Redemption
Part One
Written by Donald E. Fleming II
Story concept by Donald E. Fleming II
Disclaimer: All Gargoyles characters are the property of Disney and Buena Vista Studios and are being used without their consent or permission. Other original characters are the property of Donald E. Fleming II. I am receiving no reward for this story other than the satisfaction of being able to share it with others as it is intended solely for my own entertainment and the entertainment of Gargoyle fandom everywhere.
Note: This story takes place immediately following the season finale of 'Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles' (Angels In The Night).
ManhattanDemona sailed through the air, heading for the castle. I have to know if she's all right, she thought. When she'd heard what happened to the clan, she had to make sure Angela was all right. I don't care if Xanatos tries to shoot me out of the sky, she thought. I have to know...
When she arrived at Nightstone that morning, she was assailed by news that Goliath and the rest of the clan had been destroyed in an explosion that had leveled the Castaway Corporation building that was going up only a few blocks away. She'd gone numb at the news and her office staff had worried that something was wrong with her. No, nothing's wrong, she thought. My daughter may be dead is all.
She'd cancelled all her morning appointments and sequestered herself in her office, her eyes riveted to the television as WVRN reporter Travis Marshall covered the disaster. Only when she saw Angela and Bronx being loaded into the back of a police van did she relax a bit. Then she started making phone calls.
The police department was keeping a tight lid on Angela and Bronx's condition, she discovered. They weren't releasing any information to anyone, even her. She tried calling the D.A.'s office, but they refused to even put her through. And Xanatos…
Xanatos had flatly refused to even talk to her, even when she wished to offer her condolences. She could tell he was up to something, but what?
Then she did something she never would have thought she'd ever do, she called Elisa's apartment. She got her answering machine and left a brief message. She'll probably delete it when she finds out it's from me, she thought, but she needed to talk to someone. She had to find out about Angela.
After night fell over the city, she made the decision to head to the castle. Xanatos is going to talk to me about what he knows, she thought. Even if I have to remove his spleen to convince him.
She never made it to the castle. As she passed over the rubble that marked the spot where the clan had fallen, she was attacked by the Quarrymen. Three of them came tearing out of the sky, shooting at her.
"I thought we got rid of all of them," she heard one of them shout.
"Maybe the one they captured got away," another said.
"Nah, I recognize her," the third said. "It's the mother of the one they caught. Take her, Castaway wants to deal with her personally."
Demona tried to evade them while still trying to reach the castle. If I'm lucky, she thought. Xanatos' defenses will take care of them for…
A lucky shot dashed her hopes as it smashed through her left wing joint and exited through her shoulder, spraying blood. She cried out in pain as she tumbled from the sky.
"Got her!" the lead Quarryman said.
"Nice shot," one of his partners said. "Let's get down there and finish her off."
Demona slammed into the roof of a car and tumbled off, coming to a rest in the middle of the street. She tried to get up as the three Quarrymen landed around her.
"Not so tough now, are ya, monster," she heard one of them sneer as he charged up his hammer. She snarled at him.
"Filthy human," she growled, trying to block out the pain she was in. She had broken her arm in the fall and her left wing hung limply from what was left of the joint. It would eventually heal, but she needed time for that, time the Quarrymen surrounding her were not going to give her.
She tried to get up, but one of the Quarrymen kicked her in the stomach, driving her back to the ground.
"You ain't going anywhere," the lead Quarryman said. As she tried to rise again, he brought the hammer down on her back.
Demona screamed in pain before collapsing, her legs no longer willing to support her. I'm paralyzed, she thought in horror as her legs and lower body went numb. She tried to breathe, but the pain was too much and she began to black out.
I'm sorry, Angela, she thought remorsefully as she lost consciousness.
The Quarrymen looked at the fallen body of Demona. One of them nudged her with the toe of his boot. "I think she's had it," he said.
"Nah, she's still breathin'," the other one said. "Think Castaway'll mind if we do her ourselves?"
"Wouldn't hurt to ask him," the leader said. He took out a cell phone and dialed a number. He listened and waited for an answer but never got one.
"No answer," he said. "He might be out of range."
"So what do we do?"
"What else?" he said. "We're Quarrymen, ain't we?" He charged the hammer and brought it up.
"Hey," they heard a voice say. They turned to see a dark-haired man step out of a Jeep.
"What do you want?" the lead Quarryman said.
The newcomer took a baseball bat out from behind the seat. "Is this a private party or can anyone join in?"
He smiled behind his hood. Someone else wanting to join up, he thought. Castaway will be pleased. "Sure, why not?" he said. He turned his attention back to Demona.
Something hard hit him across the back. He staggered as he tried to turn around and just managed to before the newcomer hit him in the stomach with the bat and then brought it up under his chin, knocking him unconscious.
One of the two remaining Quarrymen was so stunned that he didn't even try to defend himself. He quickly joined his friend on the pavement.
The third brought his hammer around, trying to nail the attacker. He blocked the blow with the bat and pivoted, wrenching the hammer out of the Quarryman's hands. It clattered to the street.
"Say goodnight, Gracie," the newcomer said. The Quarryman looked at him in shock as he drove his fist into the Quarryman's face. All three Quarrymen were down.
