still, he didn't know. The
tears returned.

"Just blow it out for him, Derek," said Aunt Elisa.

His father took a deep breath, deeper than all the world,
and with a mighty blow, the candle flickered and died above
its mound of chocolate cake.

Daniel Carlos Maza was now officially one year old.

VVVVV

Elisa took her own slice of cake, grabbed one for Goliath,
and joined him near the edge of the room. He took the plate
from her graciously, granting her a smile that in another
situation would have led them quickly from her rooftop into
her apartment. This evening, however, they were in a public
place among friends, and dared not act as anything more than
the friends they also were. It simply was not done.
Instead, she had to content herself with watching the way
his hair moved with each motion of his head, the touch of
light against his skin, and she would patently ignore the
way he placed each bite of cake between his lips.

She smiled around her own cake, as she noticed he was doing
the exact same thing.

"Nice party, hm?" she asked him. He blinked, distracted.

"Oh, yes. Certainly." His gaze moved reluctantly from her
to the rest of the "family." Her parents had pleaded,
badgered, and finally bullied the clan and the gang from the
Labyrinth to come to their place for Daniel's first
birthday. Angela had been more than willing to come; she'd
been confined to the Labyrinth since her return just over
two months before, along with her rookery sisters. Even
now, she sat on Mom's couch, holding Tachi in her lap in
what would be a vain attempt to keep the hatchling quiet.
Broadway was only a few feet from her, basking in her rare
and welcome presence.

Elisa heard a ripping sound, and sure enough, the time had
come for presents. Daniel sat on Derek's lap, tearing at
the cartoon faces on the paper until his parents tugged it
off for him. Mickey and Donald and Goofy fell unnoticed to
the floor, although a section of Pluto was crumpled in
Daniel's little hand and looked to be headed towards his
mouth at any time. Maggie and Derek made appropriately
happy noises about the rainbow-colored stuffed ... something
in a box Beth had mailed earlier in the week. Daniel was
still more interested in finding out how Pluto tasted.

The next present was one of several from her parents, who
had decided that as Daniel was probably going to be their
only grandbaby he was going to get the sum total of the
spoiling they'd been saving up since she, Derek and Beth had
been born. This particular present was in a small, flat
box, probably clothes.

Maggie picked up the matching knit top and bottom, both in a
pleasing shade of dark teal. As she turned the top around,
Elisa saw tiny white buttons holding a flap in the back.
She wasn't sure whether to be amused or saddened, and let
herself experience a shade of both as she leaned against
Goliath.

"Peter," said Mom, impressed, "when did you do this?"

Her father smiled uneasily. "Now and then. I wanted it to
be a surprise. I wasn't sure if I could get the pattern
right." He folded his hands behind him, strong, nimble
fingers held firmly at rest. Elisa had seen him knit once
or twice before, but as Maggie set the little outfit down,
she knew this was something else entirely. He'd made a gift
for his grandson, had probably spent weeks on it, possibly
more if her mother hadn't known anything about the project.
That was love.

They all loved Daniel, would do anything for him.

A quick shudder ran down her spine as she watched Derek play
with his son.

"What is it?" asked Goliath.

"Nothing," she said. "Just chilly." She rubbed her
shoulders for effect. She had not told him much of what had
transpired the night of the winter solstice, knew herself to
be not fully aware of the details. All she knew for certain
was that Daniel had been ill, dying according to Owen, and
suddenly he had been well, even thriving. And Renard had
died the same night. Since then, Derek had been tight-
lipped about what had occurred down there in the dark cavern
with Owen and the witch Narcissa.

Elisa herself had played a role, for had she not gone to
Owen, practically begged him to help?

She noticed that Goliath still watched her curiously, and
she gave him a reasonable attempt at a smile. "Old
thoughts," she explained.

Derek picked up another box, one Elisa had brought, and they
began unwrapping it. Derek put an already-started edge of
paper in Daniel's hand and encouraged him to pull it away.
He did, among cheers from his loyal audience. Hudson,
designated Keeper of the Camera, snapped a Polaroid. Daniel
squealed and blinked at the bright light, then went back to
the very serious business of seeing what he got.

Brent grabbed some of the discarded wrapping paper and began
tearing it into little bits. Holly and Banky stayed near
the parents, probably hoping for a chance to help unwrap.
The clones had celebrated a collective birthday in mid-
September and then had received presents for the winter
holidays. As they were still fuzzy on the concept of time,
they weren't quite sure when the next set of gifts should
arrive, but they did hope.

Lex had bowed out of tonight's festivities; he and Nashville
were out on patrol, and the way Malibu fidgeted, it seemed
he wished he were with them.

"He seems to be doing better," observed Goliath, indicating
her nephew.

"Yeah. I think he was just scared." The poor baby had
cried during the early part of the evening, but now looked
almost happy to be there. His gorgeous eyes glittered at
the bright things around him. He was probably thinking this
birthday thing was pretty cool, as the clones had. Kids.

Speaking of kids ...

Delilah sat on the couch beside Angela and Katana, watching
Daniel, watching Tachi. She spent most of her nights in and
around the new nursery/rookery, holding babies and turning
eggs. Since Ariadne had delivered a month ago, the Avalon
gargoyle had hardly stopped preening around her sisters
about laying the first egg in their clan.

But it hadn't been the first.

There were nights 'Lilah checked almost every hour to see if
her egg had hatched yet, never mind that it would take about
a decade. Elisa remembered doing something similar when
she'd been young, after watching a caterpillar she'd
collected in a Mason jar form a sticky cocoon around itself.
No one could say her odd offspring didn't come by it
naturally.

The caterpillar had never emerged from its pupal state.
She'd watched the jar for three months, until her mother had
explained to her gently that it was not going to become a
butterfly. Elisa feared Delilah's baby might also never
emerge. Being half human meant that 'Lilah's DNA was
horrendously confused. It had been a miracle, or a curse,
that she'd become pregnant at all. By everything she
vaguely remembered from Bio 101, Delilah should have been
sterile.

