Home is a Dark Place

by Madame Destine

UPDATED - Part 5 added 9/12/02 - With interlopers in their midsts, Elisa prepares to say good bye to the 23rd Precinct as Angela wages a desperate bid for freedom.

2. Part 2

Home is a Dark Place, Part 2

Written by: Madame Destine
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters belong to their various creators: Buena Vista Television / The Walt Disney Company and The Gargoyles Saga, and they are used without their express knowledge or consent.

Previously…

"Danny?" Angela cried softly in joyful recognition, just as the rock came down hard on the back of her head.

* * * * *

Goliath stalked silently through the trees, moving as quietly as a cat over the wet grass. He ignored the persistent drip of rain off the chestnut trees, the calls of the night birds hunting for choice morsels revealed by the passing storm, and concentrated on his own prey. There were humans up ahead and the murmur of a gargoyle's … Angela's voice.

An engine droned somewhere close by, rapidly becoming softer. Goliath ignored that too. He smelled gargoyle blood.

He burst into the clearing. Angela lay sprawled on the grass. Goliath knelt over his daughter and ran his talons over her face and neck looking for the source of the blood scent. The back of her head was sticky from a tear in her scalp. It didn't seem too serious.

Angela moaned and struggled to sit up. "Father?" she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind that." He helped his daughter to her feet. She seemed steady. "What happened?" The gargoyle scanned the area, scented the air. They were alone.

"Mugging," his daughter replied. "I broke it up." She surveyed the area as well. "I guess the victim didn't hang around either." Angela sounded faintly bitter.

"Perhaps he was not entirely innocent." Goliath countered. "This is hardly the place for a law abiding citizen to be so late at night."

"You're probably right."

Goliath glanced skyward. Dawn would be approaching a few hours and they still had much to discuss. "Can you glide?"

Angela nodded, grimacing as she found the sore spot on the back of her head. "I'm fine. Can we please go home now?" She sounded impatient and tired. "It's been a long night."

Goliath watched as Angela climbed a nearby tree and leapt from its branches skyward. He satisfied himself that she was flight worthy, noting how despite her injury she expertly caught an updraft and banked, setting a castle-bound heading. She'd been injured helping a human, not engaging in some nefarious scheme. Goliath felt a tingle of vindication. Though Angela might be guilty of the acts she'd been accused he no longer had any doubts she was anything but an innocent pawn.

* * *

Danny ran, ignoring the stitch in his side, ignoring the wet branches that slapped his face as he pelted pell-mell through the darkened woods. He'd heal. Even as he crossed the park the cuts on his face were already knitting and smoothing, courtesy of his partially fay genetics. When he came to a clearing five miles from Scenario 3, he halted, hunkering behind a bench in a bus shelter, listening for signs he'd been followed. He heard nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut forcing his senses outward, but all he could see was the insane glitter in Jezabella's eyes as she brought the rock downward towards Angela's skull.

* * * * *

Jezabella's blood sang in her ears in time with the throbbing of her skull. Thank the dragon, she reflected, Anton's watcher had stayed in position and spotted Goliath as Angela left Destine Manor. Though it did seem odd, in retrospect, that he seemed to be tracking his precious favorite child and not gliding at her wing side.

No matter. It had all worked out in the end and his sudden appearance in the clearing, though it had the unfortunate consequence of postponing her long awaited reunion with her dear sister, did have the advantage of adding an element of verisimilitude that Jezabella couldn't have scripted had she had months to prepare.

He was still following close enough she could feel his worry. Jezabella canted slightly to the left as if she had overcompensated for a shift in the wind. "I'm fine," she called out before Goliath had time to tighten their ranks even closer. She held her hand to her head. "I'm just a little dizzy."

Now there was an understatement. Somehow little Danny had overcome his resistance to hurting her and in the processes overcompensated. The rock he'd wielded had come down hard enough to make her see stars. Still, she had no doubt that the injury the boy had inflicted was much less serious than if Candy or one of her little friends had done the honors. She could endure a few hours of headache if it bought her credibility at the castle.

Speaking of which, Castle Wyvern, perched high over Manhattan, burst into view. Jezabella couldn't help the lump that choked her throat or the tears that misted her eyes. She blinked hard and dashed the back of her hand across her face. "Stop being stupid," the gargoyle hissed to herself. "It's just a building. Just a place. It means nothing." And yet it meant everything. It wasn't just a pile of stones. It was home. Her home. The one from which she'd been wrongfully barred. It was time. Time to go home. Jezabella spiraled downward toward the courtyard.

She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of the wet flagstones that met her feet. They were still smooth and moss still grew in the cracks between them. Jezabella opened her eyes catching herself before she gave into the urge to pirouette in delight. She reared back in surprise. A strange dark-haired human woman, clad in blue jeans and a red bomber jacket, was standing in front of her, arms crossed over her chest. No. Not a stranger, Jezabella realized. Her hand crept to the spot behind her ear where Danny's rock had cracked her skull. "Elisa." The human woman who had helped drive her from the clan.

"Yeah, it's me, Angela. Are you all right?" The irritated scowl gave way to a frown of concern. Jezabella fought the urge to bare her teeth as Elisa touched her arm.

Goliath touched down a few yards away and hurried to join the pair. "She was attacked," he stated without preamble. "We must get her inside and tend to her injury."

"Attacked. When?" Elisa was forced to step aside as Goliath put a protective arm around his daughter and herded her into the castle. "Goliath. Wait!"

"Well, that was interesting." Matt stepped out of the shadows. Rain had dampened his overcoat but not soaked it. "Care to fill me in?"

Elisa pivoted, her attention torn between the injured Angela and her partner. She threw up her hands in confusion. "I would if I could. All I know is Angela left Destine Manor with Goliath on her tail. I phoned you and came here."

"Then I guess we get the rest of the story inside." He loosened his coat. Elisa noticed he sported a bulge under his armpit that resembled her own. A taser. Matt's not so subtle reminder that they were still on police business.

Elisa nodded. Message received. "Yeah. Come on. Let's go." She followed behind Matt as he buttoned his coat and sauntered into the castle.

* * *

"Sit here, Angela." Goliath gently pushed Jezabella down onto the common room bench. "I will get a first aid kit and clean that wound."

Jezabella had to admit it felt good to sit down, even for a moment. The glide back to the castle had taken more out of her then she cared to admit. "I'm sure it's nothing, father. Please don't concern yourself."

Elisa and a redheaded human male entered neatly on Goliath's exit. Despite the damp appearance of their outer garments neither moved to discard them. Elisa demonstrated familiarity with the gargoyles' living quarters, Jezabella noted, as the human woman opened the door to a large pantry, stepped inside briefly and reemerged with a couple of bath towels.

She offered one to the injured gargoyle and Jezabella did her best to smile her thanks as she thought Angela might before blotting gingerly at her face and clothing, using the opportunity to study Elisa's companion more closely. He lounged casually enough, but his eyes remained alert and Jezabella pegged him for a cop. He must be Elisa's partner, she surmised. And he knows about the clan. That wasn't in Ling's notes. One more strike against the doctor. Goliath reappeared and Jezabella shoved Ling out of her thoughts.

"Goliath," Elisa handed the gargoyle leader a towel. "You're dripping on the floor." Her earlier pleasant thoughts took a back seat to duty as the detective took possession of the first aid kit, snapped it open and removed antiseptic and gauze pads. "Go dry off and change. I'll take care of this."

"Elisa, I would rather-"

"Go on." She pulled his head downward so that she could whisper in his ear. "I promise you we won't discuss anything with her until you get back." Elisa released the gargoyle and gave him a gentle push toward the living quarters. He, in turn, gave Jezabella a reluctant glance and then complied, rubbing the towel over his head and chest.

Elisa sighed and turned to her partner. "Matt, would you put the kettle on? I think we could all use some tea."

"Yes, mom," Matt traded a bemused glance with Goliath and busied himself at the stove. When seven feet of burly gargoyle had disappeared out of hearing range Elisa's partner smirked. Off of Elisa's irritated glance he said, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"It just never ceases to amaze me how domesticated Goliath is around you."

Elisa gave her partner a scandalized glance. "He is not!" Then her expression softened as she admitted, "Okay, maybe a little domesticated. Besides when did it become a crime for a woman to show a little concern for her mate?"

Jezabella jerked. "Ow!" she yelped to cover her surprise. His mate? Elisa was Goliath's mate? When had that happened?

"I'm sorry," Elisa apologized. She had snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and was probing gently at the cut. "It's not too bad. I'll clean it and put a couple of butterfly strips on to hold it closed but a day of stone sleep should heal that puppy right up." Two fingers appeared suddenly in Jezabella's vision. "How many?"

Jezabella hesitated. If she lied and said four, maybe they'd leave her alone long enough to settle in. On the other hand, they might pack her off to spend the rest of the night in the infirmary. "Two." She gave the fingers an affectionate squeeze. "I'm fine, Elisa. I have a headache and I'm tired. It was a long night before the mugging. So if you'll excuse me, I 'd like to wash the blood out of my hair and call it a night."

Elisa took a seat next to Jezabella on the bench. "Yeah, Ang, I know. But something's come up and we need to talk."

* * *

Goliath pulled the coarse bristles of the brush through long sable hair still damp from rain. He felt better. Angela was back within the confines of the castle. All that remained was to straighten out the confusion that his daughter had become enmeshed in.

He stepped out into the corridor and blinked. Ptah of the Egyptian clan was striding down the hallway towards him. "Elder Ptah, what are you doing here?"

The elder gargoyle bowed. "Goliath. I am honored to meet you at last. I was wondering if I might beg a few moments of your time."

Goliath was nearly successful in suppressing his growl of irritation. "Now is not a good time, Elder. Perhaps tomorrow."

Ptah followed at his shoulder as Goliath strode long angry steps back toward the common room. "Of course," he ventured into the silence. "Your time is a precious commodity. But I only need a little of it, to ask your permission."

"My permission for what?"

Ptah took a couple of fast strides blocking Goliath's path. "I wish to speak to your daughter. In person."

"That matter is closed." Goliath pivoted around the older gargoyle and walked into the common room. "In any case, Angela was injured a short time ago. She is in no condition to speak to you tonight."

"Father?" Jezabella stared curiously at the new arrival. There was nothing in the castle dossier about a horned serpentine gargoyle.

"Elder Ptah from Egypt. He has come to press his case for the egg exchange in person."

Elisa looked up from her tea in surprise. "Matt, maybe you should check in with the captain."

The lanky redhead set down his cup and unfolded gracefully from the chair. "I'll be outside."

"Egg. My egg?" Another surprise. Another shock. Angela and Broadway had produced an egg and they were under pressure to engage in some kind of cultural swap. "I don't know."

Elisa touched her arm. "You don't need to worry about that tonight." She gave Ptah a meaningful look, warning him to back off. "Come on. I'll walk you up to your room." The bench scraped against stone floor as the two females rose. Tension radiated off Elisa and Goliath's tail was flicking against the ground, signaling his own agitation.

Ptah raised a hand in supplication. "I can see that perhaps my entreaty was premature. Tomorrow, perhaps, when you are feeling more yourself we can discuss the matter further."

Jezabella gave the elder an uncertain nod. Elisa placed a protective arm around her shoulders and was preparing to escort her out when Lexington sauntered in, a laptop computer underneath one winged arm. Word had evidently gotten around the castle. His lamp-like eyes narrowed at the sight of Ptah, but he gave the old gargoyle a cursory bow before turning his attention to Jezabella. "I saw Matt out in the hallway, are you okay?"

Jezabella scowled. "I wish everyone would quit asking me that. I'm fine. I just need a few minutes to get cleaned up."

"I was just going to take Angela up to her room," Elisa added. Then to Jezabella, "But after that, if you're feeling up to it, we need to talk. Something else has come up."

"I'll take her," Lexington offered. "Come on, Angela. Just promise me you won't faint before we get to the top of the stairs." He gave her a friendly grin and extended the arm not holding the laptop.

"Thanks." Jezabella smiled warmly at Lexington. (Turn ons: video games, anything involving computers and lately a hybrid human/gargoyle clone named Delilah. Turn offs: doctors and leafy green vegetables.) "I'll just be a few minutes, Elisa."

The pair exited the common room, passing Matt lounging in the hallway, a cell phone plastered to one ear. He was nodding and uttering monosyllabic responses, his face pinched in annoyance with whoever spoke at the other end of the connection. Lexington gave the detective a grin which he quickly dropped as soon as they were cleanly passed. "Where have you been?" he hissed at Jezabella, I've been trying to get a hold of you all night long!"

"You mean after the Met?" Jezabella replied. "Don't ask. Why? What's so important?"

"Sector 13. It's a total wash. I was able to get into the system, but Xanatos has got everything locked down tight. I was able to extract some information, but it had to do with the repair costs and I only got that because some manager in accounting didn't think the cost of cement was important enough to triple encrypt."

Jezabella's head began to throb more intensely. The night had turned into a disaster and it seemed like she had miles to go before it truly hit bottom. "So you're saying-" she let the sentence hang, hoping her frog-like companion would fill in the blank and confirm her worst suspicions.

"No records. No codes. Zip. Zilch. Nada," Lexington whispered. "Xanatos has covered his tracks. The only way we might get into the Sector 13 files is if you were to sneak back down there and access one of the facility computers directly."

"Wonderful." Jezabella stalked up the long flight of stairs that led to Angela and Broadway's private domain. "Well that's not gonna happen tonight." She turned to Lexington. "Thanks." Obviously, accessing Sector 13 was as important to Angela as it was to Jezabella so she made no attempt to hide her bitter disappointment. "I'm sure you did all you could. Now if you'll excuse me?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, Angela," Lexington shrugged helplessly. "I really did try."

"I'm sure you did." Jezabella said as she slammed the heavy oak door in Lexington's face. She glanced around the room. Shelves lined the walls. Books, hardbound, old looking and probably in Latin, competed with other volumes of more contemporary vintage. Armchairs, a dressing table and wardrobe, but no bed, took up the rest of the space. A pair of doors. A cursory glance confirmed that one led to a bathroom and the other to what was certainly Angela's workroom. It smelled strongly of herbs and creosote. Jezabella wrinkled her nose at the pungent odors and retreated back into the sitting room.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she seethed. "Nothing tonight has gone right! The screw up at the Met, Ling's lousy intel, Sector 13 is Angela's private playground, and Elisa's got nothing better to do than hang around the castle for a friendly little chat on the taxpayer's dime."

She sunk into a wing-backed chair that had been surreptitiously reinforced for Broadway's bulky frame and let her head fall forwards into her hands. "And to top it all off, I've got the mother of all headaches. I'm gonna wring Danny's scrawny neck when I get a hold of him. Lousy little science lab reject."

Jezabella straightened and pushed long strands of dark hair away from her face. "I'm outta here. I'm going back to Anton, have a bath…" She glanced down at Angela's hated tunic. "…change into some decent clothes and have a nice little chat with my darling sister. Then maybe I can salvage this train wreck."

Smiling with anticipation at her long awaited reunion with Angela, Jezabella leapt out of the window and let an updraft carry her swiftly away from the castle.

* * *

"Now, Elisa," Matt said as he reentered the common room.

"Now what?" She barely acknowledged Matt. Instead her attention was focused on Goliath and Ptah. The gargoyle elder was still making apologies and Goliath was evidently trying to tell the horned gargoyle to take a hike without sounding offensive about it.

"We have to leave now. The captain said if we're not back at the precinct in twenty minutes she's sending uniforms and S.W.A.T. I guess the riot earlier this evening has flipped somebody's switch. The mayor isn't willing to kid glove the situation anymore. Angela goes in for questioning just like any other suspect."

