Desert Fox Chapter 3
A/N: Disclaimers in chapter 1.
~*~*~*~*~
"Mom!"
Peter Maza stepped aside as Beth lunged into her mother's arms, shaking like a leaf. Water still darkened her throat where some compassionate deputy had helped her clean up. "Oh, Mom, it was awful... they shot them...."
"Multiple shooting?" the former cop asked the officer in charge, eyeing the black bags being hauled into the coroner's wagon.
Lieutenant Tewanima's face was politely neutral. "We're still-"
"Investigating, I know." Peter nodded. This wasn't New York. He couldn't call on old favors here. "Just tell me. Were they after my daughter?" It could be possible. Goliath's clan had made enemies. Some very powerful enemies, though Xanatos seemed to have declared a truce after the clan helped defend his son against Oberon's attack.
The lieutenant grimaced. "Doesn't look like it."
So if not Beth, then- "Apoyo."
The shift of Tewanima's gaze toward the surrounding hills was answer enough.
~*~*~*~*~
"Manuel, report."
The Mexican tracker exchanged a resigned glance with his partner. "The trail is difficult, jefe," he reported. "We follow as we can."
Helicopter engines were a steady beat in the background. "You need more men. We will rendezvous in twenty minutes."
"Sí, jefe."
"We don't need more men," Enrico grumbled, striking a match on sandstone for his cigarette. "Clumsy-footed city dwellers, stomp all over the trail."
"You wish to tell that to Argentino?"
Enrico snorted. "I like breathing, sí?"
"Sí." Manuel bent near the dust. "I think she tires. See, the track is almost clear-"
A curve of gray and black slid under his eyes, rattling as it came.
"Aiieee!"
~*~*~*~*~
Huddled against chill rock, Isabel peered out toward the shriek. Sounded close.
Gunshots. Definitely close-
Silence.
Footsteps. Close and quiet. Isabel's gaze blurred, making out two gray forms; a man with mirrored sunglasses, a woman whose bright blaze of red hair was almost hidden under a desert-tan boonie hat.
"Don't move. We'll get you out of here."
A half-remembered voice; an echo of rescue out of nightmare. Isabel blinked, trying to bring the face into focus. She felt hands near her ribs, heard a whispered curse as gentle fingers traced torn flesh. Blue eyes. Something about those eyes.... "Are you... real?"
A smile flickered over the grim face. "Yeah."
"Good." Eyes closed, Isabel let darkness sweep down.
~*~*~*~*~
Not good, String thought, lowering the DEA agent into a patch of shade. They'd had to move her; even with the two trackers tied up and stuffed under rocks, her boulder hideout had been too close to Argentino's rendezvous. Their map had showed this shallow valley just over two ridges; a rocky, broken area with wind-sculpted hollows to hide in and a tiny seep of water too small for even the local Navajo shepherds to bother with. So they'd wrapped Apoyo in his sleeping bag and made tracks.
He just hoped they hadn't killed her trying to save her.
A rustle of denim let him know Caitlin was back from hiding their trail. "How's she doin'?"
"Pulse is good," String said, keeping his voice low. "Lips have color, and her lungs sound clear. I can't find any swelling." He peeled back Apoyo's jacket for a moment, ignoring modesty to touch lightly around the stitches. No feel of fever heat, or air moving where it shouldn't be. "Hope she just pushed herself too hard."
"We didn't bring an IV," Caitlin cursed.
"Have to remember that next time." String zipped the jacket back up, wrapped glossy black down over the woman to hold in warmth. "Sugar water. With some salt."
"If she wakes up to take it." Caitlin smoothed a stray black strand from Isabel's forehead. "Should've known Argentinos wouldn't give her up so easy."
String covered her hand with his; a small comfort, against the self-loathing in that sweetly familiar voice. "We did what we could."
"Did we?" A ragged edge of pain. One moment's indecision - one yielding-up of a man to an officer with authority - and Caitlin still felt as if she'd pulled the trigger herself. "Did we, Hawke?"
"We got her out of Sonora," String stated bluntly. "We got her to people who were supposed to be looking out for her. You want to beat somebody up, punch out the DEA agent on her case." He rubbed his thumb gently along her knuckles. "We'll get her out of here."
The redhead's fingers flexed under his, pressing lightly back. "Thing I love about you, Hawke? I know you're not just saying that."
Lie? To Cait? Not an option. He took out their radio. "So let's figure out just how we're going to do it."
~*~*~*~*~
"Manuel. Report." Paolo released the transmitter on his walkie-talkie, listened to the static of empty air as helicopter rotors slowed to silence. "Where are they?" Enrico might not be the most timely of men, but Manuel should have kept him in line. The older tracker had worked for the Argentinos since his discharge from the Mexican Army. Manuel knew better than to cross him.
"Brass!" Miguel sniffed the casing, raw lips pulled back in a grimace. "Fresh."
And no bodies. No blood. Paolo gathered his men with a flick of eyes. "Pair up. Search."
Half an hour of nerve-wracking hunting turned up two bound, bruised trackers, gagged with their own bandannas. Bare feet were scratched and bloody, and dark eyes were wide and panicked. "¡Jefe!" Enrico coughed as red cotton came free. "We can explain. There was una víbora enorme-"
Snakes didn't use tent rope. Paolo silenced him with a glare. Turned to Manuel. "How many?"
"Two, I think. It happened so fast...." He twitched a thorn-laden toe, winced. "They took our shoes."
"Shoes? As if that should prevent you from-" Argentino paused. Looked over the landscape with new eyes.
The thorn-studded, cactus-laden, briar-wreathed landscape.
He lets the land fight for him. Dangerous. Sign of an intelligent foe.
Or a desperate one.
The drug lord reined in anger. Once he found Apoyo - then he could afford to listen to the sweet crunch of breaking bones. "Did they say anything?"
Enrico shook his head desperately. "It was like fighting ghosts!"
"Operatives," Manuel said firmly, the ex-soldier's more experienced tone steadying his younger partner. "Those who have been through the Americans' special training; they move so." He faced Argentino with no hint of apology in his eyes. "They knew we were here; they knew their objective. They are very, very good."