She looked at her nephew again. On the other hand ...

Daniel pressed on a big blue button on one of his toys, and
jerked when a plastic cow jumped out from behind a blue
door. Very quick to learn, he then twisted the red phone-
dial to make the farmer pop up, and pulled the yellow lever
to present an almost-spherical chicken. Derek pushed the
doors closed again, and Daniel opened them. Then he closed
them himself and opened them.

"Smile," said Hudson, delirious with camera-given power, and
Elisa had time to make a cheesy grin before the flash. The
pictures would go into the album her mother had been keeping
for every event in Daniel's miraculous little life.

If her Mutate nephew could have a first birthday, maybe
'Lilah's egg could hatch.

VVVVV

Lex peered out over the edge of the Flatiron Building.
They'd done a decent patrol so far tonight: three muggers in
the Park foiled, a carjacker who was seriously considering
new job options, and a guy who'd jumped off the twentieth
storey and ended up being set down to earth. Lex rubbed his
shoulders.

"Yeah, he could've done with a diet," Nashville agreed with
the unspoken thought, flexing his own wings.

"At least he thanked us."

"Yeah." They stood awhile without speaking, heads resting
on folded arms, not unlike that popular picture of cherubs,
Lex mused. I don't think anyone will confuse us for
angels.

He stole a glance to his rookery nephew. With his father's
red coloring, white hair and horns, Nash resembled what most
humans below would consider a demon. People would throw
rocks at him as easily as look at him. Yet, he had lived in
a time when gargoyles and fairies and alien beasties were as
common in the streets as any shade of human complexion. Lex
had grown accustomed to screams, even from those he was
helping, but Nash still recoiled every time.

It hurt to watch, some nights.

Tonight had been okay. Again, the guy had thanked them for
saving his life, and the motorist whose car'd been taken was
more concerned with her bags in the back seat than her
saviors. Other nights had not been so great. Twice in the
past month, they'd fled impromptu mobs. The last had torn
his left wing pretty badly and only some quick thinking by
Nashville had prevented them both from untimely deaths.

Their reception by the populace was not warming the boy to
the twentieth century any faster.

Lex shook off his rapidly-approaching depression. "Are you
ready?"

"Me? I was just waiting until you got your wind back, old
man."

"Old?" Lex grasped his chest in mock horror. "I'll show
you old, you whippersnapper!" He dove off the building, and
Nashville followed, howling happily.

VVVVV

Elisa knew she shouldn't have accompanied them back to the
castle even before she stepped onto the flagstones from
Goliath's careful touch. There was nothing to indicate that
would be the case, at least nothing overt, but she sensed
it. There was an electric tang to the air, not magical, not
precisely. It was the feel of air before the hairs at the
back of one's neck stood up during a thunderstorm, and it
meant duck.

"Detective," said Xanatos in a too-friendly manner,
approaching her from the opposite end of the courtyard.
Deck him! screamed her instincts. Who cares if he hasn't
done anything yet, he's about to, dammit!

"What do you want?" she asked him instead, knowing her
stance was far too aggressive for the situation and not
caring. Goliath was near her, as were the rest of the clan.
She would be fine.

"Just a few minutes of your time," he replied smoothly, not
apparently annoyed by, or even noticing, her belligerence.

"For what?"

"I'd like to show you something."

"Can you show all of us?"

"Certainly," said Xanatos, looking surprised that she would
think otherwise. She didn't buy it, but if the guys could
come with her, it probably couldn't be too bad. Or else he
was confident enough that it could stop them as well to not
bat an eye at her suggestion.

"Then by all means, what is it?"

He indicated the elevator. "It's downstairs, actually.
Floor 47." Elisa looked at Goliath.

"The rest of you, stay here," Goliath said. Uncomfortably,
the three entered the elevator together. As Xanatos punched
the buttons, Elisa wished Lexington was back from patrol.
Floor 47 was where he worked on odd evenings. No one there
would be much surprised by gargoyles, but it might have been
easier with him there.

The door binged and opened. Xanatos led the way. Elisa
hung back with Goliath, wondering what was happening.
Xanatos stopped in front of a closed white door. He knocked
once and turned the doorknob, then held it for the rest to
enter.

Elisa found herself inside a bright white laboratory, almost
more frightening with its absence of mysteriously colored
solutions and convoluted pieces of glassware than it would
have been with them. The large black tables inside were
neat and empty. A few bottles with boring white powders in
them lined the sides of one table, not really impressive.

There were two men standing in the front of the room in
front of a white board, one older, the other surprisingly
young, neither looking comfortable.

"Detective, Goliath, meet Drs. FitzMartin and Sarasvati.
Henry, Daniel, Detective Elisa Maza and Goliath, the leader
of Lexington's clan."

Elisa nodded at them. Sarasvati was young, perhaps younger
than she was, with coal-black eyes and hair. He seemed shy,
uncomfortable around them, but now that she'd heard the
name, she recalled Lex mentioning him once or twice. Lex
thought he was okay, even with the man's religious devotion
to Star Trek, and Elisa figured his contacts outside of his
lab were probably limited to other Trekkers.

FitzMartin was older, maybe in his late fifties and getting
pudgy. Elisa resisted the urge to smooth down his unkempt
grey hair. She didn't remember Lex mentioning him at all,
and there was something in his blue eyes she didn't trust.

Goliath folded his large arms; he had very little use for
scientists of any type, and after the past few years, she
didn't blame him. Dr. Sarasvati offered an unsure smile
which Goliath did not return, instead focusing his own
attention on Xanatos.

"What do you want with us?"

Xanatos held up his hands. "Not you. Detective, I've had
my best people working on this project for almost two years.
I wanted you here to see it come to fruition."

Her senses shouted danger signals at her. But Goliath was
there ...

"All right."

"Gentlemen?"

FitzMartin said, "We've had a number of setbacks, but we
think we know what the problem is, and we fixed the antigen
matrix accordingly."

Elisa stared at him. "What?"

