10.7: Desperate Measures

Three hours had passed since Fox had come up with one last, desperate idea for escape; an idea that she was honestly scared to try. Partly because it was doubtful that idea would work; the cold iron in the steel cell surrounding her might negate her attempt and just leave her with a crippling headache again. But mostly because if her idea worked, if she succeeded in transforming, she would be putting her infant son and everyone else in the cell at terrible risk.

But now Alexander was hungry again, and plain water wasn't satisfying him anymore. And their kidnapper had maliciously informed them that he wouldn't bring in any baby formula or supplies for at least two more nights. So Anne took the only food they had available, the beef jerky, and attempted to soften a strip with water and saliva. After three minutes of determined chewing, she'd softened some jerky into a salty meat paste that the baby could eat.

But he gagged and spit and finally heaved it back up, as too much for his little six-month-old digestive system to handle, and Anne's eyes met hers with bleak despair… and Fox knew it was time to take the risk.

"Anne," she whispered, "Take the kids and yourself to the far corner. Stay there till I tell you it's safe, and don't make a sound. Not a single sound out of any of you, understand? Don't do anything to draw my attention to you."

"Ma'am, what are you going to do now?" Anne whispered back, looking worried and wary. Considering that Fox's ideas so far had resulted in her suffering a broken foot and a near-concussion, Anne had reason to be worried… but this time it was the wrong reason.

"We can't use magic directly against iron. But indirectly is another matter…" as Fox turned to face the door again.

Anne took the children over to the far corner, while Fox settled onto hands and knees directly in front of the door, setting her fingertips against the cold floor while awkwardly holding her broken and splinted foot out behind her, and closed her eyes.

And remembered… remembered how her body had changed, with pain ripping along every nerve and sinew, but the pain had always been accompanied by a crazy wild delight, almost like a sadistic form of orgasm… Remembered how her body had rippled with russet fur and incredible strength and speed, how every sense had been sharpened, how it felt to run on all fours and follow the scent of meat…

And told herself and the magic lying deep within her, I want to feel that again. Make me feel that again.

At first, nothing happened.

And then she began to tingle all over

and the tingle hurt

but it felt so good

and she felt her clothes ripping

but she didn't care about that, only about the lovely russet fur sprouting on her hands

her paws

and she was HERSELF again!

But caged.

She did not like being caged.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Anne watched in horror and hugged the children to her as, in front of her eyes, Fox suddenly grew larger and sprouted fur all over her body. Clothes were torn to shreds and the splint made out of water bottles burst apart as she transformed into—into a werewolf! A werewolf with fur even redder than her hair, as red as a fox's fur… a were-fox? But foxes were small, and she was so huge

Whatever Fox had become, now she growled, and stalked forward to the steel door to their prison. Rearing up on her hind legs, she sank the claws of her front paws into the steel as easily as a gargoyle could. The tortured steel screamed as she ripped the door right out of the frame!

The Were-Fox cast the door aside as she howled in triumph, either not noticing or not caring that the flung door had nearly hit Anne and the children, missing them by less than a foot. Then she went back to all fours and loped out of their prison, without a backward glance.

Anne told herself to forget about the massive steel door that had fallen to the floor only inches away from Bethany's little head, with an ear-splitting clang that was still reverberating; about how close they had just come to dying by accident. That wasn't what mattered right now! "Hang on, kids," she said as she stood up with Bethany and Alex in her arms. "This is our only chance!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

While observing Owen, Thailog's first clue that something had happened to his other prisoners was when the alarm on the women and children's cell went off. The door to their cell had been breached—but not the door to the warehouse itself, which meant that someone had come in to rescue them by some other entrance, likely having made their own.

Thailog grinned. He'd almost been hoping that Goliath's gargoyles, so fond of breaking in through windows and carving their own entrances in walls, would attempt a rescue. He flipped a switch to flood the women's cell with the anesthetic gas that Sevarius had designed; it would work on humans, but it worked most effectively on gargoyles. Even after the gas dissipated and they woke up, they'd be too weak to do more than lie there waiting for him to collect them up.

Then he frowned, because the green light to indicate the gas inside the cell had been deployed, did not come on. He'd tested that circuit with harmless helium gas only two weeks ago; why wasn't it working?

The TV monitor had been set to viewing inside Owen Burnett's cell, where Owen still sat motionless except for occasional twitches. He switched it over to the women's cell—

Just as the alarm for one of the warehouse doors went off, the door on the far side of the warehouse from his view out the window; that door had just been breached.

Breaking out from the inside? He realized that just as the camera focused on the contents of the cell—now empty except for the door to the cell, which had been ripped clear off its hinges and flung across the room. To impact by sheer luck into the port that the anesthetic gas would have issued from, jamming it shut.

He switched to the monitor for the warehouse exterior, to see… something dashing out of the camera's view. Something large and fast, and moving on four legs; it moved out of the frame too fast for him to discern more but it was most likely Bronx, that wingless gargoyle-dog he'd encountered in Paris. And behind Bronx came the nanny, running out of the warehouse through the remains of the doorway, while carrying the two children.

No sign of Fox Xanatos in the frame, but the woman was an Olympic-level athlete and could have run with Bronx past the range of the camera before he'd switched to that view. Of more importance at the moment was that Xanatos's brat was escaping in the nanny's arms! And he was not about to let that happen. Growling and grabbing his gun, he headed for the window.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Panting, Anne ran after the shape-changed figure of Fox Xanatos, the four-legged creature vanishing swiftly into the night. When Fox had transformed, the process must have healed her broken foot, because the creature she had become was running without a trace of a limp.

It had been years since Anne had run for more than short distances, usually after one of the children she'd been minding at day care centers, and she'd never had to run while carrying a child in each arm. But fear and sheer adrenaline lent her speed and endurance, as she ran out of the warehouse and into the night with the children fearfully clutching at her.

Whoever their captor was, he hadn't been outside the steel cell; the warehouse had been empty as the Were-Fox had run through it, snarling. Ann had seen another steel-covered room on the far side of the warehouse, and wondered if Owen Burnett was inside, but the Were-Fox had paid it no attention; instead, it—she—had gone straight for the warehouse door, reared back and torn it open as easily as she had their cell door. For a split-second Anne had wondered about going over to the other steel cell, to see if she could easily open the door from the outside… but even if Owen were inside, he'd probably tell her what she already knew: getting the children to safety was more important.

Fox had already vanished out of sight by the time Anne paused at a street corner next to the warehouse, panting harshly as she looked around, trying to get her bearings. Where in New York were they, and which way lay safety? She smelled sea air; they were near the docks. And that street sign on the corner… by the numbering of the streets, they were on the East side of the southern end of the island, probably not far from Battery Park.

She hadn't been this far south in Manhattan in years; not since her trip to see the Statue of Liberty on Ellis Island, picnicking with Philip in Battery Park on the way back. This was unfamiliar territory to her; she had no idea where the nearest police station was. But any well-lit public place should provide safety; a McD's restaurant, even! Their kidnapper had gone to such lengths to conceal his identity from his hostages, he surely wouldn't dare show himself in public! "Hang on, kids," as she chose her course and headed inland, for Manhattan's main thoroughfares; the most likely place to find an all-night eatery.

