TRAGIC FLAWS
By Aesop
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters from the Gargoyles TV show, or those introduced in the fic series 'Gargoyle Saga'. I'm using them without permission, but I earn no profit by writing this.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place a week after REPERCUSSIONS: The Gargoyle Way.
Sean ground his teeth in frustration. He'd been cooped up in the castle for over a week and didn't understand why. Gargoyles are supposed to protect people, right? Wasn't that what I did? So what if some stupid pervert got hurt? Should I have just stood back and watched?
With considerable effort, he managed to keep from stomping down the corridor, but he really wanted some way of demonstrating his frustrations. Goliath had, once again, refused to let him go out on patrol, saying that it was a serious business, not a way to work off one's anger at the world.
I'm not angry at the world, he fumed, just Goliath. Sean tried, he honestly tried, not to take it out on the others. Ari and Graeme were nice to him and Broadway had managed to make him laugh on occasion, and Angela was okay, even if the lavender female sometimes annoyed him with her sympathetic looks and offers to talk. Sean knew that she meant well, but, though she might be his half-sister, he just didn't feel the same kind of connection to her that he did to Susan. He realized that Angela was the one person most likely to answer his questions about Demona, but he just couldn't bring himself to ask, and he wasn't sure why. Part of it, he knew, was the way she kept pushing. Getting really sick of her pity and her offers to 'talk.'
The other inhabitants of the castle were irritating to a lesser degree. Sata gave him his space when their lessons were not in session, but she used the time they did spend together, learning Bushido, to counsel patience and advise him to 'strive for balance in mind and body.' Her other students seemed to soak it up, even Susan, which annoyed him slightly. Shouldn't my sister be on my side?
The lessons just didn't work for him. The fighting was good, but all of the talk of patience and the proper frame of mind just rolled over him, and though he did his best to sit and listen attentively, Sata is kind of cool, after all, and she's Ari's mom, the lessons still seemed a waste of time. How was he supposed to be patient with the self-righteous jerk they called their leader? Why should he be patient with rapists and muggers and other scum? Sean shook his head, pushing those questions away as he steeled himself for yet another lesson with the Japanese gargoyle.
He hoped the upcoming lesson would involve doing something physical, wanting an excuse, any excuse, to work off some of his aggravation. Sata had said that both he and Susan were progressing quite rapidly in their physical training. While their fighting skills were beyond what she could have expected in hatchlings so young, Sata had also told them that there was more to being a warrior than fighting. There was knowing when to fight. According to her, Sean fumed, he lacked the discipline a warrior needed, and an understanding of a gargoyle's purpose.
Pausing outside the door to the chamber Sata used as a classroom, he took a deep breath and did his best to shove all the frustration he felt to one side, calming himself in preparation for the lesson. The sensei greeted him politely and waved him to his seat when he entered. Ari, Graeme, and Susan were already there.
"This evening's lesson," she began, "will help to make plain the need for patience and focus in battle." Sean hoped that meant that something interesting was going to happen. Another night of listening to gargoyle fairy-tales would only try his patience, and, as Sata had told him, he had too little of that as it was. "For what is true of battle is often true of life." Oh great, Sean repressed a sigh.
OOOOOOOOOO
While not an unmitigated disaster, Sata mused as she allowed the hot shower to ease her tensions, the lesson could have gone better. She had hoped to make her new students understand the dangers of acting purely on emotion. The anger and frustration that Sean hid so poorly was his most dangerous enemy, and she needed to make him understand that.
It had started well enough. She had successfully demonstrated to them the value of planning an attack as opposed to rushing headlong into battle. Sean had seemed to get the point of this rudimentary lesson in patience, but she could tell that he still burned to take action, even as he had studied his opponent as she had directed.
Asking Hudson to assist in the lesson had seemed a good idea at the time, as strong as the boy was, and as skilled as he was becoming, she had not doubted the elder's ability to overcome him, nor had Hudson. That overconfidence had proved costly. Unfortunately, the lack of patience and focus that should have proven such a hindrance only delayed Sean's victory briefly. Sata had hoped that by pitting him against a warrior with decades of experience, she could prove to the boy that he still had a lot to learn. The Japanese gargoyle sighed in frustration at the memory of how well that had worked out.
