We Live Again: 3 Legends

by Cosmina Inspira

"Most legends contain a seed of truth." (Quote of Goliath from canon episode Mark of the Panther .) All kinds of legends indeed have some truth to them, as a certain police captain is introduce to the city's urban legends made real, yet she will begin to feel conflicted with being a new ally and her duties as a police officer. T for mild profanity and brief violence.

We Live Again: Episode 3

LEGENDS

By Cosmic Inspiration

Disclaimer: The Gargoyles animated series was originally the property of the Walt Disney Company and Buena Vista Television, and originally created by Greg Weisman; characters such as Darius, Andrea Calhoun, and the "Brooklyn Family" are the creations of The Gargoyles Saga staff in the spirit of GW's "Master Plan." All original characters are the property of Inspiration.

Author's Note: As I wrote about in my Introduction, my goal is to be as faithful as possible to the Gargoyles "Master Plan" like TGS was in their own stories, but it will all be my own unique interpretation. However, I give credit where it is due. Also, in the TGS episode of "Through the Storm," a new leader of the Gargoyles Task Force has replaced Matt Bluestone, however he is never named nor given a physical description, so in my saga I will be calling him James Kowalski and building on what was described in the episode. However, his creation is totally credited to the Gargoyles Saga staff. Also, for "canon" or "canon-in-training" ideas of the master plan, anything that is written here is only my own interpretation and the original plans for the Gargverse of GW is credited totally to him, this is all only fan fiction that is written for fun and entertainment. For the character named Alonso, hear the voice of Ian McKellan. On a side note, I wish to dedicate this story to all who were most effected on September 11, 2001, all of those who perished and survived, the victims, the heroes and their families. It is ten years later, and we will never forget.

Previously on Gargoyles:

"No one shoots a cop and gets away with it. No one." Maria Chavez.

(Canon) Ep. "Deadly Force"

"I'm assigning you a partner…Detective Matt Bluestone." Chavez.

"Don't tell me robots…It was a flesh and blood…something," said Matt.

"It was dark, they were a long way off," said Chavez.

"I know what I saw, and I'm gonna find out what it was," said Matt.

(Canon) Ep. "The Edge"

"Why'd you keep me in the dark so long?" asked Matt.

"I didn't want to share them. It made me feel special," said Elisa.

(Canon) Ep. "Revelations"

"Nice work, *Detective* Maza." Chavez

"Someone left us some tied up perps, too." Chavez

(Canon) Ep. "Protection"

"I don't like the way this place has become a rumor mill, the only version of what happened I'm interested in is that of the officers who file the report." Chavez.

(TGS) Ep. "Hammer and Shield"

"Ms. Yale has been at the Police Commissioner and City Council, demanding that they do something about the gargoyles. Like reorganizing the Gargoyles Task Force," said Chavez.

"She can't be serious! The gargoyles aren't a menace to the city! They help people!" yelled Elisa.

"I beg to differ with you, Detective Maza. Those monsters that you seem so interested in defending are nothing more than a danger to the public. And we won't be safe from them until they're all locked up where they won't cause any further problems," said Margot Yale.

(TGS) Ep. "Thicker Than Blood"

"Well, if you do know them so well, when you can, tell them I'd like to meet them. Soon. But on their terms of course." Chavez

"Why do this now, Captain?" Elisa

"Perhaps, because on some level I know that they've done some good out there." Chavez

"This is indeed welcoming news, my love. We will proceed in welcoming Captain Chavez." Goliath to Elisa

(WLA) Ep. "Trust"

"Tell me a story."

"The story goes, though who can say if it be true, of a great sorcerer who was master of two mystical creatures; one an airy spirit, the other a malignant deformed monster. He was also the father of a fair and innocent young daughter who had fallen in love with the son of one of his enemies. Although he only pretended to disapprove of their pairing, he still sought revenge against those who did him wrong. He sent his minions to wreak his wrath against his enemies, one of them however having allied himself with ones who were the most foolish, for they all succumbed to the drink. The sorcerer then soon came to realize that he had acted less than a man for not having shown compassion to his fellow man. From an understanding came peace, even the foolish promising to grow in wisdom. The sorcerer gave up his arts and returned to his rightful place as ruler of his land, his daughter happily marrying the man she loved. Now, as it seems countless years later, it is said that he passed on his position to a worthy successor before he died. However, others believe he lives on trying to rediscover his lost art. Some say he has spent centuries pursuing more scholarly interests. And still others say he lives a simple life among us even today, as he awaits the day to full fill an important personal task."

"What task?"

"This is a story for another time."

****A bookshop near Columbia University

He steadily made his way through the aisles of books, admiring each old text for what it was, a hidden treasure trove of old knowledge and secrets waiting to be rediscovered by future generations of aspiring scholars. So far, however, none of them were what he was looking for.

Since making his alliance this was the first decent place that he had come to in this overly populated human city. He had no love for humans, unlike that muscle-headed idiot, but at least they do prove to be slightly more useful than just blatantly wasteful. Their insatiable desire for knowledge was one of their few and rarest enduring qualities that he could appreciate.

He had waited a few hours for enough cover of darkness after the shop had closed before making his way inside, and hopefully his time would not have been wasted. He moved with expert stealth, a veritable wraith in the shadows. He was impressed enough with the place for what it was, and it indeed held a lot of promise.

He had broken in through a side window near the back of the shop and now made his way through the many high ceiling walls of shelves of infinite codices. As he made his way through he noticed the steady lay out of the shop.

It would have easily passed for a library from the 19th century in both lay out and structure. It was easily two stories high, though it easily felt larger with the second story opened to the first floor as a classy atrium, giving it an open and airy feeling, and an easily accessed walkway which was protected by a beautifully styled and polished wooden railing that circled the second floor. The book shelves even had rolling ladders attached to them for easier reach to the books on the higher shelves. The first story had more rows of high shelves made of strong and steady wood, standing proud and dutiful ever ready to reveal their secrets. They then opened near an area centered near the front that contained several wooden table and chair sets, both for single readers and groups of four; and scattered among them were a few comfortable sitting chairs for reading.

He jumped steadily from the railing to the bottom floor with a shaky grace to get a better look around this part of the shop, clearly not finding what he wanted on the atrium. The bottom floor went further back than it first appeared, more bookshelves stretched away beyond his sight. Then at the front, to the left of a set of large wooden doors with fogged windows was the checkout area with an old fashioned cash register from most likely the WWII era. At one wall to the far right of the reading tables, an elegant spiral staircase led up to the second story where he had just been earlier.

He made his way to the farthest shelf and began to carefully search among the various texts, greatly admiring the meticulous and obviously pain staken organization of the volumes before him. It was a place that may have inspired the very idea of the Dewey Decimal System; how every book was categorized, numbered, and alphabetized. The further back into the shop one got, the rarer the type of book, and the rarest books were clearly kept at the second level. He saw some that were from as early as the early 18th century, and some may even be older yet. The front of the shop catered to more modern works, many that were clearly marketed towards the alumni of the nearby educational institute.

As fascinating as all of this was there was only one thing that interested him about this place; there was magic here, and it was strong. He could feel it.

He lightly held a talon up to the books, examined them as carefully as possible as he attempted to hone in on the magical source.

He had come nearly two thirds of the way down the aisle when he heard a faint click and a cultured voice with a faint European accent say, "Stay where you are."

Darius was only annoyed and slightly surprised to find the human owner of the shop still awake at this late hour. He moved slowly to eye his opponent.

It was an elderly man with a heavily wrinkled face that spoke of countless years of wisdom. His white beard was impeccably trimmed and well kept, which matched his shoulder length white hair. Although it had receded enough on the top of his head to give it a wavy form with enough hair down the center, it was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail at his neck. His eyes were robin egg blue that glowed with hardness and a youthful strength. He wore evening clothes styled from the late 19th century, wrapped in a comfortable evening burgundy robe. In his right hand was an Old West six shooter that shined as though new and his left hand rested on a three foot long black cane. He may have been about 5'11'' tall with an average build.

Darius eyed the old man with a smirk and arrogantly crossed his arms as he said, "Do you really believe me to be threatened by the likes of you, old human?"

The man's eyes only narrowed slightly as he said with a hard warning tone, "Leave. Now."

