LIFE GOES ON

Revelations of the Labyrinth, Part 4: Guests and Pasts

(PG version)

By Kimberly T.

Patrol had been slow so far tonight; only one assault tonight, foiled swiftly and easily, and the lady they'd saved hadn't screamed and ran, either. Though that was largely due to Broadway's sincere efforts at both 'damage control' and appeasing his patrol partner, since Angela had been ready to gut the would-be rapist on the spot. But he'd convinced her to be satisfied with simply knocking him unconscious, though so thoroughly he privately doubted the creep would wake up any time soon.

Angela had then helped the would-be victim recover her clothes and a little of her dignity, while Broadway considerately turned his back and spread his wings for an impromptu screen. Then he'd asked the woman very nicely, while twisting a metal trash can handle into an impromptu pair of handcuffs, if she'd mind making sure the criminal stayed put until the police showed up with bolt-cutters, and gave them her statement. (Elisa had told them that the patrol officers of her precinct, at least, had taken to very quietly adding bolt-cutters to the other supplies carried in their trunks, after finding several criminals mysteriously tied in this fashion.) Now, as they sat on a rooftop at Cloisters together, Broadway looked at Angela with more than a little concern in his eyes. "Angela, what was the deal with that crook back there, anyway? You almost scared me, with the way you went after him; I thought for a minute there that you were going to turn him into cat food for Cagney."

"I was tempted," Angela said shortly. She pointedly ruffled her wings as she looked away, into the courtyard below; she really didn't want to talk about it just then. She wasn't sure he'd understand if she did try to explain it; he was a male, and he hadn't grown up with her and her rookery sisters on Avalon. She wished he hadn't brought the subject up again, because she'd suggested the break here at Cloisters just to cool her boiling blood down afterwards.

She knew the rest of the clan avoided this place when they could, and strongly suspected that her mother had something to do with the reason why, but she refused to let that spoil her enjoyment of its quiet beauty, almost like a tiny corner of Avalon. Just coming to perch here on the rooftop had started to calm her, but then Broadway had to open his mouth… She sighed as she looked down into the courtyard, mentally reciting the conjugation of some irregular verbs in Latin, just as the Magus used to do under his breath when he was becoming exasperated with an unruly hatchling at lessons.

The Magus, dead after fighting the Weird Sisters to save their clan… She wished now that she'd given him the bookmark she'd embroidered for him, under the princess' tutelage, the same night that she'd finished it. But she'd been saving it for the clan's Hatchday celebration… a celebration that now neither of them would attend. Just before she'd gone down to the beach, to ask Goliath if she could go with him, she'd sneaked back into the Hall of the Sleeping King and laid the bookmark next to his pale still hand. If a Resurrection ever came, as according to that Bible the princess used to tell stories from, the Magus would find it ready and waiting for his use.

Thinking about him cooled her anger to a sad, weary calm again, a pale version of the sort of calm that comes after tears. To her, he'd been gone for several months now, but to her sisters and brothers, it hadn't even been two weeks since his untimely death. Poor Zipporah and Odysseus, his favorite pupils, were probably still perilously close to tears whenever his name was mentioned. The central courtyard of Cloisters was a bit like the center courtyard for the castle on Avalon, and when she half-closed her eyes and looked through her lashes at the central arch, she could almost imagine that she was seeing him there, with his staff in one hand and one of the clan's precious books in the other, waiting for all the hatchlings to settle down so he could begin the night's lessons.

She looked across the courtyard with eyes still half shut, letting sweet memory fill in her vision and whisper old voices in her ears. There was Raphael, sitting at the table playing trenchers with Odysseus, and trying to divert his attention so he could cheat outrageously again, even though he knew they'd catch him at it. Such a jester he always was, the only one who could make Esther laugh, and there she stood behind him, combing out her long blonde hair.

And there were Michael and Menalippe, their tails lovingly entwined as he plaited another love-knot into her mane. And there was Atalanta, playing with her gliding squirrel, and threatening her mate Uriel with decapitation if he tried to feed it to Boudicca again. But Boudicca knew better than to touch an animal with a ribbon around its neck, the way they marked all their pets from their prey, so she just snorted at them as she gnawed on a thighbone from last night's deer.

And there was Deborah, making another basket, and leaning contentedly against Jephthah's leg as he finished stitching together a new quiver for Penthesilea. And there was Penthesilea, checking over her arrows to see if the older ones needed replacing yet, sighting down the shafts and running a thumb-talon along the fletchings.

And there were Gideon and Hippolyta, happily bashing away at each other with their swords and shields again, another one of those spur-of-the-moment fights they were notorious for. And there was Gabriel, coming over to remind them that they'd agreed to do their practice fighting outside…

But he wasn't really there, he was in Avalon and she was here, now, and she wasn't going back there any time soon, maybe not ever, not when there was so much more to see and learn! It was time to think of other things, like the rest of their patrol route. She stood up abruptly, startling Broadway. "Well, let's finish this patrol and head back to the castle!" she said brightly.

"Okay," Broadway said agreeably, though he was a bit disappointed. He'd just been about to caress her tail with the tip of his, an invitation to coil them together, and do a little courting while resting here. He'd gotten out of the habit of thinking of this place as 'tainted' by Demona, though he supposed the rest of the clan never would. Especially Brooklyn; he knew Brooklyn never even flew within three blocks of this place if he could avoid it. (Broadway sometimes suspected that a lot more had happened here than Brooklyn had ever told them about, to make him hate Demona even more than Goliath did.) But that was okay with Broadway, if it meant that he could spend time here with Angela; she'd taught him to appreciate the quiet beauty of the place, and now when they patrolled together, they often stopped here.

It was funny, whenever they left here she acted like she was in a real hurry to get somewhere, but she seemed to be even more interested in his attempts at courtship later on in the night. That is, so long as he kept the physical stuff to holding hands and entwining tails; anywhere closer in was still forbidden territory. He thought wryly as they leaped off the roof together that it would be a lot easier to stay away from that forbidden territory if he didn't already know so well what touching it would be like… Boy, those two rookery sibs of Goliath's could make a courtship complicated! Then he told himself sternly to stop thinking about those two and what they'd done, before he had a tent in his loincloth again…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been less than a month ago, when Goliath--or at least, they thought then that it had been Goliath--had brought Coldstone to the clocktower. He'd told them he had a plan to draw out the three spirits that dwelt within Coldstone, separate and drive away forever the evil one that was causing so much torment for the lovers trapped within, and needed volunteers to provide "temporary housing" for the lovers' spirits. Angela had volunteered immediately, with Broadway a close second, and Brooklyn, though he seemed a shade uneasy about it, had volunteered as well. (At the time, they'd thought his offer had been unnecessary; looking back, Broadway sometimes wondered what would have happened if Brooklyn had kept his mouth shut.) And only a short while later, Broadway and Angela had found themselves as mere passengers in their own bodies, with two spirits who had long been denied fleshly pleasures firmly in control.

Goliath had done a lot more reading in the last two years than the rest of the clan put together, and he'd remarked once that his not-quite-deceased rookery brothers and sister had reminded him of three characters in a play by Shakespeare; Othello, Desdemona and Iago. Broadway had read that play last week while looking for some more poetry to read to Angela, and he had to admit the descriptions sort-of fit, from what he'd glimpsed of his spirit-guest's memories while they'd shared a body. "Othello" was a dour soul with a jealous streak even wider than the average gargoyle's, but he really did love his mate "Desdemona" clear to the bone, deeply and passionately. Very, very passionately. As "Othello" had made very clear, when he and his beloved could actually touch each other again.