But after going only fifty feet more, she heard a low growling coming up behind her. Oh God, was it the Were-Fox? Mrs. Xanatos had been so worried about her changed form noticing the children; what if it was because the were-creature would see them only as prey?! Anne gulped and ran faster…

But it wasn't fast enough. Some thing huge and dark loped past her, then spun around to face her and the children. And in the dim light of a nearby street lamp, she saw—

A gargoyle! And the silhouette was so big, it could only be Goliath! "Oh, thank God," she gasped. "Goliath, we were kidnapped!"

"I know," Goliath said, grinning. Grinning with fangs as white as his hair, glistening in the dim light. As he pulled a gun and trained it on her.

"Gol—oh, shit," Anne whispered, as realization struck her. She'd heard about this gargoyle, after the clones had come to live in the Labyrinth; the evil gargoyle who had created them in order to fight and capture the original clan… "Thailog."

Thailog chuckled, a deep malicious sound that sent slivers of ice through her spine. "Very astute. Now turn around like a good girl, and go back to your cell. I won't hesitate to--"

But Anne didn't hesitate either; before he could finish his sentence, she turned and ran. Thailog was a cold-blooded psychopath; Talon and the clan had stressed that every time they'd talked about him. In their first encounter, he'd left Goliath, Elisa, Mr. Xanatos and the scientist Sevarius in a deathtrap that they'd barely escaped. Last spring in Paris, he'd made arrangements for Demona and Macbeth to kill each other, even while pretending to love Demona with all his black heart. Last August he would have wiped out the entire clan and Talon too, if Demona hadn't turned against him at the last second in order to save her daughter. And now that Anne knew who their captor was, there was no chance he was going to let her and Bethany live to tell anyone else of that knowledge. She ran, and she screamed "MRS. XANATOS! FOX, HELP! FOX! HELLLLP!!!" Better a were-creature who might kill her and the children, than someone who definitely would!

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

She was running free! The night was alive with scents and sounds, and she excitedly sniffed and listened as she loped along.

Then her ears twitched as, from behind her, she faintly heard a human female screaming in fear. And some part of her came up with a word for that human: Anne.

And then she remembered: Anne had her cub!

She spun about and raced back, snarling.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Thailog sighed in resignation, then took careful aim at the fleeing figure. His first shot missed its target, but the second hit dead-on, right where he'd aimed; in the meat of the nanny's left calf.

Pity that his 'little half-brother' wasn't just another year or two older, he thought as the nanny shrieked in pain and crumpled. (Even as she fell, she frantically rolled to land on her back instead of on the children. He supposed he should find that touching, but he just found it convenient.) If the brat was able to talk and feed itself, then he'd be free to shoot the nanny and her own brat dead, and still be assured of getting paid for the Xanatos brat's safe return. Instead, he'd have to keep at least one of the women alive in order to for her to keep the brat alive and give the status reports to Xanatos, until he had the money in hand. So until he had Fox secured in the cell again, the rule was flesh wounds only.

And now that the nanny was down, it was time to find Fox. And preferably convince the woman to go quietly back into her cell without ever seeing her captor, though he doubted that was possible. Yes, he really should have sought out and stolen a tranquilizer rifle before beginning this operation; something to keep in mind if he ever felt the need to kidnap someone for ransom again. (He would have done it this time, but he'd had enough trouble stealing or anonymously buying all his other supplies, and regular handguns were so much more plentiful and easy to obtain.)

He hadn't seen Xanatos's woman running down the street while he'd been descending to street level; was she still inside the warehouse, trying to free Owen Burnett from his cell? Any other kidnapper would assume she'd been faking the earlier claim of a broken foot and had run fast enough to get out of sight, and start canvassing the area… but no other kidnapper would attempt to kidnap a Fey in disguise. And an Owen Burnett freed from that cell, free to turn into Puck, and free to express his opinion of the treatment he'd been given for the last twenty-eight hours… Making sure Owen Burnett was still locked up was of high priority.

If Fox was indeed still inside the warehouse, trying to free Puck, then he'd knock her out and personally ensure both her hands were broken; so long as the nanny had two working hands, she could tend to the children just fine. And if Fox wasn't still in the warehouse, he'd take the truck and go track her down, bring her back to the warehouse and then break both her hands. With bodily harm in mind, Thailog stalked back towards the warehouse—which was also towards the nanny, but she had never been a threat to him even when hale and hearty. He could leave her behind without any worries while he tended to his more important prisoners.

That snarling growl he suddenly heard coming from behind him, on the other hand…

He'd been expecting to see Bronx much earlier, and mildly surprised to find that the gargoyle-dog hadn't been sticking close to the women he'd been rescuing. Stupid beast probably didn't understand orders beyond "Sit!" "Fetch!" and "Attack!" But now it had decided to come back, probably in hopes of a doggy treat, and recognized him as an enemy of old. A foe who still thinks you're too noisy; no chance of surprising me this time, mutt, he thought as he turned around

and was surprised after all.

A werewolf?! Where did the clan get a werewolf—was all he had time to think before it jumped for him, wickedly clawed hands out and slavering jaws open for a killing bite.

He wasn't too startled to pull the trigger, but his aim was spoiled; instead of hitting the beast right in that open mouth and putting the bullet through its brain, he only nicked its left ear. But that hit was enough to make the beast flinch even as it flung itself on him. He went crashing backwards with the beast on top of him, snarling with rage.

Thailog hated hand-to-hand combat. Shooting foes from a distance was so much easier. But still, he'd learned the basics; he used the beast's own momentum to throw it up and away from him, long enough to scramble to his feet.

He'd hoped that being tossed like that would have momentarily stunned the beast and convinced it to find easier prey, but he should have known better. He'd seen enough late-night movies to know that werewolves were notoriously hard to beat, let alone kill. Even as he got to his feet, it sprang on him again, this time landing on his back—and sinking its fangs into the spur of his already mangled wing! He screamed in pain, even as he reached back with both arms to grab two fistfuls of fur around its ruffed neck; grab hold and yank hard, up and over.

The werewolf yelped as this time he flung it off him and full-force into the nearest wall. It twisted to hit sideways instead of head-first, but the impact stunned it enough that it slid down the wall to land in a heap at the bottom. But stunned for only a moment before it lurched to its feet, shaking its head, then leaped for him again.

Yes indeed, hard to kill, Thailog observed as he met the werewolf with a haymaker, slamming both fists into the side of its elongated jaw and knocking it away again. Where was a silver dagger when a body needed one? Or silver bullets; he'd have to start carrying a clip of such bullets around…

The punch didn't knock the werewolf out, but did make it stagger back, up against the pole of a nearby street lamp. But only for a moment, before it came snarling at him again.

"Persistent, aren't you?" Thailog growled through gritted teeth as he braced himself to throw a devastating right hook. But the damn beast was either quicker or smarter than he'd thought, because this time it dodged his fist—and then gripped his forearm with its own clawed hand and lunged in to bite down, fangs tearing into his flesh!