Matt had everyone's attention. Goliath pivoted away from Ptah, instantly forgetting the gargoyle elder. "This is wrong. Angela was injured tonight breaking up a mugging. Surely that must count for something."

The detective held his palm out in a defensive gesture. "It's not my decision. Or Elisa's," he added cutting off Goliath's plea and staring down his partner before she could add her two cents. "We're lucky the captain cut her this much slack. Let's just get her down to the station and get this over with."

Elisa gave her mate a resigned pat on the arm. "I'll go get her. Matt, you better come too. We haven't got much time before sunrise."

"I will come as well," Goliath stated. He shrugged off Elisa's consoling hand and exited as swiftly as he'd entered. The two detectives fell in behind him, leaving Ptah to wonder at the strange situation he'd encountered.

* * *

"Angela? Angela, open up. It's Elisa," the detective added unnecessarily.

The trip through the castle and up the flight of stairs had been made in near silence. Goliath had given up entreaties on behalf of his daughter, knowing they would fall on deaf ears. Elisa had made it plain to him long ago that when it came to police business she could only protect the clan up to a certain point, and whatever they suspected Angela of being involved in had crossed far over that imaginary line.

There had been a tense moment when Matt exposed a set of heavy duty restraints, shifting them from the recesses of his overcoat into a more accessible front pocket. Goliath had growled and his eyes flashed white. Elisa had asked again if perhaps he'd rather stay behind, but to his credit, the clan leader had backed off and apologized for his behavior.

There was no sound from behind the door. Elisa knocked again. "Angela?"

"Step aside," Goliath growled. "Angela, open this door."

No response. Goliath gave the two detectives a resigned look. They pulled their tasers and the gargoyle forced the heavy oak door. Iron hinges squealed in protest as the lock gave way.

Elisa and Matt darted into the room crouched low, fanning the room with their weapons. They exchanged hand signals and Matt zigzagged deep and over, checking the bathroom and study for the missing gargoyle.

"It's clear."

"Clear," Elisa echoed as she jerked open the mahogany wardrobe and looked inside. "She's gone."

"Gone! No she can't be!" Shock and hurt made Goliath's baritone climb up an octave.

Elisa glanced out the open window. "I'm sorry, big guy, she gave us the slip. That scene in the park must have been a setup to throw us off." She gave Matt a disgusted look. "It worked too."

Matt looked at the distraught gargoyle. Goliath stood in the center of the room staring blankly toward the window. He shifted his glance to Elisa and exchanged a wordless glance of sympathy. "I'll call it in."

* * * * *

Sevarius held a test tube up to the light and slowly swirled it, watching as the contents changed from clear to pink. "How intriguing," he mused aloud. "Someone's been keeping herself busy, hasn't she?"

"Having fun, doctor?"

Sevarius looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Jezebella." The clone stood in the doorway, her wings caped low about her shoulders. The look on her face spoke of exhaustion coupled with annoyance, and immediately his brow furrowed in concern. Had something else gone wrong? His lookouts had confirmed that she'd made it to the castle before he'd recalled them to base. Carefully, he placed the test tube into a rack beside the first sample whose results it had just confirmed. "I wasn't expecting you back here tonight. Is everything all right?"

"Yes… and no," Jezebella sighed. The glide back had given her some time to organize her thoughts, but the cool early-morning air had done only a little to ease the throbbing in the back of her head. She stepped into the room, crossing to the cabinet where the doctor kept the pain pills. "I'm in at the castle," she said as the man came up beside her. "It's just that things back home are a bit more complicated than I thought they'd be." Unable to find a glass for water, she tipped two of the tablets out of the bottle into her hand then gulped them down dry.

"You've been injured," Sevarius said, making note of the bandage on the girl's neck.

Jezebella grimaced and sucked her teeth to rid her mouth of the medicine taste. "Part of the act," she replied. "I asked Danny to whack me… but he went a little overboard."

Sevarius put a hand on her shoulder, stilling her as he pushed her ponytail to one side and examined the wound closer. "You're lucky, Jezebella. This could have been much worse. That boy never completed his training, and he doesn't know his own strength."

"Yeah. I plan to have a little chat with him later." She winced as Sevarius touched at the wound but did not pull away.

"Hmm. An adequate attempt at first aid. The cut seems superficial. If you want, I can put some topical anesthetic on it, but otherwise I think you'll live 'til sunrise."

Jezebella gave a half smirk. "Elisa gave the same diagnosis." She turned around, brushing the hair from her eyes as she did. "I'll be fine, doctor. I've suffered worse pains than this little scrape."

Sevarius nodded in assent. "So you've had a chance to reacquaint yourself with some of the clan after all." He smiled. "Tell me, Jezebella, how is the lovely Detective Maza doing these days?"

"Quite well, I imagine." The girl's expression turned dark. "Seeing as she's mated to my father now."

"Mated?" Sevarius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Fascinating. I always could tell there was some kind of attraction, but to take the step to having sexual relations… my, my, I wonder which one initiated the first encounter."

Jezebella scowled. "I'd prefer not to think about it, if you don't mind," she muttered. "What I would like to know, though, is why this little piece of trivia wasn't in the files Dr. Ling got for me." She growled irritably. "The whole point of getting those files from Xanatos was for me to avoid surprises. It would have been bad enough if that had been the only one," she said, her eyes flaring briefly red, "but it wasn't."

Sevarius had returned to his work counter. He picked up one of the test tubes again, eyeing it critically. "Let me guess," he said. "You found out that your sister has recently laid herself an egg." The way the clone's eyes narrowed told him he'd guessed correctly. "I just learned the happy news myself. Congratulations, my dear. You're going to be an aunt."

Jezebella swiped the glass tube from his hand and brought it to eye level. "I thought I said no one was to touch her except for me, doctor."

"Relax, my dear. I was only running a few simple tests. The blood sample came from her wound." He took the girl by her elbow spur, turning her toward the long wall of plate glass that separated the laboratory proper from the examination room. "No one has laid a finger on her since she returned except for me and Lilith, and I can assure you our intentions have been purely professional."

A smile tugged at the corners of Jezebella's mouth as she caught sight of her sister. Angela lay reclined on the thinly padded examination table, eyes closed as if peacefully dozing. She was nude, having been stripped of both her tunic and her jewelry, and thick padded cuffs of tanned leather encircled her wrists and ankles, ready to keep her restrained should she awaken. Similar straps of the same construction encircled her at the waist and neck, ensuring her immobility. Focused on her twin's head was the dome-shaped business end of one of the scanning devices she and the halfings had procured in one of their nighttime missions over a month before. Nearby, the dark-haired Dr. Ling, clad in her familiar white lab coat, stood with clipboard in hand, taking readings off a bank of monitors.

"You two are a matched set tonight as far as head wounds go," Sevarius stated. "After I bandaged up the rather nasty laceration on the back of her skull, I asked my colleague to run a few scans just to be sure there was no internal damage. As you know, some of the equipment is quite sensitive, so it was necessary to undress her to minimize the potential for interference."

"Of course, doctor." A small shiver ran down the membranes of Jezebella's wings. She had undergone countless check-ups and physicals during the long course of her recovery, and spent much time herself trying to lie still on that same examination table, naked as the day she was hatched. The medical restraints, though, were an indignity she had never suffered. Those had been added only recently. They'd been designed to be strong enough to restrain a mature halfling. She had no doubt they could just as easily hold a gargoyle.

Sevarius pressed the intercom button on the wall. "How is our patient doing, doctor?"

Dr. Ling looked up, taking notice for the first time of the pair who were watching her work. She hadn't expected to see Jezebella, and it took her a moment to answer. "No permanent damage, as near as I can tell." Her voice sounded faintly metallic through the tiny speaker. "Miss Angela here got clocked in the head pretty hard, but brainwave activity still looks strong." She glanced at the display of a digital oscilloscope, where a zigzag line danced, tracing sharp peaks and valleys. "Right now, I'd guess from the readings that she's in the midst of having a very vivid dream. Which would imply that the anesthesia is starting to wear off." She made a quick note on her clipboard. "She'll probably be awake in another hour or so."

"Excellent," Sevarius replied. "Prognosis?"

Dr. Ling glanced at her notes, stifling a yawn. "Mm, excuse me. It's been a long night. It looks good to me, Anton. If she were human, she'd definitely have a few days of bed rest ahead of her to recover from an acute concussion. But given that she's gargoyle, I expect she'll be as good as new come sunset tonight."

"Thank you, Lilith."

"You're welcome." She yawned again, this time unable to stop it from coming, and checked the clock that hung on the far wall. "May I go home now?"

"Soon, doctor." Jezebella smiled, her eyes never having left the prone, nude form of her dear beloved sister. The painkillers were starting to kick in, and her headache was fading. Dr. Ling was here now, true, but the oversights in her research on the clan could be taken up with the woman at a later time. A reunion with Angela was long overdue, and promised to be a much more pleasant diversion to end the night. "Show my sister to her new room and get her tucked in," Jezebella instructed. "Then you may go."

Dr. Ling glanced to Sevarius for confirmation, and he nodded. "I'll assist you momentarily, Lilith," he said. He released the intercom button and turned to his favorite clone. "Shall we return her regular clothes to her, or do you have something else in mind?" he asked.

"Send everything she was wearing to my quarters," Jezebella replied. "The chains alone will do fine for now." She flashed a fanged grin. "I want my sister to learn what it's like to be have something precious stolen away, and if she's still as I remember her, I know she values her modesty almost as much as her freedom."

"As you wish, my dear." Sevarius chuckled and glanced back through the glass at the slumbering gargoyle in the adjoining room. "She won't be happy when she wakes up."

Angela's double glanced back over her shoulder as she turned to leave. "I know," she said sweetly. "That's the idea."

* * * * *

Jezebella slipped the final gold bangle over her wrist and checked herself in the mirror one last time. Seeing Angela helpless and bound to that examination table down in the lab had lifted her spirits after a long night of near disasters. A shower and a change of clothing had done further wonders to improve her mood. After washing off the grime from the park, she'd put her hair back into the wild, upswept style she preferred, then donned a halter and loincloth ensemble of deep burgundy silk and a half dozen pieces of favorite jewelry. Jezebella smiled as she smoothed a rebellious strand of hair back into place behind a delicately tapered ear. Even with that cut on the back of her neck still stinging slightly from the herbal shampoo, she felt like a million bucks.

"There's no doubt about it," she said, addressing her reflection. "The clothes do make the gargoyle." She crossed the modestly sized room she had been calling home ever since her release from the incubation chamber Sevarius had used to heal her, moving to the bed she still kept there for the times when the lingering physical and emotional pains were so great that only a good long nap, sometimes huddled with a pillow to absorb the tears, did the trick. A small bundle waited for her, delivered while she showered. Angela's clothes. She picked up the tunic, eyeing it with disdain. It had been laundered, she noted. The stains of mud and grass from the park were gone, and sniffing the air she could pick up the faint scent of fabric softener. She rubbed the well-worn fabric between her talons, finding it moderately softer than that of the replica version she had discarded into the hamper a short while ago.

"I'll keep this for when I go back to the castle tonight," she decided. "All of it," she added, surveying the few pieces of gold jewelry. "I might as well go for complete authenticity." She tossed the tunic back onto the mattress as she took a quick inventory of the items. A hand-tooled leather belt with a polished brass buckle, a pair of hoop earrings, a bracelet, and…

"Hmm, what's this now?" She picked up the ornately carved hair ornament, turning it in her talons as she examined it. Such a daringly stylish piece… that alone made it seem out of character for her sister. Jezebella didn't have a replica of this as part of her costume. Evidently another small detail had been overlooked, which made it a lucky find. "I wonder if this has some sentimental value," she mused. "Only one way to find out, I suppose." Smiling, she slipped the ornament into her own hair, tucking it into place just above her right ear as she turned and stepped to the small desk that sat on the wall opposite the bed.

The touch of a talon tip on the keyboard brought her computer workstation out of hibernation, and another series of keystrokes took her into the security system and brought up a menu of available camera feeds. There was only one she was interested in. Jezebella highlighted and clicked, and a split second later she was looking at the direct feed from the camera focused on a tiny holding cell. "Damn," she muttered, eyeing the motionless image. Angela was still out cold. She'd have to wait a little while longer.

* * *

Jezebella strode through the corridors of the area that made up the halflings' living quarters, growing more annoyed with every step. To kill the time while Angela finished sleeping off her anesthesia, she'd decided to have that little chat with Danny. Trouble was, she hadn't been able to find him anywhere. She'd checked his room first, but she'd seen no signs that he'd been there since she had fetched him to go with her to meet up with the team watching Destine Manor. She'd gone back to the lab next, wondering if perhaps Dr. Ling had already acted on her desire to have a "test subject," but there was no sign of him there, either. Dr. Ling had turned out the lights gone home, and Sevarius had retreated to his office to review his notes before he called it a night himself. "I haven't seen him," had been his answer when she poked her head in his door and inquired, "but I'm sure he's around somewhere. Why don't you check with the others?"

She lashed her tail with frustration. Word of Candy and Jake's latest screw up had evidently traveled fast among the small population of halflings and hired muscle her foster father had recruited, most likely along with rumors of how she intended to seek retribution. Everyone she'd encountered so far had been hesitant and stand-offish, fearful of offending her and able to offer little help. Under any other circumstances, she would have been enjoying the new aura of reverence and respect she projected, but right now she just wanted to a straight answer that would lead her to Danny.

She paused just outside the doorway to a common area, listening to the voices coming from within. The television was on, but several halflings were talking, as well. A female voice in particular stood out above the others. "I'm telling you, that's what I heard. They had her trussed up just like a Christmas present. Dragged her in kicking and screaming. Candy had even put one of those freaky bondage gags on her. I don't blame her for being pissed."

"Your concern for my well-being is appreciated." Jezebella stepped into the open doorway, her appearance on the scene instantly quieting the conversation between the three young halflings who lounged on the couch. Two were male, both looking to be in their early twenties. The female she had heard talking appeared slightly younger, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Briefly, Jezebella wondered if their ages had been why Sevarius had designated them the third string team, below Candy, Jake, and the others. "You three were at the park," she said. "I was wondering if you've seen the boy I'd brought with me. Danny. Do you know where he went after you came back?"

The trio of halflings traded looks of confusion. "Was that his name? I never had a chance to ask," the girl replied. "He was cute. I was going to see if he wanted to catch a late movie but for some reason he took off right after he tagged you."

Jezebella frowned, a knot already forming in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Took off is right. Shoot, girl, I ain't never seen nobody beat their feet that fast," the taller of the two young men supplied. He had a southern drawl which hinted that he, like Danny, had not always called Manhattan home. He turned his gaze to Jezebella pointedly. "You ever seen that movie Forest Gump? Y'know, that part where'n he just up and started runnin', for no gosh-danged reason at all? Well, it was sorta like that."

"Yo, J.Z., straight up, I saw the whole thing." The other young man sat up, suddenly eager to add his two cents. His dark hair was cropped in an angular, flat-topped style, and his speech marked him as a refugee from the inner city. "That little white boy, he was movin' like a cheetah on crack. I mean gone, you know what I'm sayin'?" He toned down his enthusiasm as he realized the lavender gargoyle didn't appear to be amused by the analogy. "'Course, we woulda tried to stop him but, you know, we kinda had our hands full with that other gargoyle," he added quickly.

