Chapter Two

Aléc

France, Paris 1960

The Notre Dame Clan had upheld an ancient tradition since the clan was first created by Michelangelo and Moir nearly a century earlier; every generation of the clan had a last name; L' glise, or church as it goes by the English tongue. It was somewhat ironic, but everyone was happy with the choice and no one was willing to change it to anything else.

The fifty-seven members of the clan all lived in the beautiful Notre Dame church, living underground in a labyrinth of complicated tunnels. Once they lived above ground and atop Notre Dame, but with the coming of the World War's and more humans coming to admire the beautiful church the clan was forced underground to avoid exposure and death.

On that day the current clan leader Michelle, direct descendent of Michelangelo and Moir, was on her way to check on the rookery. The eggs had hatched no more than four months ago, and Michelle had heard one of her closest friends had returned from his trip abroad to see the hatchlings and seek out a new apprentice.

Phillip was the clan's mage; he often travelled the world learning new spells that aided him in the protection of the clan. Magic was also a big tradition in the clan and only the clan's mage could choose one apprentice. Some gargoyles argued that the clan would be safer with two or three mages, but Phillip and previous mages knew that they couldn't handle three apprentices.

With only one apprentice they could teach him/her with undivided attention and make sure they used only white magic, with three young apprentices it would be too difficult to teach them and keep them on the straight and narrow. Of course, the child chosen to be the apprentice was usually of some relation and Phillip and his mate had one child amongst the brood so it was obvious to Michelle who would be chosen.

Michelle navigated her way through the tunnels and came to the rookery, it was a large, oval shaped room with magically enhanced glowing crystals placed in many of the nooks and crannies of the ceilings and walls. Many of the hatchlings were placed in the cots, sleeping peacefully but many were playing with one another on the floor. Michelle spotted Phillip couching by two hatchlings, making funny faces as the two hatchlings cooed in delight.

Phillip was a tallish peachy gargoyle with webbed wings; his tail was shaped similarly to a mace. His hair was short and black, placed in a short pony tail. His mate was nowhere in sight, Michelle supposed that she had gone to prepare dinner as she was the clan's finest chef. Both elder gargoyles wore fine colourful clothes, Michelle's deep purple shirt made from silk in fact.

"Phillip!" Michelle smiled, smacking her brother's back. "How was your trip to America?"

"Enlightening," Phillip answered, standing to speak to her. "I met up with two clans, one in Mexico and one in Guatemala. The Mexicans, unfortunately, had no spells to teach me. The Guatemalan's on the other hand had a talisman that allowed them to be flesh by day."

"Really?" Michelle gasped. "It sounds hard to believe, frére. I always dream of such a thing, but never thought it possible. Did you learn the spell?"

"No," Phillip shook his head. "Sorry soeur, the spell required the talisman and they didn't have it."

"Never mind," Michelle shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "So, frére, do you see your future apprentice amongst the hatchlings?"

Phillip nodded.

He reached down and picked up both of the hatchlings on the floor, Michelle thought for split second that he had chosen both of them, but he then passed her the female hatchling. The female in Michelle's talons had curly brown hair; her skin appeared to be fur, light brown but white around the face. Her wings were brown, her facial features feline. Michelle, in fact, shared a great resemblance to the child in her talons.

The male in Phillip's talons on the other hand had a beak-like face, the tufts of his hair he possessed appeared to be black. His wings had a three talon point, the inner colour of his wings were a muddy brown while his skin was a deep scarlet colour. The young male had one point knee talons and elbow talons, along with a single point on his eyebrow ridges.

All those within the Notre Dame Clan strongly resembled animals, except for Phillip, his mate and the hatchling in his arms. No doubt the male hatchling was Phillip's child, the magic was probably strong in his blood. It seemed a good choice, but the younger gargoyles may argue it was favouritism and as always Michelle would have to deal with the complaints.

"The male is Aléc and the female is Rosá," Michelle informed him. "And, uh, Rosá does resemble me in some ways. So please do not point out the similarities."

Phillip laughed, ignoring her request. "Rosá has Christopher's wings and his eyes," he smiled at her, "but she has your beauty."

