The Phantom of the Night

by Tigris Euphrates

Christine P. Shelton of Salt Lake City, Utah accidently runs across the gargoyle she names Phantom, resulting her becoming involved in a massive feud of warring halves of the Children of Oberon. Illustrated. (homepage: http://www.miniclan.org/tigris/saga.

4. Family

Edited by: Pegasus and MaryK

Created: Saturday, May 25, 1996 Completed: Tuesday, December 17, 1996 Last revision: February 29, 2000

Revised by: Cinnamon and Dasha Ariel

This is an original work, not associated with the Walt Disney Corporation. No copyright infringements intended. All rights to the elements of this work reserved by the author. None of this content is in anyway directly copied from any Disney publication. "Gargoyles" belongs to Walt Disney Studios.

This fanfic is rated for all audiences, and contains nothing sexual or improper of any nature. I would recommend it be rated G.

---

June 19, 1996

The rain clouds had rolled into Salt Lake City early in the day, and no one had really thought very much about it. GT had arrived first, with a large basket of roses, which he set next to the closed casket.

Mike Shelton seemed unwilling to trust himself speak to him immediately. GT looked at the closed ebony coffer once more, and shook his head.

Mike was wondering how he must be feeling. It was so impossible. Mike would never believe it. He had... been to too many funerals. First his wife in a car accident, now this. How was it he continued allowing his family to slowly slip through his fingers?

GT only watched. There were only a few words spoken between Mike and GT, but GT seemed uncomfortable. Mike only felt sorry for him.

He would never understand the claw marks.

The service passed interminably for Mike. All the time the casket loomed before him like the Masque of the Red Death. That was Christine in there. He'd lost her just as he'd lost Terra. The two most important women in his life.

Rain had began to fall outside, dripping incessantly on the wood lid.

GT cornered Mike after the flowers had been cast. Mike was leaning over on the casket as it lay on the grass besides the grave. The stone was already laid.

Christine Patya Shelton

March 21, 1978 -

May 27, 1996

Daughter of Mike & Terra Shelton

Our Eternally Beloved Angel

Below, in small letters, were the immortal words for genealogists to stumble over for years to come.

"Died under mysterious circumstances in an automobile accident."

Fitting words for parents that had cared so deeply for Christine, GT thought, "Eternally Beloved". Did Christine ever know her parents had cared for her THIS much? When she fought with them over school grades, or the car?

Matthew and Keturah stood nearby, standing together. Matthew, 13, seemed to want to show Ket that he was there for her. Ket, 11, huddled close to him, weeping.

So was Mike, for that matter.

Young Matthew's lower lip quivered too, and his eyes watered. They all missed her. If only Christine had known how much they missed her.

GT pondered introspectively if it were ever possible that the deceased know how much the people left behind had loved them? GT pondered his own family for a moment, and looked down at his shoes.

How Christine had "gone" was what truly hurt the most. GT knelt by Mike, holding his shoulder. He wondered if he could ever tell him. How does one tell a mourning father that the body inside his daughter's casket wasn't real, and that his daughter lived as some sort of flying night monster with pink skin?

Yes, it was very possible that the Christine they had know was gone -- unreachable. How did GT say she was more now?

Mike couldn't seem to find words either, and they both glumly watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave, Matthew and Keturah wrapped in their arms. How did Mike tell GT that she had died brutally, without mercy at the hands of cruel, savage beasts? Creatures of the night bent on the destruction of his family and mankind?

Yes, Christine is an angel, GT thought. Just not HIS angel anymore. Now she was an angel of the night.

Beside the tombstone was another, marking the grave next to Christine's.

Terra Christine Shelton

March 21, 1954 -

May 27, 1991

"Died under suspicious circumstances in an automobile accident."

* * *

The windshield wipers slapped at the rain, but hardly did it justice. It was a dark road heading out of Parley's canyon out of Salt Lake City to their home in Park City. It was nothing more than a half hour trip, but it was worth it to have Christine buried beside her mother.

Ket still cried in the back seat. Mike cursed having to drive. He should be with Ket, now of all times. He pulled the Toyota Tercel aside on the highway, and shut it off.

Everybody sat in the back seat next to Ket. The night was silent, except for the cars on Interstate Eighty. Mike kept hoping Matthew and Keturah would go to sleep, but somehow it was appropriate that none of them could sleep tonight.

"Daddy?" Ket asked.

"Yes, Ket?"

"Can we go see Christy tomorrow?"

Mike paused. He should be at the office tomorrow, he thought automatically. Then, he stopped that thought. The people at work had given him two weeks paid vacation when they heard of Christine's death on the news, and he had yet to use it all. He should take tomorrow off at the very least -- for the children. Doubtless they would take all of this harder than he. He'd been through this before. Ket had been barely a year old at the time, and Matthew had only been seven, when Terra had died. They still hadn't know what deaths were like until now.

Mike wondered if he would ever get used to it. He hoped he never would or need to.

"Yes, honey. We can go see Christy and Mommy tomorrow."

"Dad?" Matthew asked quickly.

"Hmm?"

"I don't want to go to school on Monday."

"I understand, Matthew. What would you like to do instead?"

Matthew shifted on the seat. His usual response was that he didn't know, which meant he had only been expressing his feelings on the matter. However, tonight was so morbidly different, that Mike was not surprised that Matthew answered that question tonight.

"I want to leave."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Far away."

"We can't leave Christy!" Ket protested. Mike held her head next to his shoulder.

"Maybe that's exactly why we should go." Mike wondered. "Because we need to learn to live without them for now."

Ket bit her lip. Mike hoped she would understand until she was old enough to know fully what he meant. Matthew hung his head, but seemed to feel about the same.

"Tell you what. Tomorrow, I'll call Delta and arrange some tickets to Sacramento, so we can go camping."

Normally, the children would have jumped in reply, excited and full of energy and anticipation. Christine would already have begun to think about what she would pack. However, tonight Christine was not there, and Matthew and Keturah could only mumble their responses.

After the children had finally fallen asleep, Mike did not want to wake them just yet by moving to the front of the car. He wondered what would happen if Christine came home, and they had a good laugh about this. However, Mike was a father, and told himself to accept that Christine was buried and not to be silly.

Christine was never coming back.

The rain had let up for a moment, and the moon was slightly visible in the night sky. Mike thought for a moment he heard a cry, the shrill voice of a Coyote breaking freshly out after the rain to howl at the moon. His voice seemed to cry with Mike.

Mike couldn't seem to stop himself when this happened, and let a tear drip from his face again. The Coyote howled again.

Almost in the back of his mind he could hear Terra's voice calling his name in that Coyote's cry. "Michael... Michael..." the voice said. Although the words meant little, the love they spoke was clear.

"Christine..." Mike muttered. "Christine... Why?" Why did she have to die on him too? Why did those monsters have to pick them out of any other family in the United

States?

"Why?..." the whispering voice echoed, quiet as the breeze.

* * *

The tour guide showed them the rolls of the mountains as he drove them along the twisting road that led to the entrance into the forest. Once gaining the top, they passed the visitors center, and all the central attractions of the park, and fanned out to the sparser areas where the campgrounds were. They continued to pass these, out to a place where the rocks became jagged, the hillsides steeper, and the cliff sides taller and more common.

Here is where they chose to make camp. They were away from all the crowds -- out where they would be alone -- and all would be relatively quiet.

"The only thing going on out here is just that they're trying to clean up a rock slide. There's been some tremors up this way in the last few months, and so there's been a coupl'a slides." The guide explained. Mike, in the front seat listened with seemingly half an ear. The guide noticed how distracted they all were, but decided it might be best to keep talking so that they didn't feel like he was giving them a cold shoulder. The California Forest Service 4X4 had a very long cab, and so Matt and Ket sat in the back seat, quiet as the night itself.

As they turned into the campsite they had chosen, the guide shut the lights off, and slowly everyone filed out of the truck. The dark was thick under the canopy of trees, and no stars showed through the rain clouds that hung overhead here as well.

Matthew found the bark, dirt, and twigs of the forest floor soggy and mushy to step on -- like a thick mat of carpet. He wandered around the new campsite for a few moments, taking in the lay of the area.

"Don't wander too far, Matt!" Mike called to him.

"Yeah Dad." he replied.

At that moment, Matthew thought he heard a rustle in the bushes. He looked at them. Nothing moving there.

He turned back to Mike. He was kneeling by Ket, helping her find something in one of the bags they had pulled from the back of the 4X4. No one was watching him any longer.

He began to wander through the bushes, wondering if he could find the source of the sound. He'd never find it like this! He moved slowly, quietly, trying not to make a sound.

He continued for a few moments, until a glint in the night caught his attention. His head snapped around, just in time to see the glint of an eye.

Someone was looking at him.

Matthew could not make the person out -- whatever it was blended in well with the night, and the light was non existent.

Then there was a light, a deep red light, radiating like coals from those eyes.

Matthew sucked in a breath in terror. Both paused, and looked at each other. No one dared to move. Matthew felt frozen, terrified!

The eyes vanished, and there was a scrambling noise in the tree over his head. There was a snap, and the sound of rushing air. Matthew looked around him curiously.

No one to be seen.

Matthew sighed. Having had enough adventure for one night, he continued back to camp.

After the sun rose, it was much easier to search for the mysterious person. Unfortunately, Matthew found nothing. He even looked for prints of the person he had seen in the mud and twigs. All he found was a strange looking three toed bird-like marks larger than his hand. He thought it might have been better to have shown it to Mike and Keturah, but when an snowy white owl appeared on an overhanging branch, Matthew could not help walking away from the mark for a moment. When he realized he had moved away, he looked back, but the print was gone.