"I'm sure you did. Thank you for the help." Jezebella turned, leaving before she had a chance to act on the sudden and irrational urge to strangle them all. Inside, she was seething, but taking her anger out on those three would solve nothing. They had done the job assigned to them, seeing Angela back to her new home, and getting her out of sight before Goliath had arrived on the scene. It was Danny, evidently, who had deviated from instructions. But why would he bail on her? It made no sense. Unless…

"Crap," she muttered. "The little son of a bitch must have recognized her." Jezebella fumed as she paced the hallway, contemplating the problem she was now faced with. Somewhere out roaming the city there was a penniless teenage halfling with the ability to totally blow her cover. She'd have to find him, and find him fast, before he could get to the clan. But how? She didn't even need to look at a clock to know what her gargoyle's sixth sense was already telling her; sunrise was rapidly approaching, and soon she'd be sleeping in stone. "Damn it all," she grumbled. Danny already had a two-hour head start. She couldn't risk giving him almost fourteen hours more. No. That was unacceptable. Someone else would have to hunt him down while she slept. Someone else would have to spend all day out in the hot summer sun walking the pavement, searching the city until the boy was found. But who among Sevarius' recruits would be up for such an unpleasant, nearly impossible task? Who among them owed her big time? A small smile came to Jezebella's lips. "I think I know just the halfling for the job."

* * *

Angela sat up slowly, shaking her head to clear away the lingering grogginess. Her sleep had been restless, filled with strange dreams, and she'd awoken to a dull headache and a dry, fuzzy mouth. "Ugh. Where am I?" she muttered. The young female blinked her eyes, peering into the gray dimness that surrounded her, and sniffed the air. It was cool and dank, filled with scent of earth and mildew. The ground beneath her was hard and slightly damp. She scraped her talons lightly over the dusty concrete, contemplating these first few hints that told her that she wasn't back at the castle. The rattling of chains as she tried to rise further provided the next clue.

Angela stared down at her hands, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the heavy manacles locked tight about her wrists. They were joined by a short, stout length of chain that was itself joined by a heavy padlock to another loop of chain cinched about her waist. The chains jangled almost musically as she gave an experimental tug, confirming only what she inherently already knew. They'd been made heavy for a reason. They'd been designed to hold a gargoyle. She raised her hands as high as the joining chain allowed, noting as she examined the thick steel cuffs more closely how well they conformed to the size and contours of her wrists. They fit her perfectly. Too perfectly, she realized, shuddering. They'd been designed for a gargoyle, all right, but not just any gargoyle. They'd been designed for her.

Her stomach knotted as memories of the last few seconds in the park began to come back her. That hadn't been a mugging at all. It had been a trap, and she had walked right into it. Inwardly, she cursed herself being so stupid. She'd dove right in without even considering for a second that she should first radio for backup. What had she been thinking? An icy chill ran down her back as she realized the clan might not even be aware yet that she was in trouble. They'd turn to stone assuming she was simply spending the day at Destine Manor, while Demona would go about her day believing she had returned safely to the Eyrie. No one would have any reason to suspect that she'd been ambushed and kidnapped.

But who had kidnapped her, and why? Angela perked up her ears, thinking she'd heard a noise. "Who's there?" she called, her heart racing. She could make out the bars that formed the front wall of her cell, but beyond them she could see only shadows. Faces of past enemies and adversaries flickered in her mind's eye as she fought to compile a mental list of possible answers to the "who" question. The surviving members of The Pack were in prison; Thailog was dead; and Maeve, who she feared most of all, was safely locked away for an eternity courtesy of Queen Titania. As she waited anxiously for a voice, any voice, to answer back, though, she found that knowledge was only slightly comforting. Being in the public eye had earned her a new set of enemies. Faceless people who hid behind anonymous letters and phony e-mail addresses. Fox had counseled her to ignore the hate letters and the occasional correspondence from oddball fans who wanted more than just an autographed photo. "This kind of thing goes with the territory, Ang," she had said. "You can't take every letter personally." She'd taken Fox at her word, but she had to wonder now if accepting that advice at face value had truly been prudent. She sniffed the air again. She had heard no further sound beyond that of her own breathing, and she could smell nothing unfamiliar, either. Angela sighed. For the moment at least, it seemed, she would have to suffer the hellish torment of not knowing who her abductor was.

Whoever her kidnappers were, they'd taken great pains to ensure she would not escape before they returned. The front wall of her tiny, unfurnished 8'x8' cell was barred, while the other three walls, the ceiling, and the floor were seamless concrete. The confinement almost seemed redundant, though, combined with her bondage. Gradually, she became cognizant of the full extent of it as she struggled to a more comfortable kneeling position. Another set of steel shackles, locked about her ankles and fitting as snugly as the ones on her wrists, hobbled her, joined by a mere two-foot length of connecting chain. Two more loops of the same strong chain were wrapped tight about her chest, one just below her breasts and the other tucked beneath her arms, holding her wings pinned uselessly against her back. The steel links were cold against her bare skin. She wasn't just bound, she realized, she was naked, too. As she replayed the images from the park in her mind, though, searching for clues as to who was responsible for her captivity, the significance of that fact seemed to momentarily evaporate.

"Danny," she whispered. He'd been there, too, in the park. As the muzziness cleared from her head, she recalled how she'd seen him just seconds before she'd seen stars. But where was he now? A new set of questions formed in her mind faster than she could postulate answers for them. Had he been an active participant in the trap? That possibility seemed too much to fathom. They had become friends. Why would he turn on her? He had to have been forced to do it… kidnapped himself and used as the bait to reel her in… that was the only thing that made sense. Or rather, that was the only thing she wanted to believe made sense. Angela slumped onto her haunches miserably, suddenly unconcerned with her own predicament as she worried over what had become of her newest friend.

As the aching in Angela's head slowly faded, those last few moments of alertness became clearer and clearer in her mind. Seeing Danny alive after fearing the worst for over a week had sent her heart leaping. She had been ready to grab him and hug him, to reassure herself that he was okay, when something heavy and dull had struck the back of her head, turning her world pitch black. Now she was awake and back to square one - worried sick - and the only embrace she had to look forward too was the cold and unyielding one offered by the chains. The ones about her chest bit cruelly into her skin as she slouched. Angela closed her eyes, pushing the pain and the worry to the back of her mind, forcing herself to calm. Crying or becoming hysterical would accomplish nothing, and as she established her inner focus she strangely found herself pondering how proud her mother would be to see her right now, putting her training to good use.

Angela's head swam with bizarre half-formed images, all competing for her attention. The apprentice sorceress drew her senses inward, visualizing a turbulent ocean calming after the passing of a storm, stilling them as she attempted to separate dream from memory and make sense of the hours that had passed since seeing Danny in the park. She recalled giving Andrea a good-bye hug, and seeing over her shoulder the old grandfather clock which stood in the entry hall. She zoomed in on that image, recovering a detail that she had observed but not consciously noted at the time. It had been just past two in the morning when she had departed her mother's house, but gargoyle instinct told her now that sunrise was nearing. She'd lost about four hours. The gap felt unnaturally long. Angela pushed deeper, discarding the nonsensical dream imagery that cluttered her thoughts, slowly uncovering another hazy fragment of memory.

She must have awakened briefly. She was lying on a padded surface, and a dark-haired Asian woman garbed in white was standing over her, making notes on a clipboard. One of Xanatos's physicians, she'd assumed, thinking she in the castle infirmary. She'd relaxed, thinking she was safe until, unexpectedly, a needle jabbed her sharply in the upper arm. She'd reacted in reflex to pull away, and been surprised to find herself restrained, unable to move her hand. She'd made to cry out, but the first word of protest never even made it past her lips. A hand belonging to an unseen second person had placed a mask over her mouth and nose, and a few seconds later, unconsciousness had reclaimed her.

Angela shivered, her enforced calm faltering as she considered the possible implications of the few brief seconds of memory. Had she and Danny been captured for some sort of medical research? She couldn't place the Asian woman as anyone she recognized, but as she became conscious again of the weight of the shackles about her wrists and ankles, another much older memory returned and a new face moved to the top of her mental list. "Sevarius," she mouthed, the name eliciting an involuntary chill. He had held her captive once before, at Loch Ness, chaining her up and using her as bait in a bizarre, ill-conceived attempt to net himself a full-grown plesiosaur. She'd been rescued, and that plan had been foiled, but he'd survived to go on to bigger and better projects. He'd created clones for Thailog, a carrier virus for Demona, and halflings for Madoc and Maeve. He'd found ways to menaced the clan, yes, but never had he directly targeted her for retaliation. Nor had he been seen since just before the end of the war. Still…

"You haven't fallen asleep again, have you, sister?"

Angela's eyes were open in a heartbeat, adrenaline coupled with rage propelling her to her feet in spite of the chains. She glared through the cell bars, red filling her vision as she searched for the source of the eerily familiar feminine voice. "Who are you?!?" she demanded. "Stop hiding and show yourself!"

The young female's eyes went wide, the red glow fading as she stared in open-mouthed shock at the scantily attired lavender gargoyle who stepped into view. She looked like… no, it couldn't be. Like a deer in caught in headlights, Angela froze. Her captor slowly lifted her head, brushing a long sable ponytail aside with her talons to reveal her face. Angela gasped in utter disbelief. It was a face identical to her own.

"Hello, Angie. Long time, no see." Jezebella smiled broadly, her tail lashing with delight. The look of surprise on her twin's face was priceless, better even than she'd imagined it in her dreams. And better yet, the imminent sunrise assured it would remain there all day.

Angela had no chance to offer a reply. A silent moment more found them both frozen in stone.

* * * * *

She awoke with a roar, eyes blazing and tail lashing as she cast off the thin stone shell. Any hope that the previous night had been naught but a bad dream, however, evaporated instantly as she felt the heavy chains squeeze her tight, keeping her hands at waist level and her wings pressed uncomfortably against her back. Angela strained against the bonds, unable to suppress the natural waking urge to stretch, and growled in frustration at being denied. "Ugh! Where am I?" she demanded, eyes flashing red. She took a staggering half step toward the bars of her cell, the best she could manage with the hobbling shackles. "Who are you?!"

On the other side of the bars, the gargoyle who was her double smiled sweetly and unfurled her wings, stretching them to flick away the lingering bits of stone skin. "Why Angie, don't you recognize me?" she asked. "It's me, Jezebella." She paused, waiting for a response, but Angela only stared at her mutely. "Come on, Angie," she added. "Surely you haven't forgotten your twin sister."

Twin sister? Angela blinked in further disbelief. "I don't have any twin sister."

Jezebella cocked her head to one side, her expression turning pensive. "Oh, that's right," she said. "I forgot for a moment you thought I was dead!"

Angela stepped back, reeling at the sheer venom that dripped from the doppelganger's words. Suddenly, she was thankful for the bars that separated them. "I don't even know you," she protested. It was a weak retort, but it was the best she could do as her mind spun in confusion. "Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone else."

Jezebella rolled her eyes. "There's no mistake, sister," she said, taking hold of the bars and sneering wickedly. "You're simply in denial. But Anton told me you'd be like this. No matter. It changes nothing, you know."

Anton. Angela blinked again as the unfinished thoughts from the night before suddenly returned and several pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "You're working with Sevarius," she breathed. She realized she had spoken aloud only after the words had left her mouth, and clamped her lips shut before completing the rest of the thought. She's a clone… a clone of me.

"Yes," Jezebella replied. "He saved my life after you abandoned me." She smiled casually, releasing the bars and caping her wings. "He's also the one who made this little family reunion possible."

The tip of Angela's tail twitched against the concrete as the gears in her head turned. The initial shock had given way to partial comprehension at the confirmation of Sevarius's involvement. This gargoyle was a clone, and the devious geneticist had obviously programmed her with a uniquely distorted view of reality, much like Thailog had done with Delilah and the others, only more so. She wasn't even aware she was a clone. That alone frightened Angela, but it also made her curious. Maybe, just maybe, she thought quickly, if she played along for now she could learn enough to begin figuring a way out of her present situation. Dropping her head, Angela did her best to feign contrition and tried a new tact.

"I'm sorry, sister. I shouldn't have mocked you."

Jezebella crossed her arms and flipped her high ponytail, raising her chin haughtily. "Mocking me is the least of your offenses, sister. And if you believe a mere apology will appease me, please, think again."

Angela lifted her head, making eye contact with the clone once more. "You want to punish me for what I did to you," she stated. She tugged at the chains which bound her wrists, rattling them for effect. "I understand that."

Jezebella laughed. "You understand nothing, dear sister. Punish you? Yes. But this…" She gestured at the cramped confines of the windowless cell. "…this is only the beginning. I want to humiliate you as you humiliated me. Make you suffer as I have suffered." She sneered disdainfully. "Tell me, Angie, what do you suppose all your adoring fans would say if they could see you now? Do you like the new costume I've selected for you? That tunic is just so passé, but those lovely chains suit you perfectly." Jezebella's grin turned salacious. "How does it make you feel, sister, to finally look like naughty girl you've been? Are you humbled, or just turned on?"

Angela edged back imperceptibly, wishing now that she hadn't called her double's attention to the chains. Suddenly it was as if her body had become acutely aware of every shackle that bound her, every little link that touched her skin. At Jezebella's words, an image of the Lady Maeve, on her knees before Queen Titania, making a similar insinuation passed unbidden before her mind's eye. Angela's insides twitched in revulsion, and she blushed hotly, unable to stop herself.

Jezebella smirked as her sibling's skin went flush. "I thought as much," she said. She stepped to one side, pointing to shadowy spot on the ceiling behind her. "You might want to smile, as well, sister. You are on camera, and should the tapes ever find their way to the media, I know you'll want to look your best."

Angry eyes flickered red, but the captive gargoyle held down the urge to growl. Don't let her bait you, Angela, the voice in her head cautioned. Its tone was cold and firm, just like Demona's, and Angela thought of her training again. The worst thing you can do is lose control of your temper. "Just tell me what you want from me," she said. It came out levelly, but still harsher than she'd intended. Jezebella, however, didn't appear to notice.

"What I want, dear sister," she replied, approaching the cell bars again, "is only to regain what you so unjustly stole from me. I want my clan back. I want my home back." She resettled her wings, hatred dancing in her eyes. "I want the life of happiness you have denied me," she intoned, "and I want to give you in return the life of misery your betrayal should have earned you years ago."

She paused to let her words sink in, and Angela waited in shocked silence, wondering briefly if she'd made a sound decision in choosing to play along. The dark tone in Jezebella's voice was eerily reminiscent of Demona's, only Angela had been on the other side of the prison bars when she'd calmly listened to her mother's rants.

"I didn't go through all the trouble of bringing you here merely to torment you, sister," Jezebella went on, "though that will be one of the perks. No, I need to make sure you're kept out of my way. You see, you're not going to just disappear as I did, Angela. Your fate will be much worse than that."

The way the clone leered at her was making Angela more and more nervous by the second. "What are you talking about?"

Jezebella smiled mysteriously. "Allow me to introduce the new Miss Angela Brigitte Destine." She uncaped her wings and took a step back, giving a graceful curtsey. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Angela's brow ridges furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she caught the clone's meaning. "You may look like me, but you will not be able to fool my clan."

The musical laugh that came in reply was an eerie echo of Angela's own. "Why, dear sister, I already have fooled them. Who do you think returned to the castle last night in your stead?" The look of genuine shock on Angela's face was all it took to urge Jezebella on. "Father and Elisa seemed quite happy to see me. They do make such an interesting couple... such a shame I missed their mating ceremony." She smiled oddly and shrugged. "That's what a girl gets for being dead, I guess. I would have asked to see the photo album, of course, but as it was I could barely get my new stepmother to give me a moment's peace."

"You're lying," Angela hissed.

"No, sister, I suspect you're the one who's been telling lies again." The clone smiled prettily. "Detective Maza and her partner seemed most anxious to get me, or rather you, alone for a little chit-chat. I can only imagine that it has something to do with you being up to your old tricks again. Keeping secrets, making up stories, snooping where you don't belong... that sort of thing." She strolled close to the bars again, placing a hand on her hip as her eyes roamed the length of Angela's nude form. "I don't suppose you'd care to share the details?"