"You tease me, frére," Michelle laughed. "I assume Aléc is your new apprentice?"

Phillip nodded, "I will train him well," he promised. "After all, he is my son. The magic in his veins is strong, I feel he maybe be stronger than my predecessor."

Michelle flinched slightly and looked to Aléc, her eyes wide as she sought out the powerful magic within him. She frowned, could this child really be much more powerful than Phillip's predecessor? It seemed impossible, Jean was the clan's strongest mage to date, yet Michelle seemed to believe that Aléc could be stronger than the great Jean.

For some reason Michelle believed Phillip, this child could very well be the clan's greatest and strongest mage.

...

1994, Orleans, France

Aléc felt magic tingle his arms, the familiar burn of otherworldly power flowed through the muscles of his arms and burn every little cell. The magic wormed under his flesh, it wrapped tightly around his muscles, bones and veins and the mist-like green energy gathered in his palms. With barely a thought later, Aléc lifted his hands and unleashed the vortex of energy from his palms.

The magic travelled at break neck speed and destroyed the mannequin; the plastic mannequin caught on fire instantly and exploded, sending pieces of plastic rocketing through the air and landing with heavy thuds. Aléc felt a high, the same high he felt whenever he released the powerful energy that lived within him.

Rosá clapped loudly from her place underneath the shade of a tree, "Aléc, that was awesome!" she jeered.

Aléc smiled at his rookery sister and bowed, "Merci, Rosá."

The two had grown up a lot in the past thirty-four years; Rosá had become one of the mère of the clan, one of the rookery nurses ready to take care of the next batch of hatchlings. Aléc on the other hand had become one of the most powerful apprentices to date, all those who spoke poorly of Phillip's apprentice choice in the past no longer cast Phillip in a poor light.

Aléc's skills had saved the clan from humans on a number of occasions over the years and had made life for them more pleasant, no one had any right to direspect such a poweful force. Despite the praises the young gargoyle received, Phillip always warned Aléc to be careful with his magic and not allow the admiration to go to his head.

Magic was closely connected to emotions and Aléc was a very fragile and delicate gargoyle, he was angered easily and cried when often upset. Aléc's fragile being had often lead to his magic smashing objects and ripping doors off hinges, so lately he had tried to learn to control his emotions and temper. If he became used to a good critique then when he recieved a bad one he may not be able to deal with it, so he had to be careful.

Aléc stretched a joint out of his arm, "Do you want to head back, soeur?" he asked. "Phillip is probably waiting for us and it's rude to keep someone waiting."

Rosá nodded, and then held up a talon before Aléc could set off. "Let's clean your mess first," she suggested.

Aléc rolled his eyes, but obeyed his sister's orders. With a click of his talons, the burning mess was gone and reduced to a simple pile of ash. Rosá laughed and gently punched her brother's shoulder, calling him lazy. Aléc smirked in defence and jumped into the tree, gliding away and setting off into the warm summer air.

...

Phillip was now eighty-four (forty-two in human years), and had moved out of Notre Dame twenty years ago. Phillip came up with all sorts of excuses why he had left, but everyone knew it was because his mate had passed away. The winter of 1974 had been a harsh and an unnaturally cold one, Phillip's mate Elicia had caught a dreadful fever and had soon succumed early in the winter months.

Soon after Phillip had moved to the French countryside, but nothing too far from Orleans, he was still Aléc's teacher and father and couldn't bear the thought of being too far from him. He had cut his ties to the clan also, only visiting them when his presence was requested or when he came to visit Aléc and train.

Aléc knew by now who his mother and father were, though he never openly admitted it. Aléc's training was almost complete, Phillip had arranged a small gathering in his home in order to give Aléc a type of congratulatory gift before Aléc set off overseas. Rosá would attend the small party of two, she and Aléc were very close and it would be wrong of Phillip to deny her entry.

Michelle was still leader and had decided to take Rosá, Aléc and two more gargoyles named Eureka and Lain with her to London to meet the clan there. Phillip had met the London clan before, but Michelle had never so decided to meet her cousins and try to create good relations between the two foreign clans.