Darius chuckled evilly, "Really. And what do you intend to do if I don't?"

The white haired man only raised his weapon slightly more as he tensed, Darius then realized something about the elderly human as the Persian gargoyle watched his tense body language. He was clearly restraining himself but Darius could sense it all too strongly, the old human was the source of the magic. He positively reeked of it.

"I will not warn you again, Dark One," The elderly man's voice became ice cold, his eyes matched his tone as they glowed the purest radiance of ice blue light.

"And I won't be threatened by the likes of you, Old One," Darius snared, "If you wish to challenge me, human, so be it."

Darius moved remarkably fast, whether by his skill as a gargoyle or as a sorcerer was unknown. He snarled and dashed at the old man just as the old rifle went flash/bang as a crack of miniature thunder, an instant signal to an animal's wild fury.

Darius grabbed the old man's rob collar, spun as though an Olympian discus thrower with a cheetah's speed and threw the old man in a high arch across the breadth of the bookshop, where he crash landed hard behind the cashier counter where he gave a loud whoomf, and many display items were knocked down to the floor.

Darius then laughed in prideful arrogance at his small triumph. He may not have been the best built among his clan like many other warriors, but he was still stronger than any human weakling.

"You should've known better than to challenge me, old human," he gloated, "All it's done is hasten you a quick death, one I will gladly use to my advantage."

He began to swagger towards where the old man had dropped behind, a predator ready to make an easy kill, when he suddenly shot up from behind the counter and fired his gun at Darius again.

The bat webbed winged garg took shelter behind another nearby bookshelf, the snap of the bullet hitting very close to him. Darius snared in agitation, an angry growl escaped his throat as a strange single word of a dead language rolled from his tongue.

His talons curved into deadly claws as a dark energy like the inky black essence of night was willed into his hand as the energy engulfed it. A snare graced his lips as he projected his hand hard into the old man's direction, the dark energy made a fantastic explosion as it made further damage of a large burn mark on the counter's wall.

Darius fired two more bursts of the dark energy at the old man, who could only hunker behind the cashier counter as a shield. These spread into wide arches across the shop; one hitting the counter wall again and leaving another large black burn mark, the other hit the wall behind the counter and sent a rain of debris of more destroyed valuable displays upon the elderly owner who threw his arms over his face for protection.

His old skills may have been rusty, but he thanked his lucky stars that he had remembered enough to cushion his fall to prevent his back from breaking on impact or from any other bones being broken. Only half a moment past after the debris rained before he fired another shot at Darius. It ricocheted an inch near Darius' face, crating bright deadly sparks that momentarily blinded him.

This merely agitated the gargoyle sorcerer even more as he snarled in annoyance. He fired another stronger dark burst, this one highlighted with eerily beautiful dark violet streaks of light, which destroyed almost half of the cashier counter, including the old register. Instead of the returned fired crack of a bullet there was a flash of blue-white lightening.

Darius smirked at this, his opponent was getting desperate.

He came out from his hiding place behind one of the bookshelves and cackled insanely as he fired the dark energy from both his hands. But he had underestimated his opponent's fighting skills.

The old man had dashed out from behind the destroyed counter as the mystic bolt was fired, only to draw out his magical adversary.

As instant as Darius fired his magic at the old man, whom he missed by two feet to his left, he suddenly felt an ugly stinging pain on his right upper arm, making his exclaim loudly, "Argh!"

Looking to his shoulder as he grasped it, Darius felt the warm dark red blood flow from the wound as it oozed between his fingers. He removed his hand a little bit to stare with discussed fascination at a two inch long wound where the bullet grazed his arm near his shoulder. A snarl growled from his throat as he shouted, "You foolish pathetic old human, you will pay for this!"

The old man merely stood proudly with a neutral look on his face as he held his gun at Darius, its barrel still spewing a thin trail of smoke, defiance glowing in his eyes.

The sickly yellow gargoyle leaped into an impressive high arch from a tall bookshelf, snarling at the old man, his eyes glowing an angry white.

The old man was not in the least intimidated or impressed. He watched with calculating eyes as he timed Darius' fierce leap at him. Then when the gargoyle was a mere three feet in the air from him, with a single tap of his black cane in front of himself and a quietly whispered spell of "Forzare vente," Darius was sent flying back like a deranged ragdoll through the bookshop.

For Darius it was like hitting an unseen wall of pure force so strong that it may have broken his nose. His head was spinning in a dark cyclone of euphoric confusion as he flailed through the air of the shop. He landed in a hard crash on a large pile of unshelved books, the force of his own landing causing more to drop near and on top of him like heavy stone bricks.

Only moments had passed, but it seemed to take Darius' muddled mind an eternity to come out of its confused daze as it swam in a psychological mud puddle in the dark. He groaned painfully and grabbed his aching head as he tried to fight and clear the haze from his mind and open his eyes.

After many attempts to relearn how to blink his eyes, to his dismay his vision cleared enough that he found himself staring at a dark violet gem, possibly an amethyst that was the head of the old man's cane. He glared at the old man with an angry snarl, which was returned with strong contempt.

"This is your final chance, Dark one," the old man warned with an arctic tone, "Leave and never return. Your kind is not welcome in my home."

Darius scowled with burning hatred at the old man as he tried to get out of his personally made avalanche with whatever little dignity he was being spared. Much of his body was beginning to ache and he did not have enough strength to continue fighting. He was not as young as he used to be, which was among the reasons he took up his studies in the first place.

"Very well, Old One," he snared coldly, "But this is far from over."

He struggled to make his way to the front door, which the old shop owner was pointing to with his cane.

Darius opened the large wooden door of heavy oak to make his way out, but not before saying with heated contempt, "You're only further proof of how weak and spiteful the second race is. There will never be peace between our races, only everlasting contempt and violence."

A moment after leaving with a violently hard slam of the door, the old man whispered to himself, "Then you are an even bigger fool than you seem, for I only hold contempt for *your* kind."

****A warehouse at the Waterfront

The building was a large, silent menacing shadow, a bestial form that stood tall and proud as a dark sentinel ever vigilant to guard its secrets. It was a black void of nothingness, even against the reflected city lights on the quiet dancing waters of the bay and endless shining stars, eternal guardians of the night sky.

A spectrum of hypnotic lights danced from the tops of police vehicles in reds and blues, and occasional whites and yellows, to create a psychedelic euphoria on the eyes and glow in defiance against the silent warehouse's dark shadowy presence.

A veritable legion of the police force had arrived in droves to this location, among them some of NYC's finest including members of the GTF and its new leader, Detective James Kowalski; also Detectives Bluestone and Maza, and even Captain Maria Chavez.

"This is your final chance," Chavez spoke loudly into the megaphone, "Come out with your weapons down and your hands up or we will use excessive force."

An eternal silence stretched into the night.

BLAAAM!

An angry red beam of a laser weapon had hit one of the squad cars, destroying it as it burst from a thunderous explosion, and became consumed in a hungry blossoming fire.

"Open fire!" someone shouted.

Gunfire exploding around the area created a pale imitation of a war zone, but nonetheless threatened to become just as dangerous. Many in the legion of police officers took cover behind their armored vehicles as they returned fire. At least two more police squad cars were shot with red laser fire, erupting into deadly blazes, and an armored SWAT van only took minor damage.

Less than a tense minute passed as a deadly exchange of gunfire thundered in the area as a raining barrage of metallic death.

"Cease fire!" Chavez shouted from the megaphone, "Cease fire, dammit!"

Response to the order was instantaneous, but the enemy continued its baneful shooting. Chavez glared with hard narrow eyes to Kowalski, who only glared back at her. Matt and Elisa only glanced at each other.

A few agonizing seconds passed before the enemy ceased shooting, and there were sudden sounds of a struggle within the warehouse. Fear filled shouts and screams emanated faintly from within, drowned out by the loud cracks and bangs of weapons fire and the snarls and growls of wild animals.

A dark blond scruffy hood, no older than his early twenties, came stumbling out of the warehouse door, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stammered and exclaimed incoherently as he ran absentmindedly towards the legion of police.

"Dracon doesn't pay enough," he stammered in a chocked voice as he ran into the clasps of two uniformed officers and was quickly cuffed.

