Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog
Chapter 8: Modern Menace
9:57PM, London, Present Day
"Do ye think that the Pendragon is right?" Hudson asked.
Old Pog shrugged and sighed. "I'm not sure…there's really no way to be sure unless we can examine the bodies ourselves."
"Aye," Hudson agreed as the pair of elder gargoyles banked left with the wind current. "And I dinnae think that the humans will take too kindly to that."
Old Pog chuckled. "No, they prolly won't at that."
The two aged gargoyles landed nimbly atop the Houses of Parliament and looked out at the Thames. Big Ben began chiming the hour nearby.
"I remember when that tower was new," Pog said glancing at the clock tower.
"Aye," Hudson commented glancing at the clock, reminiscing himself. The elderly gargoyles remained introspective for several minutes…each dwelling on their own experiences with clock towers.
"So," Old Pog said breaking the silence. "You've never faced vampires before?"
"Aye," Hudson said, breaking out of his own nostalgia. "Never faced such terrors in Manhattan, an' the beasties ne'er came near Castle Wyvern."
"You're lucky," Old Pog said shuddering. "They're the foulest beings on the planet."
"I've ne'er seen them," Hudson said frowning. "But I've heard tales…in my youth, a gargoyle from the Scone Clan came to Wyvern Hill…said there was a nest of the beasties not far from his home…all the warriors went out that night to destroy them. I was but a hatchling then, but the warriors who returned didn't like to speak of what they found there."
"I'm not surprised," Old Pog said.
"Shall we then?" Hudson asked, uncloaking his wings.
"Just a moment more, Hudson," Old Pog said leaning on his staff. "I'm not as young as I once was."
Hudson smiled. "Aye, I know the feeling."
Just then the radio clicked, and Lexington's voice came over the line.
"Lexington and Amp reporting in from Westminster Abbey, all quiet here."
"Amp? Who's Amp?" Old Pog asked looking at Hudson in confusion.
"He means the lad Staghart," Hudson said. "It's what the lad asked us to call him when we met."
Old Pog rolled his eyes. "Hatchlings."
"Aye," Hudson answered pressing the talk button on the radio. "Hudson and Pog checking in from…where are we now?"
"Palace of Westminster," Old Pog supplied.
"Palace O' Westminster, all is well here, too."
"King Arthur and Griff," Sir Griff's voice chimed in a second later. "Reporting from the shop, all's quiet in Soho."
Old Pog couldn't help but smile, losing Griff, one of his own rookery children, had been one of the more difficult endeavors of his life, so when he'd returned, 66 years later, only Leo and Una had been more excited than Pog.
"Cleo and Coco," Coco's voice articulated a moment after that. "Tower Bridge, it looks like there's noth…what's that? What-ho! I think we may have something here."
Old Pog perked up. "Tell her not to go in alone."
"Pog says wait for some backup," Hudson said over the radio.
"Please," Coco responded. "I'm not a hatchling anymore. I think Cleo and I can handle ourselves."
"Constance, no!" Old Pog exclaimed. "You don't know what you're dealing with!"
"We're going in," was Coco's only response.
Pog looked at Hudson in panic. "We're closest, goddamn it. We'll have to move quickly."
"She's an able warrior," Hudson said, trying to reassure Old Pog. Nevertheless he unfurled his own wings and stepped onto the parapet, preparing to take flight. "Ye should have seen her take on those metal contraptions of Xanatos."
"That may be," Old Pog said as the duo of older gargoyles took wing. "But she's never faced anything like these fiends."
"I pray," he murmured, mostly to himself, "That I haven't sent them to their deaths…"
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11:17PM, 1841, Into the Mystic, Soho, London
Pog blinked, "Lazarus is ill?"
Cam nodded gently. "I was just about to go see him. You two want to come?"
Pog's beak had gone dry, he simply nodded. Lazarus was a clan institution; he'd lived far longer than any other gargoyle in the clan ever had… The idea of him not being around was absurd.
Slowly Pog and Unette unfurled their wings in silence and took to the air, following Cam's lead. The glide to Knight's Spur was between 15 minutes and half an hour depending on the night. Pog was grateful that tonight was a good night. They made it to Knight's Spur in record time; just under 11 minutes.
