Author's Note: As addressed in the first set of Author's Notes, all songs mentioned are copyright their original writers, so "Time Alone" is (c) Carole King. "The Quarryman Fight Song" is to the tune of Oliver Wallace's "Der Fuehrer's Face."
Macbeth tried to keep the shock from being apparent in his facial features. "You must be mistaken, milady." He attempted to close the door.
Quick as lightning, Robyn stuck her foot in the doorway. "Don't insult my intelligence. I don't know how, I don't know why, but you factor into this equation somehow. If I could expose the gargoyles, I could expose you."
"No one will believe you," was the cold reply.
He called my bluff. Robyn gritted her teeth in frustration. Frustration at not having answers, frustration at that therapist, frustration at having an insane brother, frustration at having a paraplegic brother, frustration at everything. Anger and worry boiled up. Worry that Jason wouldn't survive the surgery. Worry that Jon would get himself killed. Anger that she couldn't figure out how to snap Jon out of it, anger at the Demon, anger at herself. What would my father think? Tears welled up in her eyes. She moved her foot from the door, but Macbeth didn't close it.
To Robyn's horror, tears were streaming down her face. Crying in front of a stranger! The harder she tried to stop the tears, the faster and more copiously they flowed.
Macbeth, who considered himself a gentleman, hated to see a lady cry. Even if she was snooping where she didn't belong. "Come in and sit down."
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Knock, knock.
Matt stirred from his bed and checked his alarm clock. 3:30 in the afternoon. He grumpily spilled out of bed and clomped to the door, not caring he was wearing red and white striped pajamas and bunny slippers. If that's a salesman! The detective opened the door. "Mr. Xanatos? Since when do you make house calls?"
"Your partner's birthday is tomorrow night." Xanatos handed Matt the copy of the signed bill. "Consider this my gift."
"The Gargoyles Protection Act? Signed into law by Governor DeZevalda this morning? How did..."
The tycoon interrupted. "Let's just say I can be very persuasive and leave it at that. One word of advice, though. You shouldn't wear red stripes with that hair of yours." He turned to leave. "Peace, Detective Bluestone."
Matt slammed the door.
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Dominique Destine sat at her desk, reading three reports. She had sent three of her henchmen to discreetly spy on the three Canmore siblings. "Subject: John Castaway. Last seen arguing with former second-in-command and overseeing upgraded hammer shipment. Subject: Jason Canmore. Last seen in Manhattan General's Operating Room. Subject: Robyn Canmore. Last seen outsmarting the security system at the home of Lennox Macduff. Bad news really does come in threes." The redhead rubbed her temples wearily. "Which do I target first? The oldest? The one with the anti-gargoyle league? Or the one contacting my nemesis? I guess I better go with Robyn, considering Macbeth's the only one who can actually kill me. If only there was a way to get rid of him without killing myself in the process." Dominique indulged briefly in a daydream of knocking her fellow immortal down a bottomless pit.
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Robyn was sitting on a couch in a beautifully finished foyer. She had finally stopped crying. "I'm so embarrassed. I rarely cry."
"What's the matter, lass?"
"Nothing," she lied.
"If it was nothing, you wouldna be crying." Macbeth was both concerned and curious.
"I just realized I'm a failure. Daddy would be so disappointed. I've got one brother in the operating room and one heading for an asylum." New tears flowed, but she could still speak.
"Your father?"
"He died. A really long time ago."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You weren't responsible for it, so why apologize?"
"How did he die? If you don't mind telling me?"
"Cold-blooded murder. I saw him fall. I heard the murderess laugh. I couldn't save him. You can't possibly know how that feels."
"Actually, I think I do."
"Excuse me?"
"As a lad, I saw my own father plunge off a parapet at the hands of an assassin."
"Oh..." Robyn was at a loss for words. "You're certainly full of secrets."
"So are you," retorted the immortal. "How did you get past my state-of- the-art security system?"
"Are you a paranoiac?"
"No, I just hate door-to-door salesman."
Robyn burst out laughing. I didn't expect him to be so witty.