Hudson had been able to hand him two embarrassing defeats in a row, making the boy progressively angrier. That anger should have made it easier for the older gargoyle to handle him, more reckless. Instead, Sean had approached the third confrontation differently. Taking some time to study his opponent, Sean had then moved with speed he had not before demonstrated, feinting one way and driving another, catching Hudson off guard. Expecting an anger driven direct assault, the old gargoyle had been surprised at the boy's more controlled use of his strength, and at the sudden adoption of an admittedly simple tactic. Sean had fooled him, driving one way and then attacked on his blindside, taking the old warrior's feet out from under him.
Rising to his feet almost immediately, Hudson had been met with a well-calculated blow that staggered him, leaving him vulnerable to a kick to the side that had almost certainly cracked ribs.
Sata had called a halt to the fight, and, to her surprise, Sean had backed off immediately, even offering a properly respectful bow. She could see the triumph in his eyes, though. Sean had won, and he knew it. That victory, however, only seemed to fuel his desire to rush headlong into trouble, and reinforce his already firm belief that he had nothing to learn from his clan. While the evening's lesson about patience on the battlefield had apparently been learned, she was not at all sure that that was a good thing.
OOOOOOOOOO
Sean saw it now, how letting his anger get the better of him was costing him in sparring matches with the gargoyles. The gargoyles. He still couldn't bear to think of himself as one of them.
Sata had not seemed pleased with his performance, however, and that irked him. He had done just as she instructed, and he did see the value of watching and learning about an opponent before rushing in. Apparently, there was something more to it than that. A broader lesson, perhaps. He frowned, thinking on this for a moment, and then shook his head. It didn't matter.
What mattered was that he be allowed out of the castle. It didn't seem likely that that was going to happen soon, though. He decided to give it another night, and then, he would do as he pleased. Sean wanted to fly. He wanted to fight. Finally, something that he hadn't even mentioned to Susan, he wanted to find his mother.
OOOOOOOOOO
Hudson frowned in irritation. He had no one to blame but himself. He'd grown cocky and had paid for it. He knew from experience, the feel mainly, that the injury would heal completely with a day of stone sleep. Until then, he'd have a reminder of his folly.
Sean seemed to have learned the lesson young Sata wanted to teach, but would that lesson be applied correctly? Hudson was reminded all too clearly of another young warrior. Demona had been a fine pupil when it came to physical combat, but when to fight and when not to fight was something that had tended to elude her. He knew well enough that Demona had matured in that respect over the last thousand years. She'd become a cunning warrior, a dangerous opponent. He only hoped that the similarities between parent and child did not run too deep.
Settling into his favorite chair, Hudson debated whether or not to tell Goliath of his concerns. It was not proper to keep such concerns from his leader, but those concerns could well be groundless. Goliath would take the boy to task, which would only serve to push him further away. Best to keep quiet for now and watch things develop.
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT
She snarled and whirled, striking the target with her tail, easily sending the dummy flying. Turning to her right, she raked another target with her claws before spinning to land a backhand blow to another target.
She had begun immediately after her nightly transformation, and had been at it for only half-an-hour, and it wasn't working. The elaborate gym she had ordered set up while she was at work, having a particularly frustrating day, wasn't doing a thing to ease her tension. For several days now, Demona had been unable to concentrate on her business, or on anything else, instead, she paced her office restlessly, trying to shove away the unwanted thoughts and memories that plagued her. She had hoped that a physical release would do what the everyday challenges of running her corporation could not.
But, it wasn't helping. She needed real targets, real enemies to take her frustrations out on. Beating up on some of the Fey might have been entertaining, but the tactics adopted by the mutate, Hunter, had driven them underground. There hadn't been an Unseelie attack in over two weeks. No halflings, no pixies, no redcaps. Their sudden apparent timidity worried Goliath and irritated her.
There were other possibilities, she mused. Unfortunately, she and MacBeth were at peace, Xanatos was no longer an enemy, even the other members of her clan had accepted her, after a fashion. The idea of picking a fight with any of them didn't really appeal, certainly not while they had a common enemy in the Unseelie.
Thoughts of her clan only led to thoughts about the source of her current mood. The children. No, she admitted, almost reluctantly, that isn't right. To be fair, it was the humans responsible for the children's existence that drove her workout. She had tried to hate the twins, but she couldn't. There had been a time, not too long ago, when she would have hated them simply for being part human, but despite Hunter's mocking words, spoken on that rooftop the previous week, she had learned from her mistakes. Blaming all of Humanity for the actions of a few had begun to seem… wrong. That didn't mean she had changed her mind about humans in general, they weren't to be trusted, but she couldn't hate children, especially not when they were hers.