"For the project." He blinked at her as if she should know
what he was talking about, as if anyone would.

"Xanatos ... "

"Henry, I believe a demonstration would be in order."
FitzMartin swallowed and nodded. Sarasvati left the room
hurriedly and brought back ...

"What have you done now?" said Goliath dangerously, looking
at the caged animal in pity and near-rage.

"We had to duplicate the experimental conditions," said
Sarasvati, who set the cage on the table, then removed his
thick rubber gloves. Elisa, heart aching, looked at the
poor creature within: a kitten with cream-colored fur. And
batlike wings.

"This is Schrodinger," said FitzMartin, and laughed a little
until he noticed only his partner was smiling. He dropped
his eyes and went to a drawer at one of the tables, coming
back with a large hypodermic needle filled with a crystal
blue solution. "Daniel, will you hold him?"

Sarasvati donned the gloves again, opened the cage, and
lifted the cat gently out of it. The animal hissed, and
Elisa saw a spark slide harmlessly off the rubber.

FitzMartin held the needle in one hand while he swabbed a
part of the cat's leg with the other. Then he grabbed hold
of the leg and slid the needle inside. Elisa winced. She
hated needles. The cat miaowed plaintively, and continued
to cry as Sarasvati put him back in the cage and closed it.

"You brought us here to see you torture a cat?"

"Watch."

She did, unwillingly. After about ten minutes of watching,
she noticed a change in the animal. The cat seemed to be
shrinking. It cried even harder, until FitzMartin injected
it with something else that made it lurch on its feet and
lie down. As Elisa watched in amazement, the wings slowly
drew into its back and were gone. The rest of the cat's
body also changed. The fur fell out, leaving pink skin
showing. The teeth came loose. The tail thinned.

"That's a good boy," soothed Sarasvati, stroking Schrodinger
through the bars with his glove, removing bits of fur as he
did so. "Yes, that's good."

The cat opened its eyes. Which were no longer cat eyes, but
smaller, beadier. Its nose had lengthened as well, and
Elisa became aware suddenly that the "cat" was in reality a
large white rat. The paws had become the small scrabbly
feet of a rodent, and the ears began to grow, take on more
shape.

"Good boy," said Sarasvati again, and looked up with a smile
at FitzMartin, who grinned back.

"Detective," said Xanatos, as her eyes were drawn inexorably
back to Schrodinger, "you can tell your brother the next
time you see him that we have a cure."

VVVVV

Hudson had clicked on CNN before anyone else could get the
remote. Brooklyn shrugged, and settled on the couch with
his arm draped around Katana as the stories droned by.
Tachi had a dolly on the floor with her, and was pretending
to change its diaper. She wasn't sure what to do with the
tail, so she stuffed it in the diaper, too.

Broadway watched her from his chair. "You know," Brooklyn
said, "You're gonna have one of those someday."

"Yeah," said his rookery brother with a grin.

He shared a look with 'Tana, who smiled. They remembered
well the days of diapers with both hatchlings, made from
whatever materials were at hand. Broadway had much that he
didn't even know about to look forward to in the coming
years.

As if on cue, Nash and Lex came into the living room, fresh
from patrol.

"How was the party?" Lex asked, plopping down on the floor
beside Tachi. Nash stayed near the edge of the room,
whatever smile he might have worn long gone.

"It was good," said Broadway. "We brought you back some
cake."

"Thanks," said Lex.

"How were things in the city?" Katana asked their son. He
shrugged. "That good?" she teased.

"No one tried to kill us tonight," Nash said.

"Speakin' o' which," Hudson said, and notched up the volume.

The blonde woman on the screen stared at them, with a
graphic beside her reading: "Gargoyle Sightings."

"This morning, the group known as the Quarrymen announced
they captured and killed another gargoyle." The screen
turned to a video, with the caption: "Butte, Montana." Five
men and two women in the increasingly familiar Quarrymen
uniforms stood over a greyish-blue gargoyle, obviously dead.

"Tachi, come here," 'Tana said quickly, but not before his
daughter had looked at the screen.

"Mama?"

"Come here, little one," she repeated, and took the child
into her arms, holding her face away from the television.
"Shhh, there is my good girl."

"Yeah," said one Quarryman in a thick northern-Midwestern
accent. "We caught this one tryin' to steal some sheep from
a local farmer. People don't understand how these animals
are a threat to livestock as well as people."

The screen changed back to the anchorwoman. "The ASPCA is
going to ask the Federal Wildlife Commission to declare
gargoyles an endangered species."

Hudson clicked off the television. "Montana."

Brooklyn nodded. "Lex?"

"I'm on it." Lexington went for his laptop. He'd been
making a database of the places for known and suspected
gargoyle clans, with the idea of perhaps contacting them,
sharing information.

"Mama, why did they hurt him?"

"Because some humans are afraid of what they don't
understand," said Katana, stroking her hair.

"We need to come out," said Nashville.

"Out?" asked Hudson.

"People need to see us, know we're not a threat, that we're
trying to help." Nash rested his arms against the back of
Hudson's chair. "They do accept us, eventually. Really."
He closed his mouth again at a warning look from his father.

"Yeah," said Brooklyn, quietly. "They do."

As much as they'd tried to avoid learning the fates of
themselves and their clan, certain things had been so deeply
ingrained in the society yet to be that they had not escaped
some pieces of information. Nashville knew at what price
peace would come, and even knowing as he did so well that
the course of time could never be altered, Brooklyn had to
give him points for wanting to try. The kid knew what would
be, what must be; Brooklyn alone knew the date, and there
were nights that information weighed him down like lead.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," said Broadway. "Look
at what happened to that poor gargoyle. It's bad enough
that the Quarrymen are around in other cities. If they knew
for sure that we're here, they'd hunt us all down."

"They already know we're here," said Nash. "If we're out,
maybe we can at least get some support from the humans who
aren't stupid." He scuffed his foot in the carpet. "There
have to be at least one or two."