"You're asking a lot of questions, Miss. What was your last name again?"
"Canmore," she replied.
Canmore's descendant? "So your encounter with a certain rabid gargoyle wasn't chance?"
"You know her. You tell me."
Macbeth sighed. "She and I were once allies. I named her Demona, because she fought like a demon. She betrayed me a long time ago, and we've been enemies ever since."
"How long? How old are you anyway?"
"I already told you. Thirty-five."
"Be serious."
"I am thirty five. I just don't age."
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It was late afternoon. Elisa was sleeping in her apartment. Cagney crawled onto the bed, soothed by his mistress' peaceful breathing.
The House of Mouse ballroom was decorated beautifully. Elegant crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Elisa was in the center of the room, in a gown. She usually wasn't one for eveningwear – they inevitably included annoying slips, pantyhose, and shoes that pinched. However, this dress was comfortable. The skirt was red, and reached the floor. The bodice was white, trimmed with black. Red off the shoulder straps, black elbow- length gloves, and a white hair ribbon completed the ensemble.
Goliath, in a black and white tuxedo instead of his usual loincloth, stood before her. He was wordless, but looked happy to be there.
Several of Disney's other couples were against the walls. Mickey and Minnie. Donald and Daisy. Cinderella and Prince Charming. The young Taran and Eilonwy. The King and Queen of Hearts. Huey, Dewey, and Louie with April, May, and June. Belle in her yellow dress with fully human Prince Adam.
The strains of Carole King's "Time Alone" began to play. Goliath extended a hand. Elisa hesitated. Dance? Us? In front of everyone? Putting nerves aside, she accepted the invitation. The pair began a waltz. The song continued.
The dancers eventually broke apart. The gargoyle bowed deeply, wings unfurling. The human clutched her skirt and sank into a deep curtsy.
Elisa awoke.
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"Let me get this straight, Mr. Castaway." Ralph Berkeley, freelance hitman, began. The two men were in the halls of the office. "Chester quit earlier today?"
"Yes, and several of my blueprints, invoices, and memos are missing," Castaway growled. "He's going to the police."
"Talk about a rat deserting a sinking ship. It's not everyday I get asked to hunt down my cousin."
"Does that bother you?"
"I'm a professional. Of course it doesn't. Just bear in mind I'll be asking extra."
"We'll negotiate. And I'll double the pay if you should happen to bag any gargoyles."
My last encounter with gargoyles ended in tears, and they weren't the little monster's, Ralph thought. He swallowed. "It'll be a pleasure."
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"I never did thank you for saving my life," Robyn whispered.
"Why did you try to take on Demona?"
"Remember I said my father was murdered. She did it."
"You wanted her to pay for what she did. I know this sounds hard to believe, but I know from personal experience that this is no way to handle this."
"So I'm just supposed to accept that Daddy's dead? That the Demon is roaming this world, free to kill other people?"
"How would your brothers feel if she killed you too? And there's one complication: she won't die. Not by your hand. She can't die by anyone's hand. You've probably already figured this out, so I'll be frank. Three fairies – you know them as the Weird Sisters – cast a spell on us. I've tried time and time again to slay Demona, but she slipped through my fingers. And that's the only way we'll perish."
"I haven't been completely honest with you. My family's pursued that hateful creature for generations. I always knew my ancestors were chasing a rainbow now the vendetta just seems ridiculous. Jarndyce and Jarndyce. 'Innumerable children have been born into the cause; innumerable young people have married into it; innumerable old people have died out of it!'"
Macbeth smiled. "So you're a Dickens fan. Bleak House. Good novel, but I always preferred Oliver Twist."
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Xanatos entered his bedroom.
Fox held a finger to her lips and gestured to the baby cradle. "The prince is sleeping."
"I see you've met your grandson, Mother," Xanatos said to Madrigal. "You could have seen him earlier, if you weren't so set on avoiding Father."
"Avoiding? I don't hate your father, David. I loved him. In fact, I still do. We divorced for your happiness." She glanced at her Rolex watch. "I have to go. I don't want to overstay my welcome, and the money won't make itself." She nodded toward Fox. "I see you've chosen well." The matron turned and left.