Glancing around at the destroyed equipment in her private gym, Demona sighed in resignation. It had been a waste of time and money. She was still angry, and she still had no suitable target for that anger. The doctor, whose name she never had learned, and the other scientists responsible were long gone. By the time she had recovered, the lab had been cleaned out and all trace of the project erased.
Her tormentors had vanished, the abominations were gone, and there had seemed no hope of exacting revenge. Even with her considerable resources, she had been unable to locate those responsible. She had even hired human investigators at one point, but they had found nothing. At the time, she had seen their failure as one more bit of proof that the humans weren't fit to live. She had made the decision at that point to step up her plans. Freeing her clan became her top priority.
And didn't that work out brilliantly, Demona thought morosely. Goliath, of whom she had dreamed for centuries, had turned on her, thrown her over for a human woman.
With an effort, she shoved those thoughts away. It was in the past. She had a daughter who loved her and a life that most humans would have envied. Wealth and power made up for a lot. Destroying Humanity might not be an option any longer, but she had decided that there was some truth to the aphorism 'living well is the best revenge.'
At the moment, though, it wasn't enough, not nearly. Leaving the gym behind her, she headed for the roof, deciding that she needed to get some fresh air. Perhaps she could find someone or something on which to take out her frustrations.
At first, she drove herself hard, pushing her limits in the hopes that it would take the edge off her anger, and it had worked. Gradually, the feel of the wind under her wings, against her skin, began to ease her tension. I don't do this enough anymore, she decided as she dived and swooped around the corner of a skyscraper. With no particular destination in mind, she felt free to go where the wind took her, following the currents at random.
It occurred to her how out of character this was for her. Normally, she always had a goal, a destination, but there were times, like tonight, when it just felt good to glide without a purpose. It didn't solve her problems, but it did help her clear her mind.
On this particular occasion, unfortunately, clarity did not bring peace. It only served to remind her of how little she could do about the source of her frustrations. She, again, began to push herself, giving in to the frustration she had briefly managed to forget. Taking a moment to notice her surroundings, she realized that Central Park was close. Maybe she couldn't hate the children, and she couldn't get her revenge on those who had abused her, but perhaps, she could find someone who deserved a beating.
OOOOOOOOOO
I was afraid of this. Resources and funding. That was what it came down to, as usual. Who could conceive such a scheme? The list was pages long. Who was actually twisted enough to carry it out? Well, he admitted to himself, that list isn't much shorter, and doesn't that speak well of Humanity?
While those questions were important, the critical one always remained: who had the resources to pull it off? That was the short list. Skillful detective work, and codes stolen from several high-ranking Illuminati members, got him a partial answer.
The Illuminati had not employed the scientists that had experimented on Demona and brought Sean and Susan into the world, but it had funded them. Essentially, someone in the Society, he still couldn't determine whom, had acted as a venture capitalist, investing in the project and making it possible.
He had always been a doer rather than a planner within the Illuminati. He had directed individual and highly compartmentalized projects, such as the archeological dig in Germany that had uncovered the Fay weapons. Never had he been involved in something of this nature.
Having never been accused of naivety, Hunter wasn't scandalized at the Illuminati's involvement. No, just… disappointed. Shoving such thoughts aside as unproductive, he focused on the handful of leads he had to those directly responsible. It didn't matter how well hidden they were, the mutate vowed. Soon, he would have names; then he would have justice.
OOOOOOOOOO
Enough. He had had enough and needed to get out. Goliath had, once again, refused to let him go on patrol. It was one time too many. Sean managed to avoid the gargoyles and the security cameras to reach the outer wall. He knew his absence would be noticed before too long, but he really didn't care. He needed to get out.
Diving from the parapet, Sean spread his wings and rode the currents down and away from the castle. He took a deep breath and allowed the freedom of flight to sweep over him.
OOOOOOOOOO
Demona alighted atop Cleopatra's Needle and looked around. The park was aggravatingly peaceful tonight. Perhaps, it was just as well. Picturing the doctor's face on a random mugger, and pounding it in, might have felt good for a moment or two, but it wouldn't truly accomplish anything, and in recent months, as she had grown closer to Angela and Andrea, she had been less inclined to lash out at humans without reason. There was a time, she knew, when she would have happily attacked the first one who crossed her path, blaming the species for the actions of an individual. There were times that that still seemed an appropriate course of action.