Not knowing that their 'hosts' were still aware of what their 'guests' were doing inside their bodies, they had gone off to feel the wind beneath their wings again. And Brooklyn, who was unknown to them possessed by "Iago", had slyly suggested that they take their sweet time in returning to be sucked back into Coldstone's form. That unfeeling prison where, even if they were together and no longer tormented by their evil brother, they could not truly touch each other. "Othello" and "Desdemona" had known that the right thing to do was to go back; after all, these bodies had spirits of their own that would no doubt like to get back to the business of running them. But still, surely they wouldn't be begrudged just this one night…

Their guests hadn't actually mated, hadn't actually joined the two host bodies together as one, because "Desdemona" could tell that Angela hadn't mated before, and didn't want to cheat her of her first experience. But having been mates in the flesh for nearly two decades before the fall of Wyvern, having bred and laid and egg together, they were very familiar with all the different ways to please each other without actually mating. And they saw no harm in bringing each other to the peak of pleasure, sating their borrowed senses with each other till Othello had roared with Broadway's voice and Desdemona had tossed back Angela's mane with a scream of pure ecstasy. And Broadway, helpless but extremely aware of what was happening, received more of an education about females bodies in general (and Angela's in particular) in just two hours than in the last two decades of living combined. He'd even learned a few things about his own body that he hadn't known before, hadn't even thought about until then. And Angela, also helplessly aware, was receiving the same sort of education about her own body, and Broadway's…

After Coldstone and the newly embodied Coldfire had bolted off after the fleeing Coldsteel, he and Angela had reluctantly discussed it afterwards, sitting on opposite sides of a rooftop and carefully not looking at each other. Well, she didn't look, but he couldn't help peeking at her a time or two, remembering what her body had looked like under her tunic, and how she'd felt under his caressing hands… Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "So, that wasn't really us doing that; it was… like watching a movie, almost, but with us as the characters on screen, too." Yeah, a porno flick, part of his mind said wryly. Like that one he'd caught Goliath watching on the sly one night…

"No, it wasn't really us," Angela had agreed, still without looking at him.

"And since it wasn't us doing that, then as far as I'm concerned, it never happened," he said firmly. "And it shouldn't affect our relationship, well, whatever relationship we've got right now, and whatever we're heading for, right? I mean, I like you a lot, Angela. But I'm worried that what they did will make us so uncomfortable around each other that we can't even be friends anymore!"

He'd been racking his brains for hours, thinking of the best to say it, and he figured that he'd gotten it right when she turned to look at him at last. "Oh, Broadway, that's exactly it! I'm so glad you understand! But you're right, it should be that as far as we're concerned, it didn't really happen; we can't let it ruin whatever's meant to be between us, whether we're to be just friends, or…" she blushed, and let it die unfinished, but she didn't have to finish it.

So, they'd agreed on a few ground rules. Holding hands was okay, friendly hugs were okay, even twining tails was okay, but no more than that, with him or with the others (he was very careful to work that in there), until she made her choice as to who she wanted for a mate. And so they went back to the clocktower, and things were just settling back to normal when the Hunters had come to town. But he still remembered what it had been like to bring Angela's body to the peak of ecstasy, and he definitely remembered what it had been like for her to do the same for him.

In a way, he was kind-of glad it had happened, because back when he and his rookery brothers had no names or need of them, it had been his brother with the red skin, beak and horns who'd been popular with their rookery sisters. He figured that, without that memory of his body giving hers such pleasure, Angela might have started leaning towards Brooklyn, the second-in-command who'd always been popular. But with that memory, she was able to consider him as a serious suitor, and his poetry, thoughtfulness and cooking were, he hoped, slowly winning her over. Perhaps someday he'd be able to call her his Angel of the Night, his beloved mate… But if he rushed towards that goal like he wanted to, she'd think the wrong thing and back away! Yep, those two had sure made a courtship complicated. But considering that they just might have made it possible in the first place, he couldn't complain too much.

He came to himself with a start, realizing that even though he'd told himself not to think about it, he'd spent at least ten minutes thinking about it, because here he was several blocks from the Cloisters with no memory of how he got there, sleep-winging his way through a patrol! He was lucky he hadn't blundered into a skyscraper, or worse yet, a Quarryman. If Goliath ever found out, he'd be in major trouble. But even on autopilot, he'd managed to keep up with Angela; maybe she hadn't noticed. He began frantically scanning the landscape around them, searching for anything unusual to point out and save face by at least a good pretense that he'd been busy with patrol matters. And lo and behold, he found something unusual, all right! "Look, Angela! Over by the docks, between those warehouses, do you see them?"

Angela turned to look, and said excitedly, "Yes, I do! A bird-winged gargoyle, and a human passenger!"

"Bet they're Griff and King Arthur. I think they're coming from the direction of the clocktower; they must have been looking for us!" as they wheeled and changed course.

A few minutes later, they were hallooing Griff and King Arthur, who had evidently traded in his regally medieval clothing for more modern wear, blue jeans and a black shirt under a red jacket. (Angela thought amusedly that it looked like Elisa had made quite an impression on him.) "What ho, chaps!" Griff roared happily. "Ah, Angela, so you and Goliath made it home at last, eh?"

"A few months ago!" Angela said happily as she and Broadway fell into escort positions beside the pair from Great Britain. "And the guys told us how you two ended up together! So, should I call you Sir Griff now?"

"Ah, just good ol' Griff is fine between friends! I say, we just came from looking for you at your clocktower, and we were becoming rather worried about you! A bit harsh for a redecorating job, eh what?"

"Yeah, you could say that!" Broadway agreed wryly. "It's a long story, but we can tell you about it when we get to our new home--well, actually it's our old home, but that's an even longer story--anyway, follow us to that castle up there!" as he pointed at Castle Wyvern, standing out above the other skyscrapers of Manhattan as it perched atop the Aerie Building.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the heart of the castle, Goliath silently marveled at the sight in front of him; Elisa and Xanatos, together in his office, and neither of them so much as snapping at each other. Even just last week, he wouldn't have believed it if even the Magus himself had come back to life and prophesied it, despite the fact that they had a mutual enemy now. But since then they'd found out that Xanatos' scientists had managed to come up with a cure for the mutates, even if only Fang had taken it so far. And now, in addition to his usual corporate work, he was working to better the lives of the Labyrinth residents. He seemed to be taking it on as a personal project, too, rather than just throwing money and hired experts at it; last night, Broadway had found himself advising a note-taking Xanatos on the sort of equipment one would want for a kitchen feeding large quantities of people, without needing a trained staff down there as well to handle them. (Fortunately, Broadway had already given the subject some thought during the few times he'd been down in their kitchen, passing on his many creative recipes for rat.)

In the three days since the revelation, Elisa seems to have grudgingly admitted that it might just be barely possible that the man had changed just slightly since the birth of his son, though she was a long way from considering him a reliable ally, let alone a friend. But when it came to the Quarrymen, Elisa was more than ready to listen to any suggestions he had; those people were just too dangerous. They'd had too many close calls already; the next encounter might easily result in a clan member's death.