"For a mother-in-law, she doesn't seem that bad," Fox commented once Madrigal was out of earshot.
"Goo," agreed Baby Alex, waking up. His green eyes darted around wildly. "Where Lex?"
"A little bit longer to wait," cooed the baby's mother. "David, I've been meaning to tell you. Your life would make a good book."
"A book? It's not your typical rags to riches story. The coin wasn't the only reason Dad and I had such a rift. It was the main one, but far from being the only one. My mother once teased my father by holding up a hundred-dollar bill and asking it 'How can I serve you?' Father grabbed the bill, but she wouldn't let it go. It ripped in half."
"You're making that up!" squealed the redhead.
Xanatos gave his trademark grin, opened his sock drawer, pulled out a small box, and opened it. He held up two halves of an old one-hundred dollar bill.
---------------------------------------------------
Jason was in the Recovery Room, sleeping off the anesthetic. He passed into REM, the dream phase.
He was standing alone. Six Quarrymen passed by, singing some sort of fight song. They were in full Quarryman uniform, sans the hoods. The first was a tall, muscular man with dirty blonde hair. The second was a skinny woman with wild auburn hair. The third Jason recognized as Pat Doyle, former mayoral candidate. The fourth was the lawyer, Margot Yale. He didn't recognize the fifth, a tall and lanky man with a brownish mop of hair. Or the sixth, a plump blonde matron. The quintet marched on, the notes of their anthem becoming audible with each step.
"When Castaway says, they are an evil race," the six singers chorused.
"We cheer, cheer! Right in Castaway's face!
Not to hate the others is a great disgrace, so we cheer! Cheer! Right in Castaway's face!
When Sir Doyle says, 'We own the city's space', we cheer! Cheer! Right in Sir Doyle's face!
When Margot Yale says, 'They'll never bomb this place!', we cheer, cheer! Right in Mrs. Yale's face!"
"Are we not the Quarrymen?" yelled the first marcher.
"Superhero Quarrymen!" added Doyle.
"Ja, we are the Quarrymen," the second said with a smirk.
"Super-duper Quarrymen!" all six chimed together.
"Is this island so good?" sang the first in line. "Would you leave it if you could?"
"Ja, this island is good!" replied the others.
"We wouldn't leave it if we could!" the fifth added.
"We bring New York to order," cried Margot Yale.
"Hail Castaway's new order!" cheered the sixth, waving a flag with the Quarryman hammer emblem.
"All the gargoyle race will fear Castaway's face," all six were now in tandem.
"When we bring to New York dis order!" The notes faded into the night.
Robyn was in front of Jason now, glaring. "This is all your fault!" Her voice echoed. "Your fault...your fault...your fault..."
"Brother, help me!" It was Jon's voice. The old Jon, gentle and rational. Not the angry, obsessive tone Jason had heard him use in the jail cell. The blonde man was chained to a wall. He looked just as he did before going mad. "Help me!" Before his brother's eyes, Jon transmuted into John Castaway. The chains faded. The voice had changed back to the hateful tone. "Help me finish what you started."
A line of about twenty anonymous Quarrymen passed by, hammers glinting. Their hoods fell away, revealing skulls.
"What did I ever see in you?" Elisa's voice came from nowhere. "Morally depraved creep."
"I'm sorry!" Jason whispered, looking around for the detective. A dark- haired, mustached figure was in his line of vision. "Father!" He ran toward Charles and reached to touch him. His hand went clean through.
"You've failed me, Jason," the ghost hissed.
"Father! Please! Wait!" But Charles faded into nothingness. Now the former Hunter was surrounded by Goliath and his clan. They weren't attacking, or growling. Just standing in a ring, glaring at him. Suddenly, they parted before him like leaves before a dry wind.
Jason could see a life-size portrait. It was of John Castaway, clad in Quarryman's armor. His face was distorted in an expression of pure hate, but that's not what made its beholder's blood curdle. The facial features were what Jason saw behind the Plexiglas, but the hair was raven, not golden blonde. And Castaway was taller, wider, heavier.