Aléc and Rosá would be going to Les sables-d'olonne to meet up with Michelle on the clan's private boat tomorrow evening, until then Aléc had promised Phillip he would stay with him before he left for a few weeks. Standing outside of his warm cottage, Phillip welcomed the two young gargoyles inside and treated them to some tea in the cosy kitchen.

Aléc noticed a square object covered in cloth on the kitchen table, but said nothing.

"So you're defiantly leaving tomorrow?" Phillip asked them, sipping tea from his mug.

Aléc nodded, "Oui," he confirmed. "I've heard so much about the clan from you over the years that I can't wait to meet them. Is it true that they look like animals too?"

"Oui," Phillip answered, "but it's a shame you're leaving Aléc, with no mage to guard the clan I'll have to take your place - though I fear in my old age I may fail them."

"You're still very young, professeur," Rosá laughed. "And you can't go senile yet - Aléc may know everything about magic, but you still have to teach us about life."

"You can't teacher anyone about life, un jeune," Phillip lectured. "A person has to live life and experience the hardships themselves, teaching them about hatred and heartache would be useless unless they themselves have experienced it."

Once they all finished their tea Phillip handed Aléc the cloth covered item, it was large and square, heavy like some kind of volume. Aléc quickly pulled off the cloth, gasping at the sight of the book. It was obviously a book, a very thick tome with a thick purple cover covered in gold symbols and hundreds of yellow, crinkled pages were stuffed inside. Aléc looked awed at the sight of the book, realizing what it was.

"This is your spell book," he gasped. "I can't accept this professeur!"

"It's yours now, Aléc," Phillip insisted. "All the spells in there are my own, I wrote them all and I know them all. I want you to have it so you can learn the spells and hopefully fill it with some more of your own spells, then you can pass it onto your apprentice in the future."

Aléc felt the leather cover, a small smile spreading across his beak. Phillip had always taught him impressive spells, but never any of his own, now Aléc had the chance to learn them all and really be the strongest gargoyle mage in France. Aléc thanked his teacher for his generosity and quickly opened it, skimming through the pages as he starred in wonder at the collection in his talons.

Rosá turned her cold gaze to Phillip; the elder gargoyle caught her stare and sighed. He knew what she was thinking; he needed to tell Aléc before Michelle told him and before it was too late. Phillip had nothing against his leader, but she sometimes made decisions that could harm her clan mates.

...

The Next Day

Aléc prepared for his leave to Les sables-d'olonne by changing into a fresh pair of navy blue shorts, a white short sleeved shirt with the words 'Viva La France' imprinted in a colourful rainbow and with the traditional black French beret on his head. Aléc had placed all of his clothes for the trip to London in a reasonably large backpack, now that he had room he placed his new spell book into his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

Aléc made his way down the stairs from his room and left the cottage. Rosá had left before Aléc, she was probably at Les sables-d'olonne right now and waiting for him. Aléc quickly placed his hair into a fairly pony tail that reached his shoulder, the finishing touch to his outfit. He never used to wear his hair in such a way, but he respected Phillip so much he wanted to be like him as much as possible.

He heard the cottage's wooden door creak open and Phillip approached the young gargoyle, his forehead creased with lines and looking uncharacteristically tired.

"Is something wrong, professeur?" Aléc asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Oui," Phillip's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry Aléc, but Michelle has arranged for you to mate with Rosá as soon as you all return from London."

"What?" Aléc exclaimed. "Why would Michelle force me to marry Rosá?"

"There's a considerable amount of magic that flows through Rosá's veins," Phillip answered. "You know that, you've seen the small things she's managed to create through magic. Michelle believes that if you and Rosá have children then that child will be even more magically talented than you, Michelle just wants a mage to protect her clan - it's admirable, but wrong."

Aléc's mind began to spin and he staggered backwards slightly as Phillip's words sunk in. He couldn't mate with Rosá. He loved her, but only as far as sibling love could go. Rosá had to know of Michelle's decision, Aléc wasn't as so stupid as to not notice the glare his sister gave his father. Rosá respected Michelle more than anyone else, but mostly because Rosá knew she was Michelle's daughter, there was no way she would disobey Michelle's orders.

