"It would seem she is not integrating as well as we might have hoped, Mister Xanatos," Owen stood stiffly before his employer's desk. "There is a certain amount of…animosity…between Nadja and the clan."
"I see," Xanatos stifled a yawn. "Perhaps she's too human for them after all. Though she seems to be adjusting to the perks of her transformation rather nicely." He looped the playback of Nadja's much-improved flight, thankfully avoiding the portion of the security footage that showed her unfortunate collision with Owen's ribs.
"Do I detect a note of jealousy, sir?" Owen asked as Xanatos watched her solo dive from the parapets and the journey to a separate rooftop. The footage played silently as Xanatos responded:
"A little. I try and try and try to find a path to immortality and she stumbles into it accidentally."
Owen pushed his glasses up on his nose as he watched Nadja's looping flight, particularly her spirals, which were so tight a stunt pilot might have shuddered.
"Need I remind you how very mortal gargoyles are, sir?" he asked solemnly.
"They may be able to die," Xanatos said, "But their average lifespan is still more than five times the longest human lifespan."
Owen said nothing. He had tried once, early in his service to Xanatos, to dissuade him from the desire for immortality. It had been a failed attempt. He had hoped that having a family would act as a deterent, but if it had done anything, it had only reinforced the desire, so that he could protect his wife and son without fear of the consequences-not that fear of death had ever stopped David Xanatos from trying to protect his family.
Xanatos turned away from the screen, but Owen kept staring.
"It's almost eight," Xanatos said finally. "Why don't we turn in for a few hours? It's been a long night. We'll pick up business in here around noon."
Owen turned, but just as he turned, he caught something out of the corner of his eye on the screen. A particular shape leaving the building to which Nadja had flown. A blur of pale blue and stark scarlet. His lips drew tight and he excused himself, frowning in thought as he walked.
It would seem our newcomer has a bit of a secret.

Nadja was dreaming.
She was hunched over in blackness, isolated in the dark. She felt nothing beneath her bare feet. Feet? She was human again! She struggled to stand, her bones aching as if under the weight of a thousand heavy stones.
"Having trouble?" a woman's voice asked. Nadja lost her concentration and fell to her knees. She gritted her teeth hard, half squeezing her eyes shut, and lifted her head.
The woman standing in front of her was tall and svelte. She had smooth skin the green of the freshest spring flowers, and enchanting eyes that sparkled with wisdom she looked far too young to possess. Her lips quirked, and those wise eyes slanted ever-so-slightly with the smile.
"Who-are-you?" Nadja choked through her bared teeth.
"No one," the woman said nonchalantly.
"What-do-you-!" Nadja fell to her elbows and snarled the final word of her question in frustration, "-want?"
"The question," the woman lifted a hand and pointed at Nadja. "Is what do you want?"
Nadja's head began to sink and she saw a brief flash of her pale pink hands before her eyes closed, and just before everything went black, she had an even briefer glimpse of the Grimorum Arcanorum.

"Good morning," Owen's voice was the first Nadja heard as she stretched her wings and arms, roaring as relief flooded through her tense muscles. She heard stone shattering, and trembled inwardly in awe as the monstrous cacophony of the clans' mingled growls of the clan echoed around her, carried on a cool and obscenely wet breeze.
Then she saw the lighting.
"Sonofabich!" she shouted, leaping from the parapet, racing past Owen and into the tower, where she proceeded to shake out her hair.
"Afraid you'll melt?" Owen asked, straight-faced as the dead.
"Oh ha," Nadja spat back. "How anyone could get used to being frozen in one position for that long and then waking up on the roof in the middle of a storm is beyond me!"
"You'll get used to it after a while, Nadja," Brooklyn commented as he hopped over the wall, apparently electing himself as peacekeeper between Nadja and the clan. "Where have you been sleeping that you never had to sleep in the rain?"
"Um. In a barn," Nadja said. "I slept in an old barn."
Brooklyn said nothing.
"Listen, about what I said last night," Nadja began awkwardly, her eyes trained on her feet. "I didn't mean to be so rude. I had no right to belittle your family like that. I just…I'm not used to having someone treat me like that. Not used to being yelled at for just exploring."
"That's just Goliath's way of showing he cares," Brooklyn smiled, showing sharp teeth beneath his beak. Nadja barely contained a shudder. "He's over-protective, but it's what keeps us safe."
Nadja said nothing, but nodded as if she understood. The truth was that she had never been in danger of being in danger. She'd been adopted by a family that had just enough money to feel secure but not enough money to have enemies, and parents that loved her. She'd been well-behaved enough that she'd never even needed curfew because her parents knew she wouldn't get into trouble.
"Miss Nadja?" Owen asked a bit more loudly than necessary, interrupting her thoughts. Nadja turned on her toes and splattered his glasses with water from her hair. She giggled awkwardly.
"Guess I kind of blew you off back there, didn't I?" Nadja tried to smile but was overtaken by a sneeze.
"Bless you," Brooklyn said sympathetically.
"Brooklyn, if you don't mind," Owen nodded toward him, "I need to speak to Nadja for a few minutes. Why don't you go and reconnoiter with the clan and find out what their plans for the evening are?"
"Oh, right," Brooklyn sounded putout.
"And if you could please tell Goliath to send Theresa down for lessons in an hour, it would be most helpful," Owen said, removing his glasses and wiping them on his jacket as his piercing blue eyes shot through Nadja and straight to Brooklyn.
"Of course," Brooklyn said tensely.
"Thank you."
"Nadja, if you'll please follow me?"Owen held out a hand, motioning to the stairs.
"Um, am I in trouble?" Nadja asked timidly.
"Not in the least," Owen said. "I merely wish to discuss a matter regarding your flight last night."
"Oh god," Nadja buried her face in her hands. "I broke more than one rib, didn't I?"
Owen blinked. "Not at all. Now, if you'll please come with me?"
Nadja hung her head in curiosity and fear as she treaded carefully behind Owen, leaving a trail of water as her thick skirt dragged down the stairs.