The London Clan's ancestral home was fully stocked, and capable of serving the 171 gargoyles who now called it home.
The clan had a rather large dining hall, to accommodate the gargoyles at dinner. As well as a Library that rivaled any other library in the country. Though the estate had burned down in the great fire of 1666, the clan had managed to rescue all of their old writings and books.
The wine cellar doubled as the clan rookery, though; there were no eggs down there at this time. The clan leader and second-in-command were the only gargoyles whom enjoyed private quarters. The rest of the clan didn't mind though; as such things were unnecessary due to the gargoyle lifestyle. What few possessions a gargoyle owned, he or she usually kept on their person.
Pog could see several hatchlings from the 1818 rookery playing tag in the nearby forest. A stag drank from the creek as the gargoyles passed overhead. The forest was fully stocked with game, and there were coops behind the estate where several clan members raised quail, chickens, and other small birds. The clan was very self-sufficient.
Knights Spur was built any other mansion, but was also equipped with access to the main house from doors on the roof. Pog, Cam, and Unette landed swiftly next to one of these rooftop doorways.
Pog nearly plowed over Bhors, his boar-like rookery brother on his way in.
"Welcome back," Bhors muttered sarcastically under his breath.
The doors led to a wraparound balcony that overlooked the foyer. This atrium was lined with the clan's ancient treasures that were too valuable to keep at Into the Mystic: suits of armor dating as far back as the seventh century, paintings, antique books to fragile for the library and such.
The trio quickly walked down on of the marble staircases, all three of them were hoofed, so their hooves made clinking sounds on the stone steps as they descended.
Knight's Spur had four main floors, and the clan's infirmary was on the second floor (from the top, which was how the gargoyles measured it, humans would say that it was the third floor) Pog led the way, and soon he his sisters arrived at the infirmary. Lear, the London Clan's elderly (though not nearly as old as Lazarus) unicorn-like healer stepped out of the infirmary.
"Ah, Pog, Unette," Lear said adjusting his glasses. "I'd heard that you were back, Lazarus has been asking for you. And Pog, Fyn wishes to speak with you when you're done."
Pog swallowed. He slowly stepped into sanatorium, Cam and Unette on his tail. Lazarus lay on a bed in the center of the room, the other beds were unoccupied. Two female gargoyles from two generations ahead of Pog's acted as nurses, watching Lazarus carefully. At this point though, all they could do was make him comfortable. He was, after all, 342 years old.
He looked it too; at the shop Lazarus carried himself with quiet dignity and grace…and he was in excellent shape. He seemed like a much younger gargoyle then, perhaps 150, or 200. Now his griffin-like face wore hard the ravages of time.
Eyes that had seen Shakespeare's London; witnessed the last bout of the Bubonic Plague and the Great Fire of 1666. Lazarus was not just a clan treasure…he was a historical treasure of Great Britain.
Pog noted that Peryton was already in the room, kneeling by Lazarus's side. Though the clan joked about how crotchety and cantankerous the old shopkeep was, everyone loved him.
"Pog my boy," he croaked, seeing the hippogriff-gargoyle enter. His voice was raspy and strained, like he could barely control his breathing. Pog noticed that his wings—which he had always kept under his cloak at the shop—no longer even looked like wings. They looked like thick, feathery tentacles covered in blistering sores…sores that even stone sleep would not cure…cancer. Lazarus had wing cancer.
It was a manifestation of the disease not found in humans…even in gargoyles it was quite rare, but stone sleep would not cure cancer, of any variety.
"I'm so glad that you're still alive," he whispered hoarsely, he paused and coughed. "I hadn't expected…cough…cough…I hadn't expected you to be gone so long. I thought that Macbeth had…cough…cough…had killed you. I thought…cough…cough…cough…I thought that I had killed you."
With that he fell into a terrible coughing fit.
"It's all right," Pog said kneeling down and clasping Lazarus's talon. "We're all fine…he just dragged us across the pond that's all."
"Pog!" he rasped. "Pog, can you forgive me?"
Pog glanced at his rookery siblings, uncertain what Lazarus meant. Forgive him for what? He mouthed at Peryton. Peryton shrugged, shaking his head. Pog turned and looked Lazarus in the eye.