Angela swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about." The denial sounded unconvincing even to her. She wasn't surprised in the least when Jezebella laughed.

"Oh, puh-lease! Come on, sister, I'll find out soon enough anyway. What have you been up to? Who do you suspect of trying to steal your precious Broadway away from you this time? That pretty white-haired clone? Maybe Brooklyn's mate? Or have you moved on to bigger and better things? You may as well tell me, so I can do what I must to salvage your good reputation when I return to my new home at the castle."

Angela kept her jaw clamped firmly shut and glared daggers back at her clone. The lies Sevarius evidently had taught his latest creation were both more bizarre and more complex than she'd anticipated. The whole situation, in fact, was rapidly becoming more than she could possibly hope to control. Deep down, she also had the sick, sinking feeling that, back home, the cat was already out of the bag about her illicit forays into Sector 13. Still, she had no desire to say anything to Jezebella, and dig herself deeper into the hole that Sevarius had already prepared for her.

"Nothing to say to me, sister?" Jezebella crossed her arms. "Humph. I guess there's a first for everything."

"Good evening, ladies." Jezebella turned as Dr. Sevarius strode into the small antechamber that fronted Angela's cell. "I trust you both slept well."

"Sevarius!" Angela broke her silence with a snarl and lunged for the bars before she remembered the chains binding her ankles. She stumbled, tripped and half-fell, landing painfully on her right knee.

The doctor raised an eyebrow in mild amusement as the captive gargoyle glared up at him. "Miss Destine," he greeted, "I see you're as charming as ever. You know, we really must stop meeting like this. You on your knees, in chains. It's so unbecoming."

Angela hissed and bared her fangs, her eyes burning a deep scarlet.

"Please pardon my dear sister, Doctor," Jezebella said. Settling her wings, she placed a taloned hand on his shoulder and steered him aside, sparing Angela only a passing glance. "She forgets her place, but she'll learn it soon enough."

"I don't doubt it, my dear." He smiled at his favorite clone, ignoring the low, animalistic growl the caged gargoyle behind him continued to emit from deep within her throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I know how much you've been looking forward to chatting with Miss Angela." He took the girl's arm and pulled her close. "Do be careful, though, Jezebella," he whispered. "I've dealt with her before, and I'm sure she'll soon be telling you all kinds of imaginative lies. I'm an evil mad scientist. You're not really her sister, you're a clone I grew in a test tube. Or maybe even that she possesses magical powers and will turn you into a frog if you don't set her free." He wiggled his fingers and chuckled softly. "There's really no telling what she might say."

Jezebella nodded. "Actually, doctor, conversation with her has proved rather disappointing so far." She turned back to the cell, lashing her tail in annoyance as she returned her attention to Angela. Her captive twin glared up at her, nostrils flaring and talons clenched impotently into fists. The defiant look in her eyes only enervated Jezebella more. "Seems she doesn't feel like talking to her long lost sister," she stated, her voice returning to a normal level.

"Is that so?" Sevarius came up beside the clone, rejoining her in admiring the bound gargoyle. "What a pity, Angela. I'd have thought you'd want to make things easier on yourself."

Using her tail for leverage, Angela pushed herself back to her feet. "I have nothing to say to either of you," she growled, edging away. The cell wasn't very big, but every inch more she could put between herself and them was worth the effort. "Go back to the castle," she dared the clone. "They'll recognize you as impostor soon enough."

"Ah, yes, and then Goliath and his clan will glide off to your rescue, and everyone will live happily ever after." Sevarius clapped his hands. "I do love a good fairy tale, don't you, Jezebella?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "Here, let me tell another. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful gargoyle princess who was adored by all the people in her kingdom. Every day she would come out and wave and smile for the cheering crowds. Then, one day, she was invited by the Lord of the Castle to visit the dungeons, and there she met a little boy with pointed ears." She cocked her head, smirking. "Please stop me when this starts sounding familiar, will you, sister?"

When Angela didn't speak up, Sevarius did. "Funny you should mention that, my dear. I've just had a word about our missing imp."

Angela's ears instantly perked up. "Danny!" she blurted. She growled angrily, realizing too late the slip she'd made, but there was no sense turning back now. "What have you done with him?" she demanded.

Jezebella didn't even acknowledge the outburst. "Really, doctor? Do tell."

"Of course. But someplace a little more quiet. Let's go to my office."

"Wait!" Angela's frantic plea went unheeded. The pair had vanished into the shadows before she could even manage to stagger the short distance to the front of the cell. Angela clenched her talons around the black iron bars. They were too thick to bend. Even if she wasn't chained and could get her hands above waist level, she'd barely have a chance. "Please, wait!" she called again.

Somewhere at the end of the long, dark corridor that lay beyond the bars, a door slammed. Angela was alone again. Slowly, she sank to the floor, her head drooping miserably under the weight of her emotions. For the first time since her ordeal had begun, Angela wept.

* * * * *

Danny stared morosely into the dregs of his orange soda and wondered how the hell, exactly, he'd ended up where he had. And it wasn't the all night diner across from the bus station with its glaring neon sign proclaiming "Good Eats Cheap", bright yellow plastic booths, speckled Formica counters, and heavy set, walrus mustached cook/counter man who had been giving him the hairy eyeball ever since he set foot in the place he was contemplating.

He had landed in Trouble. Capital T and all the rest of the letters, too. Population: one halfling named Danny Maldinado.

Angela wasn't Angela. At least he didn't think so. Otherwise, why did the second Angela, the one they'd set out to kidnap, recognize him? She'd looked so genuinely happy to see him. Relieved as if she'd been worried sick.

He'd been completely thrown. Suddenly and without a doubt convinced he'd been played like one of those expensive violins. A Stratacaster? No, that was a guitar. A Stradivarius. Yeah, that was it. He'd been played like a Stradivarius by Angela's twin.

She probably told him the truth, sort of. Just switched the names around so that she was the victim and Angela, the real Angela, the one who had kept him company while he was imprisoned, was the bad guy.

He'd figured it out in a split second. Whoever she was had given Angela such a look of raw, pure hatred as she sent the stone crashing down into the gargoyle's head. It was all Danny could do to keep from vomiting right there where he lay as Angela dropped bonelessly beside him.

The impostor had yanked him to his feet and handed Danny the blood stained rock. "Hurry," she hissed. "Hit me, just the same. You can do it!"

He took the stone. Felt its heft. Anger burned hot, forcing the nausea to subside momentarily. Magic radiated off him in waves as he lost control. He brought the rock down hard, enjoying the dull thumping noise it made as it impacted with the impostor's skull. The gargoyle fell as bonelessly as her sister. Danny dropped the rock next to her and took off, wondering how he could get the hell out of Dodge because there was no way he was going back with the rest.

Somehow he had to help Angela. But what could he do? If he went back to the castle and tried to let them know, Xanatos and his flunky, that over-starched stuffed shirt, Owen Burnett, would just lock him back up again. For his own good. Yeah, right.

He had to think, to lay low somewhere until he could come up with a plan. And more importantly, stay the hell away from whatever her name was and the other halflings. Candy wouldn't mind seeing him dead. And when Angela's double caught up with him there wouldn't be enough of him left to feed the pigeons.

Yep, Danny thought, glumly. Leaving Trouble. Next stop: World of Hurt.

He dipped a long cold French fry into a pool of ketchup and chewed slowly. Danny had been starved after his night and day of hiding. He'd spent the night in the bus shelter scrunched behind the bench like a stray who knew the dogcatcher had his number. When the sun had risen and people started to clog the street, all those joggers, students and business people in a hurry to get a move on, he'd joined them, melding into the crowd and moving away from the park.

He stopped long enough in front of an antique store window to use one of the intricately framed mirrors prominently displayed to view his reflection. He brushed grass and dried mud off his face and clothes and wished that someone had taught him some practical magic. The kind that would remove stains from his pants and fix the tear in his tee shirt.

Granted, it did give him a certain air of patheticness. Enough so that when he risked standing at the mouth of the subway entrance with a paper cup and a plaintive expression singing a chorus of "Danny Boy", a few, less hardened, commuters had tossed him some change.

But that had run out long ago. When he entered the diner, driven by the hunger only a teenage boy can know, he had the princely sum of sixteen cents and a subway token. Not nearly enough cash to cover the double cheeseburger, bowl of chili, fries, chocolate shake and orange soda he'd ordered as he slid into the booth nearest the back and the short hall the led to the restrooms. He'd taken a quick look, after he'd placed his order. "I'm just going to wash up," he'd called to the counterman who grunted in response as he slapped meat down on the big metal grill.

Two stalls, complete with sit down toilets and a sink. The window was open but barred with iron. No escape that way. Danny washed his hands and face and patted down his hair before returning to his table.

The bell above the front door jangled and a woman entered. Danny shrunk down into the booth as he observed her. Long blonde hair, petite, clad in jeans and a sweat jacket zipped open to reveal a pale blue tee shirt. She had a duffle slung over one shoulder and a sad look on her face. Danny didn't recognize her and he relaxed a little. It was dark, and Angela, or whatever her name was, would be looking. More than once, during the day, he'd felt eyes on his back and had been forced to duck into dark recesses, tamping the urge to throw up any kind of magical defense, knowing that it would only draw the other halflings.

The woman took a seat at the counter and smiled as the walrus handed her a menu. She scanned it briefly, ordered a cup of tea with her All Day Breakfast Special, eggs scrambled with cheese, hash browns, a short stack and no bacon, please.

Danny returned his attention to his own plate. He was down to his last fry and the soda was nothing more than neon orange dregs floating a few lingering chips of ice. The counter man was busy scrambling eggs and making polite conversation with the blonde. It was now or never.

Danny slipped from the booth and bolted for the front door.

He was on the threshold, nearly out and free. A beefy hand clapped down on his shoulder, pinning him in the doorway. "Going somewhere?"

Danny didn't have to spin around, although he did, to see that the counterman had somehow anticipated his move. "I saw my cousin Fred, outside near the bus station," he protested lamely. "Mom said he was getting out of the army." He pointed to a bunch of soldiers and waved at them hoping wildly that one would wave back. The uniformed men ignored him and climbed into a taxi instead.

"Uh huh." The counterman marched Danny back to his booth. "Sit down while I call the cops. No one dines and ducks on my shift."

Danny bit off the sharp retort. The guy had busted him dead to rights. Still, he was angry and magical energy pumped through him making his skin tingle. He took a couple of deep breaths forcing himself to calm down. It would be so easy just to zap the walrus and bolt. But he didn't dare reveal himself. Not even for a minute.

"Excuse me, is there a problem?" The blonde had gotten up and now stood at the counterman's shoulder. The top of her head barely reached the cuff of his short sleeved white cotton shirt. She had a sweet voice, Danny noticed, kind of like Angela's, the real Angela's, full of concern.

"Nah, no problem, miss. This kid..." He shot daggers at Danny. "...was trying to pull a fast one. I had a feeling he wasn't gonna pay for all that food."

"But you served him anyway. That was kind of you." As she spoke the blonde studied the teen. Danny felt her gaze on him and his head dropped in shame.

"Well," the big guy admitted, "he looked he'd had better days. And you can't judge people by appearances. You never know which moth eaten old guy with a shopping cart is gonna pay his tab with a fifty dollar bill."

The girl nodded. "That's very true."

Danny, though he kept his head down in contrition, snuck a glance at the walrus in disbelief. The guy looked like such a hard case. Who'd a thunk he had a heart?

"Do you have the money to pay your check?" The blonde was talking to him now. Danny looked up briefly, long enough to meet her eyes. They were emerald.

He smiled shyly, and shook his head as he removed the sixteen cents and subway token and placed them on the table. "That's it. The whole wad. I can wash dishes," the teen added hopefully.

"Don't need a dishwasher, but thanks for offering." The counter guy took the sixteen cents and left the subway token on the counter. "Tell you what. Maybe it's that sappy movie my wife made me watch last night, or maybe it's the full moon, but I'm feeling generous. Forget the rest of the tab. You find yourself in a spot where you can do something for somebody, you do it. When you do, we'll be even."

Danny stared, not believing his good luck. "Sure mister. Whatever you say. Thanks!"

"I'm glad that's settled." The blonde woman smiled at the boy and man. "My name is Jeannie," she said to Danny. "Why don't you join me for a while?"

"Danny. This seat's free," he offered.

Jeannie smiled again and sat down across from the teenager. The counter guy went back to the grill and started a fresh batch of eggs.

"Where you headed?" Danny said indicating Jeannie's duffle.

"Cleveland, Ohio," Jeannie replied. Her smile faded a little, and her eyes were suddenly sad. "I've never been there, but it has a nice sound to it, don't you think?" she said hopefully.

Danny shrugged. "All I know about Cleveland, I learned from Drew Carey," he quipped. He wanted to say more, but New York was as far from home as he'd ever been. "Sorry, I'm sure it's a great town. Lots of sausages and beer."

The counter guy brought Jeannie's breakfast over. "Thanks," she trailed off waiting for the man to supply his name.

"Leo."

"Thanks, Leo. Keep the change." Jeannie dug a bill out of the back pocket of her jeans and winked as she handed it over. "Just so you know you're covered."

He took the money and grinned at Jeannie like it was an old joke between them before sauntering back behind his counter to serve a couple of transit workers.

Jeannie bent to her eggs and offered the pancakes to Danny. He hesitated then accepted the plate, just to keep her company, he told himself. Truth was, he was still hungry. He wondered if it was stress or the uncomfortable knowledge that this much good luck never lasts, so he should take advantage while he could.

"What about you?" Jeannie inquired between bites. She ate slowly, as if melted American cheese and eggs was a revelation and ketchup some kind of minor miracle meant to be savored.

"Um, uh, I'm keeping my options open."

Jeannie gave him a knowing smile. "You're running away."

"No. Well yeah." What was it about this woman that made him want to confess everything, Danny wondered.

"I thought so. Kindred spirit."

"You're a runaway too?" Danny put down his fork, the half eaten stack of pancakes temporarily forgotten. "No way."

"Way."

"Boyfriend trouble?" She wasn't wearing a ring, and there was no indent on her finger to show she'd recently abandoned one.

Jeannie shook her head. Her long blonde hair parted slightly revealing a pointed tip. Danny stared in shock. Halfling. Oh god. His eyes darted to the window and he scanned as much of the milling crowd as he could. He didn't see any of Sevarius's goons.

"Danny? Danny, what's the matter?" Jeannie radiated concern and Danny's heart slowed to a gallop.

"Your ear."

Jeannie's eyes went wide with panic. Her hand went to her ear tip and buried it back under long blonde tresses. "I can explain."

Danny removed the battered fishing hat he'd worn since the night of the kidnapping. "It's like mine."

* * *

Even late at night the bus station was busy. Great coughing antiques and silent propane powered new models pulled up to the curbs, disgorging passengers in various states of consciousness and excitement. Most shuffled off the final step, blinking and stretching after their long confinements; others, especially the young, lost looking ones, stood momentarily second guessing themselves. They hemmed and hawed and looked backward at the bus wondering if they'd made the right decision.

If they were smart, Danny reflected as he sat listening to Jeannie explain how she found herself caught in the middle of a quarrel between an artist and her lover, they'd ditch their dreams of Broadway or Wall Street or whatever it was that drove them, turn around and get back on the bus. Predators waited, hoping to spring on the new arrivals from Boise and Springfield and a hundred other nameless towns too small to be of notice to anybody but the few hundred people who lived there.

They would smile and welcome some hapless hick and offer to buy them dinner or fix them up with a place to stay. The newcomer, thinking they'd been steered wrong about the mean streets of the big city would say, "Thank you kindly," and go willingly, never to be seen again.

At least not in any shape Aunt Matilda from back home would recognize. He knew because it happened to him. Pimps and pushers had sized him up and licked their chops. Young. Vulnerable. Broke. Fresh chicken for the trade.