Ever since she had learned about the twins, more and more detailed memories had forced their way into her consciousness. Memories that she had worked hard to repress had begun to return with crystalline clarity. The worst were of the doctor and his guards entering her cell a few days after the eggs had hatched. She had only known of the event from snatches of conversation she had overheard. Hybrids. The very notion had revolted her, but she had found that she couldn't work up a proper rage.
The doctor had looked down at her with an odd expression, a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Useless," he had said after a moment. "All that work for nothing." His sigh had seemed overly melodramatic to her, even in the malaise she had sunk into, "and now it all has to be destroyed. Such a waste." He had turned and left, shaking his head.
The guards hadn't spoken to her. They never did. The man in charge had simply jabbed her with his taser, rendering her unconscious. There were vague memories after that of terrible pain, as her body healed from whatever injuries had been inflicted on it, and she was never entirely certain of how long it took, knowing only that it seemed to last forever. One night she awoke, buried alive in what turned out to be a landfill, to find herself fully restored.
Shaking her head angrily, she tried to focus on something else. Business? That hadn't been doing it for her recently. Nightstone was running smoothly and presenting her with no unusual challenges. Angela? Usually a happy subject, thoughts of her daughter only served to remind her of her other children. How was Angela coping with this? Her eldest had called the manor on several occasions, but Demona had made an excuse each time. She knew what Angela wanted to talk about, and it wasn't a conversation Demona was ready to have, not yet.
Launching herself skywards again, she picked a direction at random and began scanning the ground below her disinterestedly. Nothing. Central Park was unusually quiet. Briefly, she wondered at the reason, and if that reason might not provide the distraction she needed. The notion was dismissed almost as soon as it occurred to her. Waste of time, she concluded, before turning for home. She had barely completed the turn when the first bullet found her.
OOOOOOOOOO
Sean hung back, not wanting to be seen. At first, he had wanted nothing else. He'd wanted to rush to her, talk to her, learn everything about her. Then he'd remembered her last words to him. 'Just don't look to me for anything. I'm not y-… Just don't.'
'I'm not your mother.' Is that what she was going to say? Sean knew that wasn't true, as much as she might want it to be. The fact that she might want it to be was the entire problem. If she really wanted nothing to do with him, did he have any business barging in on her? She'd been upset, confused. Perhaps she hadn't meant it, but then again, perhaps she had. What if she really doesn't want anything to do with me? It was this possibility that made him hesitate. It was possible he would be nothing but a reminder of what had been done to her in that lab, and he didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't just turn away either. He had always wondered about his parents. Who were they? Where were they? Why had they abandoned him?
Like many children in his situation, he had often fantasized about his real family. Maybe they were rich and he had been kidnapped as a baby. Maybe he was royalty. Maybe they had been looking for him for years and would find him any day. Now, settled on his perch in a tall tree, Sean rolled his eyes, remembering these speculations. They had seemed silly, even then, but no matter how outrageous his fantasies had been, he'd never even come close to the truth. He took his eyes off Demona to glance at the trees around him and the ground far below, marveling at how things had turned out.
Now that he knew the truth, he really wished he didn't. Each time he lay down to sleep, he fervently wished that he would wake up back in his bedroom at the Hopkins' house; that his life would be normal again and that the last few weeks would turn out to have been just a bad dream. So far, it hadn't worked.
Speculation, he knew, wasn't going to help him. The only way he was going to find out how his mother really felt was by talking to her. And I'll do that, he promised himself, any minute now.
Since he had first spotted her, she had been flying randomly, with no apparent destination in mind, moving fast and making hairpin turns around the skyscrapers, it reminded him a little of his workouts in the gym, and the boy wondered at her reasons. When Sean had torn up the gym, he had been hurting and angry, in need of a release. Perhaps, this was his mother's way of blowing off steam. Maybe it would be best to approach her when she was calmer.
Assessing the mood of the people around him was a survival skill Sean had learned in the group homes. There were certain people, he had learned the hard way, to avoid, especially when they were in a foul temper. He had met too many kids in the foster care system, and a few adults, that were prone to taking out their frustrations, sometimes violently, on the first person that got in their way. Demona definitely looked like she wanted to be left alone.