It was himself. His hair was slicked back and his own piercing blue eyes had replaced Jon's brown contacts.
"Yes," came another voice. "Don't you remember? The only good gargoyle is a dead gargoyle..."
"Stop!"
But the voice was his, too. It was the voice of Reason, furious at being dominated by rampant Emotion for so long.
"I'm sorry," Jason sobbed. "I made a mistake."
"But you're not the one paying for it," retorted the bone chilling voice. "You're not the one paying for it." It echoed.
The first line of Quarrymen marched by, only Margot Yale and the fifth member were missing. They were still singing:
"When Castaway says, 'We'll never live in fear!',
We cheer, cheer! But still we spread fear!
When Castaway yells, and lies and rants and raves,
We hail, hail! And risk going to our graves!
When Castaway yells, 'I gotta have more shells!'
We cheer, cheer! For him we get more shells
If one little shell should blow him right to (ding!)
We cheer, cheer! And wouldn't that be swell?
To not hate the others is a great disgrace, so we cheer! Cheer! Right in Castaway's face!
We cheer, cheer, Right in Castaway's face..."
The dreamer awoke with a cry. He bolted upright in the hospital bed.
Carmella was seated next to the bed. "Jason? Are you okay? You're white as a sheet."
"I'm fine," he answered hastily. "Just a bad dream."
"You're covered in sweat."
"How long have you been sitting there."
"Since you got out of the OR."
Jason glanced out the window. The sun had apparently set while he was asleep. "Aren't visiting hours over?"
"The ward nurses got food poisoning...all five of them. Apparently they shared a bad shrimp. I volunteered to monitor you."
The former Hunter found the button on the bed that lowered the bed rail. Once they receded, he let his legs slip over the edge. They're actually responding! He let his feet touch the ground, and wobbled uneasily, nearly pitching forward. He clutched the chair.
"What are you doing?" Carmella squeaked.
"Seeing if the surgery worked."
"Yeah, but you haven't walked for two months!" The therapist leaped up and clutched her patient. "You didn't think you could actually get up and walk out of the hospital."
"It was a long shot, but I was hoping I could. My back's numb."
"Understandable. The anesthetic."
"Carmella?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For everything."
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"I can't stand that play," Macbeth shook his head. "I'm a wimp, Duncan's an angel, need I say more? You have no idea how much I wanted to tell Shakespeare what I thought."
Robyn was about to reply when her cell phone rang. "Pardon me." She answered it. "Hello?"
It was Elisa. "Robyn, your brother's been released from prison."
"What! I thought you said he was in for attempted murder."
"He was. I guess the Quarrymen infiltrated or bribed the parole board. Or the board could have gotten drunk. Who knows? Do you know where Jason is?"
"The hospital. His therapist apparently got him surprise cybernetic surgery."
"That's not available to the general public, is it?"
"No. At least, not yet. You'd have to ask her the details. Why did you call?"
"I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about what happened. Castaway had no right to treat you two like that. And I have to be honest. I will be watching him."
"Ordinarily, I'd make a crack on being Big Sister, but I'm curious to know why you want my opinion."
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable."
"Why would I be uncomfortable? You're just doing your job. Just do me a favor."
"What?"
"Don't hurt my cruel and unhappy brother unless it's absolutely necessarily." Robyn pressed end on the cell phone and set it on the coffee table. "My younger brother's out of jail. I suppose you've seen him on TV. He changed his last name to Castaway."
"Oh, yes, I've seen his Quarryman commercials. It never ceases to amaze me how some people are like sheep."
Robyn glanced at her watch. "It's getting late. I wanted to visit my older brother, but visiting hours are over. I better get home." She got up. "I'm sorry I wasted so much of your time."
"Oh, no. I actually enjoyed talking to you."
I actually enjoyed it too, she thought, but didn't dare say out loud. "Good night, Macbeth." It felt weird addressing him by his real name.
"Good night, lassie."
Robyn walked out the foyer, through the front hall, and out the door. She didn't realize she had left her cell phone on the table.