But that would send further ripples of pain throughout the clan; Rosá was in love with Angelo, what would he think of the arranged mating? While Aléc currently had no significant other in his life, he knew he was gay (although not openly) and to commit himself physically to a woman was both laughable and something impossible for him to do.

Aléc felt angry tears sting his eyes; he brought his fists up to his chest and began to swear. Phillip placed his talons on his son's shoulders, making quiet soothing noises that instantly calmed him.

"Aléc, calm down," he ordered calmly. "Go take a glide around Les sables-d'olonne, clear your head. Once you're calm tell Michelle exactly what you think, if you can't bring yourself to talk to her, then don't go to London."

Aléc wiped away the tears, nodding slowly. Phillip was right, getting himself upset would solve nothing, he needed to tell Michelle exactly what he thought and clear the whole mess up. If there was still time to do just that.

...

Aléc glided on the fastest air currents he could find and soon arrived at Les sables-d'olonne, he glided around Les sables-d'olonne four times before he was calm and ready to speak to Michelle. He walked down the harbour, looking at all of the boats, a fear growing in his stomach. Where was the clan's boat?

Had Rosá known that Phillip would tell Aléc before Michelle could? If she had and told Michelle then the clan leader wouldn't stick around to have her pointed ear chewed off, she would left and taken the three young gargoyles and began the journey to England.

Aléc swore loudly and stamped his foot down, swearing again, louder this time. Attracting unwanted attention from a few sailors who had returned from a night boozing on the town. Four large burly men, all wearing some sort of sailors uniform, had came hobbling down the harbour, singing songs loudly. In his anger, Aléc had been foolish enough not to use an invisibility spell and now the humans had sobered up slightly and had heard him.

They stared at him, eyes wide and wondered if the sight before them was a figment of their drunken minds. Aléc backed off, readying his magic in his palms, and he froze. Aléc wasn't allowed to use magic on humans, it would go against Phillip's teachings. He snarled and the magic faded from his talons, instead his eyes burst into two fiery white orbs.

One of the men gasped, "It's a demon!"

"Well, what are we waiting for?" another asked. "Let's kill it!"

Despite snarling demonically, Aléc was terrified. He wasn't the best fighter in the clan, in fact, he was one of the worst. One of the four men charged at Aléc, swinging an empty bottle, Aléc narrowly avoided and knocked the bottle from the man's hand. Aléc brought back his fist and swung it forward, sending the man flying onto his backside.

Aléc may not be good at fighting, but he was up against drunken humans, it wasn't going to be too hard if he kept his focus. One of the men checked on the unconscious man, just as the other two charged at Aléc. The gargoyle swung again with his fists, but one man grabbed the arm and pinned it behind Aléc's back.

Aléc tried to free his arm, just as another human pinned the other arm behind his back. The third man left his unconscious friend and rammed a fist into Aléc's gut, winding the young gargoyle and delivering a blow to his face. They released Aléc as he fell onto his front, his skull hitting the floor hard. The teeth rattled in Aléc's jaw, as he tasted blood the world began to slowly blur around him his limbs began to go numb as he slowly but surely slipped into the darkness of unconscious.

The three men cheered and clasped one another's back, one shook the other two off and decided to finish the démon off. Grabbing the fallen bottle which had smashed, the man knelt, grabbing Aléc by the hair, lifting him so his neck was exposed. He raised the shattered bottle and a demonic howl ripped through the hollow silence of the night.

A white blur knocked the two men to the ground, landing onto his feet. The two men got back to their feet and charged at the newcomer, the gargoyle rammed a fist into one man's face and kneaded another in the gut. As the two fell to the ground, the mysterious assailant grabbed the man with the bottle by the neck, chocking him.

"Ανόητοι ανθρώπου," the gargoyle snarled in Greek.

He threw the human into the sea and turned to Aléc, the French gargoyle tried to thank his saviour, but the darkness took him under...

To Be Continued...