"If we could just get that Castaway character's fingerprints, and run them through the national databases!" Elisa grouched as she slumped in her chair. "He's just too slick not to have a shady past lurking out there. But nothing he and his organization have done so far have broken any laws against humans, or where there were human witnesses present, so we've got nothing to book him on!" She didn't even bother to mention that she herself had been nearly killed by the Quarrymen; the only witness had been Goliath, and since it had interrupted what was to have been their first real date… Not a snowball's chance in Hell of getting anywhere with that one, without getting themselves in even worse trouble.

Xanatos drummed his fingers on the table and looked glumly at Goliath as he speculated, "Maybe I should just invite some environmentalists up here, to have you guys declared an endangered species. That would get you at least some legal protection… But even if they cut through all the red tape to get it done before the next millennium, you'd probably end up being shipped back to Scotland as your native environment, or I'd have to turn the castle into a wetlands preservation project or something."

Elisa snorted in reluctant amusement. "Or something. Even Matt agrees that getting Washington involved would be a mistake right now, and he's former FBI. All right, I'm desperate. This isn't a police detective talking anymore, this is a desperate woman talking, so listen up. What kind of dirty tricks have you still got stuffed away up your sleeves that could be used against these creeps?"

"Why, Miss Maza, are you referring to dastardly doings like industrial espionage, sabotage, and fiendish plots like that? Moi?" as Xanatos laid a dramatic hand on his chest and fluttered his eyelashes at her. Almost despite themselves, both Goliath and Elisa chuckled. "Actually, I'm already at work on that. I've got two trusted employees going to the next Quarryman rally with orders to bring back, ah… You're quite sure this is off the record?"

"Tell you what, you can tell Goliath, then he can decide whether or not you can tell me. Go right ahead," and Elisa put her hands over her ears, closed her eyes and began singing in an off-key voice, "Fa la la la la, la la la la! Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light…"

That did it; everybody burst out with semi-hysterical laughter. Owen Burnett quirked an eyebrow at them as he brought in another tray of coffee and tea for them all, the faint but unmistakable sounds of an upset baby echoing in behind him. He said in his usual expressionless voice, "Unrestrained and inappropriate laughter is a common sign of fatigue, sir."

"Too many days of too little sleep," Xanatos agreed as he wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand and accepted a cup of coffee with the other. "If it ain't Alex's teething and the offices overseas, it's the Quarrymen and the Labyrinth. I should have cloned another me instead of you," he said blearily to a startled Goliath. "That way, at least one of me would get some sleep."

"Why don'cha have the fairy here zap Alex's teething troubles away?" Elisa said as she waggled a finger in Owen's direction. She was just as tired, not from dealing with a cranky baby but from spending a lot of her normal sleeping hours with her mother, making plans and wedding attire for the Labyrinth double wedding coming up in a few days.

Owen sighed very loudly; Goliath would have bet large sums of money, if he'd had any, that this was not the first time the question had been asked. "Because Oberon's geas on Puck constrains me to use magic only for the purpose of either protecting the boy or training him, in lessons he is ready to learn. Alex is in no danger from his own teeth coming in, and he is quite frankly too young to learn the appropriate spells for regulating his own body." For just a moment, the perfectly emotionless exterior slipped, and a trace of Puck showed through as he finished, "Or believe me, he'd have gone through teething in twelve minutes or less!"

Goliath drained the cup of tea that had just been handed to him, then got to his feet. "I believe that nearly everyone in this room is in need of sleep, and that we'll get no further in our efforts tonight. Come, Elisa, and I'll take you home. And I'll call Lexington in early from patrol, to take over tending Alex; he has much experience with teething infants, from his nights as an assistant in the old rookery. If you'll leave Alex in our quarters and in his hands, Xanatos, you and Fox can also get some rest."

"Fox'll go for that," Xanatos agreed as he rubbed at his eyes. "She told me earlier that she'd rather fight another bush war in Africa than go through another week of this."

Just then, a high-pitched beeping came from one wall of the office, and a large section of paneling slid away to reveal a bank of monitors, two of which automatically flickered to life as they stared at them. "Oh, no," Xanatos moaned. "Please, not a direct attack tonight!"

But as the monitor screens for the east-facing security cameras focused on the unknown intruders that had caused the proximity alert, Goliath's face split in a wide grin. "Not Quarrymen at all, but friends! Griff, and King Arthur!"

"A griffin and King Arthur. Right. Owen, put me to bed, because I'm obviously in Slumberland already."

"Actually, you might want to stay awake for this," Elisa said with a twinkle in her eye. "Griff is a gargoyle from the London clan, and that man on his back is the real, honest, straight-from-Camelot-via-Avalon King Arthur."

Xanatos blinked at her, then turned back to Owen and ordered, "More coffee. And tea, and break out the best china."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By the time the remaining clan members had been called in from patrol, King Arthur and Griff had been royally welcomed to the clan's home, and been supplied with tea and other refreshments. Xanatos and Fox had come out together, leaving Owen with Alex, long enough to greet their guest and invite him to make use of a guest room that had been already prepared (Xanatos always kept one ready for Elisa these days, just in case the Quarrymen found her apartment again.)

After seeing their guests made comfortable, the tired parents had regretfully excused themselves to get some desperately needed sleep, down in the castle's dungeons. (Not that Fox was feeling kinky that night, as she explained to David while they went down, but it was the only place in the castle that she was sure was far enough away that they wouldn't be woken up by Alex's cries.) Only moments after coming back from patrol and greeting King Arthur and Griff, Lexington found himself summarily pressed into service as a nanny, with instructions to keep the boy as quiet as possible for as long as he could. Owen further told Lex to wake him up to take over Alex's care only five minutes before either dawn or the Apocalypse, whichever came first. Both King Arthur and Griff had nodded knowingly, as soon as they'd heard the muffled sounds of Alex's cries coming from the nursery as Lexington went inside. "Teething, is he?" Griff remarked. "I always made sure I was on London duty when that happened in the rookery."

"Hey, where's Bronx?" as Brooklyn looked around for him. "I haven't seen him all night."

"If he's not hiding up on the highest parapet, then Fox and Xanatos will probably find him tucked under their bed downstairs," Hudson remarked as he poured himself another cup of tea. "Even watchbeasts have their limits, and the wee prince's constant fussing has worn even him out of late."

"One of the burdens of raising a child, that occasionally threatens to overshadow the many joys," King Arthur said sagely, and a bit sadly. He and Guinevere had never personally known those joys or burdens, though they'd kept right on trying until… He shook away sad memories of a wife and kingdom lost centuries ago, as he sat back and sipped his tea.

"Oh, by the way, Una and Leo asked me to say hello to you for them," Griff said to Goliath and Elisa. "And Una said to tell you specifically that she's been doing some digging, but has yet to come across what you're looking for, whatever that is."

Goliath looked inquiringly at Elisa, who colored slightly as she said, "I'll explain later." Privately, she sighed and thought that she should have known better than to get her hopes up for even an instant, when she'd seen Griff coming in for a landing. Just before leaving London, Elisa had been marveling over the hundreds of mystical items in their shop, and had oh-so-casually asked Una if she had ever come across a magical charm that could turn a human into a gargoyle temporarily, like Puck had done with Titania's Mirror once, but on a voluntary basis. Una had smiled at her knowingly, and said she'd look into it… To keep Goliath from probing further just then, she decided to change the subject, to something that she'd been wondering about anyway. "Say, Griff, I've been meaning to ask you something; do you have any idea why your clan, and pretty much only your clan, has feathered wings?"