"Yet you are alive." Argentino's voice was silk over steel.
"A dead body would not have delayed you," Manuel shrugged, never taking his gaze off Paolo.
True. Blood would have been clear sign his men had failed. Instead, he had been left unknowing, spending time to be sure.... "They buy time."
Manuel shifted his gaze to the red earth, leaning on Miguel's helpful arm to stagger about the briar-laced ground. "Two," the tracker stated after a long minute. "Not tall, as Americans go. One is a woman."
Another woman? "They do not allow women to fight." Even norteaméricanos were not that foolish.
"In the military, no." Manuel sank to the ground, prying open a Swiss Army knife to tease splinters out from under his skin. "In the DEA, yes."
So they would smash three operatives instead of one. "If they buy time, they expect help, and that help will call," Paolo said coldly. "Scan the radio frequencies. We will find them."
~*~*~*~*~
"What do you mean, you can't send anyone after them?" Beth demanded.
Coordinating crowd-control and a wrecker with his men over the radio, Lieutenant Tewanima looked distinctly uncomfortable. On the one hand Peter sympathized; he'd faced his own unpalatable dilemmas as a cop, and having an insistent civilian in your face didn't make anything any easier. On the other... Peter might not like Apoyo, but the woman was in real danger.
Unfortunately, so was half the reservation.
"Look. Ma'am. If there are armed men in helicopters out there-"
"They said there were," Beth argued.
"They also said they were good Samaritans." Tewanima's dark scowl showed his opinion of that. "If he's the same Stringfellow Hawke as the bike plates say, all we know is he's from California and he doesn't have any outstanding warrants. We can't send Search and Rescue out if they're going to get shot at. Not without an escort - and we can't free up anybody for an escort."
"Why not?"
The lieutenant gave Beth a look that should have shriveled prickly pears at ten paces. "Have you been listening to the news?"
"A little... so there are gargoyles in New York. So what?"
Peter winced. Beth, now is not the time to pull out the peace and tolerance card. Loving your fellow humans with different lifestyle choices was one thing. Accepting the existence of large, fanged, monstrous-looking beings when the world had apparently gone completely insane - that was a bit much to ask of any person.
Though New York was probably having an easier time than the rest of the world. After all, they had a two-hundred-foot lizard as permanent resident. What were a few gargoyles, after that?
"Have you ever seen a riot? Ask your father about them. They're not an 'interesting cultural phenomenon'." Slamming his car door, Tewanima tore down the road.
"He's right," Peter sighed, ushering Beth toward their sedan. The tribal police had confiscated the pickup, bad guy and all. "If someone doesn't stop transmitting from New York, we could have real trouble on our hands." At least now they knew what Elisa hadn't wanted to say over the phone. Magic loose in the streets? Demona attacking the Ghostbusters' firehall? Hundreds of people transformed by some odd, rumored mix of magic and biotechnology?
Was Elisa hit? No, she would have told us. She wouldn't keep that a secret... would she?
Beth was still fuming, New York the last thing on her mind. "He could at least have told them that!"
Diane took her other arm. "How? It's not like they left a number."
Beth brandished a radio. "I mean, it's not like it would have been such a big deal to-"
Peter snatched black plastic. "What channel?"
"Twelve. Or was it nine? I tried to tell him-"
Nine was the local emergency frequency. Peter turned to twelve. "Hello? I'm looking for Hawke and Caitlin?"
"Who wants them?" Suspicion laced Caitlin's voice, thick as traces of Texas and California.
"Peter Maza. You saved my daughter this morning." He gripped the edge of the sedan door. "I don't know if you've heard any of the news today, but the local cops have their hands full. They're not going to be able to help you search."
"Yeah." Blunt and quiet; had to be Hawke. "What about a medevac?"
Medevac? Did you find her? Why won't you say you found her- Peter could have smacked himself in the forehead. Tewanima hadn't said much, but what he hadn't said had been enough to paint a hazy picture of just what had gone down here. Whoever's after her, they didn't just ambush her. They're still looking. "Search and Rescue's busy. Can you hold out a few more hours?"
"Maybe."
Peter shook his head. He'd heard lots of maybes in his years on the force. Maybe-yes, maybe-no, maybe-I-haven't-got-a-clue.
This maybe didn't give any clues. Smooth as glass; not a hint of lean one way or the other.
The ex-cop shrugged mentally. "If you can, we can get you some help. Unofficially."
"We'll think about it." Click.
Peter stared at the sun, willing it to fall.
~*~*~*~*~
...pilot hazard. Airwolf within easy sortie range. Unable to track enemy helicopters with own sensors from inside Lair. Basaltic shielding rock interferes with scan of radio frequencies and satellite access. Unable to locate satellite view of enemy helicopters. Potential security risk from unknown gargoyles returning to Lair upon sunset. Situation unacceptable-
"All right, all right, I hear ya," Dominic groused, tossing a wrench back into his toolbox. He kept his voice low; Le Van might be on the other side of Santini Air's hangar, but the thirteen-year-old was already showing signs of the family's keen ears. "Why don't you bother Mr. Clean with this?"
Pilot Michael, Archangel ordered, "Enough already. I can't just drop a Committee meeting. Listen to Hawke."
Pilot Stringfellow Hawke aircraft commander of record.
Pilots Hawke and Caitlin unwilling to withdraw pilot Dominic's presence from security of registered passenger Le Van Hawke.
String and Cait didn't want to leave Le Van with strangers. Figured. After all these years, String still thought he was jinxed... and given the kinds of trouble that had landed on their doorsteps, Dom couldn't argue much.
Sure be easier if this were a school day, Dominic thought. He'd raised teen-age kids before, a pair of 'em, but he'd been twenty years younger then. Trying to handle Le Van and Santini Air and Airwolf was like juggling a bunch of hand grenades.
Then again, even if it were a school day, String might have pulled Le Van out after last night's wake-up call. Archangel might say the mess in New York was over, but the day still didn't feel right.