And so a few days went by, and Matthew found himself forgetting his strange night-ghost. Instead he spent his time working to cope with a camp out while trying not to miss Christine.

Yet, every day Matt returned to the spot where he had seen the mysterious dark figure. Even his own tracks vanished after a day, and Matthew began to wonder if someone was obscuring his tracks...

.....or their own.

Just after dawn one early morning, Matthew climbed out of the tent before Mike and Ket, and went for a walk on his own again. Mike and Ket were still asleep. He went walking along the top of one of the cliffs, just to watch the morning.

There was a moist fog in the wood, and it hung in-between the trees. The sunlight coming through small windows in the overhead canopy made beams of light through the air.

Matthew stopped at the edge of the cliff to admire the view. Here, the cliff was hundreds of feet high, part of a round valley. The trees parted a little here, making a pool of light around the cliff's edge. It was not a straight drop, but there were thousands of rocky crags, like an assortment of thousands of shapes of stone building blocks just thrown down the side of the mountain. The colors were all the same for the most part except when something grew on the old rocks like moss, lichens, or small plants. All a constant tawny color...

Except for one.

That one rock caught Matt's attention, suddenly drawn to it. There, on top of one of the leveler surfaces was a large stone of grayish white -- hinting of blue. Intrigued and fascinated, Matthew carefully climbed down the rocks to the odd colored one.

There was a difficult ledge here, one that no one could climb down. However, Matthew found small holes in the cliff face, staggered at regular intervals like steps of a ladder, holes small enough to barely allow Matthew's hand to hold them.

The stone was very oddly shaped, he observed as he drew nearer. In fact... it wasn't just a rock... Matthew examined it's features as he drew near enough to touch it with utter fascination.

It was a statue of a little girl! She was crouched down on the rock face, with a face turned to the east with an expression of horror at the direction where the sun now was rising in the early morning sky through the canopy of trees.

She had three toes on each of her feet, with large claws on the ends. Her hands, laid atop the rock face, had three long, sharp edged fingers and a thumb on each one. She had small horns on either side of her forehead, like a two-sided crown. Her hair seemed to be frozen in small, uncut waves. There was a filament of stone between her arms folded against her side, running to the side of her body, with a thickened ridge down it's middle, attaching under her arm. She had a long tail from the base of her back, running over the edge of the rock side.

Matthew admired the stone figure for a moment with wonder. It was a lot smaller than he, about the size of his sister Ket.

He felt drawn to her, as though she were somehow real. There was something about her that Matthew simply could not name. Something... beautiful.

A shot rang out across the forest. Birds and crows in the early morning were heard calling in the distance. The repercussion of the blast of the hunter's gun reverberated in the rocks.

Matt blinked. Wasn't hunting illegal here? Oh well. THAT sound had probably gone for miles. He didn't even bother to look around -- the shooter was probably far beyond the search of his eyes in this place. Someone else would find the gunman today.

Then, silent and low at first, another sound came to Matthew's ear, growing and growing until he realized he was hearing a dull rumble in the rocks beneath him.

Matthew began to be pelted by pebbles and small debris rolling down the side of the mountain. Then there was a loud crack. More pebbles began to patter him. Matthew looked up to the source of the sound.

A large chunk of stone began to slide down the hill rolling sideways along a pathway of stone. It was bigger than the group of them!

It was coming his way!

Matthew was about to bound out of harm's way, when he suddenly remembered the stone figure. If he abandoned it, it might be crushed! Desperately, Matthew looked around for help. There was no one in sight.

With no time to think about it, Matthew raced over, threw his arms around the stone girl, and heaved with all the strength he possessed.

The stone did not move, but remained but solidly on the rocks.

Matthew heaved again with no result.

The rock hit the stone just above his head. He had to move now! With a sudden rush of adrenaline, he began to lift the stone girl just enough to slide it off the rock face.

Matthew fell down a few rocks with the stone girl bouncing atop of him as though he were a pillow, as he slid down the hillside a few feet to one side, on his back. The stone girl crushed into him.

The massive boulder smashed onto the place where they had been but a fraction of a heartbeat before.

With a bone breaking thud, Matthew hit the new stone ledge below. The stone girl crushed into his chest with deadly force. Matthew screamed as his ribs snapped under her weight.

Struggling with all his might and strength, he rolled the stone girl off him.

She was set down onto the new rocky surface with a small puff of dust. Matthew tried to sit up as he cried over his burning shoulders and chest, lost his balance on the cliff top, fell off one edge, and plummeted down the eighty foot drop that awaited him.

He screamed once -- a sound lost in the morning air, drowned out by the cry of the eagle soaring overhead.

Mike was angry this time.

When the ranchers could not find the boy that night, the police were brought in the following morning. There were no witnesses. Young Matthew had only stepped out of bed early in the morning, and something had happened to him. The police found what they thought was a hidden blood mark on a stone terrace beneath an eighty foot cliff on a steep nearby hillside.

When Mike found the site, he found much more than that. Atop the cliff were small shards of Bluestone. Upon finding this, his fists clenched and his pulse quickened.

Those monsters again! Mike smashed the stone pieces and ground them under his foot. THOSE CREATURES HAD KILLED HIS ONLY SON! THOSE MONSTERS HAD TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM HIM! THEY WOULD PAY FOR THIS IF MIKE HAD TO GO OUT AND HUNT EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM DOWN!!! HIS WIFE, HIS OLDEST DAUGHTER, NOW HIS ONLY SON! THE GARGOYLES WOULD PAY FOR THIS!

In the squad car, Ket could only watch and cry as two police women with blonde and silver hair took photographs of the blood splatters, while a third with black hair documented them.

Ket was left alone with her tears throughout the entire day.

---

With the setting of the sun, Christine suddenly roared in fury, something that sounded to her own ears like a tiger's hiss and roar.

She stretched, flaring her wings.

Hopefully tonight would be easier going than last night. It had taken them only a few weeks to cross from Utah, through Colorado, and into Kansas before. However, going across Arizona, Nevada, and then into California had taken many times longer, and Christine had lost count of the number of weeks. Part of the problems was feeding this group - Gargoyles had to eat, and boy did they, and to feed their party, a lot of hunting was necessary. Mandy, however, made do with truck stops and credit cards.

Phantom still maintained that it had only been a month and a half since they had left the "Hot Water" Allsworth Ranch in Arizona. Sharm continued to vanish without warning on some occasions, just as mysterious and impossible as the three gargoyle sisters who claimed rookeryship with Phantom. Macaren always seemed to try to find any excuse to be near Christine, attention which she found highly uncomfortable. Why did he pay so much attention to her anyway? She much preferred Phantom's company -- he was the only one who really acted like the gargoyles they had met in Arizona -- the only one Christine suspected to really be a gargoyle while all the others -- herself unwillingly included -- masqueraded as them!

The Weird Sisters never spoke of Christine's metamorphosis, nor anything that would help explain all the subtle hints and mysteries surrounding their adventure. They mostly spoke of menial tasks that needed to be done, or else spoke such incomprehensible Middle English that Christine was forced to admit she could never possibly understand them. In addition she could not deny the fact that the Weird Sisters did NOT like her. She'd heard the word "Oberon" thrown around a lot. While she understood the literary significance of the name, these three seemed to attribute him as the sole reason they were even on their side to begin with. The sisters were never angry, and usually did not even pretend to understand the meaning of the issue. Being around THEM was a lesson in humility.

Phantom was the only one she thought she understood. Steady type, a bit rough perhaps, lightning short and murderous temper, but extremely loyal. He never seemed to get angry at Christine -- no matter what the argument.

At last, it seemed, their small clan was nearing it's destination. Sharm appeared once, and even volunteered to do the dishes one night. This, of course, took less time than it took her too look at them, and she made no mystery of the fact that she had used her abilities to complete the task.

The Weird Sisters were also violently opposed to helping on one minor issue - carrying Mandy via Piggy-back. Mandy began to feel unwanted and began to talk about going back to her college studies in Salt Lake City. The Weird Sisters never seemed to break a sweat as they carried gear in the flight, and they noticed that the others seemed to have difficulty. Tonight, Christine carried Mandy instead of any of the others, while Macaren and Phantom were free and the Weird Sisters carried most everything else.

Never in Christine's life had she felt this much freedom to move. Schedules were irrelevant. There was no test at the end of class. Nobody cared if she got up early -- she couldn't! Nobody cared if she played on the ground. She had never seen so much of the world. Of course, things looked different through infrared eyes in the middle of the night, but she didn't care -- it's not like she ever COULD see in the dark before, and she liked it.

There was an exhilaration when she was gliding. She held herself up, and with a tilt to her upper wings, she raced forward with the speed of a darting hawk. It excited her. She was finally getting into gliding! Just like she had always dreamed of doing! Staying up here all night with nothing she had to do but glide, glide, and glide. At first it had been monotonous, but now she had learned to love every minute of it. She was no longer bound to the earth, but was now beyond it. She lived for the caress of the wind across her legs and through her wings. It was a sensuous feeling as her sensitive skin picked up all the subtle air movements as she swam joyfully in her sensory bliss.

However, tonight was different. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It pricked her skin, and made her nervous. Phantom sensed her anxiety, and glided closer to her. "Nervous tonight, are we?"

"Yes, brother." Christine replied in the style the Weird Sisters did -- Christine loved how infectious their archaic mode of speech was, and used it all the time. "Something foul is amiss tonight."

"Indeed?" Phantom asked. "Your senses then are keener than mine. I feel nothing out of the ordinary."