"Updated," said Lex, coming back in the room. "I've got a
spider crawling, looking for any references to gargoyles in
or around Montana." He looked at Nash. "What?"

Broadway said, "Nash and Brooklyn think we should tell the
world we're here."

Lex blinked. "Why?"

"Because people fear shadows," said Katana. "They fear the
known less than the unknown. If they see us ... "

"Then they'll know what their target looks like."

"What are we discussing?" Goliath stood in the doorway
behind Lex. Elisa was no longer with him.

Hudson said, "They want us tae be seen."

"There's been another attack," Brooklyn interjected. "A
gargoyle in Montana was killed by the Quarrymen last night.
Some of us," he said, taking in his own family, "think we
should tell the world we're here."

"Is this something you think because of what you have seen?"

Brooklyn shook his head. "Not exactly. I mean, yes, in the
future, humans and gargoyles live at peace. We've seen
that, and we've made no attempt to hide that future." He
hurried on, as he saw Hudson about to ask what they had
hidden. "We don't know for sure when that occurred."

Katana turned to him, but he chose not to meet her eyes.

"And you will not tell us about the future of this clan,
which we agree is for the best. So we have no way of
knowing if coming forward will lead to our destruction."

Brooklyn kept his mouth closed. For the best.

"Fear is not a reason to hide," said Katana.

"Actually, it's a pretty good reason," Lex countered.
"We've tried reaching out before." Brooklyn cringed inside;
there were things for which Lex never would forgive the
current mistress of the castle.

"We will consider this," said Goliath. He held up a hand
before Broadway and Hudson could protest. "We will not act
until and unless we are agreed. It is not merely our own
safety we must consider." He paused. The Mutates, the
clones, the Avalon gargoyles, and the eggs all went through
the minds of those present, but never spoken here where
there could always be a camera, or a tape. "We will think
about it."

Nash let out a disgusted breath and stalked out of the room.
Lex shrugged at the rest and followed him.

VVVVV

Elisa followed the trail down to the Labyrinth by rote. She
had a map, had used it religiously once upon a time, but the
wanderings and turnings down to the secret basement of what
had once been Cyberbiotics' underground facility were so
known to her feet that she could walk it blindfolded. Being
practical, she preferred to use a flashlight.

Schrodinger had woken after his transformation, small and
hairless and obviously still in some pain. However, he was
undeniably a rat again. She'd watched. She'd seen.
Despite what she wanted to think of Xanatos, she believed.
He'd found the cure. Her brother would be human again.

The last time she'd seen Derek as he was, he'd been flying.
Not with his own wings, not then. They'd fought, and they'd
made up, just as they always had. She'd somehow expected
things to stay that way, and they hadn't. Derek had
changed. She had changed, too, though not in the same
fashion. She'd learned things, important things. Like how
to wake up mythical kings from their enchanted slumber. And
how to lie to her boss creatively. And how to defeat the
King of the Fairies in combat.

And to never trust a snake that had bit her already.

She stopped. The echo of her own footsteps lingered half an
instant and was gone into whatever blackness it would.

Derek had trusted Xanatos, and it had cost him his humanity.
The clan was still recovering from the bad reputation he had
acquired for them. He'd arrested her father and Beth,
kidnaped Hudson to experiment on him, tried to kill them any
number of times. Then he had abruptly ceased the conflict,
called a truce that still held, and allowed the clan to
return to the castle. It had been over a year and a half
since the night of their homecoming, and in that time, he
had been as honorable as they could expect under the
circumstances.

But.

What if this was just another ploy? What if he had been
lulling them into complacency for this very moment? What if
Xanatos wanted not only the clan, but her brother and his
family under his thumb?

"Ah, dammit," she said to the empty cavern.

"Elisa?" came an echoing response. Water dripped somewhere
far away.

Elisa shone her flashlight around, trying to spot the source
of the voice. There was no way she could fail to recognize
who'd spoken. "Where are you, 'Lilah?"

There were footsteps, and the too-familiar face appeared
from another passageway. "Hi, Elisa."

"What're you doing all the way up here? I thought Talon
told you to stay below."

"Yeah." She traced a circular pattern on the floor with her
claws. "Please don't tell?"

The girl hadn't needed to ask; Elisa had noticed over the
last few months how hyper-protective Derek was for the
clones, especially hers. He had to know her whereabouts
every minute of the night. Derek'd hit the roof if he knew
she was out.

She said none of this, said instead: "I won't. I promise,"
in her warmest voice. "Come on, we'll walk down together."

"Okay." They fell into step as they made their way back
into the Labyrinth.

"So," Elisa said, trying to make conversation. "Why were
you up there, anyway?"

Delilah shrugged. "Dunno. I felt like it."

Sounds just like Nash. But something had caught in her
voice. "Are things okay?"

"Yeah." Now Elisa was sure she was lying.

She stopped, and took 'Lilah's hand. "Why don't you tell me
what's wrong."

"It's nothing."

I'll bet. "Is it Ariadne?" 'Lilah flinched slightly.
Bingo. Elisa sighed. "What's she done this time?"

"Nothing."

"You know, I don't think that worked on my mom, either."
That drew a shy smile. "If you don't want me to tell
anyone, I promise that I won't. But it might make you feel
better to talk about it."

"Maybe. It's just ... When the real gargoyles came to live
with us, I thought they were like us, we could be friends."
Not for the first time, Elisa sensed how lonely the clones
were, all of them. "When we got back from the party, I went
to check on the egg."

"Was it okay?"

"Yeah. Ariadne said it was dumb to check so much, that real
gargoyles knew how often to check their eggs. Angela told
her to be quiet. Angela's my friend."

Elisa smiled. "Angela's your sister." Which pisses off
Demona to no end.

"Yeah. But she's Ariadne's friend, too, and they grew up
together, and so did all the other real gargoyles, and she
doesn't like to fight with her friends."