He roared with pain, but used his other hand to clamp down hard on the beast's muzzle, completely covering its nostrils. As he'd hoped, the threat of having its oxygen cut off made the beast let go with its jaws, jerking its head up and away—and exposing its throat just long enough for him to aim a fist for its trachea.

It wasn't a very good punch, coming in from a bad angle. But spurred on by sheer adrenaline, he hit its throat with enough force that it should have crushed the windpipe—and would have, on any normal beast. But the damn werewolf only staggered back for a few moments, coughing harshly, before determinedly coming for him again.

But now he was armed and ready for it. Not armed with his gun, which had been lost sometime in that first attack, but armed with the street light pole that he'd just ripped out of the sidewalk. And as the werewolf charged him again, he swung for it with all his might. Even if the pole wasn't silver, the sheer force of impact would do some damage, he thought with satisfaction as the swing connected and the werewolf was batted a full ten yards away.

The werewolf landed in the middle of the street, and lay there in a heap for a few moments before starting to struggle to its feet again. "Oh no you don't!" Thailog snarled as he strode over with the light pole. "Time for an obedience lesson, Rover: Play Dead!" as he brought the pole down full-force right on the beast's skull. It thudded to the pavement again, and he continued with satisfaction, "Or just be dead. I'm fine either way."

Well, well, the late-night movies had gotten something else right. When they were killed, werewolves reverted back into their human form. Before his very eyes, the red fur receded and the form shrunk in on itself, to become…

Fox Xanatos.

Well, damn. There went the ransom money for her.

But he could still get money for the brat, he thought at he dropped the bent and battered pole over the dead were-woman's body, and turned to go back to where the nanny had been shot. And just like a good little hostage, she hadn't crawled more than ten feet away yet…

He took a moment to reassess his status and options. Personal status: He was in pain and bleeding profusely from his arm and wing, but the blood wasn't spurting; the werewolf hadn't gotten to an artery. He had painkillers and a first aid kit back in his headquarters, and could apply bandages to stop the bleeding; stone sleep would do the rest. Traditionally, a werewolf's bite was infectious and created other werewolves… but only from bitten humans; he was probably immune to that threat by his very nature. Though he'd douse both wounds with peroxide before bandaging them, to be on the safe side.

Operational status: No gargoyles had come swooping out of the sky to attack him so far. It appeared that Fox had been the one to break the hostages out in her werewolf form, and no one had discovered their location yet. He'd have to do a hurry-up job on that broken warehouse door, boarding it up before anyone noticed and investigated, but other than that the warehouse was still secure. And he had a spare set of leg irons that could be put on the nanny, with a length of chain that could easily be fastened to a stake pounded into the floor. Once the woman was chained in place, he could leave her and the children in the cell even with its broken door, while he went back to breaking Owen Burnett / the Puck to his will.

Despite the pain radiating from his arm and his further-mangled wing, Thailog gave a savage, fangs-bared smile as he concluded that he'd had a minor setback, but the operation was still quite salvageable.

"Bethany, run! Run away, please! Somebody, anybody, help us! Please!" the nanny sobbed as he came towards them, trying pitifully to crawl away while still holding the Xanatos brat with one arm, and while her own brat clung terrified to her instead of running.

Even in the pain he was in, Thailog couldn't help chuckling at the sight. This was just too easy! So easy, he might as well have a bit of fun at their expense. He leaped forward the last ten feet with his talons outstretched, and the nanny shrieked and tried to cover the children with her own body. Then he backed off, and waited a few seconds for her to raise her head again before he took a playful swipe at her, his talons snagging and ripping out some of her hair. She shrieked aloud and cowered down even further; such a pitiful sight! Straightening up, he laughed again—

And then the world came crashing down on him.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

WHUDD! Heinrich bent his knees to absorb some of the impact, while the rest of it was absorbed by the black gargoyle he landed feet-first on. He'd dropped straight down from at least fifty feet up, and the force of his impact drove the other gargoyle hard and face-first into the pavement.

Stumbling off the winged back, once he'd regained his balance he turned around and pointed accusingly at the black gargoyle while he snarled in his native tongue, "((Fuck you, and your whole underground family! I don't care if Gregor never sees another gargoyle in his life; better that than to live with animals that go after defenseless women and children!))"

He was still trembling with the outrage and horror he'd felt on first sight of the big black gargoyle terrorizing the woman and her children; playing with them like a cat plays with its prey. Lieber Gott, were all the others of his kind like that?! …No, they couldn't be! It must be just this American breed that were such savages.

Gott sei dank, that he had decided to glide in this direction to clear his head after emerging from those horrible tunnels in Central Park! If he'd gone north instead of south, or even just come by a few minutes later… if his curiosity hadn't urged him to discreetly check out the sounds of beasts fighting, that he'd heard from two blocks away…

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing himself to stop shaking with outrage and adrenaline and for his eyes to stop glowing. Then he turned to the woman and her crying children, who were all staring at him wide-eyed. He switched to English as he crouched down, trying to look small and non-threatening—probably a lost cause, considering who they'd just been terrorized by, but it was worth a try. He said softly, "You are safe now. I will not harm you. Are you hurt? Do you need… ah, ein Arzt… a doctor?"

"M-my leg; he shot me," the woman said tearfully. "Are you from the New Orleans clan?" Then, before Heinrich could ask her what she meant by that, she pointed past him with a gasp. "Mrs. Xanatos! Oh god, he killed her!"

Heinrich looked to where she was pointing, and saw the wreckage of a street lamp draped—bent?—over someone else lying in the street. He couldn't tell from where he was crouched if the other person was breathing. But whether she was alive or dead, there was a more immediate matter; the gargoyle he'd crash-landed on was audibly breathing, definitely still alive.

Heinrich knew the most expedient thing to do would be to rip the—the beast's throat out, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do that; not to another of his own kind, however base and perverted it was, and not in front of the children. So instead, he said to the woman, "You and the children must get to safety. I can carry you, if you will let me."

The woman was willing, and he carefully picked her up in his arms, while she cradled the children close to her chest. But she insisted before they went anywhere that he take her over to see the one she called Mrs. Xanatos, so he trotted over there, while warning her to shield the children's eyes. "They are too young to see… what we may see."

"I know, but I have to know if… Bethany, honey, you keep your eyes shut tight, okay? And you too, Alex; no peek-a-boo until I say so," the woman said, her voice tight with tension.

The form under the broken street lamp turned out to be a naked woman, with a massive bruise forming across her back and another one spreading across her forehead and the left side of her face. Battered, but when he looked closer… "Still breathing? Unglaubich."

Heinrich gently set his passengers down, so he could lift the mangled steel pole of the street lamp off the woman and toss it away. Then he crouched down next to the unconscious woman, frowning. "Back is very bad… maybe broke her… ach, bones in the back, a line inside, very important; I do not know your word for it."