Danny resisted. At least for a while. Then one night, when he was hungry and alone a guy offered him $20.00 and he said, "Sure."

The first time was bad, but not horrible. Once the guy had paid him off, and he'd bought himself a Coke to wash out his mouth, Danny had put the rest of the money in his shoe and gone out on the street again. That night, he moved out of the park and into a cheap hotel. Slept in a real bed for the first time in weeks.

After a narrow escape from a twisted John, he got more careful about the cars he got into. Danny endured.

Until that night when he'd blown off hustling and gone to Garlon's soup kitchen, drawn by the promise of free sandwiches and easy work that didn't involve getting a guy off in the front seat of his car.

Danny wondered if Cleveland would be any better or just different.

He doubted it was Jeannie's fault that her friend Andrea and her lover, who sounded to his ears like some kind of rich spoiled brat used to getting her own way, were fighting. She was caught in the middle. And that blew. No wonder she'd gotten fed up. Stuffed her clothes into that duffle and bailed without thinking. He could relate. He'd done exactly the same thing after his mother brought home one too many boyfriends who thought it inconvenient that Lola had a kid and pointed him at the door.

"Hey junior," the last one had said. A skinny, big nosed, fast talker in a bowling shirt named Tad. "You like to camp right?" He'd pulled the blue and white afghan Grandma Meg had made off the sofa and threw it at Danny. "Why don't you enjoy the great outdoors tonight?"

Danny took the hint. He spent the night on the roof of the apartment building, wondering what life was like anywhere but New Jersey. The next morning, after his mother had slammed the door on Tad's skinny ass and let him back inside, he'd made his move. Packed clothes instead of school books into his knapsack and shoved all the cash he'd saved from doing odd jobs around the neighborhood into the pockets of his jeans. Yeah, he could relate to Jeannie's pain.

"You're doing the right thing," Danny said as Jeannie began to wind down. "You don't need those two's trauma."

Jeannie sighed, frustrated. "I just want to help. But I have no influence to change them."

Influence. The word poked at Danny hard. He hesitated and then asked, "Speaking of influence… what did you do to the walrus, back in the diner? He was gonna break me in half and then call the cops, before you showed up."

His companion looked surprised at the notion. "I didn't do anything to Leo. You reminded him of a nephew. His sister's youngest boy. He was thinking, maybe if somebody had looked out for him things would have been different." Jeannie's expression turned puzzled. "How did I know that?" She turned to Danny and examined him minutely in the sulfurous light of the bus depot. "What kind of creature are you?" she asked not unkindly. "You are of the Third Race, that much is obvious. But you are not Djinn."

Danny returned Jeannie's scrutiny with a perplexed shrug. "I'm a halfling, same as you. What's a Djinn?"

"Halfling?" Jeannie turned the word over slowly. "You mean you are of mixed blood, human and fay?"

Another shrug. "Yeah, I guess." Danny caught up with her meaning after several seconds. "Wait you mean like half Italian and half Irish? Nuh, uh. I was born human. 100%. I met up with some guys a few years back and they pulled a fast one. Gave us a big pitch about how they were gonna fix our lives. They changed me. And a bunch of other people too. I thought you were one of us." The teen was suddenly uncomfortably aware that his companion was not what he first thought. He backed away a little, breaking their shoulder to shoulder contact. "You're not one of us."

"I won't hurt you," Jeannie said softly.

"Are you one of them?"

Jeannie gave Danny a quizzical look. "One of who?"

"You're like Garlon or that screwball Puck. You're pure magic."

Alarm flitted over Jeannie's delicate features. "You know of Garlon and of the Puck? They have been to this place?"

"Well, yeah." Danny frowned, recalling past events, and wondered how Jeannie could have missed out. "Headless Horseman, dogs with glowing red eyes… but that was a couple of years ago. You weren't living under a rock, were you?"

"In a bottle, actually."

Danny took a double take, but there was no sign that Jeannie was jerking him around. "And how did that work out for you?"

Jeannie shrugged otherwise ignoring the question. "You radiate magic, did you know that?"

"I do?" Danny tensed. He scanned the depot and saw nothing. Still his posture remained alert. Where he had slouched next to Jeannie before he now sat perched on the wooden bench.

"When you're nervous, like now. Or frightened like when we first met in the diner." Jeannie looked thoughtful, toying with her long blonde hair as she ruminated over something. "I guess I was able to use that to read Leo. On my own I have very little power."

"We could team up." The idea was out of Danny's mouth before he could stop it. "You could teach me. And I could help you. Being able to read people like a book, and know just what to say could be a big bonus in a strange city."

"But don't you have family or friends here? Won't they worry if you just disappear?"

There was a sudden rustling of wings and a lavender blue gargoyle stepped out of the shadows. "Of course he does," she said sweetly. "And they've been worried sick about you!"

"Angela?" Danny looked doubtfully at the gargoyle, unable to trust his eyes. "Are you okay? How did you get away from your sister?"

The gargoyle stared blankly for a fraction of a second as if surprised by the question. "My sister?" Then sharply, "Oh, her. She's no sister of mine." Her mouth curled in anger. "They knocked me out right after I saw they had you and loaded me into a van. I woke up midway into the trip, escaped and hid in the woods, too injured to glide. When I woke up I went searching for you."

"Not back to the castle?" Danny stood slowly up from the bench, but held his ground.

"I thought you were more important." She looked at Jeannie. "But I see I needn't of worried. You've landed on your feet and made a new friend."

"Angela?" Jeannie said uncertainly.

The gargoyle smiled warmly, but there was no recognition in her eyes. "Do I know you?"

Jeannie took Danny's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. She stood up and shouldered her duffle. "Danny, we have to go now, or we'll miss our bus."

He nodded and sidled away from the gargoyle.

"Ungrateful little whelp!" Jezabella growled as she realized the boy wasn't buying her act any longer. It was true. He had found her out. "Danny," she called sweetly. "Wait."

Despite the blonde woman's urging, Danny turned and took a few steps towards her. "I believed you." He wasn't quite yelling, but his voice was loud enough to catch the attention of the travelers who had up until then filtered out the presence of two more of their own. A crowd gathered as they noticed the gargoyle.

"You used me!" he said, louder. Danny's voice was rough with hurt. "You weren't my friend. You were never my friend." Energy radiated off the boy as his agitation grew. "You lied! You told me all those stories about your clan and how they treated you."

Jezabella looked genuinely hurt. "Danny. You've got it wrong. I am your friend." She edged closer ignoring the crowd. "Come back with me and I'll prove it."

"No!" Danny raised a hand, not caring now who saw him. Blazing green energy shot from his fingertips, crackling as it struck the gargoyle.

She flew backwards, stunned and confused, landing against a lamppost. "Why, you little bastard! That's twice you've hurt me." She flew at Danny, bowling him over before he could raise a defense as Jeannie watched helplessly.

* * * * *

Matt snuck a glance at his partner. She was sitting tense behind the wheel of the Fairlane, still working off the last of the Captain's dressing down. A muscle in her jaw jumped periodically. He wanted to tell her to relax, but the last time he'd tried, Elisa had just curtly snapped, "Don't." before stalking out of Chavez's office. She blamed herself. For what, Matt wasn't sure. Getting her loyalties confused, he supposed. But which family was she supposed to put first: the one in blue or her clan?

They sailed through a newly turned red light, nearly hitting a cabbie that jumped his green. Elisa ignored the blare of horn but she relaxed a fraction. Which was good, Matt thought, because being in the passenger seat of Elisa's car when she was stressed probably was taking years off his life.

"The captain was right," Elisa said at last, breaking the silence. "I let my feelings get in the way of my work. You should have taken point on this case."

Nothing like coming to terms with the obvious, Matt thought to himself. But what he said was, "No sense crying over spilt milk, partner. You walk a fine line sometimes dealing with the clan. You fell off it this time."

The radio squealed static and Elisa's hand moved to the volume control ready to curb the volume. Matt grabbed her wrist. "Wait."

He released his partner and snared the mic giving their call sign before Elisa could question his action. "Control. Repeat last transmission, over."

"Repeating: All units in the vicinity of Port Authority Bus Terminal. Weapons fired. Gargoyle sighted. Altercation in progress."

Elisa spun the car around throwing Matt back against the seat of the car. "Lights and siren?" he managed through gritted teeth.

She flipped a switch and Matt thanked the NYPD Mechanics Local 302 for figuring out a way to unobtrusively mount emergency lights on Elisa's classic car.

"We don't have to do this, Elisa," Matt said in response to his partner's manic wheel work and tense expression. "We could let someone else deal for a change."

"It's okay, Matt." She swung a fast right, tires squealing in protest and the bus station came into view.

They weren't the first unit on the scene. Transit cops had come running at the cries of "Fight!" and "Guns!" and they had moved quickly to hold the crowd back away from the three figures at the center of the altercation. They stood, guns drawn, pointing uncertainly at a teenage boy who glowed weirdly green and Angela. The pair was locked in combat, tussling in close quarters on the pavement. A third woman, Andrea's guest from Destine Manor, stood watching in abject terror.

"Don't hurt him!" she cried as Elisa and Matt yanked tasers from their shoulder holsters and ran to join the others.

"All right," Elisa commanded as she closed on the combatants. Her voice was arctic. "That's enough. Angela, let him go! Both of you! Hands of the tops of your heads! Now!"

To the surprise of the transit cops and the patrol unit that arrived on the detective's heels, the pair stopped, separated and complied.

"The gargoyle started it!" shouted a bystander.

"Yeah," protested a second, "after the kid shot her with that green light! Hey! How'd he do that?"

"Restraints," Elisa snapped. She shook her head as a transit cop pulled a plastic strap out of his pocket. "Use cuffs."

Matt nodded and pulled handcuffs from his belt. He advanced under the cover of the other officers and snapped the cuffs around the thin wrists of the teenage boy. Steel wasn't as good as pure iron, but it would do in a pinch against those with fay blood.

"She attacked me!" he protested as Matt led him toward a pair of uniforms.

"I'm not surprised, halfling," the detective muttered through gritted teeth.

The kid went from sullen to shocked in a heartbeat. The redheaded detective ignored the reaction as he shoved the kid toward the arms of the uni and went to back up his partner.

Elisa had cuffed Angela in heavy shackles that made the pair Matt had used on the boy look like party favors. The gargoyle stood quietly, arms bound behind her, her surprise at the harsh treatment etched in the uncharacteristic lines that drew down her mouth. "Elisa," she said plaintively as Matt closed, "why are you doing this?"

"It's my job, Angela." Elisa pulled a card from her pocket and began to read in a dead voice. "You have the right to remain silent."

"You're arresting me?" No mistaking the surprise in the gargoyle's voice.

Elisa continued to read finishing the short Miranda statement before asking, "Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"

Another numb nod. There was a tug at Matt's elbow and he looked down. Jeannie stood there. "Please, don't hurt Danny, he was just protecting himself."

Angela's eyes flared red as she renewed her protests. "He attacked me! Elisa, please, you've got to listen! He's a…" The gargoyle lowered her voice. "…halfling. He escaped from Xanatos's holding facility. I was in the process of recapturing him. Can't you see you've got this all wrong?"

"I can't talk to you." She led the gargoyle towards a squad car and opened the door. "Watch your head."

Angela bent as if to comply, then snapped her tail, sending Elisa flying. Caught with no warning, the detective hit the pavement hard. She struggled weakly for a moment using her hands to push up off the concrete, then faded and slumped backward striking her head for a second time. The uniform officer standing at the front of the car, yanked his gun and trained in on the fleeing gargoyle, but hesitated, unable to lock on target as she knocked over another cop and bounded into the shadows, working hard to break the shackles even as she sped away. He ran to Elisa's side calling "Officer Down!"

Matt's attention snapped away from Jeannie at the call and he sprinted to his partner's side. She lay out cold as the police mobilized into a search pattern. Helicopters, called in as part of the standard gargoyle incident protocol, swept searchlights over the depot and its environs. After several seconds a pilot caught a winged figure in his beam and gave pursuit even as more cops spilled out of patrol cars and began to search on foot.

Bluestone focused on the blood that seeped onto the concrete from underneath Elisa's head. "We need an ambulance now!"

* * *

Elisa's eyes fluttered opened slowly. "I'm fine," she protested as she struggled to sit up.

"No," Matt replied firmly. "You're not." He removed his suit jacket, exposing the white shirt and holster underneath, folded it and gingerly placed it beneath his partner's head. "You were out for almost two minutes. Lay still until the paramedics check you over. I'm gonna go talk to that kid and see if he can give us a lead."

The sounds of an ambulance siren screamed in the distance as Matt stalked back to Danny. The woman, Jeannie, was standing subdued in the grip of a transit cop. She looked up hopefully as Matt returned. "Please," she began. "It wasn't his fault. I tried to get him away from her, but she'd hurt him so badly. Lied. He said she used him. He couldn't leave without letting her know how that made him feel. I should have tried harder," she said softly. "This is all my fault."

Matt felt his interest in the boy grow. This was more than just a random street fight. Could the halfling be one of Angela's accomplices? He turned to the petite blonde at his shoulder. "Your name is Jeannie, right?"

She nodded and wiped at tear that threatened to spill in relief. "You're Detective Bluestone. You came to Ms. Destine's house with questions."

"That's right." He nodded a curt dismissal at the cop and escorted Jeannie several paces away from Danny. "Suppose you give this to me again."

"I knew something wasn't right about her from the moment she approached."

"She. You mean the gargoyle," Matt clarified.

Jeannie nodded. "Danny thought she was Miss Angela. I had no idea they were acquainted. But she seemed wrong."

"Wrong, how?" Matt said, not sure already if he liked the direction of the conversation. The ambulance pulled up simultaneously with a paramedic unit. The crews swarmed out of their rigs and began to work on Elisa. He forced his attention back to his witness.

"I have a certain feeling about people," Jeannie admitted, hesitant to explain further. Matt gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look. She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at a crack in the pavement at her feet. "I just know. I tried to get Danny away from her. I tried to get him to go towards the people and safety."

"You thought she would hurt him?"

Jeannie nodded and broke her fix on the blacktop. She looked up at Matt, her expression earnest. "He recognized the wrongness about her too, I think. His face…" she trailed off for a moment, remembering. "He looked so hurt. So angry. He turned back and that's when the fight began. First it was just words and then…more."

There was a sudden disturbance among the crowd and a voice called out. "Please, that's my friend. Let me through!"

Matt glanced over at the perimeter. Andrea Calhoun was struggling, trying to get past the uniformed officers that held back the crowd of onlookers. He flicked a glance back at Jeannie. She seemed unhappy at Andrea's arrival.

He shouted at the cops on the line. "Let her through but hang on to her until I say otherwise." Matt returned his attention to the young woman at his side. "Explain what you mean by 'wrong'."

"That's not Miss Angela," Jeannie stated. "I know it looks like her, but it's not." Her voice trembled and she put her hand on Matt's arm. He felt a curious sympathy for her as she pleaded. "Please. I can tell you're a good man. What happened here tonight isn't Danny's fault. He's scared and alone. I tried to help him tonight, but I failed. Won't you do something? Please?"

Matt found himself nodding. "I'll do what I can," he promised. "I might need to question you again. Can I reach you through Ms. Destine?"

Jeannie shook her head. "My intention was to leave town tonight."

Matt glanced over at Andrea Calhoun. The painter looked worried sick. I take this was a sudden decision?"

Eyes back on the pavement. Voice small. "It was. I felt I was imposing on their hospitality. It was time for me to move on."

Matt sighed. Something wasn't right between the ladies of Destine Manor. Normally, he wouldn't pry, but he needed to hang on to Jeannie at least until this thing with Angela was sorted out. "Somehow, I think that Ms. Calhoun there might beg to differ."

