The day passed uneventfully. The sun descended to the west.

Now that night had fallen, Goliath swooped through New York, looking for any signs of trouble. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a woman waving to him from a rooftop. In the fog that was rolling in, he thought it might be Elisa. Upon landing, however, he could see it wasn't. She was dark-haired, but weightier than the detective – though not much taller.

It was Carmella DeZevalda, though the clan leader did not know her name. "Thank you," she said.

"For what, Miss?" replied Goliath.

Carmella reached into the pocket of her windbreaker and drew out a large, silver-colored nugget. "If your friends didn't intervene when they did, I might not be standing here."

"You don't have to give us anything in return. Gargoyles have no use for money."

"But I want to."

"Platinum's worth a lot of money, isn't it?"

"My brother owns several mines. He gives me these for free. You're not burdening me by taking it."

"Save it."

"Take it!"

Goliath looked at the woman. He had never seen her before, and wondered what this could mean. The fog was getting thick and dark clouds blocked the moon. A storm was coming, and he didn't want to waste time arguing with this strange human.

"It would mean a lot to me," the woman said at last.

Goliath took the chunk of platinum finally. As he received it, he noticed the charm around Carmella's neck – but she turned to the roof access stairs and retreated inside, leaving the lavender gargoyle alone.

The nugget was very large and firm, easily four ounces. The clan leader's first impulse was to throw it in the gutter, but stopped. It might hit someone below. He certainly wasn't going to keep it. Perhaps put in the lap of one of the many homeless vagrants. Goliath had no idea how much it was worth; only the fact humans valued platinum worth more than gold. Why would the woman have just given him the treasure? She didn't seem rich – she lacked the mannerisms of, say, Fox. She looked more middle-class. Like Elisa.

He remembered it was Elisa's birthday and his appointment with Matt. An idea came to mind. He glided as fast as he could to the police station.

Matt was waiting on the fire escape. "Good thing Elisa and I are stuck in the office doing paperwork. I gave her my card already. Now's the moment of truth."

"Can you go to the jewelers?"

"Yeah. Elisa sent me out to get some dinner for us. I just have to make it quick, or else she'll get suspicious. Is everything else ready?"

"Yes. Lexington is over there right now."

"Good. What did you want from the jewelers?"

Goliath told him.

Matt nodded. "Nice idea, but how are you going to pay for it?" He looked at the platinum nugget. "Where did you get that?"

"A woman just gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Without some sort of ulterior motive? That's strange, especially in New York. It's everyone for his or her self here."

"Forget the Quarrymen, Bluestone. Humans are more puzzling when they're kind."

XXX

Across the island of Manhattan, in a hotel room, Chester Berkeley was checking his two small carry-on bags. He had already checked out. He'd take a cab to the airport a few hours ahead of time and blend in until the flight. The amulet he carried was locked in his briefcase, wrapped in tissue paper to keep it from sliding around.

Little did he know he was being watched.

Ralph stood outside the door, his ear to the wall. He had expected his mark to be halfway to Timbuktu by now, but he had gotten lucky. Before he had to renew his false ID'ed passport, he had stopped for a quick cup of coffee in one of New York's many cafes. By sheer coincidence, a man was ordering a "plain black coffee with no sugar, nonfat milk, and chocolate shavings." Only his cousin ordered black coffee with chocolate! From there, it was an easy matter of tailing at a safe distance.

But even a skilled assassin got impatient. Ralph took a credit card out of his wallet and slid it between the doorjamb and the frame. The door opened easily and silently. No wonder New York has such a crime rate! And I thought it was crooks like me!

The color drained from Chester's face.

"Did you think you could leave without saying goodbye?" The assassin asked calmly.

"Let me guess. Castaway sent you out to kill me."

"Partial credit. He sent me to bring you alive. I don't get paid if you're dead, so don't even try to make this difficult."

"No love lost between cousins, huh?"

Ralph laughed bitterly. "My side's the smarter of the family."

Chester backed away. "You won't shoot. You wouldn't dare." He grabbed a heavy porcelain lamp and threw it.

The hitman dodged it effortlessly, dove forward and brought the butt of his sniper rifle on Chester's head. The latter staggered back and threw open the sliding glass door to a balcony.

"Why couldn't you lie to Il Duce?" Chester demanded, gripping the balustrade. "Say you couldn't find me?" He was unaware of the winged shadows watching from the roof.

"Sorry, cousin," was the reply. "But I don't help traitors." The assassin clubbed his prey once again. This time Chester was knocked out.