"'Lilah, Angela is old enough to pick, and win, her own
fights. She's your friend, and she likes you, and she
doesn't want anyone to hurt you or your brothers. You don't
have to feel bad if that means she gets into a fight now and
then, even with her friends. That's who she is."

"Really?"

"Really." 'Lilah put on a real smile this time. Elisa had
an evil thought. "I want you to do something. The next
time Ariadne or anyone else calls you dumb, I want you to
look at them and say, 'I'm eighteen months old and I can
read and write. When you were my age, you were still
sucking your thumb and wetting diapers.'" 'Lilah giggled
and Elisa tousled her blue-white hair. "Now let's get
below. I have to talk to Talon about something very
important."

VVVVV

"A cure?" Maggie sat in her rocking chair, Daniel asleep on
her lap. She turned her head up to Derek, whose fingers
were flexing on the back of the chair. He had not spoken;
Maggie herself had asked the impossible question.

Elisa spread her own hands. "That's what it looked like.
The thing was a cat with wings, and then it was a rat.
Might've been an illusion, but it looked real to me."

Maggie asked, "You say Lexington knows these people?"

"I've heard him talk about them, yeah. I haven't seen him
since, and yes, I intend to ask him everything he knows."

Elisa's face wore a mixed expression. Maggie could see joy,
threatening to break out, but more, she saw caution, fear,
and a cold suspicion that this was simply another game.
Maggie didn't blame her. After she'd finally learned of
Xanatos' deception, how he'd never intended to cure her or
the others, she was also wary of trusting him with her life,
much less her child's.

Daniel shifted in his sleep, and Maggie played with a lock
of his hair. Whatever Derek had done in the darkness three
months ago, it had worked. Daniel's fragile health had
stabilized. Did she dare even consider risking it for an
experiment?"

"Derek?" Elisa said.

"I don't believe him." The words, and tone, were final.

"I'm not sure I do, either," his sister replied.

"No, I am sure. I don't believe he's found a cure. He
wants something, from us or from you."

Elisa glanced away; she'd surely had the same thought. "If
you'd seen the demonstration, you'd know."

"I saw him fake Sevarius' death. The man is capable of
anything."

"That also means he's capable of doing something right now
and then. He's not who he was."

Derek chuckled without humor. "Then who is he?"

"Someone different, maybe better. Alex has changed him."

"Fool me once," Derek said.

"He's fooled us all more than once," said Maggie.

"I know," said Elisa. "I know. And no, I don't trust him
any farther than I can throw him, and yes, maybe he just
wants to get you guys back to the castle for some nefarious
plot we can't even imagine yet. But maybe he feels guilty
for what he's done and is trying to fix it."

"You'll forgive me if I don't accept that possibility."

"Just think about it," Elisa said. "Think about Claw.
Think about Daniel. Maybe you don't trust him, but they
deserve a chance to get better." She grabbed her jacket.
"I'm gonna go. It'll be morning soon, and I'd like to run
some errands tomorrow before work."

"Elisa," said Maggie. "Thanks. It's not that we're not
grateful. We're just worried."

"I know," she said. She kissed Daniel on the forehead,
touched Maggie on the shoulder, hugged her brother, and
left.

When her footsteps were gone, Maggie again returned her gaze
to her lover. "We have to consider it."

"Yeah," said Derek. "But I don't have to like it."

VVVVV

Elisa yawned as she logged on to her terminal. Matt glanced
over from his own desk. "Late day?"

"Kinda," she said, checking announcements from the Captain,
a few new assignments to keep her nights filled. The days
of paper in-boxes were ending rapidly. It meant her desk
was getting cleaner, but did nothing for her workload. She
caught Matt's knowing smirk. "You have a one-track mind,
Bluestone. I was at Daniel's birthday party last night,
remember?" she asked in a lower voice.

"How did that go?"

"Not bad. It's the first time everyone's been at Mom and
Dad's. Ever. But they handled it okay. Oh. Derek and
Maggie say thanks for the firetruck."

"They're welcome."

Elisa thought of Daniel, playing with the truck down in the
eternal darkness of his subterranean home. They could
change that, change everything.

"Matt, I've told you about what happened to Derek, right?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes on his own monitor.

"Xanatos says they've found a cure."

Matt swivelled in his chair to face her. "So you trust
him?"

"No."

"Did you tell Derek?"

"Yeah, and he doesn't trust him, either."

"So tell Xanatos 'Thanks but no thanks.'"

"But what if this is Daniel's only chance to grow up a
normal kid?"

"What if it isn't?"

She sat back in her chair. "It's like when I asked Derek to
trust Owen, except now we're both having the same
misgivings."

"Trust Owen for what?"

"Forget it," she said, waving her hand. Matt didn't know
about Owen's split personality issues, and he didn't need to
know. "On the one hand, I want this to be it, I want Derek
and the rest to get better. On the other hand, I can't
afford to trust Xanatos. I just can't."

"Then it sounds to me like you've made your decision."

"Guess so," she said, and she printed out her caseload for
the evening.

VVVVV

"This is Travis Marshall, reporting live from the latest
scene of a gargoyle sighting. This shopkeeper was robbed
earlier tonight, and says the robbery was foiled by two
gargoyles."

The newsman turned towards the shopkeeper and poked a mike
into his face.

The shopkeeper rubbed his head. "Yeah, this guy came into
the store with a gun and demanded all the register money.
After he went outside, I heard a commotion and went to the
window. These two gargoyles had him on the ground. The
little one gave me my money back. I called the police, but
they were gone when the cops arrived."

"There you have it," said Marshall. "Are gargoyles a menace
to society, or its guardian angels? This reporter doesn't
know, either."

The cameraman said, "And, out."

"I hate hiding," said Nash in a fierce whisper. Lex
shrugged and scooted closer in the convenient shadow they'd
found. "It's nice that he said thanks and all, but that
Marshall guy said we might be a menace to society!"

"That's just news talk. You've heard it before."

"Pisses me off."

"Me, too," Lex admitted.

"Good." Nash dropped from the building onto the sidewalk.
"Mr. Marshall!"