Jeannie shrugged her small shoulders. God she seemed fragile, Matt thought. Like someone needed to protect her. "Perhaps. But the situation remains all the same."

"All right," he said. "Stay here for a minute."

He motioned for Andrea's escort to bring her over. "Goddess, is she all right?" the painter exclaimed as she hurried toward Matt. She had apparently dressed in haste in canvas painter's pants and a pink tee shirt. Her sneakers were untied and socks mismatched, one white, the other pink. And she seemed rather windblown though the night was calm.

"Fine." Matt eyed her curiously. "But I have to wonder, what brought her to the bus station on this particular night."

Andrea sighed and pulled a tissue from her pocket. When Matt looked closer he realized her eyes were red from crying. "She must of overheard me and Dominique fighting. It was a real knockdown drag out. Her name was mentioned. She left a note and took off. Didn't even say good bye." She looked up at Matt. "Can I talk to her at least? I wanted to apologize."

Matt looked down at Andrea and over at Jeannie. His glance stole to Elisa being loaded into the ambulance. He could hear her protests even from where he stood thirty yards away. His night was filled with sad young women. He wondered if these two would end up consoling each other. The thought depressed him, but he soldiered on. "Look. About that. Can you convince her to stay for at least another day? She's a witness, and we're going to need to talk to her again."

Andrea pushed a stray lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear. "I can try."

Matt nodded and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Fine. Don't leave until I clear you, okay?"

Andrea nodded and hurried over to Jeannie. Matt could hear the apologies begin as he returned his attention to Danny.

"All right, son," he said as he dismissed yet another patrol officer, "tell me what happened."

"Son?" Danny sneered. "Not 'halfling scum'? Why the change in 'tude?"

Matt stared the kid down. He jerked a thumb toward Jeannie. "Because your friend over there seemed to think there's more to this story and I happen to agree. Now convince me that I'm not wasting my time."

Danny looked over to where Jeannie and Andrea were conversing earnestly and Matt followed his gaze. The painter was pulling a packet out of one of the deep flapped pants pockets and pressing it into the other woman's hands. "That one must be Andrea. She doesn't look like a spoiled brat."

He took another few seconds to watch the women and Matt wondered if he could hear their conversation with his enhanced halfling senses. "Tick, tick," the detective prompted.

Danny shook his head. "Sorry. Look. I know I haven't been exactly a boy scout. But Angela was my friend. And she's good. So when she helped me to escape and then told me about how she'd been replaced at the castle by her evil twin sister, I had to believe her. So I helped her kidnap her twin in the park. The only problem is at the last second, I figured out that the gargoyle that I'd been helping wasn't Angela. She was the evil twin and I'd been duped. So I took off. And then tonight, when she showed up, for a second I thought it was Angela but Jeannie realized it wasn't and she tried to get me away, but I was mad. She used me like the dumb kid I am. And I let her."

Danny's voice had steadily risen in volume and pitch and now some of the other cops were watching surreptitiously. Matt placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and he took a few gulping breaths before continuing. "That's pretty much it. I lost my temper and yelled at her and, well," he wiggled his fingers to indicate the energy discharge. "You know. And then you guys showed up." He fell silent for a second and then issued another verbal barrage. "Wait. If that wasn't Angela then the real Angela's been kidnapped. You have to help her! There's no telling what she'll do if she gets her talons into her!"

Matt gave the kid another hard stare and decided that either he was the best actor ever or he had to be telling the truth. There was no way he could fake the trembling anxiety that shook his body or the panicked look in his pale eyes. "Can you find this place, where they've taken her?"

Danny nodded. "I'm sure of it!"

Matt nodded. "All right." He glanced at the two women who were now hugging tearfully. They were speaking but their voices didn't carry. Matt watched as Jeannie shook her head one last time and the painter walked quickly away waiting as she was instructed near the cordon of police officers. The crowd had thinned. Jeannie stood alone, looking hesitantly toward Matt and Danny.

That did it. He grabbed Danny by the forearm and waved Jeannie over. "Come on, you two are coming with me." He herded the pair over to the Fairlane that stood door still open, keys still waiting in the ignition. He gestured Jeannie and Danny in but made no move to remove the teenager's handcuffs.

"We're going to straighten this out once and for all."

He got in behind the wheel. Slammed the door shut and the engine purred to life. He threw the car into gear and roared out of the bus depot.

* * * * *

"Hurry up, damn it! Get these fucking things off me!" Jezebella turned her head restlessly, trying to look over her shoulder and see what progress Candy was making, but own wings blocked her view.

The halfling woman made a face as the handcuffed gargoyle's nervous tail smacked her leg for the umpteenth time. "Jesus, Jez. If you'd stop squirming around for two lousy seconds…"

"Just get them off!" Jezebella closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drawing a deep breath. Her chest heaved, her breasts straining against the tight fabric of Angela's tunic, but the blood continued to pound in her ears. The adrenaline that had fueled her on the frantic glide back was wearing off, and a claustrophobic panic threatened to overwhelm her in its wake. The shackles had proven too strong to break, but the cuts and bruises on her wrists testified to no lack of trying. She had sprinted for several city blocks, zigzagging through back alleys, before she'd finally managed to wrench her wings free from beneath her restrained arms and lose the cops pursuing on foot. A dumpster and a low brick wall had provided the stepping stones needed to gain some initial altitude, and then she'd gone airborne. Staying aloft had taken every ounce of her willpower, finding new ways to compensate and rebalance with her legs and tail. Now, however, with that distraction gone, she was free again to focus on the old memories of terror and helplessness that being restrained brought back. "Hurry," she said again through gritted teeth. "Please!"

"Hold still, Jez. Just a little more… there!" The first lock came undone with a soft click, and Jezebella let out a gasping sigh of relief as she felt the heavy cuff fall away from her right wrist. Candy circled around as Jezebella brought her hands in front of her and rubbed at the bruised and irritated skin. "Here," she said, steering the gargoyle to the edge of the bed. Gently, she pushed her down, making her sit, and dropped to her knees beside her, going to work on the other cuff. "This key doesn't exactly fit, but it seems like if you turn it until it stops, then pull and give it just the right twist…" The halfling woman grinned in triumph again as the second lock clicked open. "Bingo."

Jezebella gratefully yielded the set of heavy restraints to the other woman and began to rub at the other wrist, curling and uncurling her talons as the pins and needles feeling prickled her skin. "Thank you."

Candy rose, eyeing the lavender gargoyle carefully. It had been seven months since Sevarius had shown up at her door with an envelope full of cash and a simple proposition. He'd been working on a way to make the halflings fully human again. If she could round up as many of the old gang as she could find, and help him gather what he needed to complete his research, she'd be first in line for the cure. A month later, as she and the others settled in to their new lodgings, he'd introduced her to Jezebella. "You'll be taking your instructions from her from now on." She'd almost quit right then and there. Taking orders from a gargoyle… the twin sister of the she-demon who'd seduced George's brother, no less. The poor guy was probably spinning in his grave. Why had she stayed? She hadn't had a change of heart about gargoyles, that's for sure. She still despised them in general, even though Jezebella herself at times had her moments. No, what kept her from walking was not the money or the free room and board. It was the possibility of being human again. Even if it meant making nice with a gargoyle. "You're welcome," she replied at last.

Jezebella leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and hugged herself, drawing one last calming breath. Candy watched her, uncertain, struggling with an irrational urge to return to her side and comfort her. Suddenly, she understood why Jezebella had been so furious the previous night when they'd dragged her from the van, and why in the aftermath after Danny had unchained her the girl had quickly retreated with Sevarius instead of immediately turning her talons on her and Jake. The panic she'd seen in Jezebella's eyes when she'd run into her in the hallway just a few minutes ago had been the same.

"We're even now, halfling," Jezebella said at length, once she'd regained her composure. "But if you ever mention this to any of the others, all bets are off."

Candy re-pocketed the skeleton key and slipped the shackles into the drawer of the bedside stand as Jezebella rose. They were police grade, special issue: strong, expensive, and well-made. She smiled. They would add nicely to her collection and might even come in handy if she ever got around to having her own reunion with Andy. "Hey, that goes for me, too, gargoyle," she said as she followed Jezebella from the room. "I've got a reputation around here as a real bitch, and I don't want it ruined."

* * *

Any bit of calm Jezebella had regained after being freed from the handcuffs had long since evaporated by the time she finished relating the events at the bus station to Dr. Sevarius.

"She actually arrested me! Handcuffs, Miranda rights, and everything!" She held out her hands, showing the darkening bruises on her wrists. "Look at this! This is how she treats her own stepdaughter. I mean, what the hell is up with that?" Jezabella growled. "Two nights ago, the whole city was kissing Angela's ass. The minute I take her place, there's a swat team looking to arrest her. Do I have the worst fucking timing of any gargoyle who ever lived, or is there just a big conspiracy to make my life a living hell?"

"Now, now. You don't suppose you're overreacting just a tad, my dear?" Sevarius's voice was level, and Jezebella scowled at him.

"Overreacting? This whole fucking plan has been going wrong since the beginning! First I get kidnapped instead of Angela. Then that fucking kid runs away, and I find out the only person at the castle who knows beans about Sector 13 is my uncooperative sister. And now this. I swear, the only good thing to happen so far was when Demona showed up tonight and kept the cops distracted long enough for me to slip away."

"Demona was at the bus station?" Sevarius asked. "Why?"

"I wouldn't know. I didn't stick around to ask." Jezebella crossed her arms, the angry scowl on her face deepening. "Maybe she and my sister have been conspiring together. And maybe that bitch Elisa Maza found out about it and decided Angela's finally gone too far. It doesn't matter. I'll be damned if I'm going to take the rap for her!"

"Your position is understandable," Sevarius stated. "However," he added, "I don't believe it's your sister who's to blame for Miss Angela being a wanted gargoyle."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jezebella whirled as he fingered the button on a remote and the television in the wall sprang to life.

"…but here at the Mayor's office, officials are still refusing to confirm a report first leaked yesterday that police are seeking a gargoyle for questioning in connection with a series of medical research facility break-ins. No comment has been offered, either, as to why NYPD veteran Harry O'Neal, the security guard who was assaulted and injured during the most recent robbery early last week, has been placed under police guard at Manhattan Medical." The female anchor paused, brushing a strand of dark hair back behind her ear as a camera crew from a rival network ascended the steps of City Hall behind her. "After tonight's incident at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, however, it seems doubtful that police and city officials will be able to leave the public's questions unanswered for much longer."

"Thank you, Alice. I'm Travis Marshall. Night Watch will be back in a moment with more on this breaking story."

Sevarius muted the volume as a commercial came on. "I thought you 'took care' of that guard, Jessie." His tone was cool and accusatory.

Jezebella fumed. Candy, who'd been watching silently, edged away, expecting any second to see smoke begin pouring from the gargoyle's ears. "I thought I had," Jezebella grumbled. "Damn it all."

"This really complicates things," Sevarius commented. "That witness you left behind has made Angela into public enemy number one, and that boy you allowed to get away could end up leading the police right to us. Or worse yet, Goliath's clan."

"I didn't 'allow' him get away," Jezebella protested, eyes flashing. "Elisa and her partner showed up with a dozen other cops. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"It doesn't matter now. We need a new plan, that's all." He paused, thinking. "If the boy tells them everything, and if he manages to lead them here," Sevarius stated, "it's going to mean big trouble. You know they won't leave until they find her."

Jezebella thought quietly for a long moment. "Then I guess we'll just have to let them have her." She turned to Candy. "Do you still have that collar and leash from the other night?"

Candy nodded. "Of course."

"Good. Go get it. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

The halfling smiled. "Sure thing, boss. Shall I bring the gag, too?"

Jezebella shrugged. "Why not?"

Sevarius raised an eyebrow as the young woman scampered eagerly from the room. "Jezebella?" he intoned.

"It's time to do some damage control and cut our losses, Doctor," the clone replied. "I have a new plan."

* * * * *

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed after several minutes of being buffeted around the backseat of the Fairlane. Jeannie had strapped the pair of them in as they accelerated away from the depot, but the classic car had only a lap belt and no shoulder restraint. "Where are we going?"

Matt cut through traffic like a hot knife through butter. "Eyrie Building. We need reinforcements."

Danny reacted by slamming himself against the door. Restrained as he was, the gesture was completely ineffectual, but he repeated it and would have done it a third time had Jeannie not wrapped her arms around the teen and bodily held him down.

"No way! Stop the car. I'd rather go to juvie then back to that place!"

Matt did stop. For a traffic light. He turned away from the wheel far enough that his own seat belt dug into his neck. His voice was low and deadly. "Listen to me, you punk. Do you want to help Angela or don't you?"

Danny nodded uncertainly, and Jeannie said, "We have to get her clan, Danny. Don't you see? We can't do this alone."

"That's right," Matt concluded. "Now look. Xanatos has a beef with you. I can appreciate that. But I promise that I'll do what I can, if you'll help us out. All right?"

A driver somewhere behind them leaned loudly on his horn. Matt held Danny's gaze until the teenager nodded his head uncertainly. "Jeannie, when we get to the castle you stick close to him unless I say otherwise. Okay?"

She nodded, her arm still around Danny. The situation was dire but the former djinn felt better then she had since she'd been freed from her bottle. Finally, she was helping. "I won't let him out of my sight."

"Good." The rest of the trip passed swiftly. Minutes later, Matt swung the car into the underground garage. He slowed, barely. The tires squealed each time he cornered. He stopped, parking diagonally across three spaces next to the "Castle Wyvern Special" as the workers of the building had dubbed the restricted elevator, and tumbled out of the car. He opened Jeannie's door and helped her out, then watched as she did the same for Danny. "All right you two. Stay close."

The ride up the elevator was made in silence. Jeannie and Danny communicated in anxious glances and reassuring touches. From time to time Jeannie would look up at Matt and he would smile encouragingly at her. It was obvious that she was worried about the boy and what would happen to him and for some reason she made Matt, as hardened as he was, share her concerns.

"It'll be fine," he said as the elevator doors slid smoothly open and revealed Owen ready to greet them as they entered the Great Hall.

"Daniel," The tall impeccably tailored majordomo quirked his mouth in disapproval at the sight of the teenager in handcuffs. "Welcome back."

"Bite me, Fairy Man." He scowled at Owen for a long moment then dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Danny!" Jeannie put her arm around the boy protectively. She stared defiantly at Owen until she felt the aura of magic that radiated off the human form. She dropped the arm from around Danny's shoulder and pressed her hands together in front of her as she joined Danny in staring at the flagstones. "Sir, I apologize! I did not know!"

Owen gave the small blond woman a quizzical look and delicately, as if handling something foreign and possibly unpleasant, swept her hair away from her ears revealing the pointed tips. "Interesting," was his only comment as he returned his attention to Bluestone.

Matt stared at Jeannie. "What are you?"

"I believe, Detective, that would take more time to explain then you currently have," Owen replied as he gestured toward the corridor that led to Xanatos's private office. "I assume you are here about the disturbance at the Transit Authority?"

Matt had trouble tearing his gaze away from Jeannie. "Yeah," he said at last. "Look. We need to mobilize the clan. There's some kind of impostor masquerading as Angela."

"Your timing is fortuitous, Detective," Owen replied as he knocked on the great oak door that led to Xanatos's inner sanctum. "The clan is already assembled in regard to another matter." He opened the door and gestured them in.

Xanatos sat in his customary chair behind the large black enameled desk. Lexington sat in what was apparently the "hot seat," flanked by Goliath and Brooklyn. Sata and Delilah looked on. Hudson, the twins and the Egyptian gargoyle, Ptah were absent from the conference.