And it ain't over, Dom thought, shaking his head at the news reports he'd heard so far on the radio. Panic in the streets was a fair assessment; people trying to come to grips with the fact that not everybody in New York City was human anymore. Far as the rest of the States go, it's just started.
Might be easier if St. John were here to look after his son. Or not. Wasn't that Le hated the man who'd left his mother for the Company's call. The two just didn't seem to mesh - not like Le and String did. You always had the bigger heart, kid, Dom thought. Tough - oh yeah, tough as nails an' about as cuddly - but a heart wide as a hangar door.
And Sinj just didn't. Oh, he was a good man; kind, decent, the kind of person you'd want at your back in a firefight. Friendly, even; something nobody'd ever accused String of, or ever would.
But Sinj had needed a blood test to be sure. String had looked his nephew up and down and said, Come home.
"You've got that look, Uncle Dom." Just starting to get his growth, Le Van still had to look up to meet Santini's gaze.
"Look?" Dominic tried to play innocent. "What look?"
The skeptical tilt of head was pure Hawke, belying slanted Amerasian eyes. "The 'It's classified' look."
"Well, it is," Dominic admitted. That was one thing he agreed with String on, no matter what Sinj wanted. Le Van might not have 'need to know' on the details, but the kid deserved to know why they kept weirder hours than a Navy port's bargirls. "I'm gonna have to leave you at Knightsbridge for a while."
That stubbornness was Hawke, too. "I could stay here. Or I could come with you-"
"Your dad would kill me." Dom put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Le. You know what we agreed about guns and helicopters."
"I don't shoot unless family's there and it's a target range, I don't fly unless family's there to copilot." Le sighed, scuffing concrete with his sneaker. "It's not fair."
"Fair?" Dominic raised dark brows. Mama mia; and he thought he'd left this behind once String hit eighteen. Shoulda known better. "Since when is fair supposed to be part of the deal, kid? You get old enough for a license, you get to fly on your own. That's the law - and don't you start," he said hastily, seeing that argument coming. "When we carry we do it legal." Michael might pull a few strings to make it legal, but they didn't need to get into that kind of detail.
Another sigh. "Am I ever going to get to see her again?" Le Van asked plaintively.
Santa Maria, another can of worms. The kid was a Hawke, after all; one look at Airwolf, and he was just as mad to fly her as String had ever been. "I have to ask." And we have to get it straight that you don't just grab anybody under a helmet, he shot at the impatient A.I. Kid doesn't know what he'd be getting into.
Registered passenger Le Van Hawke not yet qualified as pilot, Airwolf evaded.
Dominic rolled his eyes. Don't pull that with me, missy. You know and I know all you need's somebody in the seat with the right senses and the right link. And there is no way I'm gonna trust a thirteen-year-old with Hellfires.
An electronic sigh. Rendezvous in progress?
Yeah, I'm coming. "Help me lock up," Dominic told his young ward, putting tools back into order. "With any luck, we'll all be back in time to try and get your Uncle String to eat a burger."
"You mean feed it to Tet," Le Van shook his head, pure Santini in the roll of exasperated eyes. "Give it up, Uncle Dom. He'll kiss Aunt Cait first."
Dominic grinned, dark brows waggling. "I sure hope so."
Le stared at him, obviously imagining his quiet, sardonic uncle sweeping his 'aunt' into a tight embrace. "Yuck!"
~*~*~*~*~
"Have you found them?"
Sunset painted the desert in glowing gold, flashed orange across Aluino's frown as he fiddled with the lead helicopter's communications equipment. "They are not transmitting now. But..." He scratched coordinates on paper, leaned them next to the map. "They are not far."
"Not far," Paolo sneered. His hand itched to strike; Carlos would have struck. "Do better than that!"
The fear in Aluino's eyes was sweet as honey. "Sí, jefe," he said hastily, bending back over the radio.
Miguel's hands trembled as he reloaded his pistol. "The demon will be waking soon."
"Then we deal with the demon," Paolo growled. That was why he had come with armed helicopters, instead of jeeps and dogs. Dogs were more pleasant to hunt... but they might flee the uncanny creature Isabel kept company with.
Machine guns, fed with armor-piercing rounds - never.
"You say it bled." One finger caressed the smooth coolness of a gun barrel. "If it bleeds, it can die."
~*~*~*~*~
No. Zorra let spent brass fall from trembling talons, listened to the echoing silence from inside Isabel's trailer. No.
The signs had been trampled, but enough remained to tell a tale. A battle had been fought here. Death stained the earth. And Isabel... was gone.
Not dead! You would know if she were dead. You would know!
First things first, Zorra ordered her trembling heart. Find Isabel.
But with no trail....
Callista, she thought, launching from the hilltop. Winds were thin and cold, but Sonora's were little worse.
With the right spell, the mage could track an owl on a moonless night. If anyone could find Isabel, she could.
If her clan-sibs hadn't been delayed. If they'd survived the day, hiding among humans who did not know their nature. If, if, if....
And she was in sight of the rendezvous point, and a blur of pink and silver took her breath away. They're alive.
"¡Hermanos!" Zorra swooped down to the wing-crowded stone spire, traded a hasty embrace with Tizne. "Thank the Morning Star you've come. Mi amor, she is missing, and I have found traces of armed foes-"
"No time." Callista's silvery draconic snout looked grimmer than usual. A spark of blue light crackled between two talons; broke free from the gargoyle mage's grasp to soar into the desert night. "La loba aérea bides, but not for long. The falcons hide; the osprey flies. Darkness is near."
"Do you ever know what she's talking about?" Mariposa demanded as they took to the skies.
Zorra shrugged. "Does anyone?"
~*~*~*~*~
"This way, lad?" Hudson kept one hand on his sword, following in Bronx' wake. So far the beast had nigh led them all over three scorpions, an annoyed snake, and a landslide, but the trail seemed true.
"Rrowf!"
"There's got to be a better way to do this," Beth lamented, flashlight swinging in her hand.
"I can't track them with this equipment," Lex admitted, putting away his laptop, tail tapping the dust as they followed Bronx. "Even with the right frequency. We just don't have the range. Ow!"
"Look out for the cactus," Brooklyn snickered.