The mysterious Samaritan went over to Demona's side and touched her gently. "They sure did a number on you, didn't they?" he said. When she didn't respond, he felt for a pulse. "At least you're still alive," he said. "Let's see if we can keep you that way." He gently picked her up and carried her to the Jeep, laying her carefully in the back. Retrieving his bat, he tossed it on the floor of the vehicle and drove off, leaving the unconscious Quarrymen behind.
Demona became aware of someone's hands touching her. She slowly opened her eyes and gasped in horror when she saw the human bending over her. She tried to scramble away, but her body cried out in pain as she did.
"Easy now," he said, seeing the terror in her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help."
Demona tried to fight the pain. She managed to back up, but gasped as her shattered wing joint hit the roll bar of the Jeep.
"Take it easy," he said. "I just finished setting your arm. If you keep knocking it around like that, it won't heal right."
Demona raised her broken arm and saw the improvised splint. "Why…?" she asked.
"Like I said, I just want to help. If I didn't, I would have left you with those three bastards in the hoods."
"The Quarrymen," she said.
"Yeah, I heard that's what they call themselves," he said in disdain. "But they're still pond scum in my book." He moved forward and Demona noted that he had an open first aid kit beside him. He pulled out a sling and moved to put it around her neck. She flinched at his touch.
"This would go a lot easier if you'd just let me help you," he said.
Demona wasn't about to let this human anywhere near her, but then she looked at her splinted arm again. He didn't have to help her, she thought. He could have left her at the mercy of the Quarrymen, who were nowhere in sight. She looked around and saw that they were sitting in a parking garage. She looked back at him and saw that he still held the sling. He hadn't made any attempt to get closer to her in order to put it on. Using her good arm, she painfully pushed herself up into a sitting position and leaned slightly forward. He carefully draped the sling around her neck and then gently set her broken arm in it.
"How does that feel?" he asked, concerned.
"Like hell," she said, hissing in pain as she settled back down.
"Well, you look it," he said. He reached into a bag and pulled out a bottle of apple juice. "Here," he said, opening it. "You'd better drink this."
Demona hesitated as he handed it to her. "Why?" she asked.
"You lost a lot of blood from that wound," he said. She felt the area where the bullet had exited and found a thick pad covering the wound. "You need to replace the fluids you lost and this is all I've got." He paused as he noted her hesitation. "Unless your kind can't drink…"
Demona took the bottle and sniffed it. It seems safe enough, she thought. She took a small drink and then, not detecting anything nasty in it, took another longer drink.
"Easy," he said. "Not so much at once. You don't want to hurt yourself anymore than you already are."
Demona paused and handed the bottle back to him. She noted that he took a drink as well. Probably to put my mind at ease, she thought. After he set the bottle down, he went back into the first aid kit and pulled out several bandages and pads and then started dressing her other injuries. When he was finished, he put the first aid kit away and looked around.
"Is there someplace safe I can take you?" he asked. "I doubt I can leave you here." He looked at his watch. "It'll be sunrise soon."
"There...is a place," she said. "Close by, I hope." She started to get up.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" he asked.
"I can make it there on my own," she said. "I don't need any help…" She stopped when she realized her legs weren't moving. She reached down and tried to move them.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Can't move your legs?"
"No," she admitted, but only after looking at him and seeing the concern on his face.
He rested his hand on her leg. "You can't feel that?"
She looked at the hand. "No," she said.
He got up and moved behind her. Examining her back, he found an ugly bruise halfway up. He touched the upper portion of the injury. "How about that?"
She hissed in pain as he gently probed the bruise.
"I guess that means yes," he said. Then he moved his hand lower until he was touching her just above the belt. "How about there?" he asked. "Feel anything?"
She knew he was touching her, but she couldn't feel it. "No," she said reluctantly.
He drew his hand away. "Well, that settles that," he said. "I've got to get you to a hospital…"
"No!" Demona protested.
"Listen, ah…" He paused when he realized he didn't know her name.
"Demona," she said.
"Demona," he continued. "Look, you've got what could be a severe spinal injury. It needs to be looked at. I know a doctor…"
"No," she repeated. "I don't need a doctor. I'll be fine in a few days."
"The stone sleep?" he asked. When she looked at him, he continued. "I heard that your people go into hibernation during the day and that it heals injuries, but I didn't know…"
"It can," she said, deciding not to tell him she no longer underwent the stone sleep. "I've been hurt far worse than this before and I've always been better after a couple of days."
"I still think…"
"Listen, human," Demona said. "You said you wanted to help me. Then do so or leave me here and I'll fend for myself."
He wasn't about to leave her alone, not when she might be found by the Quarrymen again. Turning, he pulled a blanket out of a compartment and covered her with it before getting into the driver's seat. "Just tell me where to go," he said as he started the engine.
After they left the parking garage, Demona had him drive around for an hour before directing him to a nondescript warehouse by the docks. He'll never find his way back here, she thought. I hope. When they got there, she had him drive up to an elevated keypad next to a freight door.
"I can't reach it," she said after trying get to the keypad. She looked at him. I can always change it later after he leaves, she thought. "Punch in 8-3-6-4, then hit the 'Star' key and then 'Enter'."
He did, and the freight door rolled up. He drove inside and stopped the Jeep as the door rolled down again.