As the continued that night, Selene suddenly shouted "Look!". There, on the horizon, a range of mountains began to appear.

"The San Andreas, no doubt." Macaren commented.

The raven-haired Phoebe made the triumphant announcement. "The woods we seek lie on those mountains."

"Let us make camp then, dawn is coming. We will enter those hills upon the sundown on the morrow." Phantom suggested. He was sort of the unofficial leader now, because everyone looked at the steady male gargoyle seeing leadership and direction -- even the green skinned trio.

Upon entering the woods, the gargoyles dived underneath the branches, and found themselves in a dark world of utter serene and quiet. Only crickets made any sound in the air, the winds here were mild, warm, and easy to navigate around, the tree trunks were large, and the limbs jut out. They soon found that a pathway in between the trees and limbs had been cut high up at the gliding level, forming a labyrinth of twisting passageways over roads and various forest paths.

"Who could have cut these?" Phantom wondered. Christine had a guess, but she almost immediately discounted it -- and remained silent.

Christine just stopped to enjoy the quiet as they winded down the paths that Phantom cut on a general course northward along the wood. They were so high up the trees, no human could ever notice them.

The stillness of the night was broken by a shill cry. The gargoyles suddenly pulled up short, hanging in mid air for a moment.

Christine suddenly dived, Phantom shortly following, and everyone trailing after that. Mandy clung to her ride for dear life. She knew better than risk falling off when her gargoyle friend had forgotten she was still there.

There, part way up a cliffside, a small blue skinned/blue haired gargoyle girl scrambled to the side of a slightly older human boy who lay at a cockeyed angle on the cliff top with dried blood pooled around him. He appeared to have fallen a great height from a higher ledge. Christine and the others watched her. It was the small gargoyle girl who had cried out. The little girl picked up the little boy, taking him onto her back, and flew off into the night with the heavier body on top of her. The Weird Sisters turned and followed. Christine shrugged, and followed them.

The new gargoyle wove skillfully through the twisting forest air-paths as though she knew them by heart, deftly spinning her arm-wings to allow her weave in and out of trees with her heavy cargo. Finally, after many twists and turns, she suddenly entered a large, enclosed space among the branches, here, she slowed, and came to a halt.

It was an enormous room, with branches for ceiling, wall, and floor, interspersed with occasional leaves.

"This is truly a magical place." Christine muttered half to herself, half to Phantom, as she came to perch on the floor. The others of her clan followed, and did the same.

The little girl laid the small human down upon the floor, and knelt by him.

Other gargoyles emerged from the darkness, and began to gather about them anxiously, talking in low voices. They got in Christine's way, and she could not see the boy or the gargoyle girl.

"Who are you?" Christine asked. No one saw fit to answer her.

A white owl flapped into the room, circling about Christine and her clan, then to perch next to the small girl and human, it's form shifting to that of a blue haired, violet eyed fay girl, sitting cross legged on the ground. The fay knelt beside the girl, and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Tigris? What is this you've found?" she inquired. Tigris looked up at her mentor with large, watery eyes.

"Is he dead, Cassie?" she asked with a sad, child-like innocence, running a talon delicately through his messy brown hair.

Cassandra knelt before the limp human form, touching his chest lightly. "There is a breath of life within him. His spirit has not yet left his body."

Tigris looked at Cassandra with pleading. "Please, Cassie! You must save him!"

"I cannot, child. I am forbidden to change the course of any mortal's life. Oberon himself forbids it." she replied, mourning.

Tigris continued to plead, "There must be something you can do!"

"Why?" Cassandra regarded Tigris for a moment, as if gauging her dedication.

"He... saved my life during the day... and lost his own." she almost wept.

Cassandra then glanced up at the three sisters as if asking them for their help. "Even Oberon himself would grant a boon for such mercy."

Christine scowled at this, and forced her way forward through the press into the fay's view. "Excuse me, but even these three didn't seem to care when they did THIS to me!" Christine added loudly, like an announcement. Many heads turned to her.

Phoebe, Luna, and Selene smirked.

"If you would have preferred..." Phoebe began.

"...we could have left you to..." Selene continued.

"...die in the car accident." Luna concluded.

Christine glowered at them. Cassandra decidedly removed a small silver handled dagger from her belt, and held it before her. She slit her wrist. Cassandra let the blood drip down onto the little boy's shirt, letting the human's skin absorb the magic into his own veins. The cut on Cassandra's wrist immediately faded and vanished. The blade twinkled with the thin stripe of fay blood on it, as she held it before the boy.

"No longer human art you now
old blood drained away
my blood within your heart
my brother you become
young as thou art
you have an agile heart
as time rolls by
you must never forget
the treasures you shall
loose eternally this day.
So bear upon thee
a token to recall
at evening's fall
of the pact
you and I form
this day.
Forever bound
by blood alone
and the head and wing
of the high headed eagle
that calls your name
thou shalt bear
eternally in memory
until this blood
and your heart
have been shared
with another."

Tigris's face lightened.

With the end of the spell, the boy shimmered and glowed under her power for a few moments before the spell ended. The weird sisters nodded their approval. Sharm was positively beaming.

"Now that the child shall live again,"

"But he will curse thee for years to come." Phoebe cautioned.

Cassandra considered that for a moment, then clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyes. "But I live a long time."

Selene nodded. "You have tarried far too long about your mentor, young Cassandra." she muttered.

"What?!!!" Sharm demanded defensively, "What did I do?"

Cassandra smiled at her old teacher, and bent next to Tigris. "If he wakes, give him space, and tell me immediately. He will be shocked, confused, and even angry without guidance."

Tigris bore a confused but elated expression, yet nodded solemnly. Christine looked down at the boy that had inadvertently caused so much fuss.

She drew in a sharp breath. It was impossible! How could he be here? Wait -- her family still thought her dead, didn't they? What would be more natural for Daddy, than to take Matt and Ket on a camping trip? Except... she thought in frustration, she wasn't dead! She crouched beside the boy, a tender pain-ridden expression visible on her lovely features.

Phantom came up behind her, and placed a paw on her shoulder. "What is it, Christine?" he asked with gentlemanly concern, "Are you alright?"

With a choked sob, Christine began to cry against Phantom's shoulder. "It's... he's my brother!" she managed to stutter in his ear. Phantom held her gently in a brotherly way until she was finally finished. He noticed the little girl, Tigris, who was looking up at the pair with a questioning expression on her face.

Tigris held a paw on the boy's forehead, and was crouched clumsily in a defensive position, like a child mimicking it's parents. Christine turned, and noted Tigris's protective posture and stance. "It's alright." she murmured comfortingly. "I'm his sister."

Tigris looked at her disbelieving. "You look too old to be his rookery sib. Besides, is he not human? You could not possibly have a relation."

"Matthew is my blood-brother." she replied softly.

"How is that possible? For a human d..." Tigris asked again, but an older, larger gargoyle interrupted her.

"Humans!" The new gargoyle spat. "Little Tigris was fooling around and got caught. Before you know it we'll all fall prey to those murderous dogs! Why waste your breath on him? He's just another stinking worthless human -- better off dead..."

Tigris cringed under the rebuke, but would not be so easily shaken. Their eyes glowed at the newcomer. Christine stared at this new gargoyle in shock and rage. "I AM HUMAN! Or at least I was... once."

"Cassie thinks he is important!" Tigris flung hotly, struggling not to cry.

"Cassandra is a fay. She knows nothing of gargoyle ways, or the ways of our clan -- the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir!"

Phantom jumped up, eyes glowing with rage, about to defend the girl if the irate gargoyle so much as neared her. Suddenly there was a voice from behind them, cutting them off.

"Back off, Gerom! Not all of us are of your prideful little Clan. Stop acting like a fool and a bully. You know nothing about Cassandra, only that she has been gracious enough to allow your clan of hunted refugees to this sanctuary. Only a bully picks fights with those who are younger."

The speaker said this calmly, with no anger in his voice as he approached them, no fire in his eyes. He was a brownish-red gargoyle with dark blue eyes and black hair. His build was nothing impressive, but he looked quite agile and capable. Christine decided immediately that he liked him.

The one called Gerom bristled under this new rebuke. "A fool am I? You certainly have a lot to say for one who hasn't seen the outside of this forest -- who doesn't know what it's really like out there! Humans enjoy boasting of brutally murdering their brothers and sisters -- enjoy cruelty like some kind of game! Humans have no honor whatsoever! They hold their brother's lives completely without value. They are the monsters, not us!" Gerom's eyes smoldered menacingly, "I would be careful, Steve, I am a dangerous person to be trifling with." His statement was well justified in the fact that he was almost half again the height of Steve and twice his size.

Steve was singularly unimpressed. Phantom had the impression that this type of exchange between the two was not uncommon.

"SILENCE!" Cassandra roared, glaring at Gerom, who took an unconscious step backward. She then completely ignored him again, turning her attention to Sharm.

"Delightful, isn't he?" Sharm's voice came drifting back to Phantom.

Steve, meanwhile, had moved beside Tigris, holding the young one's spiked shoulders. He looked at the human boy. "Excellent choice," he mimicked, for Tigris's benefit.

"Steve Martin, right?" Christine guessed timidly. Steve nodded so, smiling.

"Steve can do all sorts of voices," Tigris announced proudly, gazing up at Steve with just a touch of idolism. Gerom glowered at Tigris's approval of the member of the other clan.

Steve blushed and looked bashfully up at Christine and Phantom. "Where are you from?" he asked curiously.

"Ummm... Salt Lake." Christine answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Really? Are there many more gargoyles in Salt Lake?"