"Spinal cord," the woman said quietly. "And you're right, she probably has spinal injuries, judging by where she was hit. Oh lord, if she ends up paralyzed…"

Heinrich looked around, wishing desperately that his brother Helmut and sister Helga would magically appear to help him out. There was no way he could glide with all four of them in his arms to take them to safety; he couldn't even climb a building with people in both arms! But he couldn't just leave them here either, not such easy prey for the other gargoyle once he awoke.

The woman he'd carried realized the same thing, and decided for him. "Listen, you—uh, do you have a name?" And when he told her his name was Heinrich, she continued, "My name's Anne. And you're not from New Orleans at all, are you? Oh, never mind, that's not important right now. Can you climb up to a rooftop while carrying the children in one arm? They have to be gotten to safety first. Leave me here with Mrs. Xanatos, while you take the children to the castle, or the nearest police station. The police surely know we were kidnapped, Mr. Xanatos or Detective Maza would have told the gargoyles, and they're probably back from New Orleans by now; tell any other gargoyle that you see where we are, and they'll come for us."

Heinrich hesitated. "Other gargoyles? Others that are not… like that one?" as he gestured back at the black one he'd knocked out.

"Not at all like him; the others are my friends! Now take the children and go, hurry! Bethany, you listen to me; you go with nice Mr. Heinrich, okay? You and Alex have to go now. I'll be fine, I promise!" Anne told her tearful daughter.

Knowing she was right and the children's safety was paramount, Heinrich gathered the children back up into his arms, murmuring, "Shhh, shhh, no crying now… I take you flying, flying like a bird!" And he was surprised but gratified when the little girl threw her arms around his neck, and the baby boy settled peacefully into the crook of his arm. Truly, these children had no fear of gargoyles!

But just as he turned away to climb the nearest wall, the other woman stirred and moaned. Sitting next to her, Anne said urgently, "Mrs. Xanatos? Fox, can you hear me? Don't move, you may have a spinal injury… Can you talk?"

Fox opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly, looked straight at him… and snarled.

And changed.

Fur sprouted all over as she heaved to her feet, her face elongated into a muzzle with jaws full of sharp teeth, teeth that showed in a snarl as the –the WEREWOLF reached out a clawed hand for him and the children!

"Scheiße!" This entire city was a waking daymare! The thought flitted through Heinrich's mind as he turned and ran with the children, straight for the nearest wall—and straight up it, toe-talons digging into the concrete for purchase as adrenaline spurred him on faster than he'd ever gone before. His momentum didn't slow until he was almost two stories up, and by then he'd frantically shifted to squeeze both children to him with just one arm as he gripped the bricks with the other. The horrible snarls coming from directly below him spurred him on in the fastest three-limbed climb he'd ever done in his life; he made it up to the four-storied building's roof in mere seconds. Then, almost despite himself, he looked back down, fearing what he was sure he'd see. Without the children to feed on, the monster would probably turn and feast on poor Anne now…

But instead the red-furred werewolf was still glaring up at him, snapping and snarling, and attempting to climb up the building after him. And doing it; those claws were digging right into the bricks like gargoyle talons! It was already nearly three meters off the ground! And Anne was dangling from the werewolf's tail, hanging on for dear life and shouting, "Mrs. Xanatos, no! He's a friend! He's taking them to safety! Please, Fox, please listen! He's a friend!"

But 'Mrs. Xanatos' wasn't listening, and finally Heinrich just shook his head in disbelief and spread his wings to catch the night breeze. Even if that beast-woman actually had no intentions of harming the children, she didn't seem to like Heinrich at all, and he had no desire to face those claws of hers at close range. He launched from the roof on the far side of the warehouse, and quickly headed north with the children, towards the 23rd Precinct. If he could get inside the clocktower above the precinct, then perhaps he could find some way of alerting his two policeman friends of his presence there again; they were the only police officers that he knew would not shoot at first sight of him, and ask questions later.

He glanced back to see the werewolf gaining the rooftop, snarling, running to the edge of the roof, then stopping… and finally howling forlornly after him.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

After Were-Fox had dragged her up onto the roof, Anne finally let go of the bushy tail and tumbled to a stop on the concrete. "Oh, god…" she moaned, struggling to get to her hands and knees. She felt like she'd been thrown into a giant clothes dryer with a dozen pairs of sneakers; battered all over and dizzy from the pain. Her body asked, would it be okay to pass out now?

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Her cub was gone, taken where she could not follow! She howled in her grief and distress, then lay down on the hard surface and mourned her loss.

Then… someone came. Someone who smelled of dominance, of power. Her nose remembered him. The One who had briefly come to her, when she had first come to be her true self. The Alpha who had commanded her to not kill or even hurt anyone while searching for food, and she had obeyed, except for those times when she felt threatened by those who approached her.

The Alpha had sensed her return to herself, and come to see what was happening; come just in time to see her cub taken away. He told her not to worry about her cub; that the gargoyle was taking her cub to a safe lair, where he would be fed and taken care of. And before leaving, the Alpha told her that she should see to her other packmates…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Anne's brain must have decided that yes, it was okay to pass out. Because when she came to, she was lying on her back, with the tips of Were-Fox's claws caught in her coat sleeve; she must have been pawed at until she was turned over. Were-Fox was sniffing her, red-furred muzzle drifting from Anne's chest to her throat… and softly growling.

Anne swallowed hard, and shut her eyes. Please, God, let it be quick…

But her throat wasn't ripped out, so after a few seconds she opened her eyes again. Were-Fox was still growling softly, but just that, no more. So she whispered, "Mrs. Xanatos? Fox? Can you understand me? Can you… can you change back to human?"

Were-Fox cocked her head and the growl took on a slight whine, as if asking a question. So either she didn't understand what Anne had said… or she was asking why on Earth she'd want to turn back into a puny human again. Tonight, anything was possible.

"Great," Anne sighed, slowly sitting up. "I've been shot in the leg and I'm stuck freezing on a rooftop, with a friendly were-fox, but with a killer gargoyle down there on the street below us. At least Bethany and Alex should be safe now… I hope… please, dear God, let them be—Owen!"

She'd nearly forgotten about her friend and coworker in all the recent events, but now she recalled that second steel cell she'd seen inside the warehouse. Owen was inside that cell, she just knew it! But how to get him out of there, before Thailog woke up…

"…Well, it's worth a try. I just hope I don't get fired for this later…" Anne painfully got to her knees and crawled over to the edge of the roof that faced the warehouse they'd been in, with Were-Fox trotting curiously after her. Once they were facing the warehouse, she pointed at it and spoke in her most commanding voice; the one that could quell an entire roomful of rambunctious children if need be. "Fox! Go fetch Owen! He's in there, Fox! Go fetch Owen, Fox; fetch!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Owen had heard muffled noises outside his cell some time earlier. And since then, he hadn't felt any zaps of electricity… though that could mean that Thailog had decided to prolong the time between zaps, under the theory that the uncertainty factor would heighten the mental torture as well as the physical torture. Or it could mean that David Xanatos and/or the gargoyles had managed to discover the hostages' location and were coming to their rescue. But it had been some time since he'd heard those muffled sounds, and since then, no one had come for him.