"Where are we?" he asked as he got out of the Jeep.
"Just one of the places I like to call home," Demona said. "I'll be fine now." As he opened the tailgate, she started dragging herself towards it. "Thank you for your help," she said. "But I can manage…"
She started when he slipped one arm under her legs and began to put his other arm behind her. She tried to pull away.
"Demona, I brought you this far," he said. "The least I can do is tuck you in for the day."
"I don't need…" she started, but then sighed heavily. He's not going to leave until he knows I'm all right, she realized. "Very well," she said. She put her arm around his neck and let him pick her up in his arms. "There's a sofa in the office," she said. "You can leave me there."
He carried her to the office and set her down carefully, helping her lay down in a manner that would avoid putting too much pressure on the ruined wing joint. He left for a moment and came back with the blanket and the bottle of apple juice.
"Will you be all right here?" he asked as he covered her with the blanket. When he was satisfied, he handed her the bottle.
"Yes," she said. "No one comes here during the day. I'll be fine. You may go."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I can stay…"
"No," she said. "Please, I'd prefer it if you would just leave."
"Okay," he said. He turned and left the office. A moment later, Demona heard the Jeep start and leave the warehouse. She brought the bottle to her lips and took a drink as she waited for the change to occur. When the pain of the transformation hit, she drifted into unconsciousness, realizing then that she didn't even ask him his name.
23rd Precinct
Elisa was all smiles when she arrived at the 23rd Precinct. The guys are finally safe, she thought. With Castaway finally locked away, for good this time, the threat of the Quarrymen was finally over. There were still a few that needed to be hunted down, but at least the gargoyles didn't have to worry about them anymore.
"Hey, partner," Matt Bluestone said as she sat at her desk. She gave in to the urge to sit back and put her feet up on her desk. "I see you're in a good mood."
"Couldn't be better," she said.
"Wanna bet," he said. He smiled as he tossed a report on her desk. She put her feet down and picked it up.
"What's this?" she asked.
"We picked up three more Quarrymen early this morning," he said. "Someone beat the living daylights out of them and just left their sorry butts in the street."
"Any idea why?" Elisa asked. Like I honestly care why anyone would want to beat up Quarrymen, she thought. Whoever it was, they just did us a favor.
"Witnesses say they were assaulting a gargoyle in the street when someone in a Jeep drove up and worked them over with a baseball bat," he said. "Right now, they're at Manhattan General under heavy guard."
"What happened to the gargoyle?" Elisa asked, concerned. She skimmed over the report, looking for a description. She didn't find one. Could it have been Demona? she wondered.
"Don't know," Matt said. "Whoever it was that rescued the gargoyle drove off with her in his Jeep."
"No ID on our Good Samaritan?" she asked.
"I've got someone down at DMV running down the plates," he said. As he got up to get a cup of coffee, his phone rang. "Bluestone," he said, answering the phone. "Hi, Doug. What have you got?" He picked up a pen and began taking notes on a pad of paper. "Thanks a lot. I owe you one." Matt then hung up the phone.
"What was that all about?" Elisa asked.
"Got a name to match the plates," he said. "Mitchell Kreager."
"Mitch?" Elisa said, shocked. It seemed to be contagious, because several other cops in the room looked up in surprise.
"You know him?" Matt asked.
Elisa grabbed the pad and looked at the address, committing it to memory. "Yeah," she said. "He used to be my partner."
Demona slept through the day, letting her body heal itself, and it wasn't until nightfall that she woke up again. After the pain of her transformation passed, she decided to get up, realizing that she had to abandon this site since the human knew she was here.
She got off the couch and took a few uneasy steps towards the door. She started to collapse and just managed to avoid landing on her splinted arm as her knees gave out. It looks like I still have some healing to do, she thought. But not here. Not where a human knows…
As if in response to her thought, the door opened and her rescuer came in. He saw her on the floor and dropped what he was carrying, then rushed to her side.
"You shouldn't be up," he said as he put his arm around her. He helped her to her feet and led her back to the couch. After he eased her back down, he knelt down in front of her. "How are you feeling?"
"Lousy," she said. She wanted to push him away; she hated being this close to a human, but the look of real concern in his eyes caused a stirring in her soul.
He reached out and gently touched her arm. He gingerly lifted it out of the sling. "How does that feel?" he asked.
Demona hissed at the dull throbbing pain in her arm. It would continue to hurt for several days longer; simple cuts and bruises healed almost immediately, but major injuries, such as broken bones, took days to heal.
"It hurts," she said.
"Maybe I should take you to a doctor and have that…" he started, but she snapped at him.
"No," she said. "I don't need any humans' help! I can manage on my own!"
"You sure?" he asked, still concerned. "It didn't look that way to me a minute ago."
She looked at him. "I'm fine," she said calmly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's just I doubt that any human would be willing to help me after what happened yesterday."
"I guess you haven't heard then," he said. He got up and walked over to the items he had dropped.
"Heard what?" she asked.
He picked up the newspaper and passed it to her. Her eyes went wide as she read the headline.
"Gargoyles Save Train Passengers, Assistant D.A. From Disaster. Attacking Quarrymen, John Castaway Taken into Custody." She looked at him. "Is this true?" she asked.