Regardless of her apparent ill temper, Sean had followed her into Central Park. There wasn't as much cover, and he had been forced to hang back farther. When she settled on the Needle, he had dropped below the canopy and climbed to his current perch to screw up his courage before finally approaching her. Who knew when he'd get another chance, after all?
OOOOOOOOOO
"The target is in sight." Kristoff nodded and sent a signal to the rest of his people. Two assault teams had been assembled on very short notice for a job of this sort, and he felt no small amount of pride that they had come together and readied themselves so quickly and so efficiently. He didn't know all of the details, but something had lit a fire under their boss. The mission was straightforward, and expected to be simple. The target was to be killed and the body retrieved for study. Additional interference was not expected, as the gargoyle in question seemed to be solitary.
Although not one to question orders, or even speculate about his employer's motives, Kristoff suspected that if this mission went well, it would be followed by others involving the gargoyles in New York. Perhaps, he and his team would be sent after the gargoyles that had been rumored to be abroad during the day. Those, though, would most likely be live captures, and he found he was grateful for the chance to 'practice' with a simple kill.
They had been instructed to set up in Central Park and wait for their target. Gargoyles were frequently seen there. It seemed to be one of their favorite hunting grounds, and the two likeliest spots had been chosen for the teams to wait and watch. His superiors had reasoned that it would only be a matter of time until the gargoyle they wanted happened along. On their third night of surveillance, they got lucky. Their target was in the park, and she was alone.
Observers spotted her near Alpha team's position. Kristoff hastily repositioned his people, keeping track of the gargoyle from his vantage point while directing the others. The closest agent reported that the target had landed on Cleopatra's Needle and asked for instructions.
"Do you have a clear shot?"
"No sir. Thirty seconds until we're in position."
Wilson was one of Kristoff's best snipers. If he said the shot couldn't be made, then it would have to wait. Unfortunately, the gargoyle might not wait for them. It could be long gone before any of his men had a clear field of fire. "Get into position, Alpha team. Beta team, give me an ETA." After being told that it would take almost five minutes to reach the needle from their current position, if they abandoned all pretense at stealth, Kristoff told them to find vantage points near their current position and be ready if the gargoyle escaped. Alpha team would try to drive her their way. That done, there was nothing to do but wait.
Technically, being put in overall command of the mission was a promotion, but he still felt disconnected. He much preferred being in the field, directing events himself, to sitting in a van monitoring the movements of the teams remotely. Still, that was the assignment he'd been given, and a good soldier always followed orders. He didn't doubt the ability of the people under his command; he had served with two in Desert Storm, and had trained the others himself, but he still would have preferred being in the thick of things.
He checked the main screen and saw the blip labeled Wilson moving as quickly as stealth would allow toward his target. Two meters to his right, like a shadow, was Christensen. Although he lacked Wilson's natural talent with a rifle, he made up for it in other areas. He boasted, and Kristoff believed, that he could sneak up on a rabbit and steal its carrot before it knew he was there.
Blair and Stinson, the other half of Alpha team, had distinguished themselves in missions for the company, and, in the case of Blair, in the navy SEALS before that. Like Kristoff himself, most of the eight men in the field had a military background, but those two had been real finds.
Kristoff's musings were interrupted by a call from Blair. The target had taken wing and was headed right toward them. Each of the rifles was fitted with a silencer, so Kristoff could not actually hear the shot, just the satisfied tone in Wilson's voice when he reported that the gargoyle was down.
OOOOOOOOOO
Sean gasped as he saw his mother convulse in midair and begin to fall. She fell without a sound, and he was in motion before he could stop to think. Abandoning his efforts at stealth, he launched himself from the first branch he found, sturdy enough.
Flying directly to the place where she had gone down was impossible. She had fallen in a thick grove of trees. He had to drop to near ground level to bypass the thick canopy, but it was a fairly straight path from there, allowing him to build up speed. He was going close to twenty miles per hour when he entered the clearing where a group of men in dark fatigues and ski masks were bundling his mother into a body bag.
His night vision was considerably better than human, and better than that of most gargoyles. He had no trouble seeing the guns the men were carrying or the blood on Demona's clothing. There was no decision to make. No hesitation. Sean attacked.