"SWAT team, move in," Captain Chavez shouted.

The small battalion of armored officers moved with a great caution and a discipline of ancient Roman soldiers as they made their way into the dark foreboding warehouse.

"Alpha team, prepare to move in. Kowalski, you're with me."

The designated team followed after the SWAT team at least two minutes behind them, Chavez prepared her gun as she said, "Maza. Bluestone. Be ready to lead the next team inside in three minutes."

The two detectives nodded to the captain, then gave cryptic smiles to each other as she followed after Alpha team.

Chavez mentally prepared herself for any confrontation to come, a disciplined mindset from her many years on the force, as she began to enter the belly of the beast.

Detective Kowalski followed her closely behind, a hard stern look on his face.

The large warehouse seemed like any other, an endless storage depository of imported merchandize within large stacked crates that awaited circulation and purchasing by potential customers. The only problem was that these crates were filled by the worse type of products imaginable; illegally imported deadly weapons and the worst types of illegal drugs that most street gangs warred endlessly over.

The crates formed what could be a rival to the mythical Cretan Labyrinth, home of the legendary Minotaur. Only this time there was more than just one monster to worry about, and nobody had brought a ball of twine with them.

The only source of light were the beams of city lights leaking in from the high windows near the ceiling, which were still made deeply hazy because of the build of filth and grime over the years.

Nearby footfalls echoed in the warehouse as Chavez saw a shadowed figure running deeper into the maze of crates and suddenly turn a left corner. She held her gun at the ready as she leaned against a high wall of crates, Kowalski doing the same next to her. She gave him a sign to circle around back and entrap their pursuant; he gave an affirmative nod as he began to make his way back through the maze of crates.

In the shadows above, among the metal beams that crisscrossed the ceiling, a large figure observed the two police officers below him. As the male went in another direction, the female continued in pursuit of her prey. The figure followed after her with the stealth of a jungle cat stocking his prey. He would be sure that no harm came to her.

In another part of the dark warehouse, Officer Morgan came across Lexington and Broadway tying up a group of knocked out criminals, many of them known members of the Dracon mafia, other newer faces probably trying to join in.

"Good work, guys," he whispered, and gave each of them a soft high five before they disappeared with last minute smiles.

As a faint tail tip disappeared around a corner of more stacked crates, Detective Kowalski came within view to see Morgan standing over the unconscious group of criminals and smirking.

Meanwhile, Chavez had pursued her quarry deep into what may be the heart of the warehouse. She leaned against a wall of stacked crates near an opening between them. Holding her gun up at the ready, she counted to three before jumping in to sight of the opening only to find a rather large clearing, a circular area with more openings that lead to other parts of the maze. She made her way cautiously into the clearing, an ancient instinct pumped through her blood, telling her that she was being watched by something other than human eyes. Adrenalin surged through her because she knew that she had made herself vulnerable, yet she waited with patient discipline, waiting the right moment for the use of fight or flight.

A human shaped shadow steadily moved from the dark shadows of high stacked crates that were the furthest from the hazy light. The figure was large, easily nearly twice the police captain's size, yet he moved with a graceful stealth as though the shadows were his element, a dark wraith given life by the very darkness itself. He moved his way silently towards the captain as he aimed a deadly looking laser rifle at her back.

He was at least eight meters behind her when an even larger shadow suddenly leaped from the darkness above as though spawned by it. It growled deeply as though it was from the very deepest parts of the Earth itself, and its eyes glowed with vengeful white fire.

Chavez whirled around quickly as she beheld the confrontation that unfolded before her, time seeming to slow down as her mind took in nearly every detail.

The creature was huge, perhaps seven or eight feet tall, built like a tank and possibly strong enough to crush one, a light purplish color that allowed for perfect camouflage in dark shadows, and huge bat-like wings that were as though from dark thunderclouds that were flared to their full size and made it seem twice as large.

He soared down in front of the would-be assassin with an alien grace and speed that belied his amazing size, where seemingly in the blink of an eye, he crushed the weapon with one huge hand while he backhanded the shooter with the other.

Unexpectedly, the shooter had some training where he learned to roll with his hits and control his falling. He rolled across the floor twice before coming to his feet with a shaky grace, drawing a deadly looking hunting knife from his black clothing in a microsecond.

The gargoyle growled so deeply from his massive pectoral chest that Chavez could feel it rippling from within her own chest and beneath her feet. The moment tensed as though frozen in time, the two opponents eyeing each other as they readied for a brawl.

The black clad criminal yelled a brief battle cry as he ran towards the large gargoyle and slashed the deadly knife at him in an X pattern. Goliath backed away two steps but was hardly fazed by the burly criminal's attacking style. It was merely annoying in an amusing sort of way.

However, it may have been bad timing on Goliath's part as he held up his right arm in defense, allowing the criminal a lucky shot at making a diagonal cut down the middle of the clan leader's arm.

"RRRGGH!" he growled in annoyed pain as he grabbed his arm.

The criminal laughed maniacally as he ran again towards Goliath with a thrust of his knife. Instead, Goliath saw it for the predictable and clumsy move that it was and easily tripped the knife wielding attacker with a quick whip of his long tail.

The criminal whoomfed as he landed hard on the warehouse floor and turned with a despiteful look on his face as he pushed himself back up. He quickly got to his feet and began to do martial arts challenge moves that seemed to be merely imitations from old Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan movies.

Goliath only watched him with an amused raised eye ridge.

The goon threw what he thought would be his strongest punch as he aimed to hit Goliath in the stomach as he gave another battle cry.

"GAAGGH!" The battle cry quickly became a scream of pain when a sickly stinging white hot pain erupted in the criminal's fist as though he had hit a brick wall, making him fall to his knees.

Goliath quickly moved behind the criminal while he clutched the wrist of his broken hand and was out of the hood's line of sight. The lavender giant did a mental calculation of his strength as he gave a quick karate chop at the human pressure point at the curve where the neck met the shoulder.

The criminal fell to the ground like a ragdoll in an unconscious heap.

Goliath stood proudly over his defeated opponent just as he heard the cocking of a gun behind him.

"Don't move," said the cold neutral voice of Captain Chavez.

Goliath froze like a statue, unsure of what to think.

"Hands up. Turn slowly."

Goliath did as he was told turning with a mighty quiet grace as he lifted his tree branch sized arms up near his great chest; even keeping his wings up from his shoulders instead of caped, his toes talons making soft clicks on the concrete floor.

He turned to face Captain Chavez straight in the eyes as she held her gun with an authoritive confidence with both hands straight at the center his large chest.

They looked at each other deep in the eyes, as though trying to look into each other's souls, one trying to decide if the other indeed had a soul.

"I mean you no harm, Captain Chavez," Goliath said calmly.

The hard neutral expression of Chavez's face was unreadable, though a brief thought passed through her mind of how amazingly deep the gargoyle's voice was that he made Darth Vader sound like Mickey Mouse.

Chavez gave a small twitch of her gun so quickly that it was hardly noticeable. Goliath only took half a step to his left. Chavez twitched her gun twice more and Goliath kept moving slowly to his left. A strange thing that he noticed was that Chavez did not move her gun with him, but kept it pointed straight ahead. Only her eyes followed him.

BAM!

The gunshot echoed fiercely throughout the warehouse, even drowning out a nearby shout of pain and surprise as another shadowed figure fell from atop of two large stacked crates. He hit the ground hard enough to only give him some bruised ribs and a hair line fracture in one arm.

Goliath and Chavez looked to see that the figure was a young man barely out of his teens, maybe in his early twenties, with muddy brown hair and a wiry build. He gripped a wounded leg that bled dark red, almost black in the shadows, on his right side, and next to him was another deadly looking illegal laser weapon.

Gargoyle and police captain looked at each other with a passing understanding, Chavez giving Goliath a small nod, which he returned with a small smile. He was beginning to understand a bit more of where his lifemate got her fighting spirit, and not just from both of her parents.

"Captain!?" someone shouted.

It was Kowalski.

They both momentarily looked in the direction the voice came from, knowing he was close.

"Go," Chavez simply said to the gargoyle, before he nodded to her one last time, a look of gratitude in his eyes, and finally disappeared back into shadows with a silent grace.