Christine blinked. "Not to my knowledge."

She appeared as if she were about to ask more, but when the sounds of stirring from the fallen human boy arose, all attention turned to him. Tigris lifted the boy's head up. Christine and Phantom leaned over him, and the other members of the two clans fetched the attention of the forest clan's prominent fay woman.

Matthew stirred into consciousness with a groan. Christine touched the side of the small boy's face. "Matthew?" she asked tenderly.

"I'm... I'm alive..." he breathed with wonder and amazement.

"Are you alright, Matthew?" Christine asked softly. Cassandra appeared at Christine's side. Matthew seemed to know Christine's voice, though he had not yet opened his eyes. Cassandra nodded to Christine to continue to talk to Matthew. Christine nodded. Tigris pursed her lips and cradled Matthew's head.

"Ch... Christine? Is that really you?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, Matt. Some things have happened to me, but I'm alright. I'm not dead." Christine answered, with love. "How do you feel?"

"Kinda relieved. Like coming out of a lot of pain -- or an anesthetic." he breathed. Christine smiled. "What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me? We barely brought you back as it is. Why are you out here? Did you guys change plans after I... left, and decide to go camping?"

"Yeah, we were trying to... forget you."

"F... forget me?" Christine's voice wavered. Phantom touched her shoulder, steadying her.

"Your funeral made us all so sad -- we really miss you." Matt's voice became excited, just to tell her the story.

"F... funeral? My funeral?"

"Uh huh... we had your... body... buried next to mom's. Dad said we should go camping, and I was out hiking, and found this weird statue of a little kid with a tail, and then there was this rockslide, and the statue almost got smashed, and so I had to move it, but I think my foot slipped..."

Matt's long narration trailed off. He twisted his body, and opened his eyes. He was met by near total darkness, until Cassandra clapped her hands and a small orb of light appeared above Matthew's head, illuminating the room.

Matthew gasped and jerked away.

"CH... CHRISTINE?!!!" he gasped, staring up at her pink horned face flanked by two pairs of pink wings. Anxiously, Christine caped her wings, and knelt beside Tigris.

"Yes, Matthew. Listen to my voice -- it's me. This is the little girl whose life you saved... who has played a great role in saving yours in return." Christine nodded to Tigris. Tigris meekly extended a paw to meet Matthew's hand when he recognized Tigris as the little stone statue, and extended his hand to her. There was a light handshake for a minute, both feeling each other's hands more than shaking.

"Hi." Tigris said, quiet and shy.

"Th... thank you." Matthew replied. "Christine?"

"What is it?"

"What... are you? What are they?"

"We are gargoyles -- except for some which are really fairies." This last was nodded toward Cassandra. "We won't harm you. We're going to help you get better. If you don't believe we're real, just shake our hands, like you did Tigris's paw."

Cassandra whispered something into Christine's ear. Matthew needed some sleep now.

"Why did you leave?" Matthew asked.

"I didn't want to, Matt, but I'm with you -- at least for now. I'll tell you the whole story after you get some more sleep."

Matthew smiled, and immediately nodded off -- possibly thanks to Cassandra's magic nudging him to.

Christine sighed and picked up the boy, carrying him deeper into the "glade" (as she later learned this building was called by the native gargoyles), following Cassandra's lead. The clan of Christine's friends followed.

Christine turned to Sharm. "How long until we have to leave here?"

They entered a large room with a few rows of cots, blankets and quilts. Sharm flopped down on one, and waved Christine off. Sharm had large rings of weariness under her eyes.

"Oh... I don't know... go ask those three blasted fates."

Fates? The Weird Sisters? Christine shrugged it off, laid Matthew down in one of the cots, and turned to the fay triumvirate.

Without Christine mentioning the question to them, Phoebe replied. "This is our business -- for now."

"Good. Who makes our schedule, anyway?"

"Oberon."

Christine settled herself to wait on a small stack of quilts.

After about fifteen minutes had passed, and the others of Christine's clan were working to fit in among the other clans here for a while, one of the members of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir came up to Christine. "Malcora? Is that you?" he asked.

Christine looked up at him. He was a very elderly gargoyle, looking right at Christine. Christine approached him. "Do I know you?"

"Are you the one called Malcora, who served the immortal one?"

Christine scowled, wishing she remembered everything Malcora did. "I was... once. Who are you?"

"Ah, child. Then I am your nephew Talavon." he said.

"N... nephew? How?" Christine stuttered with lack of comprehension. The old, light-blue gargoyle with thinned out hair and small, shrunken bones that marked extreme old age, looked at Christine very sharply.

"Do you not remember me? Your brother's son! We thought you had died when I was but a bare hatchling..."

"WHAT?!!!"

---

May 1648

Drake Castle, the Isle of Man

With the final setting of the sun, the gargoyles burst from their stone forms. Watching, Terra Christine Shelton thought to herself of how she would never bore of this moment. The large blue male gargoyle next to her took a step down from the parapet, and gently took Terra's hand.

"Good evening, my love." the gargoyle said.

"Good morning to you, Padrecor." she replied, resisting the temptation to call him "bright eyes". "Sleep well?"

The large young male took the human woman's arms. "I always do, my angel."

Terra produced a small box from the hem of her high-cut leather tunic and breeches, and held it before him.

"What's this?" Padrecor asked.

"A seal."

"A seal?"

"Yes. You wear it to prove that you wish to be my mate." Terra said, brightly, with a few hints the line had been rehearsed a few thousand times in the last few hours.

The gargoyle, wide eyed, stuttered. "But... my love? Do you not still mourn for your children? Am I not younger than thee, though in years I have five years on you?"

Terra looked down at the stones of the castle beneath her feet, as though her leather boots had suddenly become very interesting. "Yes... I will always miss Mike, Christine, Matthew, and Keturah. However, if I do not learn to go on with my life, I shall never live it and die inside! I simply cannot deny my love for you in the place of my mourning!"

The gargoyle took her chin in one talon, lifted her gaze back to his face. "Very well then, my love." Padrecor placed the ring on his finger.

Terra, smiling now, drew her arms around the gargoyle's neck, and they shared a kiss.

Then, after a long moment of this, Terra burst down the stairs in jubilation, to the dark interior of Drake Castle. There, Sharm caught hold of her robe, hanging in the air, waiting for her.

"Well, did it work?"

"Oh, I've always wanted to be the one posing the question!" she replied. It will be sooooooo wonderful!" Terra replied with excitement.

Sharm smiled. "I've already got your wedding dress and present picked out. How do you think you would look in red, my dear?"

"Red? For a wedding?" Terra asked in confusion. "The dress or the gift?"

* * *

All the gargoyles were lined up like living sentinels on each side of the room, standing at respectful attention. The Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir's immortal female leader stood at the head of the room, scowling at Terra as she entered the room. "Humans and gargoyles do NOT intermarry!" her expression seemed to say. However, Sharm stood next to the Demon woman, crying tears of happiness. Between them, Sharm's exuberant happiness canceled out the evil glare of the gargoyle queen.

Her gargoyle love stood at the pulpit, uncomfortable in his green tunic and leggings cut for a gargoyle -- he thought he looked silly in them (Terra found him strangely cute). Sharm swept down from the dais to take Terra's arm and escort her down the aisle.

Terra tapped the fay woman's shoulder. "I thought Prince Stephen was going to give me away?"

"Don't be silly, midear." Sharm scoffed. "You're my pet!"

During the ceremony, Terra's excitement tingled in her, setting her blood on fire, until she forced herself to stop trembling.

"I do," said one.

"I do," said the other.

When her love, Padrecor, lifted her veil, his face became so awed Terra did not know what to think. What was going on?

"My love... you are so beautiful..." he breathed in wonder.

Terra blinked, and felt a tingling sensation as he gently caressed her horns.

Horns?

Terra gasped in surprise at the feeling, and touched her hands to her hair, and found her two, long slender horns. Only her hands weren't hands, but four taloned paws! She felt her enormous double spread red wings, long, lithe, supple tail, barbed elbows and knees, and taloned feet, taking in for the first time, her cherry red flesh, and her strong, toned muscles.

She gasped in astonishment... her voice was younger and more vibrant. Padrecor was now barely taller than she! She was young!...

She was a gargoyle.

Sharm was positively beaming.

Terra was so elated she jumped up to kiss and embrace her new mate.

* * *

She felt the edge of her little world with a new intent. She thrust her talons up through the moist edge of her little world. As she struggled, she felt her feet become freed, and her tail was tingling with a blast of cold air.

Her tail?

Now, since when did she have a tail? Somehow this seemed incorrect. Why had she only four talons? Why did it seem she should have five?

The magic swept the memory from her mind.

She continued to knock away the barrier, until suddenly there was a new sensation, one of being lifted up by large paws. These paws wiped away the slick cool juices which clung to her body. These hands held her fresh leathery skin soothingly.

Somewhere beyond, if only she could hear, she would have heard the small voice speaking her name. "Christine... oh my precious baby. You are such a beautiful little gargoyle..."

The young Malcora wailed.

* * *

Hand in hand, the couple watched over the eggs. The tall blue father waited, not minding the passage of time, with his wings wrapped around his red-skinned, double winged mate, Tutela.

Tutela shifted, and sighed contentedly in her mate's wing's embrace. His wings felt so warm, and his touch was so tender.

When Sharm had told her she would see Christine soon, Tutela, as she was now called by the Spanish ambassador, had not believed her. Now that she knew, she looked on the egg with tremendous stress. Sharm was so careless with time! With her family's lives! For in that egg, she had learned, grew Christine's spirit within a gargoyle body!