"I guess you really do sleep like a rock," he said. "It's been all over the airwaves today. Talk shows have been swamped with callers wanting to talk about the gargoyles." He looked around. "Have you got a TV or a radio in here somewhere?"
"Yes," she said as she continued to read the story. "There's a small portable television in that cabinet."
He went to the cabinet and found the TV. He brought it over and placed it on the table, then plugged it in and turned it on.
"This is Travis Marshall, coming to you from Thompson Gorge where, in the pre-dawn hours this morning, a group of gargoyles narrowly averted disaster by stopping the red-eye commuter to Albany after a bomb, believed to have been planted by the Quarrymen, destroyed the bridge. The gargoyles saved the lives of not only two of their own, who were being transported to a detention facility upstate, but also those of every man, woman and child on the train, including Assistant District Attorney Margot Yale and 23rd Precinct Detective Elisa Maza, who was in charge of the transfer. Tonight, police investigators are re-examining the site of the Castaway Corporation bombing in light of new evidence that suggests that John Castaway himself may have planted the device that destroyed the building as part of a plan to exterminate the gargoyles. A recording device was discovered early this morning that suggests that the gargoyles may have been lured there after Goliath, the leader of the gargoyles, told authorities that he and his clan heard what appeared to be a child trapped in the basement of the construction site."
Goliath and the others are alive? she thought. She couldn't believe it. And she couldn't believe she was overjoyed by the news. But how… She wondered if Xanatos had had a hand in their 'miraculous' return from the dead.
"In a press conference this morning," Travis Marshall continued. "Ms. Yale stated that, in light of this new evidence and the gargoyles' bravery in averting a major disaster, all charges against the gargoyles have been dropped."
The picture cut away and was replaced by a replay of a press conference at City Hall. Demona watched in rapt fascination as one of the city's most anti-gargoyle public figures expressed her thanks and apologized wholeheartedly to Goliath's clan, who of course were in their stone sleep back at the Eyrie Building and couldn't attend. They're probably watching this right now, she thought. As Travis Marshall came on again with one of the engineers of the train, Demona stood up and took a step towards the television. Her 'rescuer' got up and put his hand on her shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.
"Can you…turn off the television?" she asked. He did as she sat back down and then looked back at her in concern.
"I thought you'd be happy," he said. "The Quarrymen finally got what was coming to them."
"I…I am," Demona said. "It's just…" She paused and looked up at him. "It's so overwhelming." She pulled her eyes away. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for a while. I need time to process this."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "You look like you could use some company right about now."
"I'll be fine," Demona said. "I just need some time alone is all."
"Well, if you need anything," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card, which he set on the table. "You'll give me a call?"
She looked at him. "I…I'll think about it," she said.
He turned and left, stopping briefly to retrieve one of the things he had dropped. A sketchpad, she noted. After he left, Demona stood up and crossed to the table, picking up the card. Mitchell Kreager, she read. She considered throwing the card away, but set it back down instead. The way I'm feeling, I may just need someone to talk to, she thought. Even if he is a human. She turned hesitantly back towards the sofa. She still needed time to recover from her encounter with the Quarrymen. As she did, her eyes caught sight of something on the floor.
A sheet of paper stuck out from underneath the sofa. Demona bent down to pick it up and her eyes misted as she saw what was on it.
It was a beautiful charcoal rendering of Angela in flight, her arms spread out in a look of pure enjoyment.
She quickly put the sketch on the table to keep her tears from ruining the artwork.
23rd Precinct
"So what's the deal with this Mitch Kreager?" Matt asked as he followed Elisa to her car. "How come I've never seen him around?"
"It's a long story," Elisa said. "It's not something I like to talk about."
"What?" Matt asked. "Did he do something to you?"
Elisa stopped as she opened the driver's side door of the Fairlane. "Not really," she said. "He only saved my life. And it almost ended up costing him his."
"What happened?" Matt asked as he got in.
Elisa hesitated before getting in and starting the car. "It was about six years ago," she said. "I was a rookie, fresh out of the Academy. Mitch was the first partner I ever had. I know he hated pulling 'Rookie Detail', but one thing that worked in my favor was that Mitch was an old friend and he was partnered with my Dad when he was still a rookie." She paused as she looked at Matt. "We were partners for about six months, but Mitch had been a friend since high school, although we never dated. One night we responded to a call that changed everything..."
October 10, 1990"Are you sure about this?" Mitch asked as he pulled his weapon.
"I'm certain I heard something," Elisa said. "I think it was over this way."
Mitch sighed as Elisa took the lead through the darkened warehouse. Save me from rookies, he thought as he followed after her. "Elisa, at least wait until back-up gets here."
Elisa turned to look at him. "What, for a simple break-in? Do you really think it's necessary?"
"Yes, I do," Mitch said. "Besides, I'm supposed to be the superior officer here. It'd be nice if you remembered that for once."
"Fine," Elisa said. She paused as she heard him come up behind her. "But c'mon, Mitch. This is just a simple break-in. Do we really need to wait..."
The sound of footsteps made them stop in their tracks. Mitch looked around quickly, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Elisa drew back the hammer of her service revolver. The sound of the footsteps stopped.
"Mice?" he asked.
Something large was knocked over, the sound of it hitting the floor making them both jump.