Kowalski finally arrived into the clearing, several uniformed officers followed behind him, Officer Morgan among them.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Kowalski asked with apathetic relief.

"I'm fine, Detective," she simply answered as she pointed to the two downed would-be assassins, "Take those two into custody and get them medical attention."

The uniformed officers complied while Kowalski only snared venomously as though he smelled a hated stench in the air, never noticing the understanding glance between Chavez and Morgan.

They all then made their way outside of the warehouse, many police squad cars having already left after being assured of the situation's resolved status. Chavez briefly thought about how she thought she saw a gold ring on the large gargoyle's left middle finger.

Off to a far side where no one could hear, Elisa and Matt were thanking the clan for their assistance through the clan's communications link, everyone smiling in triumph.

Upon the high roof of the warehouse out of sight of the remaining police force, the entire Manhattan Clan; save for Hudson, the twins, and the beasts, made their way on the winds proudly towards their home, Goliath leading the way as he should. Their hearts swelled with pride, couples joined hands, for they had once more fulfilled their purpose for another night.

Another terrible disaster had been averted.

Back at the 23rd Precinct celebratory congratulations were passed out to all who helped o the police raid at the warehouse who were from the Precinct.

Only one did not feel the thrill of success.

It was not so surprising that rookie Officer Montoya boasted that Elisa could take on the entire Mafia and Yakuza all by herself if she wanted to. All Elisa could do was blush with embarrassment and say that it was all really a team effort.

"Don't be so sure," snarled a husky voice, all eyes whipped to its direction.

Detective James Kowalski was an authoritarian figure with hard features, was as tall as Matt, and had a heavy set figure of a former high school football player. He wore jacket and pants suits but no ties, and always made sure his gun and badge were visible on his belt. His egg shaped face was heavily set with stress wrinkles, especially with the many crow's feet around his beetle black eyes. The salt and pepper grey streaks in his average brown receding hair and mustache made him always look ten years older.

It was rumored that although he was a good cop with an impressive track record, he may also be among the crookedest because he had contacts in unlikely places. It was also said he may be so crooked that he could fit perfectly inside a fire escape stairway or even made Lombard Street in San Francisco look like a narrow straight line.

"There was interference," he growled, "Once more those *things* make the police look like a bunch of incompetent idiots, and we're left to clean up the mess. I wouldn't be surprised if those animals were part of this damn new turf war."

Murmuring spread throughout the squad room, some became steamed debates that threatened to become heated arguments. It took a great amount of personal restraint from both Elisa and Matt from going over to Kowalski and kicking his ass.

Matt glared with ice in his blue eyes and Elisa's teeth grind as her fists clenched hard that her nails would have drawn blood and anger made her chest burn white hot.

"That's enough," Chavez yelled so loudly the immediate silence was thick.

She then walked near Kowalski as she said, "As much as you're entitled to your own opinion, Detective Kowalski, I won't have it disrupting procedure at my station. And do you have any evidence to support your accusation of alleged interference from gargoyles?"

He glared daggers at her as though she had just insulted his intelligence.

"Those Dracon thugs were tied up in ways that weren't done by *human* hands, and they even claimed that they were attacked by the beasts, and mostly I could *smell* them."

The last words came out spoken with a clear venomous deep hatred.

"Wow, Kowalski, we had no idea you were part bloodhound," Elisa said sarcastically.

Laughter reverberated around the squad room, which just made Kowalski's blood boil. "Don't get cute, Maza," Kowalski snared as though he swallowed the world's sourest lemon.

"I'm afraid there needs to be stronger evidence than your strong sense of smell, Detective," Chavez said authoritively, "In the meantime, all that matters is that the NYPD was successful tonight in capturing a bunch of Dracon's goons and some wannabes as well as the large illegal stock piles of drugs and weapons. I want the reports on my desk before the night is done, and be sure there're only facts in them, not opinions or assumptions unless statements, am I understood?"

Resounding affirmatives were made throughout the squad room.

Work resumed in the squad room as it usually did every night in a comfortable mundane routine. Elisa and Matt gave small smiles to each other while the current GTF leader continued to snare and mumbled obscenities.

A short time before the end of their shift, Elisa came into Maria Chavez's office with a proud smile on her face.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" Chavez asked casually.

"You have this Saturday off, right, Captain?" she asked.

"Yes, why?"

"My husband invites you to come join us and his family for dinner. Matt traded shifts with one of the day time officers so he'll be there too, and so will Sara and my parents. Morgan wanted to come but he needed to stay on top of things for a while."

Maria Chavez smiled as she said, " I'd love to, Elisa. Do I need to dress formerly or perhaps semi-casual?"

Elisa chuckled a little as she said, "Wear whatever you're comfortable with, they're not big on fashion."

Maria raised an eyebrow, "Okay, then."

"Great, Captain, I'll pick you up at eight sharp."

Elisa left the captain's office in high spirits, an optimistic feeling grew as she looked to a hopeful future for the clan, perhaps even turning this time period for them from a new Dark Ages to more of the Light Age.

Off in the squad room, Kowalski watched Maza with slight interest as he finished the night's work.

He then proceeded to making a few personal phone calls.

****Grand Central Terminal 9:45am

The mid morning was bright and crisp, the terminal a continuous hub of activity as weary travelers hurried to and from the station to their destinations, hardly taking notice of the terminal's grand architecture for which it lives up to its name.

Only Andrea Calhoun, self promoting artist of the PIT Crew, and a few city tourists, took a moment or two to appreciate the real beauty of the station; the large clock that was surrounded by three sculptures of ancient Roman gods; Mercury, Hercules, and Minerva, and kept perfect time with train schedules; or even the new skyscape ceiling mural that depicted the many constellations of the night sky, even the twelve signs of the zodiac.

Andrea could have spent a lifetime exploring the station, even going to see the latest displays at GCT Art Gallery, for she had not been to the station since that last time she had taken a trip out to New Jersey to visit with her aunt a few years ago, having since been too busy with PIT meetings and such.

As much as she wanted to stay and admire the great deco art of the temple like station that she stood in, she quickly made her way to the person who waited for her. Among the small moving crowds of people within the station, Heather stood as still as a statue, as though a freestanding display for the visual admiration for all to see in perfect view in the middle of the station.

Andrea made her way down the steps of the terminal entrance towards her friend, who only greeted her with an unreadable blank expression. She wore the same clothes she had on when heather came back from wherever she had been to see Andrea again, and she only held a small cloth bag on one shoulder that only looked big enough to carry very few necessities.

Andrea carries with her a backpack full of a week's worth of clothes, mini hygiene products, and a case for small art materials.

As the two women hugged, Heather simply said, "If you're ready, we must leave now."

Andrea looked at Heather a bit bewildered but did not argue as they made their way to their designated train platform, which would leave in 35 minutes and take them to New Haven, Connecticut.

The train ride was pleasant enough, but Heather was not much of a conversationalist, so Andrea spent some time reading the latest issue of *Skeptic* magazine, which had an article about debunking gargoyles as the latest craze of New York City urban myths. It told of how they were on par with sightings of Bigfoot, the Jersey Devil, or UFOs; that they were nothing more than roosting bats or low flying aircraft in a case of mistaken identity.

The article just made her laugh, and she made a mental note to herself to write them a personal letter. When she showed the article to Heather, the former businesswoman was not sure whether to feel insulted or amused by such typical human stupidity.

The hours long train ride was spent in silence and very little was said as they drove in a rented car to the countryside and one of the more isolated areas where campers and hikers were rarely seen or dared to venture.

For Andrea, the beauty of the land she saw before her only sparked and inspired her richly creative mind for future art works.

They drove until it seemed as if they were a hundred miles from the nearest town and were surrounded by nothing more than thick forest and wooded hills. Heather took out a camouflage patterned car cover and both women covered their rented Nissan before covering it with leaves and large branches and other forest debris.

They then began a mile long hike up the hill that tired Andrea out. As good in shape as she was, she was just never one for hiking when an easy jog through Central Park was all that she needed.

For Heather it was nearly effortless, but in her current form she still needed to breathe a bit harder. If she had been in her true form she would not have even broken a sweat.

If only this form was not so weak.

They hiked for another ten minutes before Heather finally said, "Ah, there it is."