Oh shit.

The newsman's head whipped around. The cameraman swivelled,
and flicked a button. They're recording. This is bad.

"Nashville!" he hissed, but Nash was already on film.

"Mr. Marshall, we're not a menace to society. We're not
angels, either. We're just trying to live."

"That's the one!" said the shopkeeper, smiling broadly. He
ran to Nash and shook his hand. "Thank you, and thank your
friend." He looked around. "Where is your friend?"

Marshall, meanwhile, was making choking noises in his
throat. "A gag ... Gargoyle?"

Lex cursed, roundly and fully. Cursed Nashville for being
stupid. Cursed Brooklyn for going off for forty years and
having kids. Cursed the world in general.

Then he dropped down behind Nash and put on a smile he
prayed didn't look like a rictus.

"There's your friend!" His own hand was shaken profusely.
"Thank you."

"Are we getting this?" said Marshall. The cameraman nodded,
keeping the both of them squarely in frame, Lex was sure.

"Um, Travis Marshal here, with two gargoyles who just saved
this man's store. Mr., um, Gargoyle?"

"I'm Nashville. This is Lexington. Yeah, we're gargoyles.
And we're not dangerous. We're just like you. We just want
to do our thing, live our lives."

"Save shops!" the shopkeeper dropped in, and Lex smiled.

"That, too. That's what we do," said Lex. "Gargoyles
protect. We protect this city."

"Protect this city from what?" asked Marshall, holding the
mike close to them.

"Anything, any danger," Lex said. "This is our home now,
right Nash?"

Nash's eyes widened, and then he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Our
home."

"Anyway," said Lex. "We should go. Gotta lot of patrolling
to do tonight. C'mon."

"Wait!" said Marshall. "How do we ... What ... If we need
to find you, how can we?"

"We'll be around," said Lex, and he took Nash's hand and
dragged him down the street, away from the camera. They
climbed the building out of sight, and Lex saw the camera
catch them again as they glided away.

When they were well out of microphone range, Lex turned to
Nashville.

"We're going home right now."

VVVVV

They landed at the top of the tower. Dawn was still well
away. "Maybe they didn't see it," said Lex as they
approached the living room.

A shadow loomed in the doorway. "Why," Brooklyn asked them
in a low dangerous voice, "Were the two of you on
TELEVISION!" His eyes blazed white.

"I think they saw," said Nash, and his father clenched him
by the throat, holding him against the wall.

"When your mother gets home, you're a dead gargoyle. Until
then, go to the tower. Stay there. Do not read. Do not
play. Just stay there."

"Okay," choked Nash meekly. Brooklyn let go his grip and
Nash darted for the stairs.

"He's an idiot. I expect that of him. What were you
thinking, Lexington? You could've both been killed!"

"We could get killed every night," Lex shot back. "And
every human down there thinks we're monsters. This way,
maybe they'll learn better. And I thought you wanted to
go public, Mr. The-Future-Is-Much-Brighter!"

"Not like this!" Behind him, in the otherwise empty living
room, Bronx stood and stretched his paws. He gave the two
of them a rueful look as he trotted past to nap somewhere
quieter, like Beirut.

"Why not like this? We just saved a guy from a robbery.
Looks pretty good for us."

"Looks pretty suspicious. Why were you outside when it
happened?"

Lex drew back. "We were nearby. When he walked out, we saw
the sack and the gun. Doesn't take a genius to figure out
what happened."

"You were lucky he didn't shoot both of you, or that the
shopkeeper didn't."

"Same risk we run every night. Katana's out right now
running that risk, and it's bigger for her because Hudson's
... "

"Not young and stupid enough to think he should be on t.v.."

Lex felt the heat rise in his face. "We hatched the same
day, brother. I'm an hour older than you, remember?"

"I've lived more."

"I don't care! I'm an adult in this clan the same as you
are, and I can make decisions just as well. If you have to
treat someone like a child, save it for your kids."

"Lex," he said, more gently. "You could've been ... "

"Could've. Should've. Wasn't. Didn't. You don't care
that we talked to the press. You just wanted it to be you."
Lex wasn't sure why he said it, only that he wanted the look
of pain on Brooklyn's face and was glad to see it.

"We should have discussed this as a clan."

"The decision was made. We made it. Live with it."

As he turned and stalked away, he heard his brother say
softly, "I hope we can."

VVVVV

Puck held his flute to his lips, took a deep breath, and
blew. Seven clear notes flew from the instrument like
butterflies and whisked away as he repeated them. He
started into a calm melody he knew well, and as his fingers
reaccustomed themselves to the feel of the gold beneath
them, he grew more daring, tried more complicated patterns
of fingerings, letting the music pour from him, knowing he
was but a brief vessel containing that which had always
been, waiting for him to release it. The melody soared to a
single point, a note high and tremulous, a perfect sound.
He held it, and let the music drop into a lower key before
his heart broke at the beauty.

Without trying, he felt the tune shift into one he knew
somehow, a familiar phrasing of liquid harmonies. Ian's
song, his mind provided, the lullaby he'd written ages past.
Odd that he would remember it here and now.

Here and now, he gradually noticed as he played, consisted
of a sunny spot on a step in the Park, beside a great bronze
statue of Alice and her Wonderland companions. Humans
walked by him as he played, and although he wore his true
form, not a one paid him heed, save to toss an occasional
coin his way. He broke away from his flute long enough to
laugh, but the music called him back to continue.

He finished the lullaby with a drawn-out trill that jazzed
it up a bit. He doubted Ian would mind. There was
applause, from one set of hands, very slow and deliberate.
He looked up.

"My Lord!"

"Puck." Oberon inclined his head. Sunlight glimmered on
his snow-white locks. The sky above them paled in jealousy
at the perfect blue of his face.

Puck made obeisance to his king, then asked, "To what do I
owe this honor, Lord?"

"Rise, Child." He did as commanded. "We have been watching
you during your banishment. Time has passed."

"Two years, sir."