"Damned big mice," Elisa said. Her eyes began darting back and forth, trying to penetrate the gloom of the warehouse. "I think it came from over here," she said.
"I said we should wait for back-up," Mitch reminded her.
"C'mon, Mitch" she said. "Anyone making that much noise is just begging to be caught."
"Or trying to draw us into an ambush," Mitch countered.
"You're just being paranoid," Elisa said. "I swear, ever since..."
Elisa never finished that sentence, because as she turned to look at him, she saw a bright red dot shimmering on his chest just over his heart. She jumped at him, shoving him aside even as the crack of the weapon registered in her ears and she felt a sudden searing pain explode across her body as she felt the bullet slam into her back.
"Elisa!" Mitch called out as he caught her in his arms. He quickly lowered her to the floor as he felt her blood in his hands. "Ah, crap!" he cursed as he keyed his radio. "Officer down!" he barked. "I repeat, officer down! This is unit..."
He stopped as he looked up and saw a figure moving by a window, carrying what looked to be a rifle. He ducked down slightly, staying by Elisa's side, as he watched the figure pause right in front of the window.
"Boy, are you stupid," Mitch muttered as he drew his revolver and took aim. As the figure turned in his direction and brought up the rifle, he fired off three shots, causing the shooter to jerk back as the bullets hit and he fell, disappearing from sight.
"Well, that takes care of that," he said. Holstering his gun, he turned his attention back to Elisa. "Hang on, partner," he said. "Help's on the way."
Elisa opened her eyes and looked up at him, trying to focus on him. "Did you get him?"
"Yeah," he said. "I got him."
Elisa coughed and Mitch could see a trace of blood on her lips. "Just keep still," he said. "You've been shot."
"I kinda figured that out for myself," she moaned. "I guess you were right," she added.
"What?" he asked.
"We should've waited for back-up," she said as she lost consciousness.
Present day"I don't remember much about the rest of that night," Elisa said. "I was hit bad. The bullet that hit me went through my right lung and exited through my chest." She paused as she looked at Matt. "It was the first time I'd ever been shot," she said. "And it scared the hell out of me. If it hadn't been for Mitch..."
"Sounds to me like you saved his life," Matt said. "I thought you said he saved yours."
"He did," Elisa said. "But that was a few months later, after I got out of the hospital."
"What was the deal with the shooter?" Matt asked. "I'm guessing that an investigation was conducted after the body was sent to the morgue."
Elisa looked over at him. "There...wasn't a body," she said.
"What?" Matt gasped. "What did Mitch shoot at, a ghost?"
"No," Elisa said. "The guy was real enough. Dad and Morgan found the spot where he'd gone down. He'd crushed a bunch of boxes when he fell. We found out later that he was wearing body armor. Of course, that was after something terrible happened to Mitch."
"What?" Matt asked.
"He...lost his wife." Elisa sighed, then pulled the Fairlane over to the side of the street. "You should have seen Caroline," she said. "She had to have been the prettiest girl in our graduating class in high school. Of course, Mitch fell in love with her the day they met, and somehow, he ended up winning her heart. Three days after graduation, they eloped. I remember Dad coming home one night with a big smile on his face. He and his partner had responded to a report of a prowler breaking into the second story of a house, and when they got there..."
"Your dad found Mitch and his girlfriend coming down the ladder they were using to sneak out of the house," Matt finished.
"Well, not exactly," Elisa quipped. "Believe it or not, Caroline's dad was at the top, holding the ladder steady so they wouldn't get hurt. He managed to smooth things over with my dad while Mitch and Caroline made their getaway." She looked at her partner. "Have I told you this story before?" she asked.
"No," he said. "But it sounds vaguely familiar. Of course, the part of the dad helping the two young lovers make their escape is an interesting twist."
"I think he just wanted to save himself the expense of having to pay for the wedding," Elisa said. "But anyway, they got married and they were happy together. And Caroline loved being a cop's wife. I know that it's a total departure from the norm, with the wife at home, always worrying that one day she's going to get the call that all cops' wives dread. My mom's like that, especially considering that both my dad and I are cops, but Caroline wasn't. She'd convinced herself that nothing was ever going to happen to Mitch, not while she was alive."
Elisa paused, letting her head sag on the steering wheel. "While I was recovering in the hospital, she was killed in a convenience store robbery. Mitch had dropped her off to get something nice for me to brighten up the hospital room, and..." She looked over at Matt. "The guy who killed her was the same thug who shot me. The bullet they...recovered...from her body was an exact match. A nine mil, armor piercing round."
"Armor piercing?" Matt gasped. "You mean..."
"Yep," Elisa said. "The guy in the warehouse wasn't there for the loot. He was stalking cops." She paused again, letting out a long sigh. "A few weeks after Caroline's funeral, I was released from the hospital, and Mitch and I ended up being partnered again. He seemed different, though. It was as if the life had gone out of him. I guess I couldn't blame him, after losing Caroline like that. But I should have noticed the change in his attitude and brought it to someone's attention. It might have helped to prevent what happened next."
"We responded to another warehouse break-in," she said. "Because that guy was still out there, gunning for cops, we were wearing vests, just in case we ran into him again. We got to the warehouse, and I radioed for back-up, but Mitch wasn't about to wait. He went inside and I went in after him. I lost sight of him in the darkness and I was just about to call out to him when I felt him barrel into me, knocking me down, and I heard a gun go off."