Andrea only looked around confused, seeing nothing more than dirt, more trees, and rocks on the forested hill. Heather began to brush away dirt and twigs to reveal a hidden panel with a single button and a hand palm reader. Heather placed her palm onto the reader, which digitally matched her palm prints, then pushed the grey button.

There was an earthy grinding sound that quickly became a quiet whoosh sound as a circular shape formed in the rising before Andrea that opened in a four foot vertical diameter.

They stepped inside the hidden opening into a wide tunnel that lit up a bright white and was constructed in a way that made Andrea think that it lead to a secret high tech government facility.

"Pinocchio!" Andrea jokingly yelled into the tunnel, which briefly echoed.

Heather looked at Andrea quizzically who only shrugged as she said, "I couldn't resist."

Heather shook her head a little and smirked as she made her way down the tunnel with Andrea behind her.

The tunnel went down at a slight angle of 100 feet and ended at a rectangular steel door with another control panel that Heather entered a code into and opened the door with a beep.

They entered a moderate sized bunker shaped like a dome with a set of high tech television screens straight ahead with a comfortable curved shaped sofa in front of them. Off to the far right in a charming alcove were a simplistic kitchen and a comfortable wooden dinning set, and to the far left was a slightly ajar door that showed it led to a single occupant bedroom and the door to its right may have been a bathroom. Between the screens and kitchen alcove was a single door without a knob, and what it may be for Andrea was not sure.

As Heather closed the inner steel door behind herself, Andrea stated, "When you asked me to come camping with you this isn't what I had in mind."

Heather only looked to a digital clock above the large middle screen as she said, "There's much to discuss. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."Andrea sat on the sofa and set her backpack aside as her friend went into the bedroom and quickly changed. When she came out she took no notice of Andrea's reaction to her clothing, only to the clock which kept perfect local time to the second, as she made sure it did.

Sunset was only a few minutes away.

Andrea's eyes widened a bit as she saw her friend now clad in her old Halloween costume, the revealing two piece ragged outfit and a few pieces of assorted gold jewelry. Her glasses were off and her hair was a wild light sunset gold instead of fire red.

"Heather…er, uh Dominique, why are you dressed like that? And what is this place?"

Dominique hesitated for a moment as she looked away, wondering if this really was a good idea. She quickly banished the thought as she said,

"It's a fallout shelter that was built during the 1950s when humans foolishly believed that they were going to be annihilated by a political party they called the Reds."

"Oh, the Communists," Andrea said thoughtfully, "Almost the Quarrymen of the time. I know you can be a little paranoid sometimes, Dominique, but I never thought you'd need a place like this."

"I haven't returned here in a long time, but I've kept it on as a place I could 'hang my hat,' so to speak, just in case."

Andrea simply nodded as she pointed to Dominique's clothes.

"Oh," she looked down at herself, "This is the reason I brought you out here, you're going to need to understand the situation you're being placed in. You still have a small chance now to walk away, for it's something not to be taken lightly."

"No," the brown haired artist said determinedly, "I said I would help you and I will."

Dominique could not help but smile, for things were going better that she had hoped.

"Very well, then," Dominique said assertively, "The reason I brought you here is to have you understand why I never told you certain things. I've told you half-truths and I'm tired of it. I'm truly sorry. These clothes that you thought was part of a Halloween costume isn't a costume. How you saw last year was actually my true form."

Andrea only looked at her confused.

"I know you may be thinking that I've gone mad, but it's true. How it's possible that you see me in this form is a long story that I'll tell you shortly."

Andrea continued to stare at her friend as she looked back at the clock.

It was time.

"Watch," Dominique said a moment before she felt the familiar sting.

The strawberry blond woman gave a suppressed shriek as she hunched over, the familiar pain like a thousand daggers within her body. Her skin darkened to its lovely azure blue shade a moment before the growth of her wings and tail, all soon followed by the sharpening of limb features and increases of muscle mass and size.

Andrea winced in sympathetic pain as she watched Dominique transform with disgusted fascination. It was like watching a live scene from a horror movie.

The shriek deepened to a mountain lion's roar as Demona's eyes glowed with red fire. A moment later she composed herself, spread her wings and arms a bit as she gently said, "Now you know why Dominique Destine has never been seen at night."

Andrea only stared in shock, her mind still taking long moment to process what it had just seen. Demona looked back at the artist with a hard blank expression on her face and capping her wings elegantly around her shoulders. She was not too surprised by Andrea's expression, though she continued to expect any of the usual human reactions to what she proudly was.

After a long minute of thick tense silence, Andrea finally said in a toneless voice, "That looks like it really hurts."

"It does," Demona simply said as she sat beside Andrea, "More that you can imagine. But I learned to control pain a long time ago."

Andrea took a few more moments to calm herself and start thinking straight again, a mixture of thrilled and hurt emotions wagged within her.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked with a slightly chocked voice.

Demona froze for a moment and was about to answer when Andrea said, "Never mind, stupid question."

Both gave small chuckles and the tension gradually evaporated as though nothing had changed between the old friends.

"Would you like some tea, Andrea?"

"Yes, Dominique. Thank you."

As Demona made the warm tea in the kitchen alcove she told Andrea about her true name in her gargess form.

"That doesn't fit you, and besides it sounds like it just reinforces bigotry. It's also getting a little confusing trying to remember all of these names for you."

"It's one of the reasons gargoyles didn't used to take names."

Andrea laughed.

"So why tell me all of this now?"

"I thought you understood that as I told you the first time."

"I'm going to need to know more if I'm to understand it better."

Demona took a deep sigh as she brought the freshly made tea over to Andrea. She sat down with her cup as she said, "Aside from my daughter, you're the first true friend I've had in a very long time, but I've always believe, and still strongly believe, that humans are nothing more than a traitorous and deceitful race. I've heard such noble things said before and seen little of it, and I have seen very few exceptions to the rule. However, even if I will always be pessimistic and skeptical about there ever being a lasting peace between gargoyles and humans, I've recently learned to show tolerance to those few exceptions and perhaps give peace a small chance."

Andrea nodded thoughtfully at what her now turned gargoyle friend said and took a sip of her tea.

"I guess I can't blame you for being pissed at the world, considering all that's happened in the last few years. I just hope that I can prove to you that there is good in people, and that I'm one of the 'exceptions.'"

Demona gave a small appreciative smile.

"By the way, that is so not your color."

"Excuse me?" Demona was a bit taken aback by Andrea's sudden jive.

"Your hair color. Maybe I'm just used to seeing it redder, and it looks good when you're human, but now it just clashes with your…uh, skin tone."

Demona momentarily brushed her talons though her lightened wild mane with an embarrassed smile.

"Hopefully it won't be this color for long."

The two friends gave out amused laughs.

"So what's it really like? Being a gargoyle I mean."

"It will take time to explain, and I'm unsure if you could truly appreciate it."

"I think we have a little time."

Demona gave another heartfelt smile.

"Well, you've heard how gargoyles protect. It's because a true gargoyle's purpose is to fight and survive in order to protect…"

Andrea listened with intense interest, feeling an overwhelming sense of honor of being friends with an actual gargoyle and the amount of trust she was being given.

For Demona, steps in her plan were beginning to fall into place.

****Saturday night, Elisa's car, 8:12pm

"So witness reports were true about the gargoyles escaping in a Xanatos chopper?"

"Yep."

"And your husband actually lives at the Eerie and personally knows all of the gargoyles."

"Pretty much."

"How does it make you feel to have him practically under the same roof with a man whose caused you so much pain in the past?" Chavez asked with concern.

Elisa took a deep breath to keep herself calm as she said, "I only trust him as far as I can throw him, but I do trust that he can deep his word about some things. He's already begun to 'make up' for a few of his past offences, or so he claims. But I do completely trust my husband's judgment, and he assures me that there's no more hostility between him and Xanatos."

"He must be a really good judge of character."

"He's had rare misfires on occasion, but yes. He's…cautiously optimistic, it's one of the things I love about him."

"From what you've told me about him he sounds too good to be true."

"He seems to be sometimes, but he can also be the most stubborn rock headed guy I've ever met. It's with that same stubbornness that he won't stop fighting for what he believes in."

"Sounds like someone I know."