"We believe you have learned your lesson, that you have
suffered sufficiently. He extended his hand. "Come home,
my dearest child."

He floated upwards, took Oberon's hand. "Lord? Do you mean
it truly?"

Oberon smiled benignly. "Do we ever go back on our word?"

Puck decided "Yes" would not be an appropriate answer at the
time, and anyway he didn't care. Oberon had come for him,
was offering him a chance at regaining his life, his powers,
his homeland.

"What do you ask in exchange for this great gift?"

"Only your word that you will never again betray us."

Puck knelt. "You have that word, Sire." Then, as he had
when he was a tiny boy, he flew into his father's arms and
wrapped his own around the beloved neck.

He grasped only shadows. His eyes flew open. Oberon was
gone; he stood alone. Passers-by stared at him, hurrying
past in whispers as he turned his gaze to them.

"Oberon! My Lord, where did you go?" His shouts were small
to his own ears. Although his mouth opened, he barely
squeaked the words. A human child, a male, pointed at him
and laughed. He ignored it. "Oberon! Father! Please
don't leave me here."

Surely the humans in the Park saw nothing but a lunatic,
weeping on his stair. In an instant, he saw himself as from
afar, a pathetic little figure in outrageous garb with a
penny-whistle in his trembling fingers. They thought him
insane, or drunk, and one of them would point him out to a
wandering police officer.

He fell back to his knees. "Oberon ... "

There was no answer. There would never be one. Oberon had
left him, would not welcome him back home. His father hated
him.

Owen opened his eyes and stared at his ceiling. The dream
had faded into consciousness so gradually that he lay still,
uncertain what was dream and what reality. The bed remained
firm beneath him, the ceiling reassuringly stable above him.
It was also slightly out of focus. He reminded himself to
choose a pattern with perfect sight the next time he took a
human's form, then fumbled for his glasses.

He rolled over, was immediately prevented from this maneuver
by his left fist, which stubbornly stayed put. With an
effort, he lifted it.

This was his reality. He was banished from his home, his
eyes bad, his hand stone, his body decaying around him like
a human's (although he was already thinking of a few ways to
get by that problem). There was no flute, and there would
be no reconciliation.

But it had felt so real.

It was still well before dawn, gargoyle hours. He decided
to rise anyway, although the tense atmosphere around the
castle since Lexington and Nashville's television debut had
not yet abated. Nashville, restricted to Wyvern for the
next few weeks, stalked the corridors like an irate ghost,
and Lexington had retreated back to his comrades on Floor
47. Detective Maza had come to Mr. Xanatos with her
brother's decline on their offer, and had been avoiding the
castle since. Goliath's mood had degenerated with her
absence. Broadway was spending much time in the Labyrinth,
whether any of the clan admitted that was his location, and
when he was home, he sulked for his absent mate. This left
patrol and kitchen duties to fall on Goliath, Hudson,
Brooklyn and Katana, none of whom seemed to be talking with
one another most than strictly necessary.

Normally, he would have simply avoided the winged denizens
of the castle in favor of the ostensibly human residents.
Sadly, they were currently no better company. Since her
father's death and mother's abrupt departure, Fox was
spending her time with Alexander. At first, she'd barely
spoken. Even now, she was more silent and thoughtful than
he'd ever possibly expected from the wild child she had been
the day they'd met. Mr. Xanatos although as of late his
human master was cajoling Owen to call him by his given
name, Owen politely but firmly refused was caught neatly
between trying to be available for his wife's grieving
process and trying to manage his corporate empire. Owen
aided him as was his duty. With a familiar pride, and
without any magic charms, he routinely knew his master's
desires and gave the proper orders down the management chain
that they should be fulfilled.

Just as he had done for Oberon.

Hot water took an age to crawl through the pipes to his
quarters; he stepped into the icy stream anyway. Freezing
cold drops, small and sharp as spider teeth, bit into his
too-human body

His Lord would not come back for him. If he chose to go to
Avalon with Fox, he might be allowed to present his
evidence, and he might be killed outright, but he had no
illusions Oberon would greet him with arms outstretched.
When Katharine died and Angela returned, he would have to
make his decision: stay here, and let the Three get away
with murder, or go and face his father's wrath.

Gradually, like Spring waking after an overlong Winter, the
water gurgled warm and then gloriously hot, bestowing life
and feeling to his numb flesh.

Birth, and baptism, washing before ritual, cleansing the
dead before burial, he thought beneath the divine torrent.
No wonder they have so many stories of floods. There is
rebirth in every sip of water, forgiveness in every storm.
Water lapped around his ankles, and giggled down the drain.

In the name of the water then. May Katharine live
centuries. But he knew that too was a wistful dream.

VVVVV
April
VVVVV

The initial part of the meeting had droned by with minutes,
dues, bland reports from other sections of the club in other
cities. The members grumbled as the head speaker told them
of the setbacks their fellows had endured, the opposition
they were still meeting from their own government. ("Damn
Democrats," someone he thought was named Jim said, and
someone else shushed him.) Now the meeting had taken a
break for cookies and punch and coffee.

The observer watched them, himself unseen, as the men and
women gathered in this almost bare room munched their
Walmart cookies and complained about their kids, the mayor,
and the artificial creamer. The observer smiled grimly.
Nowhere was evil more insidious than in the hearts of
normal, happy humans who might have been at a PTA meeting.

"My brothers," said the speaker. He added in afterthought,
"And sisters." Every head in the room turned to see him, a
good-looking blonde man, perhaps thirty, perhaps older. His
face was young, but his eyes were old for a human, like one
who had seen too much too soon.

"We come together tonight for our most important reason."
He brushed the symbol on his breast, the stylized Q with the
hammer and three claw marks. His audience touched the
symbols on their own uniforms, some with smiles, some with
grimness.

"Our enemy has dared to show his face."

click

The television showed two males, Lexington and one calling
himself Nashville, talking with Travis Marshall. Lex made a
gesture, and Castaway froze the image, capturing the
gargoyle in a pose as though he were going to strike the
reporter.