Griff harrumphed and rubbed his beak for a moment. "Actually, I do. It's a bit embarrassing, really, but I suppose there's no harm in telling you."

Elisa hastily raised her hand to forestall him. "I don't want to embarrass you; I was just curious."

"Actually, so am I," Angela spoke up with an interested expression. "But I don't see what could be embarrassing about having such beautiful wings…"

Griff straightened up a bit and almost preened one of those beautiful wings, proof that he wasn't above taking a compliment from a pretty female, while Broadway looked a little upset for a moment. "Well, this is the story as I was told it by my old rookery keepers, and in a way it relates to why King Arthur and I are here in New York again," as he nodded to his liege lord. "Up until the seventh century A.D., my clan looked much like any other gargoyle clan, with the leathery wings in various shapes and with heads more closely resembling human heads. And we had a good relationship with one of the human clans living near what's now London; mutual protection pact, hunting partners, that sort of thing. But when Christianity began really digging in and taking hold in England, we rapidly found ourselves being persecuted by many of the priests of the new religion. It seems that gargoyles in their natural state resemble their ideas of demons and devils, and so they began accusing us of acting like their demons as well as looking like them."

"We've had more than a taste of that ourselves," Goliath rumbled as he scowled, thinking of past encounters.

"Right, but we had one advantage over you Scots; a local mage was rather fond of us. The old boy was pure Druid right down to his toes, but he wouldn't raise a hand against the practitioners of the new religion; he believed in letting everyone have their say, even if he thought they were daft as snake shoes." Arthur gave his knight a raised eyebrow, silently reminding him that his liege lord was a professed Christian, but Griff just grinned unrepentantly and went on. "He just stood by and said and did nothing, until one day while he was harvesting mistletoe, he came upon a party of human warriors, led by a Christian priest and all armed with hammers, picks and whatever tools they could find. He had a feeling they were up to no good, so he followed them at a distance, and it's a jolly good thing he did, because he caught up to them just as they were laying waste to my ancestors while they slept."

Everyone gasped in horror as Griff went on, "They killed some of the warriors, those who'd been posted on the easily accessible ledges, but didn't have a chance to climb down the cliffs and get into the rookery or at the rest of the adults before the mage decided enough was enough. He summoned eagles and hunting hawks, and drove the humans away from the cliffs, with a lightning bolt or two to singe their tails once they were at a safe distance. Then he stayed till sunset, to let my ancestors know what had happened to their best warriors."

"When the clan awoke and learned what had happened, there was a great deal of grief and a great outcry for vengeance, of course, but the mage persuaded the clan's leader that to visit the same destruction on the human village would only lead to even more humans hating them, instead of a few misguided fools. Then the clan's second-in-command, who had been reportedly very fond of the humans and had even listened in on some of their clan gatherings, said out loud that the problem was all caused by the new religion that depicted them all as devils instead of angels, ravagers instead of protectors. And a youngster who'd been listening in wondered what an angel was supposed to look like… and decided to find out.

"Now this youngster was a very independent and curious sort, always sneaking off to the human village to see what they were doing, and had made friends with a few of the children there. So he sneaked off to the village that very night, despite the entire clan being in mourning for their comrades and alert for another attack, found one of his little friends, and asked him what an angel was supposed to look like. Luckily for us all, the human boy in question was not too fond of the local priest, because the priest had told him repeatedly that he was bound for hell for stealing apples or somesuch. So he sneaked into the church, stole the priest's own Bible and brought it back to where the youngster was waiting. Now remember, this was centuries before the printing press, and back then each book was made by hand, and often to individual tastes. And it so happened that this particular Bible had only a few pages of artwork done in color. But one of the plates was a depiction of the four Saints of the Gospel: St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, and St. John."

Elisa was the first one to catch on, and gave a groaning laugh. "Don't tell me, let me guess. The plate was of the four symbols for the saints: the eagle, the lion, the bull and the man… all with angel's wings."

Griff nodded wryly. "Right on the mark. And of course, that's the page that the youngster took back to the clan, to show to the clan leader and the mage who was still there, and asked the mage if he could make them look like that, so they could be friends with the humans again. The clan leader was desperate to find a solution that would let them keep their home territory without mutual slaughter, and begged the mage to do what the hatchling asked; he said that so long as they could still glide, he didn't give a stone shard what his wings looked like. So the mage cast his spell, using the page from the Bible as a guide, and transformed the entire clan on the spot, even the unhatched eggs in the rookery. By sunrise, they all had angel wings… and most of them, animal heads. And so we've been ever since."

"Once my ancestors were changed, the druid mage saw to it that a few sympathetic locals spread the word that the clan of 'demons' had been driven out of their homes, and a clan of guardian angels had taken roost there instead. And he even persuaded the clan leader to have several of his most trustworthy and tolerant warriors live in the human village, and roost in the local church's steeple and belfry just to prove to the doubtful that they were 'holy angels'. Of course, since the angels evidently had a truly boring home life, they could permit no hatchlings or eggs to be seen by humans, ever; the young were nearly cloistered until they were close to full growth. And before going on patrol, everyone had to master the 'angel look'," and Griff demonstrated by holding his hands together in front, in a prayerful fashion, and looked upwards piously, "and for centuries they had to wear these daft glowing golden plates strapped to their heads (the mage's idea of what a halo was like), and heavy robes that constantly got in the way when they were gliding. All in all, it worked out for the best, though, because we were never hunted or hammered again."

"The clan lived peaceably right in the middle of London, up until the close of the fifteenth century, when a few too many people began to get suspicious about us. That's when the clan pooled all the odd bits of treasure and whatnot that had been collecting about the rookery—you know how hatchlings love to play with pretty shiny things, and so the adults would bring trinkets home for them from time to time—well, that and the melted-down 'halos' came to quite a tidy sum. The one family of humans that knew who we truly were, caretakers of the cathedral we lived in, used the money to buy a title. With the title came some property outside London, with a decent-sized castle which we all moved into, lock, stock and rookery. But the adults still patrol London, a few at a time (and doing it quite a bit more now that I've showed the younger generation how it's done properly, if I may say so myself), and maintain the shop of magical items you met Una and Leo at; the profits from it pay the taxes on our castle."

"A most interesting history," Goliath said, as everyone else nodded agreement. "But how precisely does it relate to your reason for being here in Manhattan again?"

"Because we are still questing to find my old tutor, Merlin," King Arthur put in. "And from the description passed down through the centuries, I'm certain that the druid mage who saved Griff's clan and enchanted them into their present state was none other than Merlin himself. It could only have been him who taught that rhyming riddle to the clan's hatchlings, the one that guided me to find Excalibur centuries later."

"And so we're here to have a look at those Scrolls of Merlin being kept in one of the city's museums; Arthur hopes that one of those stories written on the scrolls will hold a clue to Merlin's present whereabouts." Griff chuckled. "A pity nobody thought to mention those scrolls when we were here last time! Macbeth may have provided us with transportation back to London the first time, but we only just heard of those scrolls while we were returning from hunting down a false lead in Spain, and we had more than a bit of bother getting to this side of the Atlantic again."

"Yeah, I guess we should have thought of those," Brooklyn agreed as he rubbed his beak in embarrassment. "What can I say; it had been a busy night!"

"Well, I for one am glad you've returned here," Angela put in with an eager expression. "It's good to see you both again, and we'd love to hear of your travels and everything you've encountered in your quest!"

And so the ancient king and his gargoyle knight sat and talked for well over an hour about their quest for Merlin. Everyone listened intently, but none more so than Angela, who practically hung on their every word. This did not go unnoticed, and Arthur subsequently let Griff do most of the narrating, while he threw in an occasional sentence about encounters he'd had during the day while Griff was asleep. When he wasn't speaking, he was smiling with a trace of amusement at both the gargoyle lass and his knight, who was telling their story with more dash and flair than his best court minstrel back at Camelot could have done.

Goliath was also looking at the two of them, and he was not smiling. Brooklyn and Broadway were both scowling deeper as time went by, and once or twice tried to change the subject of conversation, but Angela hushed them impatiently and urged Griff to keep telling his story. After a while, Arthur got up from his chair and began looking for the 'garderobe', as he still called bathrooms. Goliath said he'd show him where the nearest one was, but as soon as they were out of sight and hearing of the others, he stopped the High King of Briton with one massive hand on his shoulder as he said, "You are not taking my daughter with you on your quest, is that understood?"

Arthur merely smiled at him amusedly. "What's this; you fear I or Griff would compromise her honor?"

"No, I fear you would lead her off to some other part of the world when it's almost time for her to breed! Angela will be rising to breed in the autumn of next year, and she's the only breedable female this clan has; we need the egg she'll lay for the rookery, to ensure our clan continues." He knew that if Angela or Elisa ever heard him talking so callously, both would refuse to speak to him for at least another full moon, but some things were too important to waste time softening edges and applying pretty gilding with 'politically correct' phrases, and making sure the clan continued was definitely one of them.

Arthur lost his amused smile and nodded soberly. "I understand. Even if she asks and Griff begs, I'll not allow her along; a pregnant woman has no business questing. But you may have trouble in keeping her at home regardless; I've seen her spirit before, in women of my time who donned trousers and false beards to pass themselves off as squires and knight-errants. Griff no doubt believes it's his own fine features and feats of bravery she's currently enthralled by, but it's hardly him at all; it's the places we've been to in our quest, and the wonders we've seen. Your daughter desires to see more of the world, and if you are not careful, one night you may wake up to find she's gone out to do just that."

Goliath sighed heavily. "I know. By the Dragon, we visited so many places around the world in our quest, we lost count of our stops long before it was over; that should have been enough to satisfy anyone's wanderlust! But Angela…." He sighed again and shook his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Much later, Elisa would be terribly embarrassed to find out that she'd fallen asleep in the middle of Griff's recounting of their quest. But the gargoyles merely smiled and Griff lowered his voice a bit, knowing that his kin could still hear him easily, even over Elisa's soft snores as she curled up against Goliath's broad chest. He tenderly enfolded her with a wing and ever-so-gently stroked her hair as he listened to the remainder of Griff's tale, his and Arthur's adventures in Spain just before hearing of the Scrolls of Merlin. "So, two weeks after hopping aboard a freighter out of Liverpool, here we are!" Griff near-whispered with a grin. "And after we've a look at those scrolls, then we'll decide where to go next."

"There's not enough time left for that tonight," Goliath said quietly but with surety as he glanced at the clock on the wall. "By the time we could get you past the museum's security measures and into the vault those scrolls are supposed to be stored in, it would be perilously close to dawn. Tomorrow night, we'll see about aiding you."

Then Broadway spoke up, sounding both eager and embarrassed. "And, um, in return, maybe you could, um… read them to us?"

Goliath colored a bit and coughed into his fist before admitting, "We tried to read them ourselves once, after Macbeth said the scrolls were full of stories instead of spells. But while I can read both English and Latin, I'm not at all conversant in ancient Welsh." The clan had concluded with disappointment that only Macbeth, world traveler over the centuries, would be able to read the scrolls for them, and at the time he was anything but a friend to the clan. And by the time he and they had come to a better understanding, the scrolls were locked up in a museum vault.

"Merlin always did prefer to write in that tongue," Arthur said with a smile and a nod. "But yes, once I've read them myself, I'll be happy to translate them for you. If we can bring along one of those voice-keeping devices-"

"A tape recorder," Griff interjected wryly.

"Then I'll be happy to give Merlin's tales a proper telling," Arthur finished. (And if, in the process, he happened to forget to translate a few of the more embarrassing bits of his exploits, he was sure Merlin would understand.)

Shortly after that, Goliath carefully rearranged Elisa's position, still sleeping in his embrace, and stood up with her in his arms as he said softly to their guests, "If you will excuse me, it's time I took Elisa to bed."

"No offense, Goliath, but I really think she needs to sleep right now," Brooklyn whispered with a grin, then yelped when Goliath's, Broadway's and Angela's tails all slapped him across the beak.

The yelp roused Elisa, who stirred and muttered something incomprehensible. Goliath whispered as he strode out of the room, "Ssshh, beloved; I'm taking you home now. Just rest."

Arthur and Griff were both silent until he'd left their range of hearing. Then Griff said carefully, "From his words, that crack you just made, and the cracks you just got, I take it Elisa is more than just a friend to the clan now?"

"Well, they haven't announced anything yet," Brooklyn said ruefully as he rubbed his aching beak and ignored the others' glares, "But yeah, we're pretty sure. C'mon, guys, it's even more obvious than my beak!"

"Hmm. Remind me before we leave to give you my clan's post address; those two would probably like to strike up a friendship with our clan's historian. We've had a human-gargoyle pairing, ourselves; a male from the generation before mine, Argus, once fell in love with Deirdre Marten, one of the humans caretakers I mentioned."

"How wonderful! Were they happily mated?" Angela asked with shining eyes.

"They were, as I recall, though she died of old age even before Goliath and I met and I was chucked forward half a century. Argus is dead now, too; passed on less than a week after I arrived in this decade, barely enough time for a hello-and-goodbye. But our current historian's one of his rookery brothers, and he might be willing to share his memories of them; it might help your pair through the rough bits they're going to be facing, if they want to make a real go of it." And for just a moment, Griff looked very sad and very wistful, as he stared off into space. Rather than ask him what memories he was seeing just then, the clan decided to change the subject to something else.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Goliath landed gently on Elisa's balcony, with her still asleep in his arms, there was a single light still burning in the kitchen. He quickly tapped in the disabling code for the alarm with his tail, glad he'd practiced doing that the last time he'd visited, then grunted as he fumbled with that tail underneath one of the potted plants for the key to the door. But by the time he had it out and was trying to maneuver it into the keyhole, the door clicked and opened from the inside. Peter Maza stood there in the doorway, his face expressionless.

"Elisa fell asleep at the castle," Goliath whispered. Even though it was obvious, he felt the need to say something to her father, feeling more than a little on the defensive at the moment. He quickly slid the key back under the potted plant as Peter stepped aside to let them in.

"Diane fell asleep here as well," Peter whispered as he gestured at his wife, currently curled up on the sofa with her shoes off and a blanket draped over her. "I came over to make sure she was all right when she didn't come home on time, but I'd rather she stayed here than went home; she's obsessed with getting everything done in time for the wedding, and she'd probably be coming right back here as soon as she woke up, whether she was really awake enough to drive or not."