Sharm, however, would not say why she had be forced to do it, only reassure her that history was immutable and therefore this would change nothing. She was unwilling to tell Tutela that the child that had occupied the space before had lost it's inherent magic, and was about to die, causing Tutela to miscarry. Sharm could never have let her pet suffer that pain again, and brought Tutela her most beloved daughter from the moment after she was conceived -- far in the future, brought her back, and placed her within the empty shell that occupied Tutela's womb, rejuvenating the small form to life. It seemed the best way to obey her orders and help Tutela at the same time.

So, with much more than just motherly concern, Tutela watched over her egg for ten years. Sharm had better know what she was doing, she thought!

"Relax," Sharm had told her. "Since we have both seen her in the future, we know this story will play itself out properly. I will return Christine at the moment I took her, and she will live as she always did, human, just as you remember her. Certain things must come to pass in the future. Then, once she is old enough, we will allow her to remember this gargoyle life, and to return to her gargoyle form. For now, enjoy it. I shall watch over her, fear not."

Tutela could hardly just relax. All it took was a poorly placed foot...

Tutela shifted her stance in Padrecor's arms for a moment, running her talons through her mate's long white hair. This form had been Sharm's wedding present to her -- the powerful, fearsome, and mysterious body of a young gargoyle woman. Sharm certainly had an interesting sense of humor. Those minutes at her wedding had taken away half her age, because gargoyles age at half the speed she had as a human. Her new mate had looked at her with utter fascination, and discovered that his once older mate was now years younger than he -- and loved her even more for it. Even the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir's immortal leader grudgingly accepted the beautiful young gargoyle that had taken the place of the human woman, a truly incredible day.

Whenever Tutela looked into the mirror, she loved the gargoyle she saw, twenty-three years old to a human. Gargoyles lived as stone for half of the time humans are awake and do not age as such, and even the years that had gone by carrying her gargoyle daughter, and waiting for her to hatch, had added but a few years to her age. Her true age was probably forty-something.

She had been given everything she had lost back, with more in plenty, but at such a hard price to pay. She had beauty, a figure, enough strength to tear the side off an ocean liner, a "husband" of sorts, and her first hatchling -- Christine herself given new life. It all made her head ache...

Tutela's mate had reminded her of the human, Job, a man who had lost as much, if not more than Tutela, and remained faithful, and received his life back ten-fold.

The past still hurt for her, but she was content again.

Or was it the future?

A cracking sound prevented her thoughts from following that course. The enormous green and purple egg that had come from Tutela's body and lain in wait for a decade, now rocked quickly back and forth, with small light colored talons protruding from it's edge.

Tutela cooed excitedly as her mate joined her at the side of the egg. She suddenly felt a burst of joy and love for her mate and the little hatchling.

There was another crack when a pair of clawed feet burst from another part of the shell, stopping it's rocking motion. A delicate little tail fell from the hole the feet had made, unwinding. More cracks appeared, and the talons tore through the shell.

The adults allowed the squabbling infant to fulfill it's destiny, and break free of the shell, before Tutela reached down and gently took the infant in her arms. It was such a tiny body for the eleven-year-old girl Terra had left behind, yet this was Christine. Tutela cleaned away the materials that had supported the life of her child, and held the infant close to her heart.

* * *

"You filthy creatures," the human woman scorned, "Get out of my way!"

Malcora motioned back her brothers and sisters, to allow the human to pass. Malcora bowed mockingly to the irate woman after she had passed, growling with glowing eyes.

Her child had earned her name, Tutela reasoned.

Malcora, the evil heart, always welcomed the immortal blue Queen of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir, who humans hated and feared. Malcora kept company most often with her, and the terse gargoyle from another clan who wore the shame collar, Cearda, the sunset colored one. The immortal Queen seemed to always have Cearda and Malcora by her side now - she was the eternal sorceress, light blue in color, dressed in loincloths, gold jewelry, and a crown, with a mane of blazing red hair. She always wore her demeanor of glaring hatred for the humans.

Despite her youth, Tutela all but joined her daughter. The gargoyle's humiliation at the human's hands had gone on for far too long. The gargoyles were little better than slaves now, lives without worth to be bought and sold during the day. Macaren and Lisonja had taken up human form to spy out the humans. Lisonja even courted the human noble, Sir Joseph, until Lisonja had left to scout out the humans elsewhere, and Sir Joseph's attention fell upon her gargoyle daughter.

Tutela had many more eggs now, scattered among Malcora's rookery brothers and sisters. For now, there was peace and prosperity, if only to a point. Tutela hoped that it should not get worse.

But why else had Sharm placed her at this Castle, so many years ago now? This castle was doomed to be destroyed either by it's gargoyles, or because of them. Tutela's name would be erased from history and die when this castle and it's humans burned -- but hatred was not in Tutela's nature.

* * *

Malcora stood in chains.

Normally she would have pulled and pulled against the chains until they gave, but now she followed her human captors like a lamb to the slaughter.

The first hatchling of Malcora's blood brother stepped near to her, young Talavon. "What are they going to do to you, sister?" the child inquired innocently.

"I've done a horrible thing." she answered in a small voice. "I believed a human was capable of love."

The child was escorted out of the way, as the humans knocked her forward into the dirt again, chained her to the pole, and made the other gargoyles pile wood around her.

Only one gargoyle did not resent it. Resplendent in his cloud- white skin, Sir Joseph the Gargoyle found himself in the embrace of the weeping red skinned gargoyle mother.

"You always were a monster, then!" she accused, crying fitfully. "How can you say that you loved her? How will all gargoyles think of humans now? Loveless, angry demons?"

Sir Joseph could not answer. He hadn't lied -- he still loved Malcora.

"She is going to die because she loved you! Is your anger towards the girl who loved you, that deep? Look at me! Can you truly tell me I could never have been human? Are we truly so terrible that we warrant only your enmity? Malcora and I were both human once, also! Now you are going to have my only link to my human past tortured to death! I beg of you, Joseph, Love my daughter again! She has no one left who can save her! Look at me!"

The sharp glower of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir's eternal red-haired leader viewed the proceeding execution with intense hatred of the humans, as plans were being made to exact revenge upon the humans about to torture to death one of her most loyal subjects. Sir Joseph had only to impress them... he had nothing to loose! He had only to show that he did love her...

The humans set the wood pile ablaze, and Malcora became suddenly finalistic, her expression straight, peaceful, as her flesh began to sweat profusely. She looked once at her tearful mother, to the red maned queen and her sun-bright second. Cearda, the one with the gargoyle collar of shame about her neck. Their eyes met, filled with a strange peace.

When her first cries of pain were heard, as the flames licked off her flesh, Tutela's talons dug into Sir Joseph's thick gargoyle hide as Tutela writhed in agony at the sound of her daughter's cries. Tutela also began to scream - she could not bear the sound, crying out with a mother's agony. When Malcora began to scream, Sir Joseph could stand it no longer.

The other gargoyle mothers who had helped Tutela mother Malcora quickly circled around her, and held onto her as she wailed. Sir Joseph leapt from Tutela, spreading his wings, crashed through the fiery inferno, and took Malcora in his arms. Malcora yelped in surprise as she found herself freed, and in his arms.

"Can you forgive me, love?" he shouted, just as they embraced, the flames began to eat away at them both, and their bodies turned to stone by the hidden fay's power.

---

1996

Christine lay on the floor of the glade, paws over her face, weeping intensely. Phantom touched her delicately to wipe away her torrent of tears, making her jump. "Are you hale, Christine?"

She wept on. "I remember, Phantom. I remember Talavon... I remember Malcora... it's so terrible... what she went through... but you were so young then, Talavon!"

"It has been three hundred years, Lady Malcora." the old one said, and was silent. He had not intended to evoke such emotion from her.

"I was such a fool... a naive... stupid fool. I was Malcora before I was ever human... I never was a human... I always was a gargoyle, a true gargoyle... WHO AM I PHANTOM?!!!" Christine suddenly screamed, wrenching hold of his belt for his loin cloth. "AM I CHRISTINE OR MALCORA?!!!"

Phantom bit his lip. Rats! Not now! He wasn't ready for this yet!

A low moan from Matthew's cot awakened Christine's senses from her outburst of confused emotion, as he began to thrash about violently under the blanket that had been laid upon him. The muscles in his neck and back were beginning to tighten and release at odd intervals, and Matthew unconsciously tried to rub at them by moving his shoulders across the cot. Christine began to massage his shoulders, where the small buds were forming.

Matthew began to softly mewl, like a newborn chick.

* * *

Tigris swooped in with her catch of fresh meat clutched in her talons. She was an excellent hunter already, being taught by the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir to be a great warrior. Tonight, she dived in between the trees, descending to their secret camp.

Christine was waiting for her, standing in a tree branch, and took the bloody wad from the small huntress. "Very well and good, Tigris. However this night was supposed to be my turn!"

Tigris shrugged.

Together, they glided down to the special camp that served as a cross between an asylum and a maternity ward. There, Matthew lay in a state of half recovery and half coma. Christine felt very sorry for him -- she had never had to go through this. He wasn't holding down normal food, but when Christine caught him halfway through an uncooked steak, that ended that.

He was not in bed when they returned, but waiting in camp. He was very shy about his appearance now -- you really couldn't blame him. His skin tone had deepened to a strange color that can only be described as an ugly blue, darkening by the day. He bore half formed and half grown wings of a strange shape. His ankles were pointed, his fingers growing sharp talons, and his fifth fingers and toes had been reabsorbed. Lastly, his tail was only a few feet long.

Christine sincerely hoped that a gargoyle/human hybrid would not look like this. Matthew's upper jaw had grown down over his lower lip, the start of a hooked beak. His eyes were unpronounced cat's eyes with blue irises. All his hair had long since fallen out, and small seeds of downy feathers were growing in their places, all over the boy's head and face.

It had been nearly ten weeks since Cassandra's spell had been cast on him, saving his life. Now he was being grotesquely twisted and deformed by the slow change. Thankfully, Tigris was utterly devoted to remaining at her savior's side. At the same time, Matthew seemed to never want to do anything unless it was with her at his side.

"Kinda like growing up." Christine thought. "We always need someone to lean on when the going gets rough."

Christine missed Phantom, actually. His cool, calm, steady confidence was exactly what she needed at the times when Matthew fell into a another fit of internal spasms. Tigris acted as an envoy back and forth between their makeshift hospital, and Cassandra and the Weird Sisters. Sharm had, apparently, gone elsewhere, and Tigris delivered Mandy's message saying she was returning to college at the start of the new school year. It was a very quiet time for Christine, as she slowly adjusted to her double life.

The ravens and crows seemed to flock around the camp, not for the food, but just to squawk at Matthew. At first he tolerated them, then yelled at them, but they would not leave him alone until one day he began to scream like an angry falcon at them (an ability Christine never expected to see in her younger brother).

Then there was the dawn. Christine was now certain why humans did not turn to stone -- they weren't strong enough to break free of it. Every day, Matthew had seen his sister and friend freeze as stone statues when the sun rose. He was no stranger to fantastic worlds of books and movies, but living in them...?

The first day Matthew turned to stone he hadn't been expecting it. Apparently, after a long, disappointing day, filled with boredom, misery, and failure, he had found himself laying by the lady gargoyle's feet, going into another spasm, this time a pain in his head. When it ended, he cried. He was so sick of hurting and going through it all. It was then that he suddenly found himself turning to stone -- reawakening in the evening with the females. He had been unable to move or break free of the stone shell. When Christine and Tigris saw him first, they saw the small, horrified stone-boy, and heard a muffled sound inside. Tigris bunched her fists, and smashed the stone, and Matthew broke free.

Matthew was apparently cheerful tonight, and nodded his greeting to them this night. He noticed Christine's eyes betraying sadness. All of her time was being spent on Matthew, and she would not return to the others even for a moment. Christine and Tigris were growing bigger to him by the day -- obviously because he was getting smaller. Although he couldn't see it. Tigris and Christine could see he was getting slowly younger, the years slowly rolling away.

Then it happened. Matthew clutched his stomach, and collapsed into Christine's arms. Young Tigris was instantly at his side. The changes were hardly ever noticeable -- like tonight. Tonight it was internal. For tonight, Christine asked Tigris to stay away until the fit of pain ended.

Christine clutched her brother in her arms. Wriggle as he might, he could not escape the full-gargoyle's grip. Tonight, he shivered and writhed in agony as the changes in his anatomy went forward.

After about an hour and a half of his wailing, the fit ended. Christine handed him the meat they had caught, and he accepted it weakly as he recovered. Shyly, he hid in his own secluded spot in the camp.

He did not need to look into the pond's moonlight reflection to know what had happened to him. He was now built for an egg- laying species. Sickened and exhausted, he began to bite at the meat. He turned his back on the camp, and spread his yet meager wings behind him. He didn't want Christine to see his meals. He sank his talons into the raw flesh, bit all his razor-pointed teeth into it, and tore a hunk off viciously with his teeth, and began to eat hungrily.

"What are you Christine?" the voice in her head taunted. "Human or gargoyle? Christine or Malcora? Who are you?"

"Christine?"

Startled, Christine jumped around to face the person that had just spoken, momentarily forgetting about her tail and slapping Tigris in the shins. Christine smiled apologetically at Tigris and waited for her to speak.

"Umm... Matthew is asking for you."

"Matt?!" In a flurry of wing and tail Christine was rushing towards the area set aside for Matt. When she are arrived she could see that he was crying softly to himself, clutching his face in fingers, that were becoming hard and pointed, puncturing holes in his face. Christine ran to him and pulled his hands away from his face and Matthew plummeted his head into her shoulder.

"Christine, I'm so scared. I don't even know if I'm human anymore. I eat meat raw. My fingers... my teeth... my face." He pulled back and looked at her and she was able to more easily see the changes this metamorphosis had caused of late. His nose and mouth had been scrunched close together and his eyes were round, gold and pushed apart. It tore at Christine's very heart. Couldn't she at least spare him this pain? And what would she tell him about their mother?

"Christine, I'm still human, right?" Matt's voiced was pleading and plaintive.

"Well... I..."

How can I answer that when I don't even know myself?!!

"You are a gargoyle, Christine, but they are both part of you and each personality plays a part. Soon you will be your own person, someone who is neither Christine or Malcora yet is also Christine and Malcora. It will come. Have patience." Cassandra's voice floated down.

Somehow, Cassandra managed to have all the semblance and air of a mother, yet still radiate her ethereal fay glow. Whatever she was doing here, now, while the clans were miles behind in the woods, Christine hoped that she was there to help them out with this problem... to help Christine out of her growing feeling of helplessness.

Cassandra then turned to Matthew and was silent for a moment in her appraisal. "Yet I am afraid, young one, that you would not accept any answer that I could give. So I shall attempt to help you receive your own answer."

Cassandra motioned dubiously in the direction of the wood. Matthew and Christine glanced at each other like past days of brother and sister, and turned to follow.

The fay woman, alighting upon the forest floor like a graceful dance, approached a pool of water not more than a hundred yards down a particular trail.

This pool was only a few yards around, and not very deep. It was a pool formed by fallen rain, and was very clear.

Cassandra passed an arm over it, and Christine could almost feel the magic enchanting the water.

"Come, look." Cassandra said. "In these waters, look upon yourself, and see who you truly are."

Matthew, curious but dubious, looked into the water. He'd seen magic before, he'd been saved by it and it worked on him constantly in his process of changing. The pool reflected a dim crescent of a moon this night beyond the tops of the trees. However, as he was about to look in, he hesitated.

He was afraid of looking at himself. His half formed mix between humanity and monsterhood was something he was not anxious to see again. However, he'd learned to trust Cassandra's eyes, and right now they spoke of reassurance beneath all that mystery that surrounded the leader of that Californian clan.

Matthew looked.

The image rippled slightly, and became that of a young gargoyle, a young gargoyle with no apparent gender. Matthew was entranced. The image shifted and wavered, until another gargoyle appeared. This one Christine did not recognize, a young female in her twenties perhaps as a human reckons a person's growth. His future mate, perhaps? His daughter? Christine found the foreseeing very confusing. A tear fell from Matthew's cheek - he probably knew what it meant.

Curious, she leaned closer. She saw her own image. She was her present gargoyle self dressed in erotic, sensual clothing. Phantom stood there at her side. However, she could almost have sworn that there was a second image atop Phantom, almost human, yet with long pointed ears like Sharm or Cassandra.

* * *

October 31, 1996

Cassandra called a meeting, late after the sun fell, so that Halloween dinner was interrupted, and there were a few short tempers. The Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir sat on one side of the great hall (including Malcora's family), the clan Cassandra protected sat on another. Decidedly smaller than the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir, and smaller yet was Christine's clan, which just sat in one corner, Cassandra's gargoyles seemed to have a kindness about them tonight that Christine would always remember. All three clans together hunted for food, scouted out their opposition, and protected their young. It had been a very educational experience for all present.

Phantom still wondered how Christine was doing. Tigris had not come with news in over a week, and Phantom found himself, not only worried, but in fact deeply concerned if Christine, let alone her brother, were all right. Christine, Christine's brother, and Tigris were the only ones not present.

Cassandra, flanked by three gargoyle-shaped Weird Sisters, stood before the assemblage. "Friends," Cassandra announced, "The California State Legislature has designated this land as no longer National Forest Land, but land for building on. In my far-seeing, I have seen two possible futures for us. Either we slay one of our own and leave him or her here for the humans to find, or we all leave here immediately."

The gargoyles erupted with angry talk. Most wanted to know where they would go, as none of the clan would consider the first plan -- no matter how much fighting or enmity was between them.

"Then there is no other choice, but to go." came a new voice, not a loud voice, but shaking enough to silence the tree-chamber. "I propose one clan stay here to defend this home, while the other move on to make a new one."

All eyes turned to three cloaked figures at the base of the hall, each with three-toed feet emerging from beneath the cloaks.

All gargoyles.

As they removed their cloaks, Phantom recognized Christine and Tigris... and another teal colored gargoyle. Phantom blinked. The gargoyle had midnight blue to his skin also, shaded, and an eagle's head and wings.

Matthew.

There was a little noise of astonishment from the new gargoyle's appearing. He wore an animal's skin around his loins, stitched with leather strips into a gargoyle version of tight-fit pants. He also wore a robe with holes for his massive eagle-wings which were as big as he was. The robe was black, with what Phantom had learned were Japanese characters on it.

Matthew's Karate Gi, as it turned out. Something he had scrounged from his bags before the Shelton family had left the forest, hunting for gargoyles as they came.

"The best direction is to the north, where the sea and mountains will provide the best landscape for protection. Perhaps even Washington or Canada." Christine announced.

Cassandra nodded. "Then it shall be so. Is all well, Christine? Are you hale, Matthew?"

"Aye." Matthew replied in a small voice, looking down at his taloned-toes. "I am hale, milady."