"Of course I forgive you," he whispered.
"Then I am done," he smiled. "Cast me to the winds, Forcene I am homecoming."
With that, the eldest gargoyle of the London Clan breathed his last.
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10:22PM, London, Present Day
"There they are!" Old Pog said pointing down at Coco, the boar-like female, and Cleo, a leonine female with golden fur and long honey-colored hair. She dressed in black, which complimented her golden fur. Cleo was hot tempered and sarcastic…a product of her generation.
Pog and Hudson saw instantly that the girls were surrounded. Six vampires, looking much like pale humans with warped demonic faces circled them.
Pog raised his staff and dove down, slamming one of the Nosferatu from behind with his hooves. The creature was knocked to the ground. Pog didn't waste a breath he drove the end of his staff into the vampire's heart.
The Lamia shuddered for a moment, then its flesh evaporated into dust, leaving only a skeleton behind. The other vampires hissed and turned towards the new arrivals.
Two of the attempted to surround Old Pog, but he was extremely cautious, not letting either of them out of his eye line.
"Come on then lads," Old Pog declared as the vampires herded him towards the edge of the bridge. "We're none of us getting any younger."
Pog smiled slyly, and pointed his staff at one of the vampires approaching him.
"Look behind you mate," he said.
"Yeah right," the vampire responded. "Like I'm gonna fall for that old—"
The vampire said nothing more as his head had unfortunately been separated from his shoulders so quickly that it took several seconds before the flesh on the animated corpse could dissolve into dust.
The other vampire jerked in surprise as he turned and looked at Hudson, who was brandishing his long curved blade. The Scottish gargoyle grinned at the vampire.
"Tempered Viking steel," he crowed. "Never leave home without it."
"Now I know you've been watching too much telly, mate," Old Pog quipped back at the duo lunged at the last vampire. He shuddered violently, and his flesh dissolved away leaving behind his charred skeleton. Pog and Hudson blinked.
Coco laughed. Pog and Hudson turned to look at the boar-like female. She was still in a throwing pose. She had tossed the stake that all of the gargoyles had been issued when King Arthur had first become aware of the vampire problem.
"Nice shot, Coco," Cleo said grinning. She smiled and gave Coco a high five.
Pog reached down and pulled the stake from the skeleton and tossed it back to Coco.
"Impressive, Constance," Pog said. "But do try to hold on to your stake, we really can't afford to take any chances."
"You can say that again," a voice called out.
Pog blanched, looking around and suddenly noticing that the four gargoyles had been surrounded. A tall skinhead vampire with tattoos all over his left arm approached the gargoyles, as at least three dozen more surrounded them.
"I've been told that there's nothing like drinking gargoyle blood," the skinhead said grinning maniacally. His eyes glittered red. "And I am such a discerning connoisseur."
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6:17PM, 1844, Into the Mystic, Soho, London
The sun slowly drifted beneath the western horizon. Atop the Into the Mystic shop in Soho, five statues gazed down at the street below; a hippogriff, a Peryton, a unicorn, a camelopard, and a Pegasus.
A large number of flies buzzed around the heraldic statues, five or six coming to rest on Pog. As the twilight neared and gargoyles began to awaken, cracks appearing in the stone forms, and a moment later:
"ROOOOAAAARRRRR!!"
"Oy," Pog exclaimed shooing the flies away from his face. "Ugh! Bloody Hell, there've been so many flies about this summer."
"Could be worse mate," Bel said winking. "Could be horseflies."
"Then they'd be going after you," Pog quipped back.
"Oh," Bel said clutching his heart. "Low blow!"
Bel, or Bellerophon as he was really named, looked very much like a male Unette, though he lacked any horn. He had a short mane of blue-colored hair and solid hooves like Pog, as opposed to Cam and Unette's cloven hooves.
"Yes well," Unette said shrilling as she swatted several flies away, looking horrified at the insects. "All joking aside, can't we go inside now?!"
The other four gargoyles laughed as they headed inside. Peryton, Unette, and Bell headed downstairs, as Pog and Cam sat down at the desk in the study.