OOOOOOOOOO
Kristoff knew better than to congratulate his men before they were safely away from the scene. Until they had actually returned to base and delivered the package, the job wasn't done. Nevertheless, he breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when Blair reported a successful kill. They had a Parks Dept. maintenance truck waiting to carry the body to the van and from there; it was a short drive to their staging area. Once there, the body would be turned over to the lab coats for study, and he and his men could call it a night. They weren't there yet, though, so he withheld his praise when he received the confirmation.
No further contact had been authorized until they reached the van, so he was surprised when the radio crackled and Wilson's panicked voice emerged from the speaker. "We are under attack! A gargoy-!" The transmission ended in a short scream and a burst of gunfire. No silencer had been employed this time.
Swearing silently, he opened a channel to his beta team. "Alpha has encountered resistance. Move to intercept." There was nothing else he could do. Protocols were specific. He could not go himself to back up his men. Whatever the outcome, it was his responsibility to return to report it.
Double-checking the displays available to him, he swore again. If alpha was under attack by gargoyles, beta would not arrive in time. They were moving fast, but were still several minutes away. Clamping down on the urge to contact alpha and ask for an update, Kristoff forced himself to sit back and wait. He had done what he could do for them. All that was left was to trust in the skill and training of his men.
OOOOOOOOOO
Shot. Again. I hate being shot. There were more painful ways to die certainly, but she had always held a special hatred for small pieces of lead propelled by chemical explosives, at least when they were used against her.
Keeping her eyes closed for the time being, maintaining the illusion, Demona listened. There were sounds of combat nearby.
OOOOOOOOOO
Time had slowed to a crawl. His opponents seemed almost to move in slow motion, and he knew that should seem strange to him. Had he been capable of thought at the moment, it might have, but a red haze had closed in around him and he could only act on instinct. He tackled the first before Demona's assailants even knew he was there. They hit the ground and slid for a distance with Sean on top. He was up and moving on to the next before the first man had come to rest, unmoving, against the base of a tree.
Guns were raised, but Sean was among them before anyone could draw a proper bead on him. A sweep of his tail took the legs from under one as he turned to face another, slashing at the man's belly with his talons.
The body armor his opponent wore saved his life, barely, and he fell back with a hoarse scream, dropping his weapon and radio to clutch at the shallow but painful wounds. By the time Sean had pulled his talons loose from the Kevlar, the man behind him had struggled to his feet despite an injured leg and was bringing his rifle to bear. A fourth man, Sean saw, had backed away and was attempting to find a way of shooting him without hitting his comrades.
Flying at the injured man, Sean closed with him to keep the last uninjured opponent from shooting. He used the mercenary as a shield briefly before lifting the man off his feet and throwing him at his comrade. The last man was faster than he seemed, though, and ducked aside, while firing. Sean was fast, but far from any cover. Two rounds struck him, one in the leg, and one in the chest, knocking him down. Crying out in pain, he tried to roll away before more bullets could be directed his way. There were no more shots, though. Instead, a gargoyle's enraged roar sounded in his ears, followed closely by a shout of alarm and the sounds of flesh striking flesh.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Ach, I'm fine lad. Nothing hurt but my pride."
"What happened?" Goliath asked as he watched the old warrior settle into his favorite chair.
"I got cocky," Hudson admitted, annoyed with himself for not speaking to Goliath the night before, and heading off this confrontation. "Knew the boy was strong and fast, but he's so undisciplined, so reckless, that I didn't take him as a serious threat." He waved off the clan leader's concern. "It's nothing to be concerned about."
"I must disagree," Goliath answered flatly, and turned toward the door to find Sean.
"Don't be hasty, Goliath," the elder called to him. "I would remind ye that you yerself gave me a few bruises while I was trainin' you."
"This is different, Hudson, as you well know. Sean is angry at the world and lashing out at those around him. I must draw the line somewhere."
"Sean was raised human, Goliath, and not as part of a clan, or even a human family by what I've been told. He's not a gargoyle hatchling, despite appearances. The lad may not react as you expect."
"Your counsel is always appreciated, Hudson, but I must deal with this as I see fit." He left the room, and Hudson sighed. Goliath and the boy had a lot in common. Both were too stubborn for their own good. He only hoped that Goliath thought carefully before confronting Sean.
OOOOOOOOOO
It was time to talk to the boy. Deliberately injuring another member of the clan wasn't something he could let pass. There would have to be consequences, even if the injury was accidental, something Goliath found himself doubting.
When a knock on the door drew no answer, Goliath pushed it open and walked in, uninvited. The room was empty. Not yet concerned, he turned toward Susan's room, hoping to find him there.