"Does he sound familiar?" Broadway whispered to Angela.

"It's the Invisible Man," she replied. "I'd know his voice anywhere."

That was good enough for Broadway. He leapt down onto the concrete balcony. "Back for more?"

"My stealth suit may be in the shop getting upgraded, but I can still take you," Ralph sneered, firing his rifle. However, the balcony was only about four feet by two feet. The assassin could only level the rifle enough to nick one of Broadway's ears.

The large gargoyle grabbed the barrel of the rifle and crushed it in his claws while Angela tried to pick up the unconscious Chester.

Not to be deterred, Ralph tossed a magnetic disk. It landed on Broadway's shoulder and delivered a mild shock. Angela attempted to grab Ralph from behind, but he spun around too fast and fired a tranquilizer dart from a miniature blowgun in his sleeve. Broadway managed to pull the disk off himself and toss it away, only to be hit by another dart. Both gargoyles collapsed.

Ralph bent and grabbed Broadway's arm. His arm muscles screamed in protest. "Yeowch! The fat one's way too heavy. Oh well. The other one's much more important." He slipped back into the hotel room, scribbled a note on a piece of stationery, folded it up, and tucked it in Broadway's stiffened claw.

XXX

At the same time, the Canmores were driving back home after a post-operation check-up. Jason stared dimly out the window.

Robyn broke the silence. "I don't understand."

"What?" her brother answered.

"I thought you'd be happy to be able to walk again. Well, walk again eventually."

"I am happy."

"You don't sound happy."

:"I was thinking about what caused my paraplegia. If only I had chosen Door Number Three."

"It's be nice to change the past. There are a lot of 'if onlys' but only what is."

"We could have done something productive. You're smart. You might have cured AIDS if I hadn't dragged you into..."

"Our own version of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce?"

"Jarndyce v. Jarndyce ended at the end of Bleak House, didn't it?"

"Yes, but Richard Carstone died at the end."

Jason peered out the window. Visible in the fog was Quarryman Headquarters. "Speak of the devil."

"Sorry about that." Robyn rested her hands on the steering wheel. "I don't want to see it either, but you know the New York traffic. Why have you been so morose lately?"

"You accuse me of being dreary? You've always been a good actress, but I know you've been suffering in silence."

"Not as much as before, but I still wonder. I blew up a building without hesitation and sicced the entire city on gargoyles who did nothing to us. If I hadn't used that tape, the city will still be in the dark." The blonde gestured to the skyscraper. "That odious organization would not exist. If all that happened came from blaming the Demon, was it wrong to blame her? Maybe we're at fault. Why didn't we stop him? Or Father? Didn't he love us? If he's watching us now, what does he think?"

"You've never told me any of this before."

"Believe me, I just wish we could go in and grab Jon, then find some distant locale. Until we can't see this place anymore."

"Running from our problems won't solve them." Jason glanced out the window again. A shadow in the sky made his skin go pale. "The Demon!"

"Not again," groaned Robyn.

"No, I think she's going to the building. She's after Jon."

"Are you sure it was her? How can you tell in this fog?"

"I'd know her shadow anywhere." Jason unbuckled his seat belt. "I have to save him."

"How? You can barely walk!"

"He's our brother."

"That thing is not our brother. That thing has possessed our brother."

"We may not agree with him, but we can't abandon him."

Robyn shrugged. "If you're so eager to be paraplegic again." She parked the car and helped Jason out.

Next door to the Quarryman Headquarters was a hotel. A literature conference held there had just ended. Macbeth, in his Lennox Macduff guise, walked out. He noticed the Canmores entering the building. He reached into his brown jacket pocket and drew out Robyn's cell phone. He figured he could return it when she came out.

XXX

Angela awoke with a groan as the tranquilizer dart wore off. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her surroundings. She was in some sort of cell. Gingerly, she touched the bars. Not electrified, but too solid to bend or break. No way to chip the cement away either. The walls were solid gray concrete – no windows or ventilation ducts.

And she wasn't alone. Chester Berkeley was slumped in the corner of the cell.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," Angela said to her companion.

"I should have just quit and left when Castaway was still in prison. Except I'm too stupid."

"Quit? You were a Quarryman?"

"Yes. I was issued a hammer, but I never swung it at anything. I did most of the drudge work: accounting, keeping membership lists, memos, picking up Castaway's dry cleaning, piloting a helicopter. And paper pushing."

"What made you decide to quit?"