Elisa gave her captain an amused look. She stopped her car as the light turned red, and for some unknown reason, she happen to glance over to her left window to see a tacky green Mercedes with two familiar faces, one she had hoped not to see again for some time.

"Oh, no," Elisa said with slight annoyance as she shook her head, her temples began to ache.

"What?" asked Chavez, who looked to see what annoyed Elisa so much, "Huh, well if it isn't the city's favorite bitchin' blond ADA."

The signature curly blond hear and green headband of Assistant DA Margot Yale stared at the female occupants of the red Ford Fairlane next to the Mercedes her husband was driving, her gaze full of needles.

"Look, Brendan," she said in her familiar sharp tone, "It's those arrogant police tramps. And that *defective* Maza, always misguidedly trying to defend those creatures. They must have some hold over her. I'm telling you, Brendan, they have it out for us, why I don't know."

"Give it a rest, Margot," was Brendan said in his usual droll to his nagging wife.

The light turned green and the Ford Fairlane turned right, away from the Mercedes which went straight ahead.

Margot watched Elisa's car drive off as she said in low tone to herself, "You're hiding something, Maza, and I'm going to find out what it is."

Brendon just rolled his eyes.

****Prosperous Antique Books, near Columbia University, same night

It had been some time since the professor had visited the old bookshop, much less his old friend. However, tonight was as good as any for it was quiet and his work at the university was done for the week and his date with Joanna was not until tomorrow night.

As professor Lennox McDuff, aka Macbeth, approached the oak door of the shop he saw the large sign posted upon the outside of the fogged window that said 'Closed For Refurbishment.' He was not too surprised at seeing it, considering what he heard had happened a few short nights ago.

A melodic ring of an old brass bell announced his arrival as he opened the door to the shop and came to witness extensive damage to the shop. Burn marks, as though from small fires, covered much of the checkout area, half of the counter burned away; at least two piles of books were against one wall, one a bit larger than the other and full of books too badly damaged to be salvaged; several shelves were in ruin and more books lay in dignified piles as they waited to be newly reshelved; a small pile of debris had been swept to one side and awaited proper disposal.

"Hello," he called into the shop, a little unsure of what to expect.

"Lennox," a cultured voice happily responded as the shop owner came from between undamaged book shelves.

"Alonso," Lennox said with happy relief as the two old friends clasped forearms, Alonso then gave Lennox traditional Italian kisses on each cheek. Had he been anybody else he would have felt humiliated by the friendly gesture. But being who they both were, his students were right in calling them 'old school.'

They made their way towards the back of the shop to the private office. In the front of the office was a more modern looking desk with office supplies and a PC, something very out of place and against the ambience of the old bookshop, Behind this desk was another door that simply said in small letters 'Private' which lead to another slightly larger office that was styled in the 19th century, quill pens and old parchments in place of modern technology.

To the side of the office was another polished door that was tightly locked from the outside. The two men made their way to it and Alonso unlocked it and they made their way up some sturdy wooden stairs to Alonso's spartanly furnished studio apartment on the third floor.

Alonso lit some old oil lamps and took out a lovely amber colored liquid within a high class drinking bottle and two glasses.

"Tell me, old friend," Lennox began, "What exactly happened to your shop, it looks like elephants had stampeded through it."

Alonso poured them both a glass of the old Scottish ale, a hard look on his face.

"My own shop broken into," he said with scorn in his voice, "and I was attacked by one of *them*, and worst of all it was a gargoyle."

"Ah."

"Of all the intelligent creatures that walk this good green Earth, why must there fools like that to desecrate what is good and sacred."

"I've had my run ins with those kinds of people. One in particular."

"I know you came close to fulfilling your suicidal desires on rare occasions, old friend. I'd thought you'd succeeded by now. Why stop the chase?"

"I came to learn that there may be some hope for me yet, so I live and have begun to find a segment of love once again. I am building a happy prosperous new life. And I have a feeling that there may be important tasks that I have yet to do in the near future."

"Indeed," Alonso laughed merrily.

They clanked their glasses together and took deep swigs of the strong drink.

"It's times like this that I wish Will was still around," Alonso said with a heavy sigh.

"Aye, if he weren't already dead, God rest his soul, I would ring his blasted English neck. And then I would tell him I forgive him."

"You're not still on about that, are you, Lennox?"

"For a long while, But I've learned to except things and once more find his works most enjoyable. I've even begun doing my part in some of them."

Alonso laughed as he said, "To old friends."

They clunked their glasses in cheers again as they drank another round of ale.

"I know why you didn't go to the police, but will you not seek justice for this intrusion?" Lennox asked.

"I will in time, but in my own way. And there is but one way I can do it."

"Are you certain? I'm aware that the prophecy for such a union was already fulfilled." There was a slight tone of irony in Lennox's voice.

"I care not for that old prophecy, for there is always need for unions no matter what the form, and the noble enough reason for the need of the greater good and benefit of all."

"True enough."

"Indeed. The ones who will be the catalysts of such a simple union I sense are in this city. The magic strongly surrounds them."

"You could tell them who you really are, why you wish to do this."

"Yes, I could, but they also have enough reason not to trust me. So I will reveal myself and my purpose to them at a more proper time."

"If that is what you believe is best. However in the meantime, I may know someone on the police force who can help you with your intruder problem."

"It's appreciated, Lennox, but I am unsure if your friend will believe what I have to say."

"I believe she will."

"Very well, then. But enough talk of depressing matters, let us drink and be merry."

"Aye." Lennox and Alonso laughed from their bellies as they spent the rest of the night in the old merry making of drinking songs and games from times of old.

They did not notice the three shadows of small gargoyles gliding in playful circles on the wind far off in view of the studio apartment's window.

"Give it back, Graeme!" Arianna shouted to her green skinned twin brother.

"Make me, Senshi wannabe," Graeme mocked.

The youngest of the Manhattan Clan began to do a playful gliding chase of tag in swoops, dives, and loop-de-loops as Graeme tried to keep Arianna's fighting Bo from her.

As Graeme took another sudden dive towards the street below the twins shouted playful insults to one another in rapid Japanese.

Lexington could only roll his eyes as he shouted, "Kids, stop it! Kids!"

Typically they did not listen. With desperate flaps of her wings Arianna grabbed Graeme by the waist, beginning a struggle between the siblings that sent them into a diving freefall.

Fortunately they were not high enough to be badly injured.

The twins hit the hood of a tacky green Mercedes, making a good sized dent in it, not noticing the owners stepping out of the coffee shop it was parked next to.

The twins rolled down to the street, continuing in their playful struggle for the stick.

"Kids, stop it right now!" Lexington shouted with authority as he gracefully landed next to them.

They righted themselves from their heap as they looked at their usually fun uncle in embarrassed shame.

"Your parents told you to be on your best behavior, remember," he said assertively, "We're meeting the captain tonight. Now apologize to the people whose car you just wrecked."

The twins turned to face two familiar shocked faces. They straightened into good postures, took formal bows as Arianna began to say, "We apologize for damaging your car, it was an accident."

"We humbly ask for forgiveness and ask if we can help fix it," Graeme finished with a polite tone.

The couple just stared speechless at the two adolescent gargoyles, until the man finally stammered, "Uh…That's okay, it's nothing that can't be fixed. It's not too bad, thanks anyway."

The twins beamed as they gave final bows and politely said good-bye. Arianna grabbed her bo from Graeme before they climbed a nearby building for a good gliding height, Lexington following close behind.

Brendan and Margot could only stare after the three; Brendan with mild amusement, Margot with distain in her eyes.

****Castle Wyvern

The elevator ride only took a few minutes, but for Elisa it might as well have been weeks. The elevator music droned on as white background noise, for Elisa had long become used to it and had learned to tune it out. All she could feel was stiffness and a swarm of butterflies within her stomach from apprehensive excitement. Her friend, Maria, had asked several questions along the way and few she could answer honestly. She had mostly said that she thought it would be best if her friends answered them.

The elevator finally arrived at its destination, the Great Hall. Unsurprisingly, Owen Burnett was there to greet them.

"Good evening, Detective Maza. Captain Chavez," Owen said in his usual dry tone.

"Good evening, Owen," Elisa said politely.

"Mr. Burnett," Maria said.