"The shooter's," Matt said.
"Yeah," Elisa said. "I guess he wanted to finish what he'd started." She paused. "Mitch took the hit, and the bullet went right through his vest. It didn't even slow it down. In the confusion, I lost my gun, so I grabbed Mitch's and fired. I knew that the guy was wearing body armor, but I had to do something. So I opened up on him when I caught a glimpse of him."
"What happened then?" Matt asked.
"I got him," Elisa said. "And this time, he stayed down."
"But if he was wearing body armor," Matt said. "Then how..." He paused when he caught the look in Elisa's eyes. "Aw, jeez," he said in realization.
"Yeah," Elisa said in resignation. "Mitch loaded his gun with the same style bullets that the shooter was using. Armor piercing. The press had a field day with it."
"But you'd think that they'd realize that after losing his wife..." Matt started.
"They didn't care," Elisa said. "All the press cared about was that two cops went 'Dirty Harry' on the guy. They didn't even care that Mitch almost ended up permanently paralyzed from the shooting. In the end, he took all the heat for what happened. He didn't want to see me end up blowing my career over the shooting and he turned in his badge to protect me."
"Sounds like it was pretty rough," Matt said.
"It was," Elisa said. "I mean, I hated seeing Mitch go through what he did. The press crucified him, calling him a killer cop and other things I'm not even going to give them the pleasure of repeating. But Mitch was a good cop, no matter what anyone else says. He's the one who initially pushed me to make detective, saying that I had the instinct for it..." She sighed heavily, sagging back against the seat. "He was a good friend."
"I kinda got that impression," Matt said. He took the note with Mitch's address out of his pocket. "So, you want to..."
Elisa looked at the slip of paper in his fingers. They were supposed to bring him in for questioning. He did assault three Quarrymen after all, and Elisa knew that he would end up facing criminal charges because of it, even if he was trying to protect a gargoyle. She looked at the slip in Matt's hand.
"Do I want to what?" she asked.
Matt crumbled up the note and stuffed it in his pocket. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."
A week later...Demona landed on the roof, pausing for a minute as she took a step towards the fire escape. It had been a week since Mitch rescued her from the Quarrymen, and during that time, she found she was growing fond of the human who had saved her. Which was odd, she thought, since generally I can't stand the wretched beings. But Mitch had touched a part of her soul that she had long since forgotten even existed, and she felt she had to pay him back for his kindness.
Which was why she was here now. Several nights earlier, she had spotted Mitch sitting alone on this very rooftop with his sketchpad in his lap, quietly drawing under the light of the full moon. Curious as to what he was doing, she had dropped in on him.
He had started at the sound of her landing on the roof, but when he looked up and saw who it was, he relaxed and smiled at her.
"Hello," he said. "I didn't expect to see you again."
"I was in the area," Demona returned. She walked over to him and looked down at the sketchpad. "May I ask what you're doing?"
"Just something that's been nagging at me for a couple of days," he said, returning his attention to the pad.
"May I see?" she asked politely.
Mitch hesitated for a moment, as if he were suddenly nervous. But after a moment, he passed the pad over to her. "They're not very good, mind you..." he started.
Demona took the pad and took a quick glance at the sketch he had been working on. "Why would you say that..." she started before she realized what he was drawing. Her eyes went wide.
"It's me!" she said in amazement.
Mitch had drawn several sketches of her throughout the pad, each one slightly different from the next, different poses, different angles, as if he were doing a study of her. As she went through the pad page by page, she looked over at him. "Have you been following me?"
"No," he said.
"Then how..."
"I don't have that good of a memory," he said, tapping the side of his head with his pencil. "I just wanted to do a few sketches of you before I forgot what you looked like."
Demona looked at the sketches again. "You did these from memory?"
"Like I said, they're not very good. After a while, faces tend to blur out for me, so I try to sketch them out while I can still see them in my mind." For a second, he seemed really nervous. "I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," she said, handing him the pad. "Although, I'm surprised you would think me worth the effort."
"Why wouldn't you be?" he said. "I mean, it's not everyday an artist like myself stumbles upon someone as gorgeous as you."
That surprised her, and it had taken her a minute to realize what he had said. "You can't be serious," she said.
"Of course, I am," he said. "I really do think you're beautiful." He stood up and put down the sketchpad.
Demona took a step back, unsure of his intentions. "But...I'm..." she stammered.
"You're a gargoyle," he said. "So what? It doesn't mean we can't be friends, does it?"
She looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He really does care, doesn't he, she thought. After all this time, I've actually found a human who truly does care about me. "I guess not," she said. She smiled at him and found him returning the gesture.
That had been two nights ago, and in that time, she had decided to take him up on his subsequent offer to do a full rendering of herself. If he could do what he did from memory, imagine what he could accomplish with me posing for him. Of course, she did wonder at what he might ask her to do. I know that some models pose nude for their artists. Will he ask me to do the same? A part of her said that in no uncertain terms was she going to pose nude for him. She trusted him, yes, but not that much. Still, another part of her was intrigued by the notion. I might try it once, she thought. Just to see what it was like. After all, it's not as if he'd be able to take advantage of me. I'm a gargoyle. He's only a human. I seriously doubt he'd be able to force me to do something I did not want to do. She crossed the rooftop to the fire escape and started down, setting the internal debate on hold as she headed for his apartment window.