"Oh, that. Halfway between Castaway's ranting and raving after Operation Blitzkrieg went up in smoke. I spent the time between then and now working up the nerve to leave. I decided to deliver important documents to the police. Incriminating stuff, like half the Q-men have warrants for their arrest for everything from disorderly conduct to DWI."

"That was brave of you."

"Nah, it wasn't noble intent at all. I just wanted a good parting shot."

"Why did you take the job. It's pretty obvious he's crazy."

"Oh, no doubt he's a madman. But I needed the money and Castaway's only slightly worse than my old boss."

"Slightly worse? Was your old boss Slobodan Milosevic?"

Chester burst out laughing. "No, but pretty darn close." He shrunk away. "Why are you even talking to me? I'm an ex-Quarryman. You should hate me!"

"Mind if I ask you something personal?" Angela asked.

"Sure. What?"

"Why did you hate gargoyles? You were a member of a society that wants to wipe us all off the face of the earth."

"It's stupid."

"Please. I want to know."

"Promise you won't think any less of me...I never caught your name."

"It's Angela."

He shook her hand. "Chester Berkeley." The man sighed. "My best friend was murdered three years ago. He was mapping an unexcavated site in Guatemala. Alone. He was found dead at the base of a pyramid. Shot in the back. There had been rumors of gargoyle sightings in the area. I took it as a bad omen. I knew gargoyles don't use guns, but I needed somebody to blame. When I heard of gargoyles in New York, I thought it meant someone else I cared about would die. I acknowledge I'm a horrible person."

There were footsteps announcing the arrival of a visitor. It was Castaway. "Why, Chester, you sneaky little traitor."

"Treason is a charge invented by the winners as an excuse for hanging the losers," was Chester's response.

The leader of the Quarrymen smirked. "Quotations won't save you, Benedict Arnold."

"You flatter yourself," retorted Chester.

"We've worked so hard for the cause. How dare you jeopardize it now! You know what happens to traitors..."

"You let Vinnie escape," Chester snapped.

"He was a lower-echelon member. Hardly missed. But you know this organization as well as I do."

"If you're fishing for the papers I stole, it's too late. The police have them."

Castaway gave a smug grin. "If they did, wouldn't they have given you immunity?"

"I didn't stick around to make a deal. Just dropped them in the mail slot. So now what? I get a bullet to my 'too soft' heart?"

"I was thinking more of a traditional execution method. I must make an example to the other gargoyle sympathizers."

I try not to hate, but it's awfully hard not to detest that jerk. Angela broke her silence. Her eyes blazed red. "Leave him alone!"

"Rest assured, Angela," the Quarryman leader replied. "I have no intentions of harming either one of you...yet."

"My clan will be here," the raven-haired gargess snapped.

"Oh, I hope so. You won't outlive Goliath for long, though." His voice changed to a tone of mock comfort, devoid of any sympathy or remorse. "You won't want to live without your precious Daddy anyway. I should know. Your mother killed my father. The cosmic scales of justice will achieve a certain irony. I lost my father, the Demon will lose her daughter before she falls herself."

Either he hasn't guessed my mother's immortal, or he doesn't know how she is. It took all of Angela's willpower not to snarl at her enemy. She waited until he was gone, then turned to Chester. "Do you have anything to pick this lock? A pin or something?"

Chester searched his pockets. "Just some spare change and a lighter."

Angela took the lighter. "Hardly a blowtorch, but maybe we can melt the lock." She maneuvered her wrist toward the lock and flicked the switch.

XXX

Castaway got out of the elevator and checked the main surveillance cameras. He passed through the first floor lobby, then did a double take. His siblings were standing side by side. "Jason...you can walk again?"

"I still need to get used to it, but yes," replied his brother.

"It's a miracle. Now we can finish what you started."

Robyn interrupted. "That's why we came."

"Excellent. Goliath and the Demon have already entered the building. Three against two."

"Forget them," snapped Robyn.

"She's right," added Jason. "We're still young and we still have each other. We can start anew."

"No!" howled Castaway, his face contorted in rage. "I have no intentions of harming you two, so if you'll excuse me..." Without warning, he backed out the door and slammed it. Before the siblings could grab the knob, there was the click of a lock, then running footsteps.

"He's not listening to reason," observed Robyn.

Jason groaned and sank onto one of the couches. "And my anesthetic chooses now to wear off."

"Stay there," commanded his sister. She gave the door her most powerful kick. It shook. She kicked again. This time it fell. She peeked out the corridor. Her brