2. The Powder Keg (Six Months Later)

Pilgrim admired Lexington from the doorway. A headset, some light armor, and a state-of-the-art something-or-other at his fingertips. Lex was in his element. "Brooklyn," Lex said into his mic, "You've got three bogeys at six o'clock. Back a ways, about a mile, but they're there."

"Roger." Brooklyn's crackling voice drifted into Pilgrim's own headset. Pilgrim closed the door behind him and sat in the chair beside Lex and placed his hand possessively at the small of Lex's back while they watched the radar screen. Moving back into the castle had its risks, but at least Xanatos saw that Lex never ran out of new toys.

Lexington had his wings folded like a mantle across his shoulders. Pilgrim reached up and tucked a stray lock of Lex's black hair behind his earpiece. He could hear Elisa and Matt talking with Goliath in the next room, but for now they were alone, and he intended to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy.

Lex turned the volume down on his headset and switched the mic off. Pilgrim did the same. "Hi." Lex leaned over and kissed him quickly. "How are you?"

"Good, I suppose."

Lex gave him a worried glance, one distracted eye still on the radar. Enemy blips disappeared one by one, leaving only Brooklyn, Angela, and Broadway. "You don't sound so sure."

"I'd be better if you could take a break."

Lex's slight smile faded. He seemed to notice Pilgrim's wandering hands for the first time. "I wish I could, but I'm waiting on a decryption program. We intercepted a message from the Quarrymen just after sundown, and I need to monitor it."

Pilgrim sighed and nodded his acceptance. Lex returned to work. Pilgrim withdrew his hand from Lex's back and dutifully took over radio duty while Lex saw to other, more delicate tasks related to the castle's new defense systems.

For twenty minutes, the staccato rhythm of their radio communications between the several clan teams and the humans in Xanatos's employ absorbed Pilgrim's attention. When he was in the midst of declaring an all-clear, Lexington jumped up and interrupted him.

"Intercepted message. Attack planned on the IRC, which is holding a secret meeting at eight o'clock. Location looks like it's above a bar called The Zone in patrol area two. Sending the coordinates and address now."

"Damn. Okay, Lex, Pilgrim, we need you both on this one too. Tell Goliath we're awaiting his orders."

A team of six Quarryman, Lex reported in Pilgrim's earpiece. His partner was six stories above Pilgrim's own perch, surveying the scene in a shadowy corner so that no one could see him unless they knew where to look.

"Thing is," Lex was saying, "they've been there all night, hiding. Someone let them in."

"This is not the IRC's normal meeting place," Angela added to their subdued radio conversation. "They have been careful not to publicize their movements since the last attack."

"Brooklyn, Broadway, and I will enter through the fifth-storey windows," Goliath ordered. "Katana and Pilgrim, you must each guard the entrances and ensure that no one but the IRC members escape. Angela, I need you to enter through the second storey and alert the IRC. Get them out safely and signal me when you have done so. Lexington, you are our lookout and will join Angela when she exits. Then my team shall deal with the Quarrymen."

On Goliath's signal, the clan moved forward.

With a nod to Katana, Pilgrim glided down to the front door. He stood off to the side, feeling exposed in such a public place. The street was not quiet enough. There were no pedestrians, but traffic was steady. He slunk next to the stairs and hoped no one looked too closely at the building. Pilgrim felt a twinge of guilt; it had been Lexington's idea to provide a safer meeting place for the Interspecies Relations Council. He'd begged Pilgrim to make contact with them, and even begged Goliath to override Pilgrim's authority. Now, sitting in the dark and seeing how little protection there was for them, experienced a moment of regret. These were just humans standing up for complete strangers, and they put themselves in so much danger that they had to rotate meeting places. Pilgrim had thought that talking to them, letting the Quarrymen think the IRC was succeeding, the Quarrymen would come after them specifically. Obviously, they were a target either way. He'd talk to Goliath soon about that, he resolved. There was still time to fix his mistake.