But still, assuming that the worst Thailog would do to him was to zap him with electricity again, he'd shuffled over to the wall near the door and begun methodically rapping on it with his stone fist. Surely at least some slight sound would penetrate the soundproofing, to let others know he was inside. If not, there was nothing more he could do.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. He felt nothing through the stone fist, where his flesh hand would have been aching by now. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Though there was the question of how long he could keep this up before the stone finally cracked. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

And finally, a few feet away from him, the door was ripped off its hinges and thrown aside. Amid the horrid tearing and clanging of steel, a huge furry creature poked its muzzle inside and looked at him.

Owen raised his eyebrows. "Ah, Mrs. Xanatos. I trust the children are well?"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

After Fox had bounded down off the roof, Anne had ripped off the hem of her coat to improvise a bandage around her bullet wound, still bleeding whenever she moved her leg. Just after she'd finished, she heard the crunching of talons into brick; someone was climbing up the side of the building. But was it Were-Fox, or Thailog? Anne was afraid to look over the edge and find out. She looked around for decent cover but found none, and finally just held her breath and waited.

And moments later Were-Fox scrabbled up the side and onto the roof… carrying Owen with her jaws, dragging him by his jacket and shirt-collar.

Once they were on the roof, Were-Fox opened her jaws and let go, and the shackled Owen dropped onto his hand and knees. He lurched to his hobbled and bare feet after she backed off, and stood there swaying for a moment as he remarked to the world at large, "A most undignified rescue."

"Owen! You're all right!" Anne would have run over to him, but given the agony in her leg, she settled for crawling over instead.

" 'All right' is a relative term, Anne… where are the children?" Owen asked.

"They should be safe now, at least I hope; a gargoyle named Heinrich came and took them to safety. …Please, Owen, don't give me that look; I know it was a strange gargoyle, but he saved us from our kidnapper—it was Thailog! And when he rescued us by knocking Thailog out, Mrs. Xanatos was unconscious; I couldn't think of anything other than having him take the children to safety first, and come back for us later! I told him to take them to the castle, or a police precinct…"

Owen looked to the north and figured aloud, "The castle is roughly a twenty minute flight from here for the average gargoyle. Of course, that's assuming the castle's automated defenses will let him approach close enough for Mr. Xanatos to see his passengers…"

"Oh, God!" Anne clutched at her hair in dismay. "I hadn't thought about—what if he's shot down?!"

"The defense is programmed to give one warning shot straight over the approaching figure, before targeting it directly. And now that I am no longer surrounded by iron on all sides…" Owen closed his eyes for a moment… then hissed in pain through clenched teeth, his face a mask of agony as he shuddered all over. Anne bit her lip in worry and sheer helplessness, but the hissing and tremors subsided, and a moment later Owen opened his eyes again. "I could not detect any immediate danger to Alexander. Wherever he is, for the moment he is feeling safe and well."

"If he's safe and well, then why were you in such pain?!" Anne demanded.

"Because rousing my Second Sight to any useful degree leaves me vulnerable to iron," Owen said as he pointedly rattled the steel manacles on his wrists and ankles. "And Thailog is well aware of that vulnerability… He knows about Puck, Anne. He knows, and he tried to enslave me to his will; to command the Puck like a servant."

"He knows?" Anne swallowed hard, thinking about Alexander and Bethany's part-Fey nature. Was their secret known to Thailog too?

"Yes. In hindsight, it's obvious that Demona told him while they were together; she was well aware of my dual nature, from our first meeting. But he made no mention of the children's Fey blood and powers, so perhaps their secret is still safe. Perhaps…" Owen turned to where Were-Fox was sitting on her haunches looking at them both, and rattled the chains of his manacles suggestively. "Mrs. Xanatos, if you wouldn't mind?"

But Were-Fox just cocked her head at him, and Anne sighed. "I don't think she understands you right now, Owen. But if we can get you out of those things, can you change her back?"

Owen shook his head. "Not under the geas Oberon bound me with. Unless she inadvertently threatens her own son, and I'd rather not arrange for that to happen. Correct me if I am wrong, but this instance of change was caused by no outside force; she used her magic on herself, yes?"

"Yes; it was the only way we could break out of our cell. And after Thailog knocked her out, she turned human again… but when she woke up, she turned back into this. If we can get her home, would any of the herbs in the windowboxes turn her back to human?"

Owen shook his head. "The moley that we used on the pigeons might work on her, since it can cancel out most transformative enchantments, but it is exceedingly rare; it took weeks to obtain the small amount we used to turn the Quarrymen back to human. Since she assumed this form of her own free will, she should be able to turn back again of her own free will… when she is ready. But only she may decide when that will be. And in the meantime, there is the question of--"

But Fox had been subtly growing more agitated while he'd been talking, shifting from paw to paw, and suddenly she leaped to her feet, then bounded over the edge and down the side of the building again. "Mrs. Xanatos!" Anne reached futilely after her. "Where's she going? Why did she leave?"

Owen sighed and sat down on the roof, looking very weary but also relieved. "She left because she is hungry. And thank Daanu, she doesn't see us as food."

"…oh." There were so many questions Anne could have asked just then, but she decided that tonight, she really didn't want the answers to any of them. So she just huddled next to Owen for warmth and shivered in the freezing night winds that were whistling over the roof, hoping that the children were safe now, and hoping that one of their friends would come for them before Thailog did… or before they died of exposure.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Heinrich reached the 23rd Precinct without seeing any other gargoyles in the air, and he didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved at that. With no way of knowing which gargoyles were Anne's friends, and which were child-killing savages…

The workers had indeed begun construction on the clocktower, beginning by clearing out much the remaining debris from the explosion that had ruined it. As Heinrich landed and cautiously made his way down through the levels, he discovered that even the remaining books from the old library were gone, but the workers hadn't done a good job of sweeping up; plenty of gravel from his stay and from the other gargoyles' stay still lay scattered in corners here and there.

The children were crying, freezing cold from their flight through the winter air, so he spent a few minutes just sitting with them, wrapping his wings around them and blowing on their hands to warm their tiny fingers. He dug around in his cargo pants pocket to find the snack he'd packed for after his explorations, an apple and a bratwurst sausage; he sliced them into small pieces with a talon, then used a knuckle to repeatedly mash one thick slice of apple until it was a crude applesauce. Crooning reassuringly, he carefully nudged the applesauce into the baby's mouth with the pad of his thumb, and he ate eagerly, while the little girl ate the rest of the apple and sausage.

Once they were warm and fed, he carefully set the children down on the floor, cradling the infant boy in the little girl's lap. He glanced at the stairwell that the workers used for going up and down to street level, but chose to focus on the trapdoor in the corner; the one that his friends had told him led into a broom closet in the police station below. "You stay here, okay? I go try to get help. We maybe get some nice police officers here, yes?"

"With cookies?" the little girl asked hopefully. "Unca Matt always brings me lemon cookies."