A polite knock brought her from her studies to the door. "Goliath?"
"Have you seen your brother?" he asked without preamble. Susan sighed.
"No. After Sata dismissed us, he said he needed to think and went off on his own." She frowned. "Why? What happened?"
"I wanted to talk to him about what happened during class, last night."
"Oh. You mean with Hudson." She looked down, embarrassed. "He didn't mean it. It's just hard to control his strength, especially when he's angry about something…" She sighed. "He always seems to be angry about something, doesn't he?"
"That is what concerns me," Goliath sighed. "Do you know where he went?"
Susan shook her head. "I'm worried about him. I-I don't know, and I don't know why he's acting this way."
"I hope to find out." He turned to go, but Susan put a hand on his elbow.
"I'm not sure, but… he wasn't like this when we met. When we met… well… our mother, I guess… he started being angry."
"Demona," Goliath rumbled. "What does she have to do with this?"
Susan stepped back and motioned him inside, suspecting the explanation might take a while. She sat at the desk that had been set up for her and Goliath settled on the bed. "Before she left, when we met on that roof, she told us not to look to her. She said she wasn't our mother." Goliath started at this and stared.
"She did?"
"Well… she almost did. She started to say it but stopped. Then she told us not to look to her for anything and took off."
"And Sean?"
"I," she sighed, looking down at her hands. "I think he took it hard. He was never adopted, just shuffled from one foster home to another. I have parents, but Sean doesn't." She sighed and shook her head. "I'm confusing myself. That sounded really strange."
"Not at all," the clan leader assured her. "In fact, I see the problem clearly, now." He nodded and got up to leave. "Thank you." He needed to find Sean, but, he decided, he should also talk to Demona. He needed to make it clear that Sean would not be allowed to fall under her influence. That was what was best for the boy and for the clan as a whole.
OOOOOOOOOO
The last of her attackers hit the ground hard, his weapon sailing into the bushes. She raised a hand, talons poised to rip into the man, but a soft moan drew her attention. Sean. The blinding fury that had driven her to rise before her wounds were fully healed, faded. Demona was no less angry, but, to her own surprise, when her hand connected the man's face, she had balled it into a fist.
Leaving her enemies beaten but alive, she rushed to Sean's side. He was badly wounded and she had seen enough gunshot wounds in her time to know that he wouldn't last long without help.
Demona ruthlessly forced down her turbulent emotions and concentrated. Too little time. Too little, unless… A few words of Latin later, she felt the boy's heart slow. Two seconds between beats. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Satisfied, she carefully lifted his limp form and carried him to the nearest spot from which she could take to the air.
The trip back to Destine Manor was made in under ten minutes. Once inside her workroom she laid him on the table and swiftly gathered what she would need to treat the wounds, barely sparing a thought for the price. It meant little to her. The bloodstone required blood of the user to heal another, but with fatal injuries, such as those Sean had suffered; the cost was always a life.
Demona didn't hesitate. What was one more death to her?
OOOOOOOOOO
No pain. No sign of injury at all. The last thing he remembered was being shot, so that couldn't be a good thing. Opening his eyes carefully, Sean looked around. It didn't look like any version of the afterlife he had ever heard of. It didn't look like a hospital either.
"You're awake. Good."
Sean turned toward the voice and saw his mother sitting next to the bed. "Wha-? How?"
"Is there any pain?" she asked, instead of answering his open-ended questions. He shook his head. "Good. As to your questions… They will have to wait. You may have been healed, but you still require rest. I'll inform Goliath of your whereabouts and tell him you'll be sleeping here today."
"But I feel fine, and-"
"You will need rest," she cut him off in a tone that brooked no argument. "We can talk when you awaken at sunset. Dawn is less than an hour away."
"Sunset?" Sean gave her a puzzled look and then remembered. "Oh. The stone sleep thing. I don't do that."
"What?" Demona blinked in surprise.
"I don't turn to stone."
Demona stared at him, nonplused for a moment. "How is that possible?" The various answers to her own question raced through her mind, but she shoved them aside, not liking any of them.
"I don't know. Susan and I just weren't designed that way." His answer, and the bitterness he was able to squeeze into a single word set her back.
"I see. Still, you must rest. I have a spare room you can use. It would be best if you didn't leave until sunset, regardless of you're ability to do so."