Occasional updates crackled in his ear, interrupting his thoughts. He and Lex had been the clan's defensive team for almost a year now. Although he did not relish standing back from the action, Lexington seemed to thrive in his advisory position.

"Lex, I'm sending you a picture," Brooklyn said. "It's a bomb. I think."

"Got it. That's C-4, but not the detonation device. Be careful. There might be triggers anywhere."

"Katana, the Quarrymen are headed your way. Be ready," Broadway reported.

"Understood."

There was a brief commotion, a radio message cut off, and a scream from inside.

"What's going on inside?" Lex asked.

But there was no answer.

Pilgrim tensed and rested both hands on the hilts of his weapons.

The door burst open and out poured several humans. Pilgrim stayed where he was, though: the humans were clearly IRC members, dressed in solid middle-class attire and obviously terrified.

Angela was not with them. That was a problem. Swearing, he ran forward into the light.

The blond woman he recognized from television and newspapers: Maureen Johnson, their president. There were about ten people with her. To their credit, if they were surprised to see him, they did not show it. "Across the street, away from the building," he called, catching up to them where they had paused on the sidewalk.

He held Maureen's arm as the others moved to obey him. "Ma'am, did you see anyone of my clan inside?"

She nodded. "One."

"Who?" he asked, then realized that it was a useless question. "I mean, what did they look like?"

"A woman with black hair."

"Good. Thanks. You need to get out of here. There's a—" He said "bomb," but the explosion drowned out his voice.

He put an arm around her shoulders and dove into the traffic, most of which had halted anyway to see the fire. The sight of him stopped the rest, he was sure, because the next thing he knew he was across the street, standing next to Lexington and staring at the building.

"There are more," Lex said in his ear over the commotion from the growing crowd and approaching sirens.

It was becoming too public, so Pilgrim and Lex moved to the back of the small knot of IRC members for some cover. Maureen understood, at least, and seemed to be organizing her friends to help them look inconspicuous. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

Lex shrugged. "We need to get inside. They're not answering."

"Excuse me," Maureen said. "Look, your clan is okay. They're over there."

Pilgrim looked across the street to see Brooklyn, Angela, Broadway, and Katana near the building, too near the police cars and fire engine that had begun to tackle the flames. He could not see them clearly.

"For God's sake," Lex said, "someone answer your damn radio."

"Wait." Pilgrim pulled him closer. A gap had opened up between Maureen, a stalled taxi, and a police car. "Stand over here."

Lex froze when he saw what Pilgrim could already see. Broadway held Angela back from the building; she struggled to go back inside. A few feet away, Katana was trying to hold back Brooklyn from the same suicidal mission, but she was not strong enough, or Brooklyn was too desperate.

Brooklyn broke away and ran back through the front door.

"Goliath's still in there," Pilgrim said.

He could feel Lexington shudder and, feeling almost ridiculous, grabbed him before he could do the same. "Relax," Lex said, more calmly than Pilgrim expected.

"Sorry."

Lexington's hand was shaking as he brought his hand up to switch on his earpiece. "Brooklyn, if you can hear me, you need to get out. The place was rigged, and probably with more than one bomb. If the fire spreads beyond the main room, you won't have a warning. Get out. Please, brother."

Lex turned his back to the burning building, as if he couldn't bear to watch.

It was Pilgrim's turn. "Goliath, if you're there, come in."

Nothing.

Nothing for the longest time, which could only have been a few seconds.

Then Goliath's voice whispered in his ear: "Brooklyn. Get out. That's an order." The voice was weak. He was in pain.

And then the terrible vibrations of another blast, far larger this time, burned Pilgrim's face even from the distance. He thought there must have been sound, as well, but that faculty seemed to have failed him.

He focused again, and saw Lexington with his eyes clamped shut and his hand over his mouth.