They'd evidently been talking about something technical. Lexington's lap was full of computer printouts and more papers were spread out in front of Xanatos. Whatever the topic of discussion had been, it had been hastily abandoned as the assembled turned their attention to a large television monitor tuned to a news bulletin. A female reporter stood before the remnants of the police barricade at the Port Authority summarizing events.

"Matt!" Lexington blurted. "What happened? Is Angela okay?"

Matt hesitated. Goliath was looking at him, and more to the point, the space behind him, waiting for Elisa to make her appearance. He might was well triage the situation and get on with it. "No, she's not. The gargoyle who was at the bus station wasn't Angela. According to Danny here, Angela's been kidnapped by her evil twin sister."

The clan erupted as one.

"What twin?"

"We've never met any twin!"

"Angela has no twin," stated Goliath flatly.

"Yeah, well maybe, maybe not," Danny said harshly, impatient to get moving and not in the mood to argue. "But this bitch looks like she stepped outta Angela's mirror. She's got Angela and her and that creepy English guy that runs the joint are gonna kill her if we don't do somethin' about it!"

"Creepy English guy?" Xanatos said thoughtfully. He traded a knowing look with Owen Burnett. The spare blonde man adjusted his glasses. "Who do we know that fits that description?"

"Could it be, sir, that Dr. Sevarius has come back to town?"

"My thoughts exactly, Owen," Xanatos concurred. "Think about it. Anton creates a clone of Angela, fills her head with all kinds of outlandish stories about her past and turns her loose."

"You mean it could have been this clone that had me hack into Sector 13?" Lexington said as he rifled the documents in his lap. "Angela did seem really angry the other night when I told her I'd been blocked out of the system."

Xanatos smirked. "Lucky for us you never give up trying, Lexington. That piggyback worm was a masterstroke of programming, but you overplayed your hand when you tried it a second time."

Lexington looked chagrined. "It was just, you should have seen the look on Angela's…" He caught himself. "…or whoever it was, face. She was so sure that you'd done something horrible to her friend. How were we to know that Owen was trying to teach him to control his magic so he could pass in the human world?"

Xanatos shrugged. "You could have asked, I suppose." He scanned the faces of the gargoyles before him. Trust was always going to be an issue to some extent. Oh well, the cost of doing business, he thought to himself. "Moving on. Owen, contact the Security Team. Have them coordinate with the Science boys and recheck the DNA evidence for cellular aging markers. They'll know what I mean. Let's find out who really was visiting Sector 13."

"I'm all for solving your prison break, Mr. Xanatos, but this clone has a head start, Angela, and she's put Elisa in the hospital."

"WHAT?" Goliath growled.

"She was the 'veteran detective' the reporter said was injured at the scene?" Brooklyn said. The edges of his beak turned downwards into a frown and he became even a darker brick red as anger rode over him like a wave.

"Yeah, I didn't know how to tell you, Goliath. I'm sorry," Matt recalled that last glimpse of his partner being loaded into the ambulance and the pool of blood underneath Elisa's head. "She was taken to Mercy General."

"Is she…" Matt watched as Goliath struggled with the news. "How bad?"

"I don't know," he replied. "She hit her head and passed out for a couple of minutes. She was lucid and awake when they took her to get checked over." The detective stuffed his hands in his pockets and fiddled with Elisa's keys. "They'll call me when there's news."

Goliath nodded. Digested. Prioritized the information. Came to the same conclusion Matt had. Elisa was in good hands. There would be time to worry over her bedside later. Now they had to focus on Angela. He turned on Danny, drawing himself fully upright and resettling his wings as he sized up the halfling teenager. "Do you know where they are keeping her?"

"It's about time!" Danny huffed. "Yeah. Well, I think so. We were always moving in closed vans and they didn't really let us out to cruise the neighborhood. But there was a train track nearby. I could hear the whistles every night at 11:30 and again at five in the morning. Freight trains. But I could hear the lighter commuter trains too. So I guess there were both. And there was a billboard I could see from my window. They just put up a new one. A vodka flavored malt beverage. As if someone would want to drink that!" His mouth curled in disdain. Before he continued, his eyes closed hard as he focused on any visual cues that might help them find Angela. "And I'm pretty sure that it was in Jersey someplace. Not too far though. Through the Holland tunnel for sure, though. And close enough to the water to hear ferry boats on the Hudson." He shook his head, disgusted that he couldn't come up with more.

Owen moved to a computer terminal. Lexington slipped out of his chair and went to the taller man's side. "Here. Let me." The majordomo moved out of the way with a quirk of his eyebrow. Lexington removed a jack from behind one ear and plugged it into a receptacle on the back of the workstation. He tapped keys, muttering under his breath as he communed with the computer.

"Cross referencing. Commuter schedules. Freight schedules. Billboard companies. Ad rollouts… Lexington's eyes fluttered closed as he surfed municipal records systems, commercial websites and the Transportation Authority. The others looked vaguely ill at ease even though they waited nervously for the gargoyle to report.

"I've got it!" Lexington cried. "That ad campaign is brand new. It's a test market and they've only put up a handful of signs. Cross referencing that with the train schedules and the other information and viola!" A map rolled up on the screen replacing the frozen woman reporter. "New Jersey. It's got to be somewhere here." A red dot appeared on the map. "On Wayne Street. Follow the tunnel to the train crossing and then look for the billboard. It's got a big blue bottle on it."

"What are we waiting for?" Brooklyn and Sata rose. "Let's saddle up."

The group looked to Goliath for approval. He nodded back at them. "We'll meet on this rooftop…" He pointed at the map. "…to plan our final entry."

Danny piped up. "Hey! What about me? I wanna go, too!"

Xanatos shook his head. "Sorry, kid. This has to be an aerial strike." Danny glared at him defiantly and the billionaire reconsidered. "Okay. You can go with Owen in the mop-up van." He glanced at Matt. "If that's okay with you, detective?"

Matt looked at the kid, gauging him hard. Maybe he was young enough for a second chance. He pulled the key for the handcuffs out of his pocket, stepped behind the teenager and freed his wrists, pocketing the cuffs and the key. "Don't screw up, kid."

David nodded. "Fine. Then I believe we're ready to adjourn." He considered for a moment how long it would take him to get into his exo-suit. "We'll reconvene in ten minutes in the courtyard."

Matt's phone beeped. He withdrew it from his pants pocket flipped it open. The room stilled. "Bluestone."

He listened for several seconds, nodding his head. "Yeah. That's right. No. Don't call her parents. They'll only worry. I'll be down there in a few minutes." He snapped the phone shut mindful of Goliath's anxious posture. "She's awake. They want to keep her overnight for observation but she's threatening to leave. I've got to get down there and talk her into staying."

The gargoyle leader smiled slightly despite his worry at his mate's characteristic bullheadedness. "Tell her we will find the impostor, Detective. We will bring her to justice!"

He looked down at Jeannie. "Look, I can't risk you ending up in the line of fire and I don't want to leave you here. Will you come with me to the hospital? I'll get my partner settled and then we can go to the precinct to take your statement."

Jeannie nodded. Matt watched as she eyed Owen Burnett warily. He was busy giving a last minute lecture to Danny and had shown no interest in her after his odd pronouncement in the Great Hall. "Of course. I'll do whatever you wish me to."

"Good," Matt said firmly. "Don't worry, Goliath. I'll handle Elisa. You go bring your daughter home."

The others filed out of the room to collect their radios and make final preparations. Matt resisted the urge to offer Jeannie his arm and instead settled for touching her lightly on the shoulder indicating they should leave as well. He promised himself that before the night was through they'd have a talk about her ears and why she called Owen Burnett 'Sir'.

* * * * *

"That's gotta be it, Goliath. Look, there's the billboard." Lexington pointed to a spot in the distance, indicating a low, industrial-looking building.

Not far away a train whistle pierced the air, two long blasts sounding over the distant rumbling of wheels on tracks. Brooklyn checked the chronometer built in to his gauntlet. "And there's the 11:30, right on time."

Goliath curled his talons into the low parapet that encircled the rooftop, gouging marks into the concrete beneath them. He found the minor destruction cathartic, that it, much like the glide from Manhattan to this industrial section of New Jersey helped him work off the anger over his last, ill-timed confrontation with Ptah, who had insisted on raising the issue of the eggs even as they were preparing to leave to rescue Angela. Why the old functionary had broken the boundaries of diplomatic protocol and come to New York was a question that plagued Goliath since his arrival, though the gargoyle leader had scarce time over the last few days to contemplate Ptah's motivations or his stubborn insistence. He only hoped that the old gargoyle would be gone by the time they returned to the castle.

He flexed his talons again ignoring the crumbling dust that rained down on the sidewalk. Like many of its neighbors, the two-story brick building looked to have once been a factory. The few windows it had were dark, most likely painted over from the inside. From the center of the roof rose a pair of tall, long-dormant chimneys, and beyond them stood a small slant-roofed structure that indicated the location of the stairs providing access to the roof. "We must use stealth," he intoned at last. "It appears abandoned, but if Angela is inside, she is probably being well guarded."

"When we find her, how will we know it's really her?" Everyone turned to look at Delilah. The clone raised her chin. Her alert, tense posture was reminiscent of her human mother's. "Matt and the boy said this new clone is identical to Angela in every way."

Sata fingered the hilt of her katana. "We will have to remain wary, that's all. We must not allow the impostor to fool us again."

"Owen is in position," David announced. His voice echoed eerily from inside the silver and red helmet of his exo-suit. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Goliath tore a small hunk of concrete from the wall and crushed it into gravel in his fist as he thought of his Elisa lying in the hospital, injured at the talons of Anton Sevarius's latest creation. "Yes," he answered. "Let's go. Xanatos, you are with me. We will enter by way of the roof. Lexington, you and Delilah take the front entrance. Brooklyn…"

"Me and Sata, back door. Got it, Goliath." The brick red gargoyle threw open his wings and hopped up on the low wall. His jade green mate was right behind him. "Let's roll, guys."

The low roar of the jet engine as David fired up his exo-suit's propulsion system covered the sound of wings catching air as, one by one, the gathered members of the clan followed their Second's lead. "Fox is going to be sorry she missed this after I tell her about it," he commented as he pulled up alongside Goliath.

The burly lavender gargoyle grunted an incoherent reply. Broadway was still in Los Angeles with the multibillionaire's wife, both still blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding on the other side of the continent. For Broadway's sake, he hoped the story that would be related later over the videophone would have a happy ending. Goliath watched as his clanmates peeled off in pairs from the loose formation, banking away to swing wide, surreptitious arcs toward their assigned targets, and thought again of Angela. Last night, he'd been ready to believe the worst about her. Now, however, it seemed that his beloved daughter may have never been more than a pawn in the latest of Dr. Anton Sevarius's insane schemes. Just as she had been five years before, when the man had gone fishing in the frigid waters of Loch Ness, using her as live bait and nearly drowning her in the process. Goliath pulled his wings in tight, his eyes flashing white as he gave in to the worry of what Sevarius might do this time and dove headlong for the rooftop.

He landed with a hard thud, throwing his wings open and skidding to a short stop in the layer of loose gravel that covered the roof. He crossed the distance to the stairway door in two long strides, and his taloned hand was on the knob by the time Xanatos set down beside him. "What happened to 'we must use stealth'?" the man questioned archly.

Finding the knob locked, Goliath growled and instead sank his talons into the door itself, tearing it easily from its hinges. "If Sevarius has Angela," he rumbled as he tossed it aside, "every second counts."

Xanatos lifted his arm and turned on a high-powered searchlight, shining it down the darkened stairwell. He couldn't blame the big gargoyle for his eagerness. If it were Alex who'd been kidnapped, he'd be just as anxious to charge in. "We'll find her, Goliath. Whatever it takes."

* * *

"C'mon, peeps, what's the hold up?" The young halfling with the Blade style haircut leaned out the driver's side window of the van, scanning the alley behind him for his two companions. "Yo, c'mon, you guys. Quit playin'. We gotta bust a move outta here 'fore it's too late!"

"It already is." The young man jerked his head around at the sound of the gravely voice, but had no time to react. He caught only a glimpse of white hair, glowing eyes, and a red beak before a four-fingered fist struck him sharply in the temple. Brooklyn thumbed the latch and opened the driver's side door, letting the now unconscious body slump from the vehicle. Grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket, Brooklyn hoisted him aloft and inspected his ears. They were pointed. Disgusted, he held him at arm's length and stalked to the rear of the van. "Here's another one."

Sata looked up at her mate as he lay the dozing halfling down. "The more the merrier, as they say." She tossed him a length of rope. "Tie him up with the other male," she instructed.

Brooklyn nodded and went to work. "Either Sevarius is really scraping the bottom of the barrel, or these guys are getting easier to beat."

Sata paid her mate's comment no mind. She double-knotted the thick rope she'd used to bind the wrists of the female halfling she knelt astride, then shifted her weight and rolled the girl over on her back. "Now," she said, tugging away the cloth that had been pushed into the young woman's mouth as a makeshift gag, "I'm going to ask this question one more time. Where is Angela-chan?"

The young woman squirmed, clearly uncomfortable in the expertly tied bonds that Sata had applied at her elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. Her eyes flitted to her unconscious companions, who Brooklyn was in the process of hog-tying, and back to the jade green gargoyle who loomed over her, fangs glimmering in the pale street light. Sata couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. The poor girl couldn't have been more than seventeen, and she looked terrified. Right now, though, she didn't have time to waste on pity. Angela was missing, and this halfling might know where she was. Sata hissed, baring her teeth with eyes flashing red, and at last the young halfling relented. "Inside," she muttered. "The girl's downstairs."

Sata smiled, her expression going from ferocious to pleasant. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it." She patted the girl gently on the shoulder with a taloned hand, then laid her fingers just beside her neck and pinched. The halfling teen barely had time to gasp before she went out like a light.

"You've really gotta teach me how to do that some day," Brooklyn said as he helped Sata to her feet.

The Japanese gargoyle rose, frowning worriedly. "This confrontation was hardly a challenge. I thought this Doctor Sevarius was more wily, but he uses children to guard his interests. These three are halflings, but they are not trained warriors. That girl is no older than Danny, and no more skilled, either."

Brooklyn jerked open the rear door of the van, intending to check it for any more halflings, but found the cargo area tightly packed only with cardboard boxes and jumbled furniture. The beaked gargoyle joined his mate in frowning. "I don't think these guys were left as guards, Sata." He moved his wing, allowing her a glimpse at the hastily loaded van. "It looks like someone's moving out."

* * *

Lexington backed up a few paces from the door, squaring his shoulder in preparation. "Okay, Delilah. On the count of three. One… two…"

The white-haired clone roared and spun, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the heavy double doors flying inward, shattering them from their hinges. "Three," she growled. She sniffed at the air, peering into the darkness that lay beyond the ravaged doorway as Lexington ambled up beside her.

"I guess that way works, too," he said. His ears twitched as he joined her in staring into the darkness. "No alarm. That's not normal." He switched to a thermal imaging scan, but saw only the same long, empty corridor that the night vision view had revealed.

"Maybe it's a silent alarm." Delilah led the way, drawing her wings in and stepping carefully around the splintered timbers as she entered. The web-winged gargoyle followed, taking to all fours and hopping over the fresh pile of debris. He stayed on her heels, keeping alert as they moved slowly down the dark central hall.

They had gone about twenty yards before they came to a four-way juncture where the corridor they were in met another at right angles. Delilah halted, gesturing with an outstretched arm for Lexington to do the same. The hybrid female inclined her head, sniffing the still air once again. "She's been here," she stated quietly. "Very recently."

"Who?" Lexington asked. "Angela, or the impostor?"

"I can't tell. It could be either one, or even both." She turned her head, trying to discern in which direction the trail grew stronger. "If the fake Angela is indeed a clone, she will have the same scent as the real one. Just like you and Brentwood do."