Phantom wondered how Matthew had picked up that mode of speech, but given his elder sister...

"The transformation is complete, Cassandra." Christine replied for him. "I have been teaching him everything Malcora knew, and my brother has proven himself worthy, as I did three hundred years ago in test of courage and battle skill, to become one of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir. He and Tigris have chosen each other as wing-companions. Me and my companions must soon leave, to continue our quest. I would ask that the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir, my clan of long ago, would still be loyal to me, and protect and guide my brother as long as I cannot be here with you." Christine's tone was natural, as Malcora spoke with Christine's voice.

The Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir leader smiled, and nodded in agreement. "It is the least we can do for you, Malcora."

Christine shook his hand. "Would this not put a strain on your lives? You are already hunted."

"My father's birth-sister, we are clan, and we serve one another. That is the way of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir." Talavon added. "Even among gargoyles we are hunted, for every gargoyle who was a descendent of Tutela has been murdered by other gargoyles."

Christine nodded. "I will continue with thee as long as I may. It is the least I can do."

Phantom took her shoulders, gently. His expression was amazed, as he looked at her. "I'm okay, Phantom." she told him, weakly. "I'm both Malcora and Christine now. We... are the same - we are one."

"Then what do I call you? Christine or Malcora?"

Christine considered that, remembering the ghostly words her mother's sprite had wailed to her. "Though I am truly a gargoyle, and I was from the first, and my human life was only a miscreation of my gargoyle self, it is still freshest in my mind. Please call me Christine, as before. Christine Patya Shelton. If the very marrow of my bone could speak, it would say that no matter where my mind was first brought to life, these atoms - this body was born human first, and this gargoyle form is recent."

Phantom smiled. "Yes, sister Christine."

"You're a fool, you know that?" she told him, a twinge of Malcora in her voice.

"I hoped so."

Christine shook her head, chuckling.

The Weird Sisters' combined response to all this news was a nod and a smile -- more than Christine really expected from the triumvirate.

"These things you remember are good..." Selene said.

"...but you still have much yet to know." Phoebe added dynamically.

Christine was glad Sharm was not there, as she would most likely have bounced around in a circle like one of the Animaniacs for a few moments, at which point Christine would growl at her to go back to sleep, and Sharm would become indignant and go to sleep anyway.

Macaren tried to sidle up to Christine. He placed a paw on her side under her arm and wings, and the other on her opposite hip. For several long moments his touch sent sensuous chills of excitement through her.

Christine thought. Did she really love him? She thought she did, but for some reason it felt wrong... like it was not love, but only a lust. Christine turned, and touched the dark gargoyle's chest with her paw. She felt a swelling rise inside her, and she embraced him. "Oh, Macaren..."

Macaren held her around her middle, touching her where she did not want to be touched. For a moment she just shrugged it off as something that the males did, but stopped herself. It just didn't feel right.

Christine broke from his embrace. "I can't, my love... this just... isn't right..." Christine nearly sobbed, running out of the room, with one paw over her cheek, caping her wings sharply with an angry snap.

Macaren watched her go -- not with a face of remorse, but of anger.

Phantom found Christine at a Subway Restaurant just outside of a small farm town just outside the wood. She was savoring the taste of a turkey combo -- probably for the last time (at least until next Halloween).

It was All Hallows Eve, and everyone in the store was dressed up. Although a few people looked at Christine with odd expressions, they didn't say anything. It was, after all, Halloween.

When Phantom looked through the window to where she sat, he observed that she was crying, and there were still some tears on her cheeks as she made her way through dinner/breakfast.

Phantom came in. A few eyes turned to him, but after recalling the other one at the booth, forgot about both of them.

Christine didn't notice Phantom until he sat down across from her.

"Oh... hi Phantom. Happy Halloween."

"The same to you, Christine. Whatever is the matter?"

"Macaren... he... I didn't... oh, it was terrible." Christine stuttered.

"Tell me about it." he replied softly.

Christine sniffed, wiping one cheek with a napkin. "Macaren... he... I remembered how much he meant to me... I thought he was everything... I realized he was just a... delusion Malcora had, trying to make herself feel better. He treated me like... like... like I was some sort of plaything... a fantasy... he didn't seem to care about who I was... all he wanted from me was... my beauty, my looks... my body... such as it is..." This last part was said bitterly.

Phantom took one of Christine's paws, and held it. "How did you feel, overall, about your relationship?"

"I... I felt really uncomfortable whenever he touched me here, or here... fingering my clothes and my skin..." Christine said, gently pointing out the places on her breasts and the insides of her thighs. "I don't know what made me like him..."

"How do you feel about the rest of us?"

"You and the others? Well, Mandy was great, though Malcora was really rude to her. The Weird Sisters, well they're always a necessary pain. Sharm's, well, Sharm, and I like having her around."

"And I?"

"You're... I dunno. I look up to you... a lot. From a distance, I'll watch you, and wish I could be like you. You always seem to know how to handle everything, always nice to me. You always treated me like a person, someone important, someone who cared. You were there when I needed you the most. I... I can't really say we share many of the same interests, but I love to be with you, to travel with you, and to hunt together. I'm... pretty comfortable being around you and the others... except Macaren."

"Macaren's own will come. Don't worry." Phantom said, holding her hand tightly.

Christine finished the last of the sandwich, and looked at Phantom. "Oh, I'm sorry... eating in front of you... Hey! How about we go to that late-night Ice Cream parlor I passed on the way down here?"

"Ice... what?"

"You'll see."

"I gotta admit Mint Chocolate Chip is really good, but I prefer the Cookies and Cream, for some reason. I hate Oreos, so go figure right?" Christine chatted lightly, recovering from her moody bout.

"O... what?" Phantom asked.

"Nevermind. You like it?"

"Mmmm... yes, I do. Thank you, Christine." Phantom said, tasting the spoonful with delight.

"Where did you learn to use a spoon?"

He paused for a second, as though he was searching for an answer. "Oh, I had a teacher a while back who used them."

"I may be going out on a limb here, but could it possibly have been Sharm?" Christine giggled.

"Among others."

Christine raised an eyebrow, and stuck her spoon back into the single dish with two large mounds of ice cream on it that they were both eating from. Occasionally, they took stabs from the other's Ice Cream, and any humans who noticed the gargoyles would have been astonished at the high rate at which they ATE the stuff.

"Well, that does it for the money I brought with me." Christine sighed.

"We won't be much longer." Phantom assured her.

"What does that mean? That we'll finish fighting evil fairies and I'll suddenly get to be human again?"

"No, but..."

"Good. My family thinks I'm dead, I pretty much lightly dumped my boyfriend by leaving, and the police could even link me with Matthew's disappearance. I'm not looking forward to rejoining the human race, Phantom. I was born a gargoyle first, and I intend to stay that way."

Phantom nodded, smiling. It was Malcora talking. "And so you will."

"Good."

They ate on in silence for a moment.

One of the other groups eating at another table had approached the counter for some reason or another. Phantom and Christine were utterly surprised when the group turned around and pointed guns at the two gargoyles. They were all dressed in white and black, what the gargoyles had shrugged off as costumes before, including black masks with red slashes across them.

Phantom nearly swallowed the spoon, and Christine shyly lifted her hands into the air, eyes wide.

"Hmmm... gargoyles out and about on Halloween? We have a city ordinance in this town that says you can't do that."

Christine almost laughed, her initial fear fading. "City ordinance? What's your city council? Fairies?"

They motioned with their guns. "Get up."

"You guys like ice cream?" Christine asked, and threw the half eaten dish into a few faces. With the moment of distraction, Phantom and Christine sprung for the door, and heard the glass Ice Cream bowl crash behind them. Ear splitting gunshots echoed from behind them, and Christine felt hot, searing sensations on the surface of her skin in many places. Phantom went out the gargoyle way -- through the front window. Christine, eyes aglow, smashed her way through a flimsy wall made of dry rotting board.

Christine suddenly screamed, as one shot pierced two of her wings simultaneously, and she collapsed onto the sidewalk in front of the store, in shock from the pain. Suddenly Phantom was there, picking her up in his arms, scaling the front of the store one handed, and taking off, into the night with her.

The leader of the masked hunters watched them go with satisfaction.

"Shouldn't we shoot them down, now?"

"No, follow them. I want to know where the rest of them are."

Matthew and Tigris were worried and concerned when they returned, and Phantom insisted that no one worry over Christine like mother hens. She would be perfectly normal after a day's stone sleep.

Matthew seemed particularly distressed, so Christine, now the patient on the bed, talked to him.

"Will you be alright without me for a while?" Christine inquired. "If I have to go?"

Matthew sighed, and thought of young Tigris. "Yes, I'll be fine."

Christine ran her talons through the little seven year old's newly grown downy feathers. "You're cute, you know that?"

Matthew sighed, leaning on one elbow, looking at Christine. "As a gargoyle, you're beautiful." Christine blushed -- a cherry color on her pink face.

"Well... uh... I guess that's in the eye of the beholder."

The little seven year old version of her brother stretched out his four-taloned paws and yawned, his hooked beak stretched wide. A slight chirp escaped his throat. He touched his beak, startled the sound had come from him, and giggled.

He even acted like a seven year old, Christine thought with jealousy. When did she get nine years taken off her age? Matthew was still talking to her.

"I love you, Christine... Don't ever leave us."

"I won't, munchkin. There's some... people like Cassandra looking out for me now. I love you too, squirt."

Brother and sister hugged.