"Don't worry," Sean shuddered. "The last time Susan and me went out in daylight, people started shooting at us."
"I remember," Demona growled, but then shook her head as Sean eyed her warily. "I met her not long after that, remember?"
"Yeah."
"What were you doing out by yourself, anyway? Goliath would not allow you to patrol alone. He shouldn't allow it at all."
"He didn't. I just couldn't stand being cooped up anymore. I went off on my own." He didn't add that he had been looking for her.
"He doesn't let you go out at all?"
"Not since the last time. Susan and I caught some pervert in the park. The woman he attacked seemed glad to see us, but Goliath got mad, said I went too far in stopping him."
"Indeed?" She kept her tone mild, as if she was merely curious.
"So he'll be in the hospital for a few days. Not like I killed him or something. He'll be fine, which is more than he deserves."
"Where was Goliath while this was happening?"
"He took us out for flying practice, but got distracted by something happening in the park. Told us to just stay up in the air till he got back. Then we saw the woman getting attacked and what were we supposed to do?"
"What indeed?" She thought for a moment. "I've never really approved of gargoyles interfering in human affairs, but you were raised human... I suppose I should have expected you to involve yourselves in the clan's foolishness."
He stared at her blankly for a moment. "I don't understand."
"For most of my life, I've hated humans for what was done to my clan. For what was done to me." Her blunt words seemed to gradually be sinking in. "I can't hate you for what happened, though, or your sister." She watched him in consternation for a moment. "I don't know how to feel about you."
"You saved me," he pointed out, his voice subdued.
"Yes," she answered. "You… attacked them to help me?"
"I thought you were dead. I saw you shot and…" He looked over her. "There's not a mark on you."
"I was not that badly injured," she lied, "and I have ways of healing myself rapidly." She didn't want to go into details, so she pressed on. "You do not have the same… advantages, and it is clear your skills are not what they should be. You acted rashly. Four humans shouldn't have been a problem even a young gargoyle."
"I can fight, but with their armor and weapons…"
"No excuses. If you insist on risking your life like that, you should learn to fight properly."
"Sata's been teaching us," he answered. "She's pretty good at it."
"Hmm. Sata is a fine warrior, and Bushido is a fine code and teaches many fine values, but those values are not always practical when one is under fire." She considered for a time. "I respect Sata, and I do not wish to cast doubts on her, but perhaps there are skills that I can teach that she cannot; if Goliath can be convinced."
"Why would he need to be convinced of anything?" Sean grumped.
"Because he is the clan leader. You may not respect him, but he does what he believes best, and you need to obey him." The words weren't as hard to get out as she had expected. Her ex-mate might be a self-righteous fool, but the boy was really too young to start thinking he knew better than the, admittedly, experienced warrior and leader.
She wasn't sure why she had made the offer. She was still not sure what to feel with regards to the children, and all she could summon up at the moment was anger over the boy's foolishness. He had nearly gotten himself killed.
It was that anger that gave her pause. The children meant something to her. They weren't like Angela, her precious daughter, but they were still part of her.
She had told him the truth, she couldn't hate them even though they were yet another reason to hate the humans. Whatever she felt for them, though, she decided it was worth exploring.
"I will contact the clan and let them know that you are safe. They're no doubt worried about you by now." She rose and went to the phone. A short conversation later saw her back at his bedside. "They'll expect you shortly after sunset tomorrow." She scowled in irritation. "They wanted to rush over immediately, but there simply isn't time before dawn. They probably fear I'll use our time together to corrupt you."
Sean only stared in confusion. "What does that mean?" he finally asked. "What happened between you and the others anyway?"
"You weren't told?" He shook his head. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Goliath would have simply told you that he has his reasons and leave it at that. He expects to be obeyed regardless-" She broke off. After telling the boy he should obey his clan leader, it would be pointless to insult Goliath's judgment now regardless of how faulty it was. The rest of the clan would have blindly followed his lead.
"Brooklyn, at one time, might have happily told you horror stories about me. I'm not sure what changed his thinking." She shook her head. "It's not important. I'm sure they'll tell you more than you want to know, now." The thought seemed to depress her slightly, but she said no more on the subject.
Sean looked at her dubiously, but said nothing.
"Get some sleep," Demona told him, turning for the door. "We'll have breakfast when you wake up." She turned off the lights and shut the door on her way out, leaving him alone.
THE END