"So that's where Elisa got her stubbornness from," Goliath whispered with a small smile as he carried her to the bedroom.

"She gets it from both of us," Peter admitted with a small, rueful smile of his own as he followed Goliath.

Peter looked on in silence as Goliath gently laid Elisa down on the bed and removed her shoes, before pulling the covers over her, tucking them under her chin like she was a small child again. But Peter doubted rather strongly that Goliath was feeling 'fatherly' towards Elisa, as he softly stroked her hair one last time and whispered, "Sleep well," before getting up from his crouch by the bed and leaving the room.

Once they were outside the bedroom, Peter wordlessly gestured for Goliath to follow him out to the balcony. They both knew it was past time that they had a talk, and the balcony would be quieter for the sake of the females sleeping in the bedroom and living room.

Still dressed for the warm interior, Peter found himself wishing he'd thought to grab a coat as he stood and shivered on the balcony, but he stubbornly refused to go back inside for one; he supposed ruefully that the ol' man was trying to act tough in front of his daughter's boyfriend again. Goliath seemed to understand, because his lips quirked in a small smile as he reached under another potted plant for a thick square of folded material, and shook out a canvas tarpaulin as he said, "My hide is far thicker than yours due to my very nature, but even I can tell it's cold outside. This will help ward off the wind."

Peter accepted the tarpaulin with poor grace, but wrapped it around his shoulders. He noticed the fishing weights sewn onto the edges, and eyed them curiously. Why would anyone need to weight down a tarpaulin like… oh. He looked at Goliath suspiciously, and again the gargoyle seemed to know his thoughts, because he nodded soberly and admitted, "I sleep under it occasionally, on those days when I roost here instead of with my clan."

"So… you and Elisa have more than just friendship going now, don't you."

"Far more."

Peter took a deep breath and steeled himself before asking, "How much more?"

Goliath took a deep breath too, and released it with a sigh. He knew full well that he had to go carefully now; these were tricky currents to glide in, but his and Elisa's happiness could well be at stake. "Mr. Maza, I love your daughter more than life itself. To save Elisa, I would willingly let myself be rendered to shards and gravel. For her sake, I would rip my own wings from my back if I had to. I love her more than I would have thought possible, before waking up in this millennium; she is human and I am gargoyle, but she is the other half of my soul."

Peter looked at him, and knew that Goliath meant every word he was saying. He hadn't heard such an impassioned declaration of love since the night he'd asked Mr. Don Taylor for his daughter Diane's hand in marriage. Almost everyone they knew, with the exception of the Chavez family, had been convinced that they'd never make it last; they came from two different worlds, her from a strong Southern Baptist heritage and him from a Navajo reservation. But nearly thirty years later, he and Diane were still happily married… And maybe, just maybe, this gargoyle and Elisa, despite coming from two even more different worlds, had what it takes to make a relationship last that long. He told Goliath what he was thinking, finishing with, "If you do, then I'm happy for you both." But he couldn't help adding, "Of course, if you ever hurt her in any way, you'll have more than the Quarrymen to worry about."

Goliath half-chuckled. "I don't doubt it." And they talked for a while more, about Elisa and gargoyle traditions and Maza family traditions and love.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At five minutes before dawn, Lexington came grumbling out of the nursery. "Somebody owes me big-time for this," he growled, looking at his tail-tip, which showed signs of abuse. "And you can't tell me that kid doesn't have carnivorous tastes."

"Ye actually let him teethe on yer tail!" Hudson chortled as he headed for his perch.

"It was the only way to shut him up! And I didn't even have a chance to check my e-mail or any chat rooms tonight; my buddies on-line probably think I've lost interest in discussing hang-gliding," he grumbled again as he went to tell Owen that Alex was all his, and welcome to it, before heading out to join his clan on the battlements for sunrise.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next night, as they went back to the station after investing a scene, Matt Bluestone was very, very surprised to find Elisa tossing him her car keys. "Here you go; don't get too used to it, and try not to hit anything, okay?" Elisa said through a yawn as she got in on the passenger side of her Fairlane. Once seated, she grabbed for her coffee thermos and travel mug like they were worth more than gold, and began gulping down more coffee. She'd already gone through the coffee she'd brought from home; this was from the station's coffeepot. It looked like an oil slick and tasted worse, but right now she desperately needed the caffeine.

"What's going on, partner?" Matt said, staring at her in surprise, and more than a little worry. "I sent you home early and covered for you last night, just so you could get some more shut-eye, and here you are again with bags under your eyes that I could pack for a two-day trip!"

"Gee, thanks for the compliment," Elisa said wryly, before smothering another yawn. "Ah, it's just crunch time at home right now, with Mom going bonkers trying to get everything perfect for my brother's wedding. Now she's making not just the clothes but the altar cloth and runners and suchlike, and she's been spending hours at my place with her sewing machine, and having me run out to get more fabric glue, pearl buttons and crap. And when it isn't her, it's the Quarrymen and guests for the gargoyles and God-knows-what's-next."

"Yeah, weddings are always stressful." Matt was silent for a moment, then said casually, "So, when's the wedding? And by the way, why have you been keeping your brother's return a secret from all his old buddies at the station?"

Elisa coughed and spat coffee all over the dashboard. Matt hurriedly pulled over, and grabbed for a handful of napkins to mop up the mess as Elisa sputtered and tried to regain her composure. After nearly a minute, she wiped the last of the coffee off her face and the tears from her eyes, to see Matt looking at her with a mixture of sympathy for her plight and hurt anger; he'd caught her with another secret she'd been keeping from everybody, and she knew he'd caught her. She took a deep breath, had another spasm of coughing, then tried again. "If I tell you, it's another secret you'll have to keep as well. Nobody else at the station can know, not even Captain Chavez."

Matt smiled lopsidedly. "I've gotten pretty good at keeping secrets lately." Lately, between the Illuminati and the gargoyles, he'd been keeping more information under his hat than hair. (He suppressed a wince at the thought of that miniscule bald spot he'd seen forming in the mirror last week; dammit, he was too young to be going bald already!)

"Yeah, I suppose you have." Elisa sighed. "All right. It starts with a total sleazebag named Dr. Anton Sevarius…"

It took over half an hour for her to tell him everything. The mutates, the Labyrinth, even the gargoyle clones. She finished with telling about the baby on the way and the wedding plans, and when she did, he regarded her with something close to amazement. If he didn't know already about the gargoyles and Xanatos' involvement, he might have thought she was spinning a world-class whopper, but too much of it fitted in with what he already knew was true. He realized now why she'd hated Xanatos so much, even more than Tony Dracon and Tomas Brode combined. It was purest irony that Xanatos, who now seemed to be trying to mend his former sleazebag ways, had been just a few weeks too late with his cure for the mutates. But rather than point out any of the obvious, he just said, "No wonder you've been worn out. Look, once we get back and write up this last investigation, see if you can't sneak out early again; it's hard to investigate anything if you can't keep your eyes open. But, um, would you mind asking your brother if he'll issue another invite?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once she'd gotten back to her apartment, Elisa yawned prodigiously as she took off her jacket and put her gun and holster in the gun safe. "Hi, Mom. How-yawwwnnn!-how's it coming?"