Something scratched at the bricks above him and scaled the wall, landing with a light thud. Brooklyn put a hand on his shoulder, something Brooklyn had never done before. Pilgrim wondered briefly what expression he wore.

"Come on," Brooklyn said, although his voice sounded hollow and strained. "Thank you for having the presence of mind to summon Xanatos's men, Lex. We need to get on the choppers. Now."

Were there helicopters? Pilgrim wondered. Is that why it was suddenly so loud?

"Snap out of it. Both of you have jobs to do. Damn it, Lex, you know better. Let's go!"

Pilgrim wasn't sure how he got on the helicopter, but soon he was watching the scene fall swiftly away from him.

There should have been wailing. Or crying. Shouting, even. Anything but the awkward silence of five gargoyles and two humans glaring at CNN. The private offensive launched by Xanatos Enterprises to recover Golliath's body was not endearing the company to the public.

Xanatos shrugged off concerns about his criminal liability with a grimace. "I'm sure the city will settle with a hefty fine."

"I was wrong about ye, lad," Hudson said. Xanatos raised an eyebrow. "Ye're not such a bad sort after all."

Xanatos nodded his thanks.

Pilgrim held his head in his hands and propped his elbows on the conference table. He was aware that Lexington was leaning against the wall behind him. Lex hadn't said anything so far; he just stared at the screen and waited.

Brooklyn and Broadway were seated together at the table. Broadway occasionally stole a glance at the door, and Brooklyn would shake his head. Angela would not talk to him, he'd explained, because he held her back from going into the burning building. She was with Fox, Elisa, Katana, Nash, and Tachi, somewhere in a more private part of the castle. Elisa, Pilgrim had been told, was inconsolable. Matt's eyes were still red, but he had joined them a few moments ago. He preferred the stoic suffering in the war room, he'd said.

The reporter announced the sudden withdrawal of private security forces. With a sigh, Pilgrim turned around to ask Lex if they should go to the helipad to meet them, but Lex was not there anymore.

"Where did Lex go?" he asked, suddenly alert.

Broadway shrugged. "He slipped out a while back. I figured he wanted to be alone, you know?"

Pilgrim hesitated. "I'm going to make sure."

Brooklyn did not protest, so Pilgrim went first to Lexington's computer room. He wasn't there. A terrible thought occurred to him, and he wanted to believe that he was just projecting his own urges onto Lexington. But a few steps into the armory and a glance at the gun case confirmed his suspicions.

He bolted back into the room and startled all the occupants to standing. "Lex is gone. He's going to kill Castaway."

Xanatos and Matt looked shocked, but each started to pull on his jacket. Broadway looked worried and glanced at Brooklyn. "Uh, this is Lex we're talking about. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He's probably just getting some air."

Hudson nodded. "It doesn't seem like him, lad. How do ye know this?"

Pilgrim tried to catch his breath. "He took a sniper rifle from the armory. And I know he—" He looked from one to another and pulled out his palm computer. "The tracer says he's headed to their headquarters. What else is he going to do with a sniper rifle there?"

Broadway and Hudson both stood, but Brooklyn stayed seated. "But it's Lexington. I can't believe he'd do something so out of character."

Pilgrim growled, which surprised even himself. "Have ye given him a good look lately? A good, close look? He's been out of character for a long time now."

Brooklyn gave him the uncomprehending, hurt look that Pilgrim expected. "But he doesn't use guns. I doubt he's ever fired one in his life. It doesn't make sense."

"Are ye accusing our brother of not being able to work a machine as simple as a gun?"

Brooklyn finally nodded and stood, but suddenly Pilgrim did not want to be anywhere near him.

"Forget it, brother," Pilgrim said. "Everyone can stay here. I should go alone."

"Are you sure, lad?" Hudson asked.

"Aye. This is between him and me. I will go. Do nae worry."

He found Lexington lying down on a ledge, the long rifle set up and ready to fire. Across the street, he could see shadows of men meeting in a room with a large window. "How long have ye been here?"