"After their reign of terror in our city, they come forward
and ask for peace? For acceptance?" He growled. "We do
not accept monsters in our midst."

The unseen observer moved deeper into his shadowed perch,
just in case, as the audience muttered their approval of
Castaway's words.

"I have known for some time that these monsters were in our
city, and now I have the proof. We must root them out and
destroy them, before they annihilate us. It is a matter of
survival. All those with me say 'Aye!'"

The audience eagerly bellowed "AYE!"

"Actions speak louder than words, my brethren. Find the
gargoyles. Make them pay."

The meeting ended, the members slipped out of the rented
room one at a time. A few stayed to help clean up the paper
cups and napkins, and these too left. Alone, Castaway
watched his video tape again.

The observer, finally assured they were unaccompanied by
other Quarrymen, studied Castaway as he studied the tape.
Twisted little man, he decided. Useful.

He cleared his throat. Castaway spun, and backed into a
table. Seconds later, a pistol was out and pointed at the
intruder. Who already had a weapon pointed at him.

"If you kill me, you prove me right," hissed Castaway.

He laughed. "I have no intention of killing you. For now.
Put down your weapon, and I give you my word, I will do you
no harm tonight."

"Gargoyles are demons and liars."

"I have no issue with that statement."

"But you ... "

"You will discover, Mr. Castaway, that I am no ordinary
gargoyle. And I have no ordinary purpose. You and I could
do each other ... favors. You want to destroy Goliath and
his clan. I have no love for them, so I see no point in
stopping you. You want to kill Demona. I know the secret
to her immortality." The human's eyes widened. "You see, I
can be quite useful."

Castaway made a gasping laugh. "And I'm supposed to believe
you? What do you want?"

He shrugged. "Wealth. Power. The usual terms. For the
moment, I will settle for the return of something Goliath
stole from me. I have resources, you have manpower. We can
combine them and achieve all our goals."

"Ally myself with a gargoyle?"

"Or die at the hands of one. It's really your choice."

Castaway set his pistol on the table behind him, then folded
his arms. "Let's hear your terms, gargoyle."

"First, you will not refer to me by my regrettable race.
You may call me Thailog."

VVVVV

They had just done a loop of Harlem. Nothing out of the
ordinary had jumped to their attention, so they headed back
towards the castle, to check in, grab a bite, then maybe
patrol the Bronx the rest of the night.

Anything was better than going home.

Brooklyn stole a glance at his mate. "Penny," he said after
a while, when she still had not spoken.

"You do not carry coins."

"Then I'll owe you."

"What will we do with Nashville?"

Thought so. "Do?"

"He has become willful. He is sullen. He used to be such a
happy hatchling." Katana sighed deeply; Brooklyn heard her
even over the whoosh of air past his wings.

"I know." Truth was, the change had happened over day, it
seemed. One night, Nash had been a gregarious child, ready
to play with his sister or fight off unexpected attacks.
The next night, he'd become a moody adolescent with no
interest in anything other than his music and arguing with
anything his parents said. Right after we danced away from
Wyvern, Brooklyn thought guiltily. They all had nightmares
from that, except Tachi, who was still too young to
understand what had happened, what they had done.

They'd been asleep during the Viking attack, as before, as
always. Brooklyn had ordered 'Tana to keep the kids in
their hiding place while he had gone out, after. Nash had
followed him anyway, had seen the rubble that had once been
a clan, seen his father weeping like a hatchling for a past
no one could change.

No wonder the kid was messed up now. He'd been raised,
mainly, in the future, where peace had been achieved at a
price. He'd seen the past, the darkest night of Brooklyn's
life, seen the horror of what happened when the species did
not coexist peacefully. Of course he'd gone in front of a
camera a week ago. He wanted to make friends, now, before
it was too late.

His mate began, "Perhaps if we ... " Shouts came from
below, and they took cover.

"I can't see anything," he said, shadowed by her wing.

"Sh. I can see. Nine, no, ten Quarrymen." Her eyes
narrowed. "Attacking a gargoyle and a human with him."

"I think we need to even up the math," said Brooklyn. They
took hands and dove into the fray.

One Quarryman was already on the ground, clutching his
stomach by the time they reached the fight. Brooklyn landed
on one, 'Tana on another. That made seven. One looked at
the new gargoyles, at his fellows, and bolted. Six to go.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" remarked Griff, as he
punched another Quarryman into a second. Both went
sprawling, and were bright enough not to rejoin them.

One of the remaining Quarrymen got in a blow to Brooklyn's
back. As he fell, he snaked his tail around the man's legs
and pulled him to the ground. Two punches later, and they
were down to three.

Katana pulled her blades from behind her and brandished them
at another attacker.

"You don't scare me, monster," he snarled at her. His head
made a sharp crack when Excalibur came down on the back of
it, and he fell.

"My lady," said King Arthur, making a short bow to her. She
inclined her head, and both turned to face the final two,
swords raised. The pair looked at each other, and attacked
anyway. As both fell moments later, Brooklyn mused that
hadn't been a bright career move.

"Are you both okay?" he asked.

Arthur rubbed his left arm, where blood was already soaking
through his shirt. Griff sported a few bruises and was
favoring his right leg. "We'll manage," the other gargoyle
said.

Arthur nodded to Katana. "Our thanks to you both." Griff's
eyes went to Brooklyn and he tilted his head.

"Oh. Right. Honey, this is Arthur Pendragon and Sir Griff.
Guys, this is my mate, Katana."

"A pleasure," Arthur said gravely.

"You should come back to the castle," said Katana. "This is
not a safe place for gargoyles or our friends."

"So we see," said Griff.

Brooklyn asked him, "Can you fly?"

"Me? I think so. Can one of you carry the king?"

Brooklyn kind of bowed, then said, "Your Majesty, hang on."
Arthur wrapped his good arm around Brooklyn's neck as they
climbed the nearest building, and then held on as they
glided back towards the castle.

VVVVV