Still sitting at her sewing machine and attempting, through eyes at half-mast, to re-thread the machine with a new color of thread, Diane Maza said wearily, "Finished the pants, finished the jackets, finished the altar cloth and runners, and getting close to finished on Maggie's dress. You just missed her by ten minutes or so; she came here for her last fitting. And Xanatos called, asked if you'd call the castle when you get in; something about scrolls and a castaway."

"Castaway!" Elisa forgot her weariness and grabbed for the phone. She didn't have the number for Xanatos' office handy, but she already knew the number for the phone in the gargoyles' living quarters. "Hi, Angela, it's Elisa; is Goliath there?… Goliath, my mom took a message to call you; did we find out something about Jon Castaway?"

"Yes, we have," Goliath growled on the other end of the phone. "It seems that Xanatos--eh? Just a moment, Elisa." Then there was a click, and then Elisa heard the familiar slightly-attenuated sounds that indicated the other end was now a speakerphone, and Xanatos explaining to Goliath that in this fashion, Elisa could hear both of them without having to pause to relay questions and answers. Elisa smiled wryly as she thought to herself that it also meant she and Goliath couldn't exchange any sweet nothings once the important information had been passed on. Not that she was apt to do something like that anyway, with her mother sitting not ten feet away from her.

"I hired a few private detectives to investigate Castaway," Xanatos told her. "People who're possibly your equal for ingenuity and keen insight, but not your, shall we say, high level of scruples. And one of them brought back to me this evening a few pictures that had been taken in Castaway's apartment. Guess who has multiple sets of false ID, including a set with a press pass for a man named Jon Carter?"

As tired as she was, it took a second or two for the light bulb to click. Then Elisa swore violently enough for her mother to sit bolt upright and give her a disapproving eye, not that she cared at the moment. "Jon Canmore, the third Hunter! I can't believe we didn't figure it out before now! What the hell kind of detective am I, to be fooled by a scrawny mustache and fake accent!"

"Do not disparage yourself over this, Elisa," Goliath growled. "I didn't see it either, and I've fought him both as Hunter and Quarryman. It's not simply his accent that has changed; his entire way of moving in combat has altered as well. Before, and even at the confrontation at St. Damien's, he exhibited a hesitation, a reluctance to kill, but now… even the Vikings of old would applaud his thirst for our blood."

"I think our next step is to contact Jason Canmore, in the physical rehab facility he's in," Xanatos announced. "If, as you told me, he's truly changed in his attitude towards the gargoyles, maybe he can get his brother to see the light."

"Maybe," Elisa sighed, suddenly weary again. "It's worth a shot, at least." But privately, she doubted it. She knew already that Jon blamed the gargoyles for his brother's paralysis, even though he'd been the one to fire the shot that had crippled Jason and nearly killed him. If Jon admitted to himself that the gargoyles weren't all monsters, then that would mean admitting to himself that he'd been the one at fault in that fight… and he'd deny that even if he had his face rubbed in it. Just like Demona denied her own guilty part played in the massacre at Wyvern, and in Macbeth's tragedy, and so much more… But maybe, there was a chance. If both she and Jason could talk to him together, and she brought along her scrapbook… the same scrapbook she'd used to convince Jason that day, just before the confrontation at St. Damien's…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Did the lack of oxygen kill a few too many of yer brains cells, woman! How can ye even think of defending such monsters! If not for me, ye would have drowned, and that's a fact!" Jason had exploded at her while they stood by the side of the road, trying to hitch a ride back to Manhattan. Jason Conover's smooth Midwestern accent was now almost completely overwhelmed by the Scottish burr of Jason Canmore's childhood; he wasn't attempting to hide it at all anymore.

"If not for you and your family, I would never have been in danger in the first place!" Elisa had shouted back. "The only reason I was there at all was to keep Goliath from either killing you or getting killed by you! He was too angry to think straight when he went off alone to confront you, but wouldn't you be just a teensy bit upset, if somebody first tried to kill your daughter, then blew up your home!"

Sixty-odd cars had passed them already, and from the way they were shouting at each other, Elisa wasn't a bit surprised; nobody sane would want to pick up two people in their obvious state of mind. And standing there shouting at each other might be raising their body temperatures a bit, but not enough to counteract the freezing-cold water still soaking their clothes. She blew out an exasperated breath and decided to change tactics. "First things first; we get ourselves a ride. Then when we get back to Manhattan, I've got some stuff in my apartment to show you. Here, hold these," as she took off her jacket and shoulder holster. "And go sit down on the other side of that boulder; you won't be as noticeable." And once he had, she stood facing the oncoming traffic, threw out her chest with it's soaking-wet T-shirt and bra plastered to her breasts, and did her best to look utterly helpless, adorable and sexy as she gestured with a thumb and an out-thrust hip. Going my way?

Within sixty seconds, an eighteen-wheeler pulled over for her. The driver, a young man with a scraggly blond beard and hair, rolled down the window and called out, not quite leering, "Where you headed, miss?"

Jason knew his cue and popped up, saying brightly, "We're going to Manhattan! It's ever so kind of you to be willing to help out my sister and me!"

The driver frowned at the unexpected extra, but couldn't quite bring himself to just drive off and leave them there, so he'd rather ungraciously given them a ride back to Manhattan. Once there, they'd taken a cab to her apartment. Elisa took one step inside the door and froze, mentally kicking herself; she hadn't thought about where the gargoyles were most apt to roost that day. There they all were, sitting stone ducks in her apartment, and she'd brought a Hunter home with her!

Jason swore violently as he looked over her shoulder and laid eyes on them, and shoved her to one side as he charged in, probably intending to grab one of the table lamps or something else that was heavy and start bashing away. But in his haste, he neglected to think about another resident of her apartment: Cagney. The cat shrieked like a banshee when he stepped on his tail, and shot out from under his foot with a violent lunge. Startled, Jason lost his footing and fell down, and before he could get back up again Elisa straddled him and whipped out her handcuffs.

"So is that yer plan, to leave me here as easy prey for the monsters when they awaken!" he'd shouted at her as she cuffed his hands behind his back.

"Of course not! I'm just trying to make sure they're not easy prey for you!" as she finished the job and got up, then helped him to his feet. "Now, I want you to look at them. Really look at them!" as she turkey-walked him up to where they were clustered. "Yes, they're different from us, they've got wings and tails and funny bumps on their heads, but what do these folks look like, right now?"

Jason had eyed the clan as they stood there, some of them slumped over, some with their faces buried in their hands, all of them with grief etched deep in their not-quite-human features, and said slowly, "They… they look sad."

"Yeah, and do you know why? Because they think one of their friends, namely me, is dead!" And with that, she walked him into the dining room. She uncuffed one of his hands so he could eat, but quickly cuffed the other end to the table leg so he couldn't get away from her and threaten the gargoyles again. "How do you like your eggs?"

While she made breakfast for them both, Jason tried to explain the righteousness of his cause to her, of his family's millennium-long quest to destroy 'the Demon'. He finished with, "My ancestors have compiled a list longer than I am tall of all the atrocities that Demon has committed, her and her monstrous kind!"

"And you know what? I can add at least a half-dozen atrocities to that list of yours, without even having to think hard!" Elisa said as she served him his scrambled eggs.

He'd been opening his mouth for an angry retort, when her words registered and he just left it hanging open for a moment. Then he said weakly, "What?"