"I wish to inform you that Mr. Xanatos is unable to greet you in person himself tonight, for he is very busy with company business at the moment. However, don't hesitate to ask for anything if it is necessary. If you are in need of any of my services, I shall be down in the nursery."

"Thanks, Owen," Elisa said, and Owen gave a stiff nod as he left the Great Hall.

Elisa then lead Maria through the hallways of the ancient Scottish castle, making the police captain feel like she had stepped back in time to the Middle Ages and now feeling very underdressed in only jeans and a blue shirt for meeting the lord and lady.

As they approached the gargoyles' of wing of the castle, Maria momentarily came out of her awed state as she finally remembered to ask Elisa, "Exactly how many are there, Elisa? I've read about the reported descriptions of some but it's gotten difficult lately to keep track of them all."

"Thirteen, including two guardbeasts."

"Guardbeasts."

"They're kinda like dogs, only considered more like clan members than just pets. You'll see."

They finally arrived at the private dining area of the clan's wing, and what Maria saw took her a little by surprise. The murmur of chattering ceased as the two women entered the dining room, and before Maria was the clan that she had been told about, several of them she mentally matched to descriptions that she had read about. Many stood closely together but at a respectful distance to their new guest. Maria could see the many similarities and distinguishing features of many of them, the different styles of faces, horns, and color schemes. From the small crowd of gargoyles she even saw four familiar faces that she knew well.

What surprise her most was seeing the same large lavender colored gargoyle standing practically in the center nearest them, his dark storm cloud wings cloaked regally around his broad shoulders as though a ruling noble of the court, and a friendly smile upon his handsome yet craggy face.

What was yet even more surprising was suddenly seeing Elisa easily walk up to him, wrap her arms around his thick neck as he leaned down to her and give each other a quick passionate kiss.

"Hi, honey," Elisa said with a smile, then she turned back to Maria with arm around the gargoyle's waist and his broad arm her shoulders.

"Captain," Elisa began, "I'd like you meet Goliath, leader of the Manhattan Clan, and my lifemate."

Maria steadily walked up to Goliath as he extended a large hand to her in greeting. She cautiously took his taloned hand as it gingerly yet strongly gripped her smaller one and he gave a gentlemanly bow and said with his deep thunderous voice,

"Welcome to our home, Captain Chavez. It's a true honor to finally meet you, Elisa has always spoken very highly of you."

Maria's brows raised a bit as she looked at the gently giant that had saved her life a few short nights ago. This was one that she had read the most reports about, but now saw that they did not do him justice. It was as though a mad sculptor had taken a mountain to carve the perfect male specimen and make Michelangelo's David put to shame. His long dark hair was a little too Fabio in her opinion, but somehow it made him easier on the eyes. Behind the animalistic looks seemingly alien looks, she saw a well chiseled square shaped jaw with a strong chin and a deep kindness and great intelligence within his deep black eyes.

Looking deep into each other's eyes, hazel green to midnight black, a silent understanding passed between them.

Maria gave Elisa a skeptical look, as the lifemates then showed the police captain their rings. Looking closely she could see the similarities in them; the gold bands and the canine themed patterns.

Introductions were then made, Maria found it quite humorous how several of them had names in some way associated with New York City. She looked forward to hearing the stories about how they all got their own names.

A great feast, once more the courtesy of Broadway, was given in honor of Maria Chavez in welcoming.

Stories were told, beginning with how Elisa first met the clan, and then how each of the humans present met the clan. Also, once more the clan's own tale was told; from their time in Medieval Scotland, to the Thousand Year sleep, and finally what has become known as the Awakening. It was all too much for Maria to believe, especially with the elements of real magic, and yet it was all still only the beginning.

It was shortly decided that some stories could wait for another time and instead spend some time getting to know Maria Chavez better.

She had always been proud to be on the police force, having server since a rookie and years after under Sergeant Peter Maza. Her husband was currently a proud serving Deputy Police Commissioner and together they were now raising a sweet little girl, Esperanza.

She was told of the gargoyles' simple purpose and need to protect, and how it was so like the police motto, and how it was the very core of their culture. Yet even this had different interpretations for the remaining clans around the world.

"This is all really fascinating," Maria said, "However, I do have one question. I know it hasn't been easy for your clan all these years, but when you became exposed to the world, why didn't you go back to where you came from?"

A thick tense silence overtook the dining area as wide eyed stares and furrowed brows were given in Maria's direction near Goliath and Elisa. Even from the Mazas, Matt, and Sara.

"I-I'm sorry," Maria quickly said at the growing awkwardness, "That didn't come out right. What I meant was, haven't you ever felt like returning to the Wyvern Cliffs even before the clock tower was destroyed?"

The clan gave glances to each other, waiting for someone to answer. Elisa gave a gentle glance to Goliath as she stroked his palm.

"Elisa, Angela, Bronx, and myself did return once, only to find that there is nothing for us to return to. Also when we first awoke, the castle was the last connection to our old world, for it has been part of the clan for generations and our instinctual pull towards it is strong, even when the clock tower was our home for a time. Having no means and no reason to return, I chose Manhattan as our new home and protectorate, for one can't live in the past, but also never forget who we are and where we come from."

"I see."

"However, I have no doubt that possibly one day gargoyles will inhabit the Cliffs of Wyvern again."

Smiles and murmurs of agreement were past around, Maria smiling and nodding her head.

"I of all people should know that you can't run from your problems, no matter how you may want to sometimes. Unfortunately, I do have to point out that what you do does border on vigilantism, appreciated as it is."

"That's what a lot of us used to think, Captain," Matt said, "As much as the law should be upheld it can only go so far. We're lucky to have those like the clan that can go place quicker and protect against things that the law doesn't recognize or acknowledge. Until people can learn to acknowledge things without using violence it may be how they're always going to react. It's how I tried to lead the Task Force for the last three years. Yes, I admit that I used my position to cover my friends, and bureaucrats think I'm incompetent, so let them. But it's purpose was always to prevent the spread of more violence."

"The biggest difference," Elisa began, "Between what the clan does and regular vigilantes is they not only try to recognize the law but also greatly consider the consequences of their actions. We try to help people and that's what justice and law are for. It's a simple philosophy and logical fact that if you lose sight of that then you become no better than what you fight against."

There were nods around the table, knowing full well what Elisa was talking about.

"You've given me much to think about, Detectives," Maria said thoughtfully.

"There's one more thing you should think about, Captain," Goliath said, "Like humans, gargoyles are social and communal beings. We are nothing without our clan, for when we work together our bonds grow stronger and personal burdens are shared. I invite you to come on one of our patrols, to show how we protect the city and prove our worth as your allies."

Maria felt a great sense of privilege at Goliath's invitation, but also a sense of obligation to her duty as an officer of the law. A tense feeling came over her as she became unsure of what to think.

"Thanks, Goliath," she finally answered with sincerity, "I'll have to think about it."

"Very well."

The two new friends gave small smiles to each other and to Elisa.

The rest of dinner was spent in pleasant company, all of the clan wanting to talk with Maria. Unsurprisingly, besides Goliath the one who most wanted to talk with her was Broadway about her police work and his great interest in it.

After a time, things quieted down with Maria talking with Elisa and Goliath about their bonding ceremony. They even showed he the picture from Beth of them in their ceremony garb.

There was a sudden squeaky laugh as a redheaded toddler whooshed through the wing, flashing in an aura of turquoise light in one place or another.

"Alexander, you get back here right now!" shouted a high tenor voice.

Alex squealed playfully as he disappeared again in a flash of light. The merry trickster levitated through the air as he tried to catch his student before the boy disappeared again. He only grabbed empty air for a moment before rubbing the bridge of his long nose.

"I never thought that I of all people would become tired of fun and games," Puck complained to himself.

Alex reappeared again near Bronx, who was laying near Maria waiting to be petted.

"Apologies for the interruption, my friends, but the little tike is refusing to go to bed now after his teleportation lesson," Puck said as he landed gracefully on the floor.

The whit haired trickster tried to grab the fledgling wizard again but he vanished and suddenly reappeared in Lexington's arm, who was talking with Matt and Sara.

"Unca Lex," he squealed. Lex could smile in embarrassment as he looked at an irritated Puck.

"You're having too much fun to go to bed, arn'tcha, Alex," Lex said play fully.