"Very funny."
"And they will not tell you where they are," Goliath stated, keeping watch on the night.
"Can't blame them," Peter sighed. "I could put Beth on the air, and they still wouldn't know she wasn't talking under duress. If I could just get Tewanima on the line, they could check his credentials."
"But the lieutenant's busy right now," Beth said dryly. "So - did you guys find anything in the Valley of the Gods?"
"Not gargoyles...." Broadway was still rubbing his head, dazed by the swift update the Mazas had called in at sunset. "In New York?"
"Apparently," Diane agreed. She'd traded in her usual dress for slacks, taking into consideration the rough terrain they were crossing. She skewed a glance Goliath's way. "When your ex messes up a spell, she does it in spades."
Goliath scowled. "And we still cannot speak with Elisa."
"If you think Tewanima's busy, Elisa's probably too overworked to think," Peter shrugged. "She'll call when she can. Right now we've got three people out there trying not to get killed. If we could just find them-"
"Look!" Lex jabbed a finger toward the sky.
Darkness between them and the stars. Familiar shapes, that swooped and swirled to catch the fastest currents of wind.
And at least two of those shapes had curves.
"You three, aloft," Goliath declared. "We must speak with them. Hudson-"
"Aye, lad. Cling to yer radios. We're near." Hudson scratched under Bronx' chin.
Tongue lolling, the gargoyle beast grinned.
~*~*~*~*~
A burst of static, and a pencil flew into the air. "Yes!"
Finally! Stalking over to the console, Paolo slammed a hand down on the map. "What have you found?"
Aluino barely noticed the threat, drawing lines to intersect not two miles away. "A set of transmissions that are not the police, both in the air and on the ground. Heading into the area where we located Apoyo," he exulted. "I have them!"
"No." Paolo studied inked contours grimly. "I have them."
With a gesture, helicopters tore into the night.
~*~*~*~*~
"Hawke?" Caitlin's voice held a wary edge. "You ever see a bracelet do that before?"
Turquoise glowed, blue light shining through black nylon. String bit off a curse, digging in his pack for duct tape to stifle the betraying gleam-
"Callista," came the soft whisper, coppery fingers tracing the glowing stone. "Zorra?"
"Easy," Caitlin cautioned her, holding Isabel back when the agent tried to rise. One-handed, she offered a canteen of sugar-laced water. "She's not here."
String tapped the turquoise. Light or no light, it was still cool and slick as ordinary stone. And yet... he felt the indefinable prickle of watching eyes. "Tracer?"
One slow sip. Another. "Callista... knows I wear it," Isabel acknowledged. Hazel eyes blinked at them. "You?" Thought started to chase out the fog of pain. "Not that I'm not grateful. But why?"
"Long story." He worked a finger under wrought silver, feeling the mount that held the glowing stone. There'd been just the slightest sense of a crack, there... Bingo. His gaze cut across to Caitlin, a silent request to hold the other woman's attention.
"Short version, we came to ask you and Zorra a few questions, found some goons at your place, and figured we'd better catch up with you before they did," Caitlin summed up. Her attention never wavered as he twisted silver aside, extracting a small, dark microdot. "Nice landslide."
"Thanks." A shaking hand started to lay the canteen aside; String caught it before it could spill. "No offense," Isabel drew in a breath, gesturing toward their sidearms, "But I'd feel a lot better if those were something bigger-"
String covered her mouth, held a finger to his lips. Tilted his head toward the soft thud of footsteps.
Apoyo frowned at him, bewildered.
Right. She can't hear them. But Caitlin could. His copilot had her gun up and ready, breathing light as she sought her target.
"Hrruff?"
"What in the name of Sam Houston kind of dog is that?" Caitlin whispered.
Big and blue, String thought, steadying his own aim as the creature clambered in and out of view in the rocks. Which, together with the white-glowing eyes, meant it wasn't a dog at all. Wait for it. Wait.
"Hawke? Caitlin?"
"Beth?" Apoyo breathed. "That's Beth Maza. When did you... oh. The ride." She winced. "Oh, that must have been a mess."
Miss Maza? String traded a raised brow with Caitlin. Now they could hear other footsteps; three sets the less-than-steady gait of flashlight-using humans, a fourth heavier, more sure. Unofficial help, hmm?
"Hello, the camp," an older voice called. "It'd be well if ye weren't after shooting us, lad."
That didn't sound like a Mexican drug runner. "Cover me," he mouthed.
Sword, was the first thing through his mind as he saw the figure hiding in the shadows at the back of the tense group. Bigger than Zorra. Older? Blind on the left. Critical to know, facing a swordsman. He'd found that out the hard way tackling Archangel.
Flicking his gaze over the others, String noted the match of feature and feature; Beth with her Hopi father, Beth with her African-American mother. If they're not related, they're doing a damn good job pretending. He lowered his pistol.
Peter Maza let a breath sigh out. "Rough day?" the gray-haired man asked dryly.
"Had worse." All clear, he signaled. "Who're your friends?"
"Friends?" Beth said guilelessly. "We came alone-"
"Hell you did." He nodded toward the shadows. "Haven't shot a gargoyle yet. Rather not start." Not until he knew why they'd been in the Lair, at least.
"Would you just stop with the shooting?" Beth burst out, arms hugging herself. "You didn't have to shoot them!"
String snorted.
Hand on her daughter's shoulder, Beth's mother glared at him. "Mr. Hawke-"
String whipped up a hand for silence. Something at the edge of hearing....
Turbines. Coming fast. "Under cover! Now!"
"What?"
"The man said move, lass!" A taloned hand snatched her up, bounding toward their sheltered overhang. "Goliath! We're in need of ye!"
Radios. It was a rush of sheer, incredulous disbelief. "You've been transmitting all this time?" God, civilians were going to get him killed....
Twice killed. The rocks might have been enough to hide three IR signatures. There was no way they'd hide eight.
~*~*~*~*~
"...And IOU four Redeyes," Dominic muttered, leaving the note on a computer console where his niece Jo would find it first. If they had choppers to handle, he wanted the short-range air-to-air. He switched off the desk lamp; starlight filtering in from overhead was more than enough to guide him back to Airwolf. "Man, you kids sure cluttered up the place."