---

August 16, 1998

Southern Washington state

When the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir reached the Columbia river, it was decided they should split up. Up until that point it had been agreed that avoiding all the humans had been top priority as they passed Salem and Portland. However, the cataclysm that had motivated this action was in the fact that the fay triumvirate had returned from their scouting mission with an urgent report -- something that was indeed unusual for the three fairy sorceresses. They returned bloodied and dirty, as though having seen battle. Christine suspected they were just showing off at first, until she heard the report.

"Those that hunt the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir have returned and have discovered means of following us as we continue our journey." Phoebe reported, producing the torn mask with the tell tale red slashes across it.

Phantom offered to try and use woodlore, or even sorcery and the magical scanner to try and cover their camps, but Talavon had a different plan.

"No," Talavon instructed, "That is precisely what they expect us to do -- to continue to hide. No, let us break into pairs and fan out. Keep these hunters searching over a wide area, and give them many campsites to find as we move on. Be careful not to get caught, and remember there is safety in numbers. We are clan. Where should we gather?"

"Mount Saint Helens." Christine put in. "A volcano with half it's top blown off? Only geologists are allowed within 5 miles of it. There are thick rain forests down below the mountain -- a perfect sanctuary for our clan. Almost straight north of here."

Talavon smiled. "Excellent."

Christine's eyes followed the shimmering Columbia river for a moment, lit by occasional red beacons used to navigate ships and barges up and down the mile-wide ribbon of reflected moonlight. Her eyes fell upon two silhouettes in the light from the river, two eight year olds who traveled together without fail.

Matthew was adjusting well to his gargoyle life, simply being called "little eagle-brother" by most. It was clear to most that Tigris and Matthew would not be separated.

He was young. He could still fit in. Christine sighed. She was still old enough to be his mother, and twice that had she actually lived to this age as a gargoyle lives. Christine would not have any such luck fitting in.

She felt terribly alone, all of the sudden.

* * *

By Phantom's reck, Christine had spent all of her time for that year or so with her ancestors and relations among the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir, and not her own small clan. She was almost like a godmother to them, and she was endlessly curious to hear anything at all about the world Malcora had left behind. They were in the greatest danger of hunters, but the other two clans vowed to protect them. Christine's clan was, after all, no larger than a small hunting party.

Tigris and Matthew had, of course, paired off together, and Christine had been left to choose between Macaren, Phantom, and one of the weird sisters. The Weird Sisters had chosen too, essentially, ignore Talavon, deciding they would not be subject to his rule, and traveled as their usual threesome. This left Macaren and Phantom. A hard choice.

(After all, it wasn't like you could actually separate the three sisters...)

Christine was spending a few more moments with Matthew before she left with Phantom. When Phantom nodded to her, the two groups broke apart, going slightly different directions.

However, Christine felt uncomfortable and her tail twitched unconsciously with her nervousness. "Something's wrong... we've got to go back..."

Phantom shook his head. Where on earth did she get these premonitions?

A gunshot rang out.

Then again, Phantom reasoned, her premonitions were seldom wrong.

Christine banked immediately back in Tigris and Matthew's direction -- from where the shot had come. Phantom trimmed his glide, and shot down with her in that direction.

The Hunters were a mob with torches and rifles in a disorganized array, speeding as fast as they could through dense forests on 4x4s, motorcycles, and other offroad equipment. Each donned a ski mask with the diagonal red slashes on it.

They were trying to shoot down two tree-tied young gargoyles: Matthew and Tigris.

Christine attacked with a terrible roar of fury from the rear, eyes aglow and fangs bared. Four men and a woman were tossed from their vehicles by the fury of her talons and tail. A twirling backsnap of a hind foot caught another man in his jaw.

Christine dropped down to all fours, roared again, and scurried about like an insane lizard, slashing tires and smashing headlights.

The hunters began milling about, shouting, shooting wildly, and sweating. Phantom entertained himself by smashing masks (and the heads inside them) together. These hunters were too used to hunting deer.

When the hunter leader came into his view, he was cocking a second bolt. He was confronted by the pink gargoyle's compound bow, drawn and pointed at his side.

The hunter turned.

"Ah hah! At last, the pink one that murdered my Christine." he announced in a familiar voice, turning his weapon to face her.

"What?" Christine asked aloud, loosening her stance slightly, the crimson anger from her eyes fading.

"I've been looking for you for two years, you hideous thing! You killed my oldest daughter, and my probably my wife and son as well."

"Daddy?" Christine asked, with a voice of fear and love.

The hunter leader stopped, and shifted at the voice and name he though he'd never hear again.

Christine loosened her bow, standing up. She was nearly a foot taller than him now. "Michael Shelton?" she asked, nodding.

She approached him.

Dazed with confusion, he did not react. Who was this beast? Why did she sound so much like...?

Christine removed the mask from his face. A man with sandy brown straight hair like Matthew's had been before his transformation, stood before her. Matthew gasped from the tree above.

"Daddy!" Matthew exclaimed, diving down to meet him.

Mike Shelton, alarmed at the creatures converging on him, swung his weapon about, aimed at the closing eagle-headed creature with an intent on a welcome hug.

"Cursed thing," he thought. Mike squeezed the trigger.

Tigris cried out in alarm. Matthew pulled his wings up short, astonished. Tigris leapt.

The bullet fired.

One of the children screamed as the bullet passed through their chest. Phantom plowed into the back of the gunman. The hunter was thrown to the ground. The other men and women of the mob scattered in fear of the ravaging beasts.

Matthew was crying.

Tigris lay, bleeding profusely, on his lap. The young blue gargoyle had valiantly sacrificed herself for young Matthew.

Christine held her own mouth, gasping in horror, as she scrambled to Tigris's side.

"My eagle friend... my love..." Tigris breathed, fading fast.

"Oh Tigris... I love you..." Matthew cried, softly, helplessly, and sweetly.

"I... will always... be yours... my eagle..." Her breath faded, and young Tigris was silent.

"Oh Tigris!" Matthew cried out, reaching over her, and wept over her body.

Christine threw her head back in mad frustration and pain, and roared a long and loud call of fury into the night.

Beware, all ye dead. A worthy warrior of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir now enters your presence.

---

The Dreamer's footsteps echoed loudly on nothing, the click of her talons as if on marble. However, another ghostly sound held her attention rapt.

Gentle strains of violin were carried on the wind; the sound was anxious, mysterious, and deep.

A light appeared before the Dreamer, from some place unknown. The Dreamer beheld the bow sliding rapidly across the violin, playing a special strain.

Hounded out by

everyone!

Met with hatred

everywhere!

No kind word from

anyone!

No compassion

anywhere!

But who's hand moved the bow? The hand had five fingers, with an ornate wedding ring with the initials TCS. The woman, clothed in white like an angel, shining in the darkness of the night, played the violin as the light fell away.

---

Phantom could only stare, stunned, as Christine then grabbed her father's coat, and held the full grown man over her head.

"I AM YOUR DAUGHTER, CHRISTINE PATYA SHELTON! YOU HAVE JUST SLAIN THE BEAUTIFUL, INNOCENT GIRL WHO LOVED YOUR ONLY SON MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF!" Christine snarled at him angrily, eyes ablaze, her viper's fangs dripping sweet poison.

She could not kill him, no matter what he had done. Malcora would have bitten him immediately, with those magical fangs that she had grown after her first battle. However, she was more than Malcora now.

Christine threw the dazed man against one of the Washington State's finest Box Elders, climbed another, and took to the wind with a mournful cry of despair.

"Christine!... your father..." Phantom stuttered, as he struggled to keep up with her.

"That man killed Tigris." Christine rebutted. "He is NOT my father any longer."

* * *

Matthew Shelton cried long into the night. Perhaps he had lived no more than a dozen or so years in the world, but he knew he had loved her, because now his heart ached more terribly than mere words could describe. She had been his mentor and student, mother and daughter, every type of love he was capable of was made manifest in her. Even, perhaps, as a mate or spouse.

If only mother were here, she would know what to do... how to make the ache in his heart go away.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" a soft, adult voice asked.

"It hurts so much..." Matthew said, crying, tears bathing the tunic of the small blue one.

The human woman with the long, straight, ebony hair in the green, brown, and white tunic, stooped down beside him. "But ask yourself! What can you do? Can you make the pain go away?"

"I can't do anything without her! The Clan... they'll kill me for this... and her father... oh no... it was my father that did this... they'll think I..."

The woman's heart went out to the child. She plucked the small boy from the body, normally no easy feat for a human, but she'd had practice at this. "You can come with me. We are going somewhere very special, where the ache will go away."

Matthew clung to the woman, crying over her shoulder. She shifted her quiver of arrows, familiar once again to the weight of a gargoyle child clinging to her. "Do you have a name?"

"I... uh... *sob*... she called me eagle-child."

"Very well, I too shall call you eagle-child. I am Lysander of the Kingdom of Lord Gorebash. You shall be welcome among us."

* * *

Mike Shelton, stunned by the words he had heard, held a longing hand after his daughter after she fled.

Before dawn came, a single figure, the shimmering form of Cassandra appeared in the empty glade, and found the body. She gasped in horror, calling the child by name. Urgently, she took the body, and vanished with her onto the incorporeal roads of the fairy.

The following night

"It was only the beginning of another story, child. You have little reason to weep for them." Luna assured Christine.

"Will you watch over him for me?"

"No, but others soon shall. Come, let us rejoin the others at the new camp around the mountain."

Christine sighed, and for a long moment as they glided. Suddenly she had a thought. "Hey... do I get those nine years off my age, too?"

Luna blinked in confusion. "Why fret about nine years, when you shall soon grasp eternity?"