"Yeah!"

"Well, I wish I could play with you, little guy, but it'll be dawn soon and we'll all have to go to sleep. So say good sleep to everyone before going to bed with your Uncle Puck, okay?"

Alex gave a child's groan before agreeing and giving everyone a hug as he teleported into their arms. When he appeared in Elisa's arms he finally noticed Captain Chavez.

"Hi. My name Alexander. Who you?"

"Alex, this is my friend, Maria," Elisa said, "She's a police woman like me, and she's here to meet the clan."

"Hello, Alex," Maria politely said.

Alex looked up and down at her with eyes far too intelligent and old for a toddler. It sent a chill through Maria's spine, as though he sensed the conflict within her, and he did not like it.

"You be friends with gargles?" he asked in a serious tone.

"Yes, I hope to be."

Alex looked her straight in the eye as he said, "Don't hurt gargles, gargles friends, gargles da best. Bad people hurt dem and be sorwy."

Maria was taken aback by what the little boy said, but she gave a nod and said, "I will, Alex, I promise."

He looked at her for a moment longer before giving her a big smile and hug. Alex finally flew back into Puck's arms and they disappeared from the room.

Maria looked over to Elisa, who only momentarily shrugged.

It was not long before sunrise came and a few last words were exchanged.

"Maria, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship," said Broadway in his best Humphrey Bogart.

"Indeed," Goliath agreed, "I hope you will feel welcome in our clan."

The clan took their positions on the turrets, Maria watched in astonishment as they turned to stone for the day, their presence in the castle giving it a more Gothic feel as though they had always been part of the ancient architecture.

"I have a feeling that I've begun to scratch the surface," she said as she went back into the castle with her friends.

"Trust me, Captain," Elisa said with a smile, "It only gets weirder from here."

****23rd Precinct, two nights later

"Alright, people, what can you tell me?" barked Kowalski.

A meeting of the GTF had convened to discuss the police raid at the Waterfront last week. Among the attendants were Detective Bluestone, Captain Chavez, and a few new recruits handpicked by Kowalski.

"The arrested mafia men won't talk until they've seen their lawyers, and they claim we have no evidence to connect and convict them to their alleged activities at the warehouse last week," one GTF member reported.

Kowalski grunted as he said, "Let them mock us all they want, deny them seeing their lawyers until they give us something, give 'em the third degree if you have to. In the meantime, what can any of you tell me about *outside* interference."

Chavez and Bluestone glanced at each other.

"All the convicts do claim to have been assaulted by gargoyles, sir," another recruit said, "However, their statements and some scratches on the walls are the only evidence we have of them right now."

"Alright," Kowalski growled, " I want the files of all gargoyles sighting from the last five years, get me any research done by the Quarrymen if you have to. We have to know our enemy in any way we can."

"Just a moment, Detective," Chavez spoke up, "Need I remind you of our first priority of preventing a new gang war braking out. The Dracon Mafia is loosely organized now that Dracon's behind bars again and leadership is scarce. There's a void trying to be filled by other crime organizations, primarily the Yakuza, and I've read reported rumors of a new crime boss whose trying to make a name for him or herself out there now."

"That may be, Captain," Kowalski responded in turn, "But it's my fob and my duty to capture and eliminate those monsters for the safety of the people. We can handle regular slime like Dracon on the streets, but we know next to nothing about those night stalkers. Capturing them for the public's safety is now the Task Force's first priority by any means necessary."

Bluestone was about to argue back when a whiney voice replied, "I couldn't have put it better myself, Jim."

Standing in the doorway was none other than Margot Yale.

Matt scowled, Maria spoke up before he did, "What brings you here, Ms. Yale?"

"I thought you knew that I've been appointed the new head advisor to the GTF. I would've been here sooner, but those monsters destroyed my car again. Obviously, it's some sick game to them."

Matt continued to scowl, Maria's stomach twisted as though she had indigestion. She pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache pinched her forehead.

In the squad room, a handsome grey bearded and well build man looked around but did not see who he was looking for.

"Excuse me, lad," Macbeth happened to ask a young officer passing by.

"I'm looking for Detective Maza."

"Are you him?" Montoya asked with a jealous snare.

"I beg your pardon?" Macbeth raised an eyebrow.

"Are you him?" Montoya repeated hard, "She's too good for you, and you're too old for her. I don't know what she sees in you but you'd better treat her right, she's a goddess."

Macbeth was becoming irritated by the young man's rude behavior when Elisa walked up to them seemingly from nowhere.

"Montoya, I asked for those Dracon files five minutes ago."

"S-s-sorry, Elisa, I was j-just talking w-with your h-husband here."

She raised an eyebrow, and Macbeth just gave a shrug.

"Montoya," Elisa said annoyed, "This isn't my husband, this is…"

"Lennox McDuff," he said quickly, holding up his hand in greeting, "Professor of Medieval History at Columbia University."

"Oh! Uh…hi," Randy took his hand and flinched as Macbeth grasped the rookie's hand, even though the immortal was not even squeezing hard.

"Professor MacDuff is…an 'old friend,'" Elisa said.

"Okay," Randy became timid as he handed a folder to Elisa and ran off with a goofy smile on his face.

"I've never known you to make a social call, Macbeth," Elisa said when randy was out of ear shot.

"I know our history has been less than friendly, Detective, but I'm here to make a small amends. I'm here on behave of a friend of mine to ask for your help."

It had only been a half hour, but the meeting felt like it had lasted six hours. Kowalski was fanatically determined to bring down the gargoyles, and it had not been any better with Margot Yale encouraging his witch hunt.

It had taken everything Captain Chavez had to convince him that following protocol and public safety without force was to be recognized first. He had then argued that if he found any officers 'cavorting' with the enemy, he would report them to Internal Affairs and have them sent to prison. She informed the other police friends of the clan of this shortly after the meeting, but it did little to alleviate her headache.

The one thing she could not bring herself to do was admit that she had a similar thought before confronting Elisa about it. The gargoyles were not what she had expected; they were so much more.

As Margot Yale came out from the GTF meeting, she nearly bumped into Macbeth and Elisa.

"Well, well, if it isn't Professor let's-reach-out-to-the-monsters McStuffy. Why am I not surprised to see you here together with *her.*"

Elisa met Margo's needle piercing gaze with her own fiery one. Macbeth glared without answering.

"You can both forget about trying to make friends with mindless animals, I'm going to see that things are going to change around here."

She then arrogantly swaggered off in overconfidence out of the Precinct.

The two former enemies stared after the Assistant DA in restrained irritation.

Captain Chavez saw the interaction as she returned to her office, then quickly downed two aspirin. She sat at her desk for a long time, her inner struggle warring within her between her duty and obligation as an officer and new found friendship with the gargoyles.

She then took out a framed picture she had not looked at in a long while, it was her holding a tiny precious bundle with dark hair.

Her priorities began to become clear again. She could not nor will she let the stress of police work tear her or her family apart, nor will she let bigots like Yale deprive others of their most basic rights.

Goliath had told her of how his clan fought for the betterment of all, human and gargoyle. Also how there was a seed of truth to most legends.

Perhaps it was time she tried to plant her own seeds of truth.

****Avalon, Oberon's Palace

Titania watched with interest at these last visions upon her enchanted mirror. She simply took the time to check on her daughter and grandson as she promised every now and then.

This latest new ally to the clan clearly needed some guidance, for the more benevolent allies there were for the clan, the more protection there was for her grandson until he came of age.

This book scholar also intrigued her, the prophecy may indeed have been fulfilled, but there may yet be some use for such a union.

The Avalonian Queen called out in an ancient language that sounded with the grace of wind and the chiming of crystalline bells.

One of the children appeared in a dazzling spectrum of light, her beauty would have rivaled or maybe even surpassed that of her Queen.

Titania replayed the most important scenes for the Child and then said, "I sense great conflict nearing, but these are promising signs of hope. I want you to go to the mortal plain and ensure its fulfillment. I had hoped the Gathering wouldn't keep the Children from their responsibilities on Earth, for it clearly still requires our attention."

"Yes, my Queen," the Fae said, "I shan't fail thee."

She then disappeared in a rainbow swirl of color.

END OF EPISODE 3