She found the window open. Screwing up her courage, she peeked inside. "Mitch, are you here?" she asked hesitantly.
"I'll be out in a minute," she heard him say. "Have a seat."
Stepping inside, she paused by the window and waited until he came out of the kitchen. "Evening," he said.
"Good evening," Demona returned. "I hope I didn't interrupt your dinner."
"Nah, I was just finishing up the dishes," he said. He paused as he looked at her. "I guess you're here about the rendering."
"Yes," Demona said. "I've decided to take you up on your offer." She crossed the apartment and paused by a chair. "So, do you want me to sit here, or..."
"I've got something better in mind," he said, turning towards the bedroom. He disappeared inside and came out a few moments later carry a bearskin rug, which he laid on the floor. "I was thinking of going with a primal look," he said. "It seemed the natural way to go."
Demona stepped over to the rug and looked at it.
"Unless you'd rather go for something else..." he started.
"No, this is fine," she said with a bit of a smile. It did seem natural, she thought. And a little thrilling on top of that. She sat down on the rug and let her arms fall to her sides. "Like this?" she asked.
Mitch picked up his pad and sat down on a chair. "No," he said after a moment. "Let's try having you lay on your side."
Demona complied and laid down on her left side, propping herself up on her elbow.
"No, try extending that arm out," he said.
She then lay down on her side completely and extended her left arm, so that it was past her head. "Is this okay?" she asked, looking at him.
"Just about," he said. "Let's try putting your other arm across your chest and bring your right leg up some. And can you bring the wing up just a little. "
Demona moved her arm and leg as instructed, then paused as she considered the position she was in. Very sultry, she couldn't help thinking. And more than a little erotic. She thought about her earlier debate, if she would pose nude for him if he asked her to. He hasn't as yet, she reminded herself. It may be that he doesn't want to. Should I...
"Mitch, I have a thought," she said.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Could you do a...a nude?" she asked. "Of me?"
He paused, looking generally surprised. "I guess," he said. "If that's what you want?"
"It is," she said. Sitting up, Demona quickly removed her halter and loincloth, then tossed them aside as she lay back down, putting her arms and legs back in place. She did shift a little so that her limbs effectively concealed her private areas. "Is this satisfactory?" she asked.
Mitch had a hard time tearing his eyes away from her. "Uh...yeah, yeah," he stammered, which caused Demona to smile slightly. I must have completely embarrassed him, she thought merrily. She took a deep breath and settled down on the rug, letting Mitch begin his artistry.
He worked steadily, pausing only a few times to look up at her lying there in order to set the image in his mind, then commit it to paper. Demona remained still, not wanting to disturb him while he captured her image on paper with the charcoal pencil. After what seemed to be forever, which was in fact only a half an hour, he stopped, setting the sketch pad down.
"Finished already?" Demona asked.
"Yep," he said. "I think you'll be pleased." He paused for a second. "At least I hope so."
"Let me see it," she said as she sat up, drawing the bearskin around her as she saw him blush slightly. Mitch brought the sketch pad over and handed it to her.
She looked at the charcoal rendering with a critical eye, amazed at the detail he managed to capture. One thing she was surprised by was how soft the image was. Where is the hardness? she thought. The severity? The coldness? Surely, he must have seen those qualities in me.
"Is it okay?" he asked.
Demona looked up at him. "Is this how you truly see me?" she asked.
"Yes, it is," Mitch said. "Why? Were you expecting something else?"
"I guess," Demona said. "It's just...I've led a pretty hard life up to now and...I guess I expected to see something a little...colder."
"Where?" he asked, kneeling down to look at her. "I can't seem to find it."
"Maybe you're not looking hard enough," she said.
"Maybe it's not there anymore," he countered. "Or maybe it was never there in the first place."
"It was there," Demona said. "Believe me, I know."
"Well, my wife always said I seemed to see the best in people," he said. "Maybe that's what it is."
"Your...wife," she stammered. "You're married?"
Mitch's face fell. "I was...once," he said. "Not any more."
"What happened?" Demona asked. She could see that it was a painful memory for him, but she needed to know what happened. Did she leave him? she wondered. Or was it...
"A convenience store hold-up," he said. "Six years ago. The bastard killed everyone..."
She was murdered, Demona realized. No matter what, humans always manage to find some excuse to prey on one another... She was brought out of her silent criticizing of all humanity as Mitch stood up and went over to the wall, taking down a picture of him and a beautiful young woman. "This is all I have left of her, really," he said. "This was taken at Niagara, where we honeymooned."
Demona looked at the picture. She could see from the way they were standing together the affection Mitch had for his lost wife. "I'm sorry," she said. "She was very lovely." She took a quick glance around the apartment. "You said this is all you have left of her?"
"Her parents took everything else," he said. "In a way, they blamed me for what happened. They said I should have been with her, instead of visiting my partner in the hospital."
"Your partner?" Demona asked. "You were a cop?"