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At Castle Wyvern, Hudson was watching TV and snacking on ice cream. Bronx waited around the chair to lick up any drips from the elderly gargoyle's spoon.
Angela was sitting on the floor. She had copied the coded message from the piece of paper she found in the alley. Even knowing her mother's nature, the girl was certain that the paper contained something meant for her.
"Isn't this a funny show, lassie?" Hudson turned toward her.
"Oh. I'm not really watching. I'm working on a puzzle."
"A crossword?"
"More like a cryptogram."
"I'm only good at crosswords. Try Lex if you need help. He's playing with the wee laddie."
Robyn had taken a cab to Central Park to compose her thoughts and take a shortcut to her apartment.
"Hey, blondie! You're the one thousandth person to walk by today!" A vendor at a snack cart called out. She had long brown hair and wore an apron over simple clothes. It was Lady Fortune. "You get a free bottled water."
"Oh." Robyn glanced at the bottle of water. "Thank you." She shrugged, opened the water and drank. Arriving at her apartment, she yawned, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. The young woman crawled into bed and fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.
She began her own dream. She was in a small room with no windows, just painted white walls. A few chairs were scattered around. What looked like a wall-mounted big screen television covered one side. A figure stood by the only door.
Robyn recognized her. The same chestnut-haired woman at the park. "You slipped something in the water, didn't you?"
"Just a milligram of melatonin," cooed Lady Fortune. "I couldn't talk to you directly, so I had to make do."
"Why?"
"Let me start from the beginning." Lady Fortune glowed golden. The glow faded. "Now you see me as I really am." The woman was the same height, but she had changed dramatically. Her skin was pale, almost white – with a tinge of blue. Her attire was now a glittering white dress. A woven crown of edelweiss and snowdrops adorned her brown hair. "I have many names, but mortals call me the Snow Queen. I have forgotten my age, but I suspect it's very great."
"You're a fairy tale."
"Oh, I'm real." The Snow Queen shoved her audience into one of the plush armchairs. "I was born when Lord Oberon and Lady Titania touched a block of ice. But this isn't about me. It's about you."
"As interesting as that sounds, I must decline."
"Hey, I did not materialize in your subconscious just so you could run away! You're not waking up anytime soon, so just listen to what I have to say."
Robyn conceded the point. "Go ahead."
The fairy continued. "Oberon decreed that no mortal would ever marry me. A little bit over a millenium ago; our king banished us from our home of Avalon. He told us we needed a humility lesson. So we departed and scattered around the Earth. I found a mountain in the place humans call Switzerland. My attendants built an ice palace. Countless men would climb the summit to ask my hand in marriage. I always made it known that I would never marry a mortal, but they came anyway. As soon as each suitor would declare his love, my attendants would push him over the rocks. And I would watch. Emotionlessly."
"But you're just magic and ice. How could you have emotion?"
"Smart girl. I didn't have any emotion. Until something happened. A man came to my palace. He was different from the others. Much younger. And more handsome. All he could do was gaze at me. I let him stand there, since he didn't propose marriage. After several days, I didn't want to admit that I would like to marry him. My servants were worried that Oberon would find out, so they surrounded my love and threw him over the edge." Tears dripped from her eyes. "I tried so hard to stop them. I dismissed my minions. Then I cried – for the first time in my life. My first tear hit the snow. I had finally learned humility. A flower grew where my tear fell. An edelweiss, which always grows between pinnacle and abyss." She touched her crown. "I wear these as a reminder of what might have been."
"And snowdrops," observed the blonde. "The first flowers to poke out of the winter snow. Symbols of optimism. They were my mother's favorites."
"Very good, but let me finish." The fairy continued her narrative. "I had finally felt emotion. I began to lure children to my palace so I could watch them at play. In their underdeveloped minds, they're just beginning to learn logic and reason. Emotion pretty much controls them. But sooner or later, they'd leave me. I couldn't hold them against their will. We're not allowed to directly intervene in human affairs. Anyway, I'm here to reacquaint you with memories from your childhood." Soft music wafted in the room. "Sound familiar?"