"Ah… maybe cookies, maybe other food; we will see." The infant boy was fussing again, so Heinrich told him soothingly, "And more food for you, too; if no police officers soon, then we go flying again, to my friend the priest, and he will surely have food for you. Some good warm milk in your stomach, and you will feel much better…" He didn't expect the infant to understand him, but just the sound of his voice seemed to soothe the baby for a few moments. Long enough for him to scoop up some scattered gravel in one hand, then open the trapdoor and put one foot on the ladder, pushing it down so he could descend.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Elisa glanced worriedly over at her partner, wondering if—make that when—he would crack. Ever since they'd gotten the news about the kidnapping, Matt had been grim as Death, giving terse answers to any question asked of him when he'd answered at all.

Elisa knew Matt feared the worst, and so did she. Fox and Alexander Xanatos, the wife and son of the billionaire, were the valuable hostages, and the only ones mentioned by the kidnapper in the ransom call. Anne and Bethany Marsden, the nanny and the nanny's child… were extras. And since Philip Marsden and Anne's parents were dead, they had no known relatives who would have been expected to pay a ransom for their return.

Xanatos swore to Elisa and the others that he'd offered to pay an extra twenty million for Owen, Bethany and Anne's safe return as well, but the kidnapper had only laughed in response before hanging up. Elisa had the awful feeling that it meant Owen, Anne and Bethany were already dead; that they had been shot and discarded like used present wrappings, once the primary kidnap victims had been secured.

Elisa doubted that Owen was actually dead; she'd never really trusted the man and certainly not the Fey within him, and figured that he'd probably let his human body 'die' while Puck went hightailing back to Avalon. But Little Bethany, such a sweet and innocent child, who sometimes called Matt her Daddy… and Anne, good-natured Anne who was so caring and gentle with children, and willing to see the best in everybody… the thought that they had been callously murdered made Elisa want to scream.

And if she felt that way, how much worse did Matt feel? As much as he'd tried to deny it, he was at least halfway in love with Anne already. And the Winnie-the-Pooh toy that Matt had bought for little Bethany's Christmas present, a present for a holiday Matt didn't even personally celebrate, still sat in its brightly-wrapped box on his desk…

The goddamned FBI hadn't done anything to try stopping the gargoyles from searching in their own way and methods—not that there was much they could have done to stop them anyway-- but the agents hadn't voluntarily offered any information to help them, either. And they still refused to let Matt and Elisa in on what they knew. If not for the bugs planted in their office, the surveillance that Martha was still faithfully listening in on for any scraps of information the gargoyles could glean, they'd have no access to the FBI's operation at all.

It had made sense for the FBI to be called in on the case instead of the police; Elisa knew that. They had an entire division devoted to kidnapping cases, and more resources than the NYPD could ever hope to have. But it was so unbelievably frustrating to have to sit on the sidelines and do nothing, when she and Matt knew the victims! Elisa wanted to be out there chasing down every possible lead, shaking down Dracon's men—she just knew in her guts that Tony Dracon was behind the kidnapping—and she knew Matt wanted to do all that and a helluva lot more.

So much was at stake, and what were she and Matt doing? Filling out goddamned paperwork, that's what. When they'd reported for duty that night, they'd been planning for it to be for only a few minutes before leaving again. But Captain Chavez had told them they were long overdue for a report on their analysis of all the gargoyle sightings for the past month; surely some patterns should have emerged by now, patterns that could tell them where to look for "the gargoyles' point of origin; their nest or whatever."

"But-but Captain, what about all those reports that are coming in tonight? Hayden told us as we came through the door that there are reports coming in tonight of gargoyles committing even more property damage, and it's still going on! Shouldn't we be investigating that?" Matt had pleaded, and Elisa had fervently seconded. Because that 'property damage' was happening at Dracon's bases, and leaving to investigate them would give Elisa and Matt all the excuse they needed to officially join the search, instead of pretending they still knew nothing about the kidnapping.

"I've got other people on that already; patrols are responding to those reports as they occur. And while they haven't caught any gargoyles, officers have already called in about some very interesting discoveries at four of those locations, finds that Vice is taking a closer look at. But from you two, I want that analysis and report. Tonight!" Chavez had barked, and they hadn't dared outright refuse her; they'd been in enough trouble with her already in the last few months.

Fussing and fuming while going through the six-inch-high stack of papers on her desk, Elisa didn't notice when the door to the broom closet several feet away opened a few inches, though nobody was anywhere near it. She didn't notice when something was thrown out onto the floor, and the door quietly closed again. But a few minutes later she noticed when Johansson, on his way to get more coffee, nearly stumbled, swore and said angrily, "Who the hell tracked in all this gravel and crud on the floor?!"

The two words had become associated in Elisa's mind in the last few years: gravel = gargoyles. She jumped up from her desk, stared at the floor with a scattering of gravel on it, then at the broom closet nearby, with its access to the clocktower. The clan all had radios, even the folks from New Orleans, and Brooklyn discreetly pinged the communicator in her jacket collar whenever he was ready with another report. So who would need to attract her attention this way?

The GTF's two rookies had also looked up at Johansson's outburst, and now Carter jumped up and headed straight for the brook closet, announcing, "Don't worry, I'll clean it up!" He opened the door just enough to squeeze inside, then emerged a moment later with the broom and dustpan.

Which Elisa snatched from his grip. "I'll take care of it. The gravel is my fault; I—I emptied out my shoes here after a walk in the park. On gravel paths!" she said firmly.

James Carter stared at her. "Uh, really, detective, I can take care of it; I mean, it's sort-of my duty as low man on the totem pole here, right?"

"No, it's not! Everyone is expected to clean up their own messes, and for anything more than that we have the janitorial staff that comes in." Elisa tried to smile sweetly at him, but she was sure that if she was really a gargoyle she'd be baring her fangs instead as she finished, "I insist."

So Carter reluctantly handed over the broom and dustpan, and she quickly swept up, aware by now that several pairs of eyes were on her, or had been; several of the officers in the precinct had noticed the small confrontation, but as she swept up, most of them just shrugged and returned to their duties. But Carter, their other rookie Davis and Matt were all staring at her. And Matt, when he wasn't staring at her, was staring intently up at the ceiling as if he hoped to look right through it with X-Ray vision. He knew what the gravel meant, too.

Elisa carefully swept up the gravel, then made a point of dumping it all in her own wastebasket. Then she went into the broom closet with the broom and dustpan, and closed the door behind her. And as soon as the door was shut she was yanking on the dropdown ladder, and scrambling up it before it was all the way down.

Was it Brooklyn, or Lexington? Had their communications been compromised? Had they discovered that the kidnapper or the FBI was listening in on them? Elisa feared the worst, as she opened the trapdoor and poked her head out.

But she was still surprised by what she saw a few feet away: a gray male gargoyle with blood-red hair, a total stranger, sitting on the floor and swaying back and forth with two children in his lap, while singing softly to them in what sounded like German, "Guten Abend, gute Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht; Mit Naeglein besteckt…" The gargoyle's voice trailed off as he noticed her, and his eyes went wide.

"Who the hell are you?" Elisa couldn't help asking. "And how did you—Bethany?! Oh God, Bethany! Alexander!" as she recognized the children, then scrambled up the ladder and into the room, reaching eagerly for them.