Lexington was not startled. He must have seen Pilgrim approach on his own computer. "Twenty minutes," Lexington said. He sighed and climbed to his feet, still gripping the gun too tightly in his hands.

Pilgrim gingerly wrapped his hands around Lexington's, so that they held the gun between them. "Ye cannae shoot him, ye know."

"He deserves it."

Pilgrim kissed Lexington's neck and whispered, "Aye. But it's not him ye're angry with. And killing him won't change that."

"I am angry with Castaway."

"As—what is the word? Proxy?"

"How can you not be mad? How can you just let him go? Stand here, with a gun in your hand, and not kill him?"

"Years of practice. I . . . have killed, brother. I have done what ye wish to do. And I tell ye, it does not help."

Lexington didn't answer. It was as much about his past as Pilgrim had told anyone, and he watched as Lexington processed the significance of the admission. He shifted uncomfortably under Lex's gaze and continued, eyes lowered. "I understand, ye see. I know ye think that without Goliath, Brooklyn will never notice ye. That it will make it even worse between ye two."

Lexington let go of the gun and crossed his arms. He turned his head and blinked back tears.

"And ye're right," Pilgrim finished. "He will continue to ignore ye."

"You think this is about Brooklyn?" Lex asked, his voice choked. "Why can't you believe that it really is about Goliath?"

Pilgrim set the rifle carefully on the ground and tried to embrace Lex, but Lex shrugged him off. "I've seen how changed ye have been since Brooklyn returned with Katana. Brooklyn spoke sharply to ye tonight."

Lexington stared at him.
"Are ye in love with him? Tell me that, at least."

"Sounds like you already know." There was a hardness to Lexington's voice that was not normally there. Ordinarily, Lexington's voice was sweet, gentle, accommodating, but never angry.

Pilgrim ignored the tight knot in his stomach and the feeling that his heart was being ripped in half. "Ye don't think ye owe it to me, to tell me? Will ye at least be honest and tell me whether ye love me as well?"

Lex drew a ragged breath. "I'm sorry."

So this was it, then. "I cannae take this anymore, Lex. We are done."

"What?" Lex bit his lip. "No. I'm sorry. I do love you, I just . . . ."

Pilgrim sighed and pressed their foreheads together. "I know. Ye are a kind person, brother. Ye will say anything to spare my feelings. Ye do nae have to."

"Th—thanks." Lex shuddered and tried to hug him, but Pilgrim pulled away and picked up the rifle.

"Wait," Lex said as Pilgrim turned to leave. "I, I've been meaning to ask you something." Pilgrim rested the butt of the rifle on the ground and waited. Lexington wrung his hands for a moment, then continued, "I want to go to Detroit."

Pilgrim blinked. "Detroit? The city in Michigan?"

Lexington nodded, looking hopeless.

"What on earth is there? And how long have you been meaning to tell me this?"

"Two months." Lexington cringed at whatever he saw on Pilgrim's face. Pilgrim couldn't fathom what it was; emotions flickered through him too fast for recognition. "Xanatos offered me a job, doing work with a team of his scientists."

"What is in Detroit that you could not have here?"

"A particle accelerator. A lack of Quarrymen."

"A lack of Brooklyn, you mean."

Lexington studied his feet. "I need your permission, as priest, right? If I get yours, I won't need to explain it to him."

"We need ye here. We cannae spare another after tonight."

"Xanatos can give you men. We're working with him now, and he can give you as many people as you want."

Pilgrim felt a sharp pain in his chest. "I am too biased to judge the matter, so I will not stand in yer way. If ye wish to go, go now, before the rest of the clan realizes what ye intend and stops ye."

"You mean?"

"Aye, I grant ye permission. Just go."

Lexington nodded, his expression almost relieved. He dove off the side of the building and took off into the night. Pilgrim collapsed on the ledge and watched the Quarrymen's shadows against the window for a very long time, his hands caressing the rifle.