"You know it does," Robyn crossed her arms. "It's Tchaikovsky's 'Lullaby in a Storm.' My father gave me a music box for my birthday every year until he died. That was the tune the last one played."
"Let's test your sense of smell," the fay goaded.
Robyn sniffed the air. "Father's favorite cologne." The Snow Queen handed her a pair of small objects. They were gold, engraved with the family's coat of arms. "My father's cufflinks. He was always losing them and then finding them in the funniest places."
Images were going across the television screen. Baby Jon smearing pudding across the kitchen wall, Jason and Robyn riding a roller coaster, ten year old Robyn beating up a bully for making Jon cry.
"Please, stop," the young woman whispered.
"Do you remember your father's death?" asked the Snow Queen.
"Enough to wish I didn't."
"Life is nothing but memories, and even bad memories have a place in a good life. You grieved. But that grief quickly turned into coldness. Little to no emotion, though you still loved your brothers."
"They were all I had left."
"And when Jason suggested to put on the Hunter's mask, you followed. Jon was reluctant, but it was two against one. But did you ever hate gargoyles in general?"
"Just the Demon."
"Yet you blew up a building."
"Jason was determined to eliminate them, and I would rather have done it quickly. It was wrong."
"Remorse. Another human emotion."
"When Jason fell over the falls, I felt it was pointless. But Jon insisted on vengeance, and look what happened. I guess violence and revenge really is a cycle."
"And you don't want to repeat it."
"No."
"See? Your emotion's coming back. Your older brother's going to be okay."
"No thanks to that wench Carmella DeZevalda."
"You're jealous."
"She's just a spoiled brat who thinks she can have any man she wants. Probably because her brother's the governor."
"Robyn, Robyn, Robyn. Your IQ is well over one hundred and fifty, but your EQ is in the negatives. Jason can find love, so why can't you?"
"Love is a myth engineered by wedding planners, candy companies, and capitalism."
"What about Macbeth?"
"What about him?"
"How did you feel when you talked?"
"Relieved, relaxed. Safe, secure. I felt I could be open. And he made me laugh a few times."
"Are you really this emotionally tone-deaf? You're in love."
"In love? Me? Don't be ridiculous."
"You've been attracted to him since the altercation."
"I was concerned about his safety. There's a difference."
"Love doesn't always mean hearts in the eyes. You wouldn't just open up to anyone, and neither would he."
"There must be some logical explanation."
"Don't try to analyze it, dear. It's magic – and not the fay-produced kind."
"Speaking of fay, don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Oh, that. Oberon called us all back to Avalon but after a millenium of living in the Alps, I was uncomfortable in the island's perpetual summers. I begged my king and queen to let me leave. Oberon consented. I sailed for Switzerland, but I ended up in New York. Avalon sends you where you need to be."
"You think you were sent here to help me?"
"Not quite. Queen Titania married a human during the Dispersion and bore a hybrid child. I thought my mission had something to do with my half-sister, but I couldn't directly approach her. So when she went shopping, I sabotaged her limo. Fox took the subway and I created." The Snow Queen transmuted back to her human form. "Fortuna Dakotis. I used a little memory therapy to get Fox to think about how she's grown as a person. I guilt- tripped her about her past. I made her glad she had changed. Change. It's the only way we grow. I'm living proof."
"So you've done this sort of thing before," Robyn observed.
"Only twice, actually. After my encounter with Fox, I heard that her mother- in-law was coming to visit. So I intercepted her at the airport. Milder, but Madrigal Xanatos had some delicious food for thought."
"Why me? I've never even met your half sister."
"You reminded me of myself. All head and no heart. Don't make the same mistake I made. I've got all the time in the world. You don't. It's not too late for you." Lady Fortune reverted to her Snow Queen form and kissed Robyn's forehead. "I can't force you to do anything, child. You have to choose." With that, the ethereal fairy vanished. The room seemed to fade into blackness.
Robyn awoke. "Choose what, though?" She glanced at her clock. 10:06 PM.
There was a crash, and the sound of glass shattering.
To Be Continued