Well - them and Archangel. But the Company never would've believed he and String ran the Lady from almost bare rock. Well, how do you think we hid her so long, Locke? the elderly mechanic thought practically. Phone line means somebody to use a phone - and the whole point of bein' out here was to make it look like nobody was here.
Besides, the Lady's computers put this hunk of junk hardware to shame.
Status: Mission ready. Engine ignition in 5. 4. 3-
"Now, you hold it right there, missy," Dominic scolded the quivering helicopter. Walking over at his own pace; never let a kid get the idea they could rush you. "You need a hell of a lot more practice before you're ready to take off out of here on your own. Autopilot's one thing, but letting you pick the course...."
Controlled fear hit him; the tight calm of knowing he was hunted. He could feel the safeties thumbed loose as the two he knew best in this world watched and waited for their enemies. They weren't looking for a fight, but the fight was coming to them-
Falcon screams, shrill on the wind-
And Dominic was in the copilot's seat, helmet on, turbines howling to life overhead. "You fight dirty."
Techniques observed from pilots, came Airwolf's blithe reply.
"Archangel." It figured, Dominic thought, hovering them up the tall stone chimney. White-suited wonder could corrupt even a good helicopter.
Most effective long-term techniques, "telling the truth", observed from pilot Dominic, Airwolf corrected. Observational evidence indicates pilot Archangel adapted many of such expressly for dealing with pilots Hawke and Caitlin. Further observation implies such techniques now part of pilot Archangel's overall behavior.
"What?" Him, rubbing off on Michael? "Why, I oughta-"
Turbos lit, punching them through the wind.
~*~*~*~*~
"So," the one called Brooklyn tried to cross his arms nonchalantly as they flew toward the roar of helicopters. "¿Cuál es su signo?"
Zorra stifled the urge to knock the grinning fool out of the sky. Even on their way into danger - even after they'd spent precious minutes to land and tell these strangers of Isabel's danger - he and his rookery brothers had determinedly flirted with every female in the group. As well Seferina is not here. Tizne would not have taken kindly to such attentions directed toward his chosen mate.
Mariposa did not mind it, much. El Timoteo's clan had more females than males, one reason Urraca had not frowned on Isabel more than she had, and Mariposa had not found one quite to her liking yet.
But if Lexington kept up his pestering of Callista, he was likely to discover how it felt to be on the wrong end of a lightning bolt.
"¿Eres acuario?" Brooklyn persisted.
"Never speak Spanish to me again," Zorra bit out. "Your accent is horrible."
A rush of wind; Goliath, dropping into earshot. "Brooklyn. Enough." A purple brow ridge lifted at her. "It is often difficult, having humans as part of the clan. They are... fragile."
Zorra hmphed. "Isabel is not fragile." Injured, yes; in deadly danger, most assuredly-
Gunfire ripped the night.
They're on the ground!
Shrieking, she dove.
~*~*~*~*~
String slammed in another clip, snapping shots at the men advancing toward their rocky cover. He'd hit enough to know they were wearing vests; so much for shooting to wound. Uzi. I need an Uzi.
Caitlin let off another triplet of rounds, starring the glass of the lead Huey's windshield. It ducked away, but not before he caught a glimpse of the leader's narrowed eyes. Oh, hell.
Rotors rose, well out of handgun range. Familiar black silhouettes leaned out the helicopter's side doors. Machine guns.
Guess we made him mad. "Everyone, down!" It might buy them a few seconds, before ricochets pouring in made Swiss cheese of them all-
Something shrieked out of the sky; a dart of fox-red, striking one of the gunmen with an audible crack of breaking bones.
"Zorra," Isabel breathed. "Oh, Mother Mary, be careful!"
Careful didn't seem to be on the gargoyle's agenda; she tore and threw with the abandon of a cornered puma, howling as she came. Some of Argentino's men fell back from the terror in their midst, but others had higher ground, and guns were lowering-
And then Caitlin was breaking a man's arm, as some of Argentino's other thugs rushed them under the cover of the guns, and there was no more time to think.
Lady!
~*~*~*~*~
"Coming through!" Brooklyn shouted, punching a hole in the trailing helicopter's gas tank. Most of his clan was weighing this helicopter down, while Zorra's tackled the lead; Goliath raked talons down the painted side, tearing off one machine gun before bullets from inside forced them both to duck away. "Man, these guys have no manners."
A banshee shriek through the night; gale-force winds tore them off the hull, sent helicopters and gargoyles tumbling madly through the air.
Which way's up which way's up which way- oh hell.
Ground. Hard ground. Very hard.
Heavy wingbeats; Goliath touched down, breathing hard, Lex's limp form cradled in his arms. "Such winds must be born of sorcery!"
"Sorcery, hell!" Brooklyn gasped, staggering back to unsteady feet. "What. The hell. Was that?"
That was swooping to the ground just in front of a pile of rocks, bullets spanging off a black-and-white hull in cascades of sparks. It howled as it hovered, like wind singing through high wires, like a wolf of glass and steel.
"Ohhh...." Stirring in the clan leader's grip, Lex squinted toward the fight. "Oh, wow!"
Blinking dirt out of his eyes, Broadway groaned. "We're never going to pry him away from that one."
~*~*~*~*~
A hiss of pressurized air; a black door swung wide. "Somebody call triple-A?"
Caitlin laughed, scrambling past into the engineer's seat. "Dom, I could kiss you!"
Dominic grinned under the black visor. "Anytime, Red!"
String thwacked his latest opponent into unyielding stone. "Can you handle this?"
"Aye, lad!" Hudson sliced through another gun, tossing the man behind it into his fellows. Behind him Bronx guarded unarmed humans, snarling enough to deter all but the most foolhardy Mexican. "Get yon metal beasts awa', an' we'll have some fun!"
"Woulda opened up with the guns, only I didn't know for sure who you was shootin' at," Dominic explained as String pulled on a helmet. "Some mess, huh?"
"Yeah." His finger found the trigger, switched to single-shot, and let loose.