The gargoyle let her pluck the children from his lap and hug them tightly, then scooted back slightly, eyeing the gun in her shoulder holster. He said to her earnestly, speaking with a guttural German accent, "I did not hurt them. I rescued them, from a bad gargoyle! I speak truth, I would never hurt children!"

"He's telling the truth, detective," a voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Carter scrambling up the ladder and into the room too, with Davis right behind him. "Don't shoot him, please!" he begged her. "Some of these gargoyles are really good guys!"

"Mister Heinie is nice!" Bethany chirped from where she was hugging Elisa tightly about the neck. "C'n I have some cookies now?"

Elisa stared at her rookies, then at the gargoyle, then laughed aloud in sheer relief. Just as Matt came surging up the ladder too, probably with the idea of helping her defend the gargoyle from the rookies. But at sight of the kids in Elisa's arms, he forgot all about that, joyfully bellowing "Bethany!" as he almost flew up the last few steps into the library, and snatched Bethany away from Elisa. Matt literally fell to his knees beside the trapdoor once the little girl was in his arms, holding her tightly while saying in a not-quite-sob, "I was so worried…"

Still shaking her head in amused disbelief, Elisa turned back to the gargoyle and asked, "So, uh—Mister Heinie, was it? How long have you been in town?"

"Uh… four weeks and two days," Heinie told her, still wide-eyed. "You… you are not afraid? You know of other gargoyles?"

"I sure do," Elisa said while Carter and Davis stared at her open-mouthed. She turned to the rookies and said firmly, "You two are going to have a long talk with me and Matt after this is all over, okay? A talk about keeping secrets from your superiors… though I guess that runs both ways. Never mind, we'll talk about it over dinner or something," she said before turning back to the gargoyle. "Heinie, who did you say you rescued the kids from?"

"Heinrich; my name is Heinrich," the gargoyle almost apologetically corrected her. "Little children, sometimes they make mistakes, but adults..."

"Right, sorry; Heinrich. Heinrich, who did you say you rescued the kids from? And were there any adults with them?"

"A woman with brown hair and green eyes, five-foot-four, slender build," Matt interrupted, still holding Bethany. "Another woman with red hair, five-foot-nine; and a blond-haired man, five-foot-nine, usually wears glasses. Did you see any of them?"

Alexander had been quiet while Heinrich had been holding him, but all the noise everyone had been making must have been upsetting him, because now he let out an ear-splitting wail. Elisa hurriedly rocked him, saying, "Sssh, sssh, Alex; we'll take you to see your daddy soon, I promise!"

"What's going on up here?" a new voice demanded, and Johansson poked his head up through the trapdoor too. "Are there kids up here? I thought I heard--" Then Johansson saw Heinrich, and his eyes bugged out. "SHIT! A gargoyle!"

Still on his knees next to the opening, and still holding Bethany to him with one hand, Matt reached over with the other and grabbed Johansson under the jaw, forcibly shutting his mouth before he could yell anything more, and preventing him from ducking back down the ladder. "That's right, a gargoyle. Now shut the fuck up! And if you go for your gun or yell for help, I swear I'll kick your ass clear to Jersey! …Sorry, Bethany. Uncle Matt uses bad words sometimes when he's upset. Don't tell your mommy, okay?"

After glances and shrugs at each other, Carter and Davis together reached down and bodily hauled Johansson up the ladder and into the room. "In for a penny, in for a pound," Elisa murmured to herself while rocking the wailing Alexander, and wondering frantically what to do next.

Johansson was partnered with Hayden, the most vocal anti-gargoyle and pro-Quarrymen sympathizer in the precinct; there were suspicions that Hayden had even joined the Quarrymen and gotten his own hood and hammer, despite Captain Chavez's official warning against joining any organization that was under investigation by the DA. If Hayden came up too, looking for his partner, or if Johansson went back down and told him… There'd be utter chaos, and somebody would get hurt for sure. But what could they do? They couldn't just hold a fellow officer against his will!

She remembered that Johansson had three kids, and one of them had just been fitted for braces while another one was falling behind in Math and needed special tutoring. Trying to pay for everything on his patrolman's salary, there was no doubt that Johansson needed money… and Xanatos had money.

As soon as Alexander stopped wailing long enough to take a breath, Elisa said forcefully, "Johansson, here's the deal. Believe it or not, this gargoyle is actually a good guy. A very good guy; he just rescued these children from a kidnapper! And he brought them into the police station this way because he knew he couldn't come in the front door without getting shot. So we're going to let him go, despite the captain's orders to bring in every gargoyle we can, because it's the right thing to do. We won't penalize anyone--or anything--for saving children's lives! Got it? Now if you can keep your mouth shut about this, and run down to the convenience store on the corner to get a bottle of ready-made baby formula for the baby (sniff--ewww) and some disposable diapers and diaper-wipes, I can guarantee that you will personally be awarded a thousand dollars—hell, probably two thousand—by a very grateful David Xanatos. This baby is his son, and we'll give you the credit for saving and taking care of him, understand? But if you risk our badges by saying one word about a gargoyle up here, the deal's off! So if you want to give your own kids one helluva Christmas present, keep your mouth shut about the gargoyle and go buy some baby stuff—and hurry!"

Johansson stared at her, then gave a what-the-hell shrug and agreed before going back down the ladder. Elisa stood over the trapdoor and cocked her head to listen, and faintly heard Johansson telling some other cops that must have gathered outside the broom closet out of curiosity, "It's nothing, just some GTF business; giving their rookies a little talking to. Come on, everyone give them some privacy; you know how much worse it feels if you're being yelled at in front of an audience. Now excuse me, I've got some errands to run…"

"Pretty free-spending with Xanatos's money, aren't you, partner?" Matt commented with a wry grin.

"He can afford it," Elisa retorted, still feeling sick inside from what she'd just done. But dammit, they couldn't endanger the gargoyle, or the kids in the room with them… "Now, Heinrich, tell us: were there any adults with these kids? Where did you find them, and who were they kidnapped by?"

Moments later, the humans were all clustered around the foldout map of Manhattan that Heinrich kept in his pants pocket, while he pointed out the street and intersection that he'd rescued the children from. After hearing everything Heinrich had to say--and after telling everyone she'd explain later about the black gargoyle and the werewolf--Elisa handed baby Alexander over to Carter, scampered down the ladder to grab her jacket off the back of her chair, then ran back up to the old library. "Matt, you stay here with the kids, while I--"

"Like Hell!" Matt interrupted fiercely. "Carter and Davis can stay with the kids; I'm coming with you!" Though his actions didn't quite match his words; he was trying to hand Bethany over to Davis, but the little girl was gripping his jacket with both hands, hooking her little legs around his waist and stubbornly refusing to be handed over.

"Matt, Anne would want you to take care of her little girl, and you know it! And it would probably strain Heinrich to carry both of us," Elisa said as she pulled her jacket on. And besides, if it turned out that Were-Fox had turned on Anne as the nearest source of food… Elisa didn't want Matt to see it.