"Yeah," he said. "I was one of the best. But after Caroline died, everything just started going downhill from there. My career, my life..." He paused. "I ended up losing my badge, all because of one bullet."
Demona stood up and walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't let the loss of someone you love consume you," she said. When he looked back at her, she could see the question in his eyes.
"How could you possibly..."
"Because I've been there myself," she said. "I lost my own mate a long time ago and I let myself become consumed by the guilt, thinking that if I had done things differently, then maybe I wouldn't have lost him. I was lost in the guilt for a long time."
"What changed that?" he asked.
"My daughter Angela," Demona said. "She opened up to me, trying to bring me back to some semblance of sanity. I admit that I've done a few...things...that have caused her to...distrust me."
"Like what?" he asked.
"It..." she started, but then paused. I can't tell him about my past, she thought. I've revealed too much to him already. "It's not important," she said. "Let's just say that I've done a few things in my past that I've begun to regret, and my daughter hates me for it."
"You should try working things out," Mitch said. "If you talk to her..."
"I have tried," Demona said. "But she doesn't want to have anything to do with me. And her father is just as stubborn..."
"Her father?" Mitch asked. "I thought you said you lost him..."
"I...did," she said, berating herself for the mistake. "I did some things...terrible things, and I ended up driving him away into the arms of another woman. A human, no less." She paused, looking at Mitch. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just, I've always had bad luck when it comes to humans. I guess I'm carrying a bit of a grudge."
"You think?" Mitch quipped. He put the picture back on the wall. "Well, with dirtbags like the Quarrymen around, I don't blame you. If I were in your shoes, I'd be a bit resentful of humans myself." He caught the offside look on Demona's face. "That is, if you wore shoes."
She almost told him that she did, when she herself transformed into a human during the day, but she stopped herself, not wanting to reveal that to him as well. I've said too much as it is, she reminded herself. "Perhaps it is time I left," she said. "I want to thank you for the rendering."
"I should be thanking you," he said. "You are by far the most interesting subject I've ever had."
That made Demona blush slightly, and she turned to retrieve her garments.
"I wish that I could properly pay you," she said. "But we gargoyles don't have much use for money." It was a lie, of course. As Dominique Destine, she was worth millions. But she couldn't very well write him a check, not without revealing her secret. And she hadn't brought any cash with her.
"That's okay," he said. "I understand."
That seemed to dissatisfy her for some reason. He'd done the rendering of her, which was very good, by the way, and he had opened up to her. "No, it's not okay," she said. She looked down at her armband. It was solid gold, worth a small fortune, but it seemed inadequate for some reason. "If there were some way I could repay you. If not just for the rendering, but also for the fact that you saved my life..."
"Well, maybe there is something," he said.
"What?" she asked, wanting to fulfill his request.
"A kiss?" he asked.
That surprised her. A kiss? she thought. That's all? That's what he wants? "I'm sorry," she said. "But we gargoyles generally don't...kiss. It's a human custom..."
"I understand," he said. "I guess we can find some other way..."
"No," she said. "You asked for a kiss, and a kiss it shall be." She stepped up to him, looking up at him. "Mind you, I'm not very good at it," she said.
"I thought you said gargoyles don't..." he started, but then Demona lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She intended it to be a quick kiss, but she lost her balance slightly and found herself falling forward. Mitch caught her as he felt her lose her balance and they ended up kissing longer than either had intended. When they finally parted, Demona had to suppress a moan as she felt him pull away. She'd actually enjoyed the fleeting contact. And she found herself wanting to repeat it.
"Well," Mitch said as he helped Demona regain her balance, but not her composure. "I guess we can consider this paid in full then," he said as he went to the chair and picked up his sketch pad, removing the charcoal rendering of her and placing it into a leather cover.
Demona watched as he did that, and found herself unable to tear her eyes off him. It can't be happening, she told herself. You just can't be having these feelings for a human. But she was, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Her first instinct was to run, to get away from him. And where could I go? she thought. How can you escape the longing of your heart? Even before she knew she was doing it, she was moving towards him.
"Then perhaps," Demona said, stepping up to him and dropping the bearskin. "We can consider this an advance on your next project." She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a longer and even more passionate kiss.
Demona woke up before he did. She looked over at him and smiled. I can't believe I've found happiness in the arms of a human, she thought. Who would have thought it possible? She heard him murmur in his sleep and rolled over, his arm brushing against her and sending a sublime thrill through her.
She looked towards the window. Dawn was still a half-hour away, but she didn't want to be there when the transformation happened. He still didn't know her secret, Demona thought.He accepted her as a gargoyle and she wanted to keep it that way. She quickly dressed and headed towards the window. As she opened it, she looked back at Mitch's sleeping form and, giving in to impulse, she went back over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"I'll be back later tonight, my..." She paused as she realized what she was about to say, and couldn't believe that she truly wanted to say it. "My love," she said, enjoying the sound of the words. My love. She smiled and headed out.
A pair of stealthy eyes watched her leave the apartment. Across the street, a lone figure lowered the pair of binoculars he was using to watch Demona's movements and removed a cell phone from his pocket, dialing a number.
"This is Banquo," he said when he heard his partner pick up. "I need you to get a message to Canmore." He paused as he followed Demona's silhouette across the early dawn sky. "He's gonna love this."
To be continued...