Soundproofing muffled any screams. But nothing could hide the sudden exodus of Argentino's men from Hudson's vicinity.
So much for bulletproof vests.
He yanked Airwolf up, looping over unsteady helicopters before they could right themselves. "We don't want to bring them down here," Caitlin said in a rush. "Too many people."
String grinned, starlight amplification letting him see the frantic gestures as Argentino's pilots took in just what had blazed past them. "So let's play chase."
~*~*~*~*~
"Isabel!"
"Zorra!" Isabel coughed, drew in knife-edged air. "Over here!"
"Is it over?" Beth poked her head out from behind Bronx, eyeing the gun in her father's hand askance.
"Looks like it," Peter said softly, slipping the safety back onto the weapon Hawke had handed him. Battered and beaten men huddled in the small clearing; some sprawled limply among the rocks. Most of those still conscious had sense enough to drop their weapons, facing ten white- and red-glowing glares. Especially after two or three had seen those weapons bent into crude horseshoes.
"My god." Diane let the chunk of wood she'd wielded drop to the ground. "What was that?"
"Good Samaritans." Isabel let a crooked grin slip onto her face as the woman she loved bounded towards her, wings outspread. "I think... I owe them three times, now...."
And wings were warm around her, and a foxy muzzle nuzzled her neck, burying a cool nose in dark hair. Sweet Spanish nothings drifted up to her ears; something hot and wet splashed onto her upturned cheek.
"A pity there will be no fourth."
Chill iced her spine; Isabel knew that voice. As she knew the subtle, metallic click of a ready trigger.
"Whore of demons," the corrupt patrol officer snarled. His eyes were wide and wild, darting from one fanged form to the next. But his aim never wavered. "Why could you not just die?"
Rage burned like hot coals in her chest. Fury that burned higher, as she felt Zorra shift to block the bullet with her own body. Never. "Get away from us, and I might let you live."
Miguel took in her shaky, left-handed grip on her gun. "I do not think so."
Crack.
With a look of surprise, the ex-officer touched the spreading stain on his chest. Faltered.
Isabel lowered her holdout gun as he fell. "I do."
~*~*~*~*~
So, Argentino thought, fleeing into the night. The helicopter behind him was calling frantically for aid; leaking fuel like blood, it would never reach the border. But it should serve to distract the black spectre on their tail. Miguel was telling the truth about phantom helicopters, after all. And now Apoyo's unlikely ally had returned.
But he had prepared for that as well. Starlight glinted on a long, lean shape of fire and death.
"Adiós, señor," Paolo whispered, pulling the trigger.
The charge fired, sending the missile straight and true.
~*~*~*~*~
Up! Pilot's reflex yanked Airwolf skyward, fractions of a second before fingers could have moved the collective. The rocket missed them by feet, sailing out into the night.
"Heat-seeker!" Caitlin called out as it turned, arcing back towards them. "IR counter's up, but-"
"Redeye!" String felt the thump as Caitlin deployed the ADF pod. I've had enough for one day.
Two balls of fire shattered the night.
~*~*~*~*~
Goliath's eyes narrowed, watching the last damaged helicopter flutter to the desert floor nearby, shadowed by a black, vengeful form. "He has forced them down."
"The downwash on that helicopter is just - cool!" Lex enthused. "I wonder what kind of engines it's got. Did you see that fire as it went by? Maybe it's got some kind of turbo boost. I've got to talk to them."
"Oh great," Brooklyn rubbed a sore beak. "Lex, you nearly killed us the last time you got in a helicopter. You want to try again with that thing?"
"I would not," Zorra stated, holding Isabel close. Taloned fingers ran over jacketed arms, as if the gargoyle needed to reassure herself the woman was solid. "I do not think crashing with missiles aboard would be wise."
"Missiles?" Lex whistled. "Well... maybe I'll just ask them how it works...."
A faint chatter of gunfire reached them.
Hudson finished cleaning his blade, watched flames rise from the wreck as the pilot and crew scattered. "Seems these lads'll be walking home. If ye didna get through to your tribal police."
"Oh, they're coming," Peter assured them, clicking off the radio. "Now that the shooting's over," he grumbled.
The radio buzzed on again. "Maza. Anyone down there need a hospital?"
Beth clung to Diane, eyes closed. Her mother was made of sterner stuff, but even Diane could not look on the battlefield without horror. "I want to go home," Beth said tightly. "Please."
"Apoyo?" Hawke asked.
Isabel clung as fiercely to her mate. "I have a ride."
"Better tell her relatives to get moving, then." Hudson could all but hear the shrug in Hawke's voice as the black helicopter dipped threateningly toward a few men who'd moved too close to their guns. "We'll keep these guys corralled until the feds get here."
"That will not be necessary." Callista held a ball of glowing blue in silvery talons, raising it above terrified gunmen. "Dormiatus!"
Azure light shattered over the hollow. As one, bodies slumped to cold stone.
The draconic gargess drew a deep breath, weariness shadowing peacock-blue eyes. "Now, we may go."
~*~*~*~*~
There was a white sedan parked in their driveway.
Peter shook his head as gargoyles swooped down from the sky, missing half a step as Goliath set him onto the ground. "Now what?"
"Just wrapping up a few details, Mr. Maza." An elegant African-American woman stepped out of the shadows, white suit gleaming in the starlight. "Ms. Apoyo?"
"Marella," Isabel said warily. "Why did you... oh." She glanced out at the night. "Where are they?"
A dark brow lifted almost to curled hair. "Where are who?"
"That way, is it?" Zorra said softly.
"It has to be," Marella replied honestly. A wide grin spread over her face, turned it warm and open. "Besides, I hear someone has a date with a hamburger."
Beth shuddered, repulsed. "How could they eat after that?"
"Beth," Diane murmured.
The grin faded. Marella gestured toward the door. "Could we take this inside?"
Peter traded a glance with Goliath. "Is everyone going to fit?" He had no idea what strange gargoyles did when they met. Just because they'd fought together tonight, didn't mean they'd be willing to practically stand on top of each other now.