"What?" Nadja choked on the warm tea Owen had served her. His office was larger than her bedroom had been growing up, and had a large window that faced out into the city, offering a view which made up for the Spartan interior.
"What did Demona have to say to you last night?" Owen repeated. Nadja felt her stomach knotting up.
"She just introduced herself," Nadja said. "But she said I shouldn't tell anyone I talked to her because I'd be in trouble because they hate her."
"Did she tell you she used to be a part of Goliath's clan?"
"Yes."
"Did she tell you he was his second-in-command?"
"N-no."
"Or that she was his mate?"
"Pardon?"
"Or that Angela is her daughter?"
"Excuse me?" Nadja's head was starting to spin. "She didn't say anything about that!"
"She wouldn't," Owen said smoothly, lacing his fingers together and leaning on his hands so that his lips were concealed. "Demona's forte is telling people what they want to hear so that she will do exactly what she wants them to do."
Nadja squirmed.
"Do you understand what I'm saying," Owen pressed. Nadja swallowed hard.
"She did seem sort of…energetic…about how bad humans were," Nadja hunched her shoulders. "I sure didn't get the vibe that I should tell her I was human myself."
"Indeed you should not," Owen said and refilled his own glass of tea. "She would not at all be happy to hear of a human usurping the life of a gargoyle. She would perhaps even view you directly as an enemy, and attempt to end your life."
"Christ," Nadja breathed. "Then screw her. I will most certainly not be going back in a week!"
Owen clanked the teapot down hard on his desk.
"You what?"
"She asked me to meet her again in a week," Nadja said. "But if she's that crazy, I'm just going to steer clear."
Owen took a deep breath.
"You will go," Owen said flatly, his voice hard. "But tell no one. And tell no one that you and I have discussed the matter."
"But you just said-!" Nadja stood from her chair (which was wet from her clothes anyhow).
"This is a valuable opportunity," Owen said. "Too valuable to waste. Demona does not trust the clan-except perhaps Angela, who will likely never again trust Demona. If she trusts you, if she thinks she is manipulating you, then perhaps we may have an advantage."
"Wait, you mean like a spy?" Nadja's eyes grew wide. "What the hell? I'm not even an actual gargoyle! This isn't my business!"
"You'll find that whether you were born a gargoyle or not, whether you want to be involved with this clan or not, it became your business when you made the decision to climb to that parapet and request clemency in this castle," Owen stood, towering over her.
"Dammit," Nadja pouted. "Fine, but if she turns out to be less of a psycho Nazi than you and Goliath, I'm switching sides."
"I highly suggest you not even say such things in jest," Owen said, remaining on his feet.
"Guh, fine," Nadja said. "God, I swear, some people have no sense of humor."
The corner of Owen's mouth quirked awkwardly as if he was fighting a smile, and Nadja sat up a little straighter, eyes narrowed.
"You know, if I'm going to be putting my life on the line like this, I'm gonna need a little more than a parapet in the rain," she said and smirked. Owen's eyebrows raised.
"Meaning what? You want your name added to the payroll?"
"I wish," Nadja said and rolled her eyes. "I want a room. A bedroom. I want to sleep in a bed, whether I'm stone or not. And-and-I want to take a freaking bath."
Owen stared.
"Seriously, I haven't bathed in like, three days. It's disgusting. I'm actually disgusted with myself. And hey, maybe while I'm in the shower, my clothes can just mysteriously disappear and reappear dry when I'm done?"
Owen smiled.
"Your bargaining skills are impossible to refuse, even if your conditions are merely human needs," he held out a hand to shake hers. "You have my word: I will direct you to the bathroom, and see to it that your clothes are taken care of. I will also prepare one of the empty castle rooms for your use."
"Wait, really?" Nadja smiled. "That was too easy. I feel like I could get more out of this."
"I believe the appropriate line on my part would be, 'Don't push your luck,' or something to that effect," Owen said and held the door for Nadja.
***