"All right Pog," Cam said smiling. "You've been doing fairly well thus far, with simple spells like sleep, lighting, and tracking, so tonight were going to start with something a bit more complicated…"
Pog smiled as he opened the grimoire that had been set out the night before. He had really grown to enjoy his magic lesions with Cam. She was much more "down to earth" than Unette was, and unlike Unette, Cam wasn't afraid to get her talons dirty.
Pog couldn't help but notice that she was such a lovely shade of yellow, and her spots complimented her fur. She had a long leonine tail, like Peryton or Fyn. Yes, all in all Cam was a very lovely gargoyle…
"Pog are you listening?" She chirped loudly and sounding very annoyed. This snapped Pog out of his funk almost immediately.
"Of course I am," Pog said indignantly.
Cam crossed her arms and looked at him inquisitively. "Then what did I say?"
"Um…," Pog stuttered, not realizing that she would call his bluff. "You said…focus?"
"Actually," She said sighing. "I said that there's a rhinoceros in the water closet. I was testing to see you were listening."
Pog bowed his head sheepishly. "Er…uh…oops."
"Honestly, Pog," Cam said sighing and shaking her head. "If you fancy me, then you should just ask me to the solstice dance or something similar. Not stare at me hopelessly."
Pog's beak dropped open. The Solstice Dance was the social event of the year in the London Clan…on December 22nd, the longest night of the year, and thus the night a gargoyle remained flesh the longest, the London Clan would throw a party that rivaled Queen Victoria's parties.
"That was a hint," Cam said.
"I…um…,"
"Good God you are hopeless aren't you," Cam said sighing. She got up and grabbed her cloak for work in the shop from off the coat rack, preparing to head down into the shop.
"Wait!" Pog said getting up. "Cam, would you like to go the Solstice Dance with me?"
"I'd love to Pog," she said sighing and shaking her head. "Really was that so hard?"
Pog swallowed…it had been just as hard as he'd imagined, if not worse.
"Pog," Cam said tossing him his own cloak. "A word of advice: females prefer confident males, not shy ones. I'm not dropping hints next time."
"Right," Pog said throwing the cloak on. "Confidence. Right."
The two gargoyles headed down into the main area of the shop. A single human customer was perusing a series of books on Items of Enchantment.
The human glanced up and frowned at the new gargoyles entering the room.
"All right," he said. "The Stag and the Unicorn I get, and you're a griffin right?"
"Hippogriff," Pog corrected softly.
"But what the bloody hell are you supposed to be?" he demanded pointing at Cam.
Her eyes flashed scarlet for a second. The man gasped as she stepped towards him.
"I'm a Camelopard you ignorant…" Cam was interrupted by a loud thump on the roof. The human looked terrified, by the sound, and by the look on Cam's face. The door upstairs creaked, and there was the sound of large, heavy footfalls.
The human bolted, taking to the door and running like the hounds of Hades were after him.
"There goes another customer," Peryton quipped dryly. The thumping continued.
"Sounds like Abernathy is here," Bell said frowning. "I wonder what it is that he could want."
Abernathy was the clan historian, and the only other gargoyle besides Pog, Cam, Unette, Bel, Fyn, and Peryton to frequent the shop. Abernathy was a very large gargoyle, nine and a half feet tall and with a wingspan twice the size of any other member of the clan to compensate for his height and weight.
He had a leonine like face a golden fur all over his body, except on his feathered wings, which had purple plumage.
The large lion-like gargoyle lumbered down the stairs as Unette gently walked over to the shop door, and flipped the CLOSED sign around.
"Ladies and gents," he said gruffly, nodding toward Unette; acknowledging that she'd closed the store.
"I have found something incredible in the clan records," he said smiling.
"What?" Cam asked curiously.
"The location of a certain item," Abernathy said. "An item that could be incredibly useful and valuable, not just to the clan…but to gargoyle kind as a whole…Pog, Unette, Peryton, Cam, pack your bags. We're going to Venice."
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10:29PM, London, Present Day
"This is not good is it?" Cleo said looking around at the vampires as they surrounded the quartet of gargoyles.
"You can say that again," Pog murmured.
"This is not good."
To Be Continued…