"We will manage," the clan leader allowed, glancing at ebon-hued Tizne. "Will we not?"
The dark gargoyle gave him an odd look. "Zorra, she is the one who knows the ground here." He glanced at his clan sister. Who shrugged, one wing still protectively around her human.
Aha, Peter thought; but there was no triumph in it. Now he could see what Elisa couldn't quite put into words. The one thing that, more than species differences, would keep his daughter from going after what she wanted.
You don't ask, do you, Goliath? Just charge in, assuming you're right - until someone hits you with the fact that you're not.
A detective could get really tired of correcting assumptions.
"It will do," Callista said warmly, silvery tail tapping bits of gravel. "I wish to hear more of la loba aérea."
"You call it that, too?" Lex bounced toward the door, ignoring how Marella's gaze turned more and more annoyed. "What's it doing up there in the Valley of the Gods? Were those really turbojets on it? I didn't think any helicopter could go that fast-"
"We should have rented a bigger trailer," Diane breathed, leading the way.
"All right," Peter stated, once introductions had been made and wings and tails were more or less untangled. This was still his house, and he wanted the truth. "I take it those people aren't showing up in court."
Marella pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This is a list of how many security violations your friends have caused," she said dryly, tapping polished fingernails against her briefcase. "Fortunately, they don't seem to have gotten too deep." She raked the winged assemblage with a glance. "Gargoyle or not, the U.S. government doesn't take kindly to having its computers hacked."
"You did not answer." Goliath loomed over her. "Why have you placed such a danger on their land?"
So that's what you found last night, Peter realized. Oh, damn.
Peter Maza was a cop, with a cop's stubborn faith in the rule of law. But he was also Hopi, like it or not. He knew in his bones what the government might do to keep what it wanted.
A helicopter like that had to be military hardware. One trailer full of gargoyles would be a small price to keep that secret.
Marella didn't so much as flinch. "Last time I checked, the Valley of the Gods was in Utah. Well outside of the Navajo Reservation, much less the Hopi. And anyone you might have seen tonight was acting under federal jurisdiction."
"Might have seen?" Beth objected. "Listen, lady-"
"Just to bring you up to speed, Miss Maza," Marella rode right over her words, "That means we decide who shows up in a courtroom, and who doesn't." Dark eyes held nothing but cool calculation. "Unless you want to be an accessory to violating the security of the United States."
"People deserve to know the truth," Beth challenged.
"The truth?" Peter hadn't thought Marella's voice could get any colder. "The truth is, good friends of mine risked their lives to save you."
"And we are grateful," Goliath allowed. But there was no give in his gaze. "Yet we will not be swayed by threats."
"My agency never makes threats, Goliath." Marella laid a tape recorder out in full view. "The events in New York will force various governments to admit what no one's wanted to say for centuries; gargoyles do exist, and some of them pose a threat to human lives. So far H.E.A.T.'s kept New York relatively calm - when they aren't leaving mousetraps for reporters so they can get some peace and quiet," she added wryly. "But if you want to keep Congress from passing secret measures to eliminate every last one of your kind as threats to national security, you'll tell me all you know about Demona. Now."
~*~*~*~*~
"It's quite dead, you know. It can't possibly bite you." Somehow, Archangel could make even eating a hamburger look perfectly in keeping with the highest tone of society.
String eyed the offending chunk of browned beef Dominic was proposing to slide onto his plate. Candles lit the cabin at Eagle Lake; more than enough light to see grease glisten over the meat. "No thanks."
"Told you," Le Van pointed out, snaring a cheese roll from the center of the cabin table. Nearby a blue-tick coonhound whined, seeing his opportunity.
"That you did, Half-Pint," Dominic shrugged, dropping the burger to the hungry hound. "Here you go, Tet. Can't blame a man for trying...."
"So Marella's handling it?" Caitlin asked, sampling her way through three kinds of salad greens.
"Either that, or there will be quite a lot of rubble in the morning." Michael studied the cherry tomato on his fork, shook his head.
"Michael." String kept his voice level. Classified was classified, after all.
"Yes, well; let's hope for the best." Archangel leaned back in his chair, a half-smile creeping onto his face. "After all, Sheriff Quinn could use the night-time support."
"What?"
~*~*~*~*~
"You wish part of my clan to go where?" Coffee mug dangling forgotten from her hands, Zorra stared at Marella.
"Cold Creek, California," the agent repeated briskly, spreading out the map of the Angeles National Forest. "It's a nice little town, right up against the San Gabriel mountains. Probably not that different from wherever your clan lives. Well - maybe a little cooler." A true smile settled on her face. "We know the police department up there. Believe me, they'd be glad to see you."
~*~*~*~*~
"I've been encouraging agents to retire to the Van Nuys area ever since you snatched Airwolf from Libya," Archangel said plainly, fitting his plate into the sink. "Cold Creek in particular."
"So you could snatch her?" Dominic frowned, running in hot water.
"So I could protect her," Michael corrected, settling into a chair. "And them. You're not the only ones who have old enemies turn up on the doorstep." He raised a graying brow. "Much as I might wish otherwise, my resources aren't unlimited. If I have to maintain a bomb squad, search and rescue, and all the related personnel, it's far more cost-effective to have them all in one place." A subtle, sly smile; familiar to anyone who'd survived getting on the wrong side of Archangel. "Besides; the more of our people are here, the less chance anyone else can insert an agent into the area."
String offered a glass of the '96. "And now you want a clan of gargoyles."
"Why not?" Michael sipped his champagne. "For some missions they make excellent agents." He watched bubbles rise through golden liquid. "And if we want the general public to get used to the idea of dealing with gargoyles... Cold Creek's already used to strange noises in the middle of the night."
~*~*~*~*~
"So what do you think?" Isabel asked, once Marella had driven into the darkness. She fingered a white card, looking at the phone number they'd been given as a contact.
Zorra blew out a breath, watched it puff white into chill air as they leaned against the wall of the trailer. Inside, Callista was weaving rings of cryptic speech around a wary Goliath, while Mariposa and Tizne got to know the Trio. "I think... I trust the quality of her friends."