"Demona is my enemy, too; she's tried to kill me at least a half-dozen times! She's shot at me, tried to beat me to a pulp, tried to poison me, cast spells on me; you name it, she's tried it!" Actually, the spells had been cast on the entire city, but she figured now wasn't the time to nit-pick.

"Th-then… why on God's green earth were you defending her kind earlier?"

"Not her kind, Jason; my friends are anything but! The other gargoyles are her enemies, too! Do you really think that psycho bitch has only tried to kill humans! She's utterly insane, she'll kill anyone in her way, including other gargoyles that are trying to defend the humans she hates! Look, here's what I know about her." And with that, she told him everything she knew of Demona. Everything she'd witnessed, and everything Goliath and the others had told her about; again, she was glad Goliath liked to use her for a sounding board when he was troubled by something. Not only did it show how much he trusted her, but it gave her plenty of data to add to Jason's list; enough to see that, regarding Demona, his ancestors were right on the money. She decided not to mention what she knew about Demona's involvement with Macbeth, and the fact that she might have happily stayed at Macbeth's side as advisor and ally, and friendly to the local humans there, if Duncan Canmore hadn't attacked with his English allies. The whole point of this was to find some mutual grounds for agreement, to better be able to change his mind on other matters.

"Aye, much of that sounds like the tales my father and grandfather told me," Jason said grimly. "Treacherous to her blackened and rotted core."

"No argument there," Elisa agreed as she wolfed down her eggs with a grimace; they'd gone cold during her story.

"But this other news, that she's even an enemy to her own kind… How certain are ye of that, truly?"

"As certain as I am of the reason your family's still hunting her, after a thousand years of trying to kill her. Ever wonder why you can't do it?"

"Some of our family has said she's sold her soul to Satan, in order to be his eternal pawn here on Earth, wreaking destruction at his bidding. Of course, others have said her kind have no souls to begin with."

"Without getting into anything theological, I can tell you why she's still around. This may sound nuts, but she's under a spell, bound to another immortal. The only way she can be killed is for the two of them to kill each other. God's truth; we got the story straight from the other guy himself." She paused to smile wryly as she pointed a fork at him. "Y'know, if your family hadn't been chasing her around the globe all this time, and given her a chance to settle into one place, he probably would have found her by now and ended both their lives. He's sick of immortality, outliving all his loved ones, and he's been trying to track her down for a final battle for centuries!"

Jason could only stare at her, utterly appalled. "Y… ye're serious?"

"As homicide. I'm also serious about the other gargoyles being her enemies. Her enemies, because they're friendly to humans in general! Wait right here; I want to show you something." And with that, she'd dug into the bottom of her closet and pulled out her scrapbook.

Not even Goliath knew she had been keeping this, a scrapbook of their exploits with regards to crimefighting. Several pages held photocopies of police reports, which listed an 'unknown citizen' as having left a criminal unconscious and/or tied up for them to find. Several more held clippings from the National Enquirer and other tabloid rags, where 'avenging angels' had saved citizens from muggers and worse. Next to each entry, Elisa had written down the name of the gargoyle involved, and any other pertinent details that the 'official' report had left out. None of it was evidence that would last more than ten seconds in court, but Elisa thought that someday, if Captain Chavez or the other police officers ever found out about the people secretly living in the clocktower over the station, Elisa could show them this in hopes of persuading them to let her friends stay. Of course, now that the clocktower was destroyed, it was largely a moot point, but maybe she could use it to persuade Jason of their good intentions.

Jason had looked through the scrapbook. He'd asked questions, she'd given answers. They'd argued, nit-picked, called each other blind idiots, and so on and so forth until almost an hour till sunset, but Jason had finally agreed that she'd been right and he'd been wrong. His whole family had been wrong, all those times they'd found 'the Demon' with a nest of gargoyles and wreaked havoc there, trying to destroy all of them but somehow always missing her. When he'd mentioned the other clans of gargoyles, burned to death or riddled with arrows or shattered in their stone sleep, Elisa had closed her eyes and told herself not to lose her lunch. They were dead, and she could do nothing for them now. But if she could prevent more from being killed…

Jason agreed to help persuade his brother and sister to call off the hunt for the other gargoyles. "We'll take that scrapbook of yours to the apartment I share with them; perhaps between the two of us, we'll be able to persuade them. Actually, the only one we'll likely have to persuade will be my sister, Robin; some of what ye've been saying is what my brother Jon has been trying to tell us all along. I wish now I'd listened to him afore this!"

So they left a note for the clan on the kitchen table, figuring that Broadway would find it when he dug into her refrigerator for something to eat, though Elisa hoped to be back before they woke up. But when they got to Jason's apartment, they found it empty, and got caught in a traffic jam on the way back. By the time they got back to her place, it was well after sunset and the gargoyles had woken up and left already, with no indications that they had read her note. "Blast! Now where could they have gone!" as Elisa, frustrated, kicked at a stray stone shard.

"Likely hunting my brother and sister," Jason said wryly. "Who're no doubt hunting for them! But after the tape we made and broadcast last night, the whole city will be on the lookout for them; likely the easiest way to find them will be to listen to the police scanner in your car and head for the loudest ruckus."

Elisa reluctantly agreed, and so they'd gotten back into the Fairlane. And not long after sunset, Elisa's scanner had picked up news of the battle at St, Damien's. When they'd found traffic clogged and snarled beyond moving nearly five blocks away from the ruined cathedral, not even responding to her slap-on siren, they'd sworn and jumped out of the Fairlane to go forward on foot. Then they'd seen an ambulance worming its way through the crowd; it was standard procedures to call one in when there was a threat of riot, and there most definitely was a riot forming outside the cathedral. Elisa had dashed right up to it, whipped out her badge and shouted for the driver, one she knew, to give them a lift up to St. Damien's. "Dammit, Jimmy, lives are at stake and we have to get there fast!" And Jimmy had given them both a lift there. Then, less than half an hour later, he'd been transporting Jason to the hospital in a race to save his life, after being shot by his own brother…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Detective, are you still with us?" Xanatos said over the phone, sounding a bit bemused.

Elisa jerked a bit, realizing she'd been woolgathering while still on the phone. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, on a positive note, I did some talking to the curators of the museum that's holding the Scrolls of Merlin. Rather than our friends risking breaking and entering charges to get King Arthur the information he needs, I've convince the museum to release the scrolls into my custody for a few days, so my 'expert' can have a shot at translating them. King Arthur's going to record a transcript of his translation for them once he's had look for himself; this way, the museum benefits as well." Xanatos sounded quite pleased with himself, and she had to admit it was a better idea than the gargoyles' idea of just sneaking in there. "We'll be getting the scrolls tomorrow, and Arthur has agreed to give us a reading two nights from now, the night after Derek and Maggie's wedding. Want to come over for a night of storytelling?"

His voice more faint but still clear, Broadway chimed in enthusiastically from wherever he was in the castle's living room. "Come on, Elisa, it'll be great! Almost like having a real bard come visiting again!"

Elisa smiled, considering that traveling bards and minstrels had been highly prized for entertainment back in medieval times; this was probably more exciting for them than getting tickets to the NBA playoffs had once been for Derek. She had the night off after the wedding, too, so she agreed to be there for the reading. And as she hung up a little while later, she reflected wryly that she must really be living in a fairy tale; it wasn't every girl who was going to have a king telling her a bedtime story!

NEXT: WEDDING BELLES