Lexington blinked. "We do?"

Delilah nodded. "This way," she stated, pointing to the passage that continued ahead. They had gone another twenty yards, arriving at the stairwell, when a voice sounded in Lexington's ear.

"Lex, this is Brooklyn. Do you copy?"

Lexington touched his ear. "I'm here. What's up?"

"Sata and I are in the basement. We've found something. Looks like there was a lab set up down here, but the place has been cleared out."

"This whole building looks like a ghost town," Lexington agreed. "We haven't seen anyone."

"Yeah, well, just get down here ASAP. We've got confirmation from a halfling we left tied up out back that Angela's still here. We haven't found her yet, but we have found a weird door with an electronic lock… and I've got a really bad feeling she may be on the other side."

Delilah was already starting down the stairs. "A bad feeling?" Lexington questioned.

"You'll see when you get here," Brooklyn replied darkly.

* * *

Goliath growled in frustration as he stared through a doorway into yet another sparsely furnished chamber. So far, a room-by-room search of the second floor had yielded only one hastily abandoned room after another. Danny had reported that Sevarius had recruited halflings to work for him and assist the impostor Angela, but the boy had not been certain on how many they might be facing. He and Xanatos had now counted enough beds to have made sleeping quarters for dozens of them, but it was impossible to tell how many of the rooms had actually been in use before everyone had vanished.

Xanatos frowned as he surveyed a vacated common area. A cable wire protruded from the wall, marking the place where a television had sat, but an old couch and a pair of reclining chairs had been left behind. Too bulky to bother with on such short notice, he surmised. "It appears that whoever was living here has flown the coop, Goliath." He double-checked the readout in his exo-suit's heads-up display, grateful that he was at least able to test the upgraded sensors if not the new weapons. "I'm not picking up any bio-signatures on this floor."

Goliath moved on to the next door and flung open. The flip of a light switched revealed only a Spartan, white-tiled rest room. "Keep looking," he growled. "She has to be here somewhere."

"Guys, this is Brooklyn. Do you copy?"

The voice through the radio earpiece jolted Goliath back from the edge of panic. He raised his hand to his ear, but Xanatos was a split second ahead of him. "Xanatos here. Go ahead."

"We've got her." The former Timedancer glanced over his shoulder, giving a quiet sigh of relief as he watched Delilah and Sata help a dazed and disheveled Angela from the stifling, coffin-like chamber into which she'd been sealed. The two females were keeping close to her, giving gentle words of comfort and sheltering her from view of the two males with their wings as Delilah gave up her jacket and Sata created a makeshift wrap out of her own outer garment. "She's safe now, Goliath," he intoned, knowing that the worried clan leader was listening. Delilah drew her half-sister into a winged embrace, and he could tell from the way the lavender female's shoulders shook that she was sobbing.

Brooklyn traded a glance with Lexington, who stood quietly at his side. They had both only gotten a brief glimpse of Angela after the web-winged gargoyle had cracked the computerized lock on the strange closet-sized chamber. She had been nude, her hair matted and her skin pale and glistening with sweat. Thick leather straps had held her in place, an obscene red rubber ball had filled her mouth, and pure shame had filled her reddened, tear-stained eyes. The other females had stepped in immediately, Sata taking charge and Delilah acting to assist in spite of the unexplained hesitation that had overcome her initially at seeing the odd confinement chamber. "Thank the dragon Goliath wasn't here to see her like that," Lexington muttered.

Brooklyn nodded quietly in agreement. Angela had already suffered enough. The least they could do now was allow her to keep what remained of her dignity. The beaked gargoyle cued on the radio one last time. "Repeat, Angela is safe. We'll meet you back outside."

"Roger that. Xanatos out." The armor-clad billionaire clapped his hand on the clan leader's shoulder. "Let's go, Goliath. Owen will be waiting for us."

Goliath stared indecisively at his former enemy turned ally, his mind awash with conflicting emotions. His worst fears had been thankfully averted. His daughter had been found alive, and was safely back in the capable hands of her clanmates. The impostor, however, and the man who had created her were both still free. It was clear now that they had fled ahead of the clan, leaving Angela behind as a distraction. She'd been used again, a pawn until the end. Goliath's right hand clenched into a fist. "Elisa will receive justice," he intoned, "as will Angela."

Xanatos nodded. "Yes. But that's a battle for another night. Right now, Goliath, your daughter needs you." Without another word, he leveled his arm at the boarded-over window of the common room and fired a blast from his laser cannon. Goliath sheltered himself with a massive wing as the debris flew. As the dust settled, he looked up to see the night sky beckoning. "Shall we?" Xanatos asked, gesturing to the newly made exit.

"Yes," Goliath replied at last. "Let's leave this place."

* * *

Dr. Anton Sevarius blinked as the fireball erupted from the second floor of the low building that stood two blocks away. "Goodness," he said. "I thought we were done with the Fourth of July." Edging closer to the window, he continued to peer surreptitiously through a gap in the mini-blinds, watching as Goliath and his former employer made their exit. "They're leaving," he muttered. "That can only mean the others must have found her. Excellent."

"You really think this will work, don't you?" Candy queried.

Sevarius smiled. "Why should it not? We've given them back their precious Angela. Albeit, she's a bit worse for the wear, but that only makes the pot sweeter. That's the beauty of Jezebella's plan. Between dealing with their poor traumatized clanmate and the city soon launching into an upswing of anti-gargoyle sentiment… Goliath and the others will barely have a spare moment to worry about us."

The halfling woman crossed her arms. "I hope you're right, Doctor. Otherwise we're all fucked."

The geneticist chuckled. "You worry too much, my dear. Jezebella will do her part. You just concentrate on doing yours."

"You mean doing everything I can to make life a living hell for the gargoyles?" Candy smile maliciously. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * * * *

"Go on, Daniel. She was asking for you." Owen held the door open and stood aside, allowing the boy admittance to the room.

Danny entered hesitantly. He had gotten only a quick glimpse of Angela when the others had brought her out. Delilah had been carrying her, cradled in her arms, and Sata had been right at her side. Owen had met them bearing a large blanket, and had taken only one look at her before bundling her into the back of the second van. Xanatos and Goliath had landed just then, but only Sata and Delilah had been permitted to accompany her back to the Eyrie. The rest of the clan had followed by wing, but he'd been forced to wait behind, and make the return trip by ground after Xanatos and Owen had finished collecting three new halfling prisoners.

Danny didn't envy their fate, but he'd been too worried about Angela to feel like debating the point. She'd looked so frail… so weak… so vulnerable. He was afraid to even imagine what torments she had suffered at the hands of her impostor sister, and he wondered now if she would blame him for being so easily duped. It was with trepidation that he approached her bedside. Angela lay in a hospital bed, reclined against several thick pillows. Delilah was still sitting protectively at her side. He could only suppose that she had never left. She held one of Angela's hands in her own, squeezing it reassuringly, while stroking Angela's hair gently with the other. The clone lowered her head as he approached, whispering something to her clanmate, and Angela turned her head to look at him.

"Danny," she breathed. Speaking the word seemed to take extraordinary effort, and the boy moved quickly to her side to take the taloned hand she struggled to raise into his own two hands. She smiled weakly, and he smiled back, even as he noticed the white gauze bandages that encircled both of her wrists and the purpled bruises on her neck, cheeks, and under her eyes. "You're okay," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank the dragon."

"Angela, I'm so sorry. I…"

"You saved me," she muttered, squeezing his hand. "I knew you would come through for me, Danny. Thank you." Her eyes fluttered closed a moment later, the exhaustion of her long ordeal claiming her at last.

Delilah trailed her talons over Angela's brow ridges and smiled gently at Danny. Emboldened, he imitated the gesture, and squeezed Angela's hand one last time. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked.

"In time," Delilah replied. The white-haired gargoyle regarded her half-sister fondly, and reached out again to smooth a stray piece of sable hair back from where it obscured the ornate hair clip that had been a gift from Broadway on their mating night. Miraculously, Angela had held on to it, despite the theft of the remainder of her meager possessions, and the clone couldn't help but smile at knowing she'd be spared at least one small trauma. "She's been through a lot these past two nights. And the doctors gave her some medication. For now, we should let her sleep." She uncurled her talons from Angela's hand and rose to escort Danny out. "The sun will heal her body. Whatever wounds remain… the clan will be there for her."

Danny looked up at the other gargoyle, noticing for the first time how much she truly looked and sounded like the human policewoman he and Jeannie had seen at the bus station. What was it in her past, he wondered, that made her so sensitive to what Angela had just been through? "I wish I could stay," he said. He realized only as he said it how ironic the statement was. Until a short while ago, he'd never imagined Xanatos would allow him to leave. Now that he could, though, he strangely found he was hesitant.

Delilah placed a hand on his shoulder as she pulled the door shut, leaving Angela to spend the few hours remaining until sunrise resting. "Trust me, Danny," she said, "Angela will understand."

* * * * *

"A clone of Angela?" Fox frowned worriedly and shifted in her chair. She was still dressed in her day clothes, a finely tailored royal blue skirted suit over a white, high-collared blouse. She hadn't had time to change after getting back to the hotel. She'd been trying to reach David ever since hearing the first news reports from New York, and run interference with Broadway in between calls to keep him from hearing the same. At least until she knew what was going on. "How is that possible, David? I thought we knew about all the clones he made for Thailog."

"We did," David replied. "Evidently there's a new girl in town. New and improved, I should say. She even has the same coloring as Angela."

Fox considered the implications of the news quietly for a moment. "That's definitely going to make this harder to spin control. Especially if the police are still looking for Angela." She ran a hand over her forehead, brushing the hair back from her eyes. "Do we know yet what kind of report is going to be made?"

David ceased pacing and turned to face his wife on the large monitor. "Not yet. But Detectives Maza and Bluestone are in charge, so hopefully they should be able to help control things from that end once Elisa gets out of the hospital."

The auburn-haired woman shifted in her seat again. "Elisa was injured?"

"Yes," David replied. "By the clone. Elisa thought she was Angela, and was trying to arrest her. The clone had different ideas." David sighed, deciding now was as good a time as any to let the cat out of the bag. "Elisa's not the only one she hurt, either, Fox. The things you heard about on the news… that's only the beginning of the trouble she's caused. Last night, she kidnapped Angela and attempted to trade places with her. Tonight, we managed to get the real Angela back. She's in the infirmary now."

Fox recoiled in shock. "My god, David. What happened?"

"We're not sure yet. She was in pretty tough shape. Owen told me he could detect residual magic, like she'd been worked over by a halfling, but the doctors say she should make it to sunrise." His expression turned dark as he went on, urged to continue by the look of quiet horror in his wife's green eyes. "When Brooklyn and Lexington found her, she was locked in some kind of isolation chamber... with the life support turned off. I don't know if the clone was responsible for putting her in there, or if it was Sevarius's doing. But if they hadn't found her when they did, she very well may have suffocated." He paused, feeling faintly guilty for sharing with Fox information that he had yet to divulge to Goliath. There was still more to tell, of course. Sector 13. But that could wait until Fox was home. "Curse that man," he added. "It's times like these I wish I'd never met Anton Sevarius."

Fox did her best to absorb the startling news and compose herself. "What should I tell Broadway?" she asked quietly. "He's going to want to talk to her. He's going to want to rush home, and be by her side."

David regarded his wife earnestly. He could tell from the lines that tugged at the corners of her mouth that Broadway wasn't the only one who would be in favor of calling off the final day and night of the trip. "Tell him the truth," he answered. "She's resting now. But you can fly home today, and he can be there when she awakens tonight."

Fox nodded. "I'll call the airport. Tell them to get our plane ready. We'll be on our way before sunrise here."

* * * * *

Matt sighed and glanced over at the pretty young woman who sat staring wistfully out the car window at the pre dawn city. So many questions he still wanted to ask. But the night had been a full one and there had been no time. Even as they drove toward the inexpensive motel Jeannie had insisted on instead of Matt's apartment, which he'd offered, the spin machine was whirling into high gear. By first light the newspapers would be screaming headlines like "Robot Gargoyle Assaults Teen and Cop".

Elisa had done her part, swearing to Captain Chavez that the green sparks she saw had come off the gargoyle, not the boy. Danny, once tipped, had done the same and Jeannie had backed him up. Together they had spun a version of the truth that would clear Angela and leave the conspiracy groups buzzing with speculation on who was behind such a nefarious scheme.

Even Goliath and Xanatos had done their part. The raid in New Jersey had yielded some of the missing pieces of test equipment, discarded in haste during the their quarry's escape. It wasn't much. But it gave the New Jersey cops called in on an anonymous tip something to offer their New York brethren and, in turn, a lead for Matt and Elisa to follow that had nothing to do with the Manhattan gargoyles.

If it wasn't for his partner lying contused and concussed in a hospital bed and the teenage boy sleeping in the back seat of the Fairlane, Matt would score the evening a nine.

As it was, it was more like a five. "Jeannie," he said, breaking the silence.

She broke her contemplation of the city and looked over at him. "Yes, Matthew?"

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" He hitched a thumb toward the back seat.

Jeannie nodded. "You do not trust his kind. And you worry. I understand. But Danny and I are much alike. We have both known servitude in unjust causes. We have both been used against our wills. And we both deserve to make amends."

Matt's eyes narrowed. "You said 'his kind'. So you're not a halfling. But you are of the Third Race."

Jeannie dipped her eyes to her lap. "Once, but no longer. I was divested of my powers and given a mortal life." Jeannie looked up and saw surprise in her companion's eyes. "It was of my choosing," she hastened to add. "I believe that is why I was given leave by the Puck to begin my quest and to take Danny with me."

It was an answer, Matt thought, just not much of one. He wanted to know more, but Jeannie seemed reluctant to delve into her past further. He decided to respect her reticence and changed the subject. "So, you're set on this. Leaving the city, hitting the open road?" A dispirited note crept into Matt's final syllables and he cursed himself. He'd wanted to sound more casual.

Jeannie nodded and placed her hand softly on his forearm. Stowed in the duffle bag in the trunk was the jar that had imprisoned her and still held her former mate. Out there, somewhere in the wide world, were hundreds like her who needed to be brought home to Avalon. "It is my destiny. And my duty."

Matt gave a reluctant shake of the head as he pulled up to the curb of the motor lodge. It was moderately clean and neat and an off duty cop stood at attention near the front door keeping an eye on the passing traffic. "All right. But promise me one thing. No matter where you are. No matter when it is. If you ever need help, call me." He thrust one of his business cards into her hands. On the back, in an impulsive scrawl, was his home phone and cell number.

"I will," she promised before leaning over the back of the seat and gently shaking Danny awake. The boy roused slowly, reluctantly, stretching and yawning in confusion. Matt supposed he was still getting used to the idea that he'd been paroled from the halfling prison. He blinked and scowled suspiciously at the uniformed cop and at Matt before opening the door and shuffling out.

Matt did too. He opened the trunk and hefted Jeannie's duffle, preparing to sling it over his shoulder so that he could walk them inside. Jeannie shook her head 'no' and slipped the strap from his arm. "Thank you, Matthew, but we need to go on alone."

Matthew. He didn't care for it when most people used that name. But he found, except for the circumstances, this time he didn't mind. He nodded, silent, unwilling to trust his voice as he watched Jeannie wrap a protective arm around the boy and disappear inside the motel and out of his life.

He waited a full minute, watching and hoping that she'd change her mind and realize that her place was in the city. Or just as improbably, ask him to come along on her quest. Anything really. But as the sun climbed higher, reddening the dawn sky, Matt shook his head ruefully and climbed back inside the Fairlane. He had known her for a night. And that was enough. His world was a better place because somewhere she was in it.

* * * * *

End