Isabel nodded. "California's got better laws than Arizona, as far as same-sex partnerships go. If we could use Marella's help to get your clan-sibs into the country legally-"
"It would be well," Zorra agreed. "I would wish not to strain your oaths, mi amor. Even in so small a thing as this."
"And as far as talking to the clan in New York... it's about as long a trip by plane." Isabel nestled under her wing. "I wonder what they do when they're not rescuing stray DEA agents."
Zorra rapped a talon against the card. "Perhaps we should see this Cold Creek, and find out."
"You think they're there?"
Zorra lifted a brow ridge. "Don't you?"
~*~*~*~*~
"What the heck?"
Jason Locke brandished the slip of paper that had been stuck to his computer monitor, snatching the glassine envelope taped beside it. "'Here's your microdot'?" the dark CIA agent read off, glancing around his crew. "'If I find classified missile locations left out in the clear again, I'm shipping you all to Alaska. Rivers, don't leave your password taped under the keyboard'?"
"Oops," Major Mike Rivers muttered. The blond tried to hide behind St. John Hawke; not easy, given that Sinj was currently pacing up and down the Lair, checking the extent of strange tracks even before he checked their Lady.
"Archangel?" Jo Santini asked warily. Dominic's niece tossed back blonde hair, casually scooped up a scrap of paper covered in her uncle's handwriting.
"Archangel!" Locke growled, throwing the crumpled note to the ground. "And what's this about not downdrafting the neighbors? 'Only noisy at night?'"
Jo let the agent rant and rave, moving around their Airwolf to meet up with St. John. Jason was usually suave and debonair, but he'd never quite gotten past the fact that Archangel had pulled a fast one on the Company to get St. John out of Burma. Though he still doesn't know how fast a one it was, Jo thought, patting black carbide.
Jason thought he had the original Airwolf. The Committee thought he had the only Airwolf.
Sinj and Jo knew better.
"Uncle Dom left us an IOU," she murmured, just loud enough for Sinj to hear. "Some fuel, some thirty-millimeter, and four Redeyes."
Sinj said nothing for a long moment. "They said they were retired."
And you believed that? Jo thought. Then again, maybe he had. Or wanted to. For over fourteen years St. John had believed Stringfellow was living a safe, ordinary life, never suspecting that the Company had had him declared MIA after his last Firm mission went sour. Finding out his little brother and adoptive uncle had taken up with Archangel had seriously shaken him. "So ask them about it."
"Ask them?" Sinj shook his head. "Dom's seventy, Jo!"
Closing on seventy-one. As if that made a difference? "With eyesight and hearing good enough to wring out a fighter jet, according to his checkups. Santinis get to their hundreds if they're careful," she reminded him. "He doesn't do the trickier stunts anymore, Sinj. You know that."
"Flying engineer on Airwolf's not a stunt, and you know it!" Something dark and angry glinted in his gaze, overwhelming his usual friendly smile. "I trusted them with Le Van-"
"And if they have to take off, for work or whatever, they always make sure he's got a guardian angel," Jo said flatly. So that's part of it. Sinj hadn't even known he was a father when he'd rejoined the Company. Meeting the teenager his brother had taken in had been... awkward. "He's your son, Sinj. Archangel won't let someone use him as a bargaining chip."
"You mean, he won't let someone else use String's nephew as a bargaining chip." St. John gave her a dark look. "How much whatever, Jo?"
Jo stood her ground. "Ask them. He's your brother, Sinj. Talk to the man."
Sinj looked away. "And if Archangel doesn't want him to? I might as well be talking to a rock."
And that hurt, Jo knew; that in some ways, String trusted Archangel more than his own flesh and blood. They've been working together since you went missing, Sinj. String's saved Michael's life, more times than either of them will ever admit. And Michael gave him a reason to live, when he thought everyone he loved was doomed to die.
Archangel had used him. Admittedly. Used his skill, his anger, his grief. Flung him out like a living blade, to bring down his enemies.
But every mission String had flown had kept him alive a little longer. Kept him hoping a little longer, until a helicopter and a redheaded pilot and a nephew out of nowhere could pry their way into his barricaded heart.
And none of that was what St. John wanted to hear.
"Then try talking to Michael," Jo persisted. "He's a good man, Sinj. String wouldn't be with the Firm if he wasn't."
"String shouldn't be with the Firm at all." Blue eyes, so much like String's, drilled through her. "He came back to the Firm to find me, Jo. Why is he still working for them?"
You've flown Airwolf - even just our Airwolf - and you can ask that? Their helicopter was a pilot's dream; deadly as a viper, sweet to the hand, agile as a dragonfly. Enough to keep Jo with the Company for all its flaws, just for the gift of flying her.
But she'd seen String and Cait guide their Lady through her paces over Eagle Lake, and it'd pierced her pilot's soul to the heart. Like a dark-winged angel, dancing on moonlight. "St. John-"
"I do not believe this!" Rounding black carbide, Jason brandished images of rocky forms. "How did that mess in New York get out here?"
"New York?" Mike snatched a photo. "You mean, those stories we picked up on the way back from China, about winged monsters...."
"Gargoyles," Jo corrected. "Timmonds' report said they were called gargoyles." She studied backgrounds of familiar red sandstone. "We've got gargoyles in the Valley?"
"They apparently broke into the Lair," Jason said sourly. "We're going to have to put in a whole new security system." The blue-suited spy wandered over to the stone chimney, muttering calculations under his breath.
Jo whistled, eyeing craggy shapes of fang and wing. "Sinj, I can't make you talk to your brother," she said frankly. "But when we get home, I am definitely asking Uncle Dom about this!"
~*~*~*~*~
Translations from Spanish:
Mi amor. My love.
"Hagáse el muerto." - Play dead; make like a dead person.
"¿Dónde es Isabel?" - Where is Isabel?
La loba aérea. - the wolf of the air; Airwolf.
"¡Hermanos!" - Siblings, at least one of whom is male.
"¿Cuál es su signo?" - What's your sign?
"¿Eres acuario?" - Are you an Aquarius?
From Latin:
"Dormiatus!" - Sleep.
~*~*~*~*~