She turned on the communicator in her jacket lapel and said into it, "Brooklyn, call off the operation; we know where they are!"

"What'd you say—you know where they are?" Brooklyn's voice came tinnily out of the comm unit, which she turned outwards so everyone could hear. They heard him say faintly, as if overhearing talk to someone else, "Everybody stop! …Okay, finish knocking that one out. Elisa has a location!" Then louder,"Go ahead, Elisa; where?"

"The kids are safe, here at the 23rd Precinct. We don't know about Fox and Owen, but Anne should be on top of a warehouse," and Elisa gave the location. "I'm heading there now with a new friend, but whichever team is closest has to head there this instant! Thailog's the one who kidnapped them; he's back--and so is the Were-Fox!"

After saying something in Gaelic that Elisa thought was probably an expletive, Brooklyn said, "Broadway's team should be only eight blocks away from there, but we'll all head there now. With those two on the loose, we'll need every wing and talon we've got!" Then Brooklyn severed contact so he could switch to the other band, and tell the other teams the news.

"Gargoyle teams are on their way," Elisa said to Matt and the rookies, both of whom had been staring at her wide-eyed for the last few minutes. She checked her gun to make sure it was fully loaded, then said, "Okay, Heinrich; take me back to where you left Anne!"

Heinrich had been staring at her just as wide-eyed as the rookies, but now he nodded tersely, picked her up in his arms and ran with her up the stairs to the clocktower. Behind her, she heard one of the rookies say accusingly to Matt, "We may have been keeping Heinrich a secret, but there's a lot more that you haven't been telling us…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

"Thailog, dammit! Why the hell didn't we think of Thailog?!" Brooklyn berated himself as he, Isabel and Hollywood climbed away from the Dracon hangout they'd just wrecked, to take to the sky again.

"Because everyone thought he was dead?" Isabel offered as she spread her wings to glide and launched. "That's what you said back in New Orleans, anyway. And then the ransom demand for a gargoyle's head… coming from a gargoyle himself! St. Dismas, that's perverted!"

"Thailog… is not dead?" Hollywood said, looking stunned and still standing on the rooftop instead of launching.

Brooklyn wheeled about and looked at Hollywood sharply, inwardly cursing; their mission might have just gotten a lot more complicated. Hollywood and the other clones had been programmed to obey Thailog…

Brooklyn said aloud, "That's right. Thailog is alive, Hollywood. Now think about this: he's been alive all this time, and he never came back for you and the others. Never even tried, when he had to know where you were. Instead, Talon's been your leader for the last few months, and he's treated you a lot better than Thailog ever did, hasn't he? Talon is a good leader, while Thailog was a very bad leader… and now he's kidnapped Anne and little innocent Bethany! Hollywood, you said earlier tonight that you'd accept my leadership. So who are you going to obey now; me or Thailog?!"

Hollywood said slowly, as his stunned look transmuted into a horrific scowl, "If Thailog took Bethany… I will follow you. And I will hurt Thailog," as his wings flared out.

"Good to hear," Brooklyn said with a short nod, before keying his radio to call the other teams.

Everyone responded with shock that Thailog was behind the kidnapping, and agreement to head as fast as possible for the address Elisa had given them. Though Talon said there'd be a slight delay for his team: "Cassius took a bullet through his left wing on the raid we finished just before you called. He said he'd dealt with worse on patrols and didn't need Cecelia to come running, he could still fight; he just needed a quick patch job to stop the bleeding and keep the hole from getting worse. So I was doing the interrogating while he and Lucretia went looking for a bathroom they could break into, for a first aid kit. Give me a few minutes to go find them and tell them, and we'll be on our way…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

At that moment, two winged figures stood on the fire escape outside an apartment building, glancing through the window into a dark apartment and holding a near-silent conference between themselves. With one last nod of agreement, they broke the glass of the window and quickly jumped inside the apartment

-boom- -boom-

And were shot dead by two shotgun blasts in quick succession.

As the gargoyles crumpled to the carpet, Mitchell Starsky tossed aside the shotgun he'd just emptied into them, and stood up with the handgun he'd had ready in his lap. He kept it trained on the gargoyles as he left the shadowed bedroom corner he'd been sitting in and slowly advanced towards them, but they didn't move. If they weren't dead, then they were definitely unconscious and bleeding profusely all over the carpet. His wife Natalie would throw a fit when she saw the mess, but at least she'd be alive to yell at him. If he hadn't told her to take the kids to a hotel, while he stayed behind to fake everyone's presences in the beds while he waited for the gargoyles he knew would arrive…

With the Quarrymen's headquarters blown up, he couldn't call for his buddies to come collect the gargoyles, so he did the next best thing. Still keeping a healthy distance from the gargoyles and keeping his gun trained on them, he sidled over to the bedroom phone and called the police. He gave them his name and address, and told them that he'd encountered two gargoyles breaking into his home, but shot them both before they could do any harm.

The 911 operator sounded stunned as she said she'd send the police over right away, and Mitchell smiled sardonically. She was probably stunned that, after months of that idiotic Gargoyles Task Force trying and utterly failing to do anything about the gargoyles, a civilian was doing their job for them. As he hung up the phone and turned on the bedside lamp, Mitchell wondered whether his actions tonight would result in the mayor of New York finally doing the smart thing and deputizing the Quarrymen, making them officially sanctioned gargoyle hunters instead of vigilantes.

Then he took a closer look at the gargoyles on the floor, illuminated by the bedside lamp. The larger one had a dark red hide, while the slightly smaller one was dark blue in color. But their heads…

Their heads were covered by ski masks that matched their hide colors, and he gingerly tugged off the dark blue one, to reveal pink and unmistakably human flesh underneath. Instead of real gargoyles, they were people in costumes!? What the fuck?!

…Dear God, instead of gargoyles, he'd just shot two of his own kind!

…Two of his species who had broken into his apartment in the middle of the night, Mitchell reminded himself. Nobody did that unless they meant no good, so self-defense was still warranted, right? Right?

And these bastards had definitely had ill intentions towards him and his family, Mitchell realized as he looked them over. They were wearing tool belts over their gargoyle costumes, and in each one's belt were sets of handcuffs, saps for beating people unconscious, and some nasty-looking weapons that resembled claws; three long steel tips on each weapon, to simulate gargoyle claws. Mitchell knew, looking at those deadly sharp clawtips, that they'd intended to use those restraints and weapons on him and his family. But why the Hell would crooks wearing gargoyle costumes break into the home of a man who was known by all his friends and neighbors as a Quarryman?

For the first time since hearing about it, Mitchell wondered if the police had been right after all about the big battle that had taken place just before Thanksgiving. The police and most of the newspapers had decided that instead of fighting gargoyles, eleven Quarrymen had lost their lives fighting criminals in gargoyle costumes. He'd been so sure that the police had all been idiots, because nobody would be so stupid as to go up against known gargoyle-hunters in a gargoyle costume; that would be like crashing a Black Panthers gang party in a KKK costume! But now, with this evidence before him…

What was going on? Who was behind this?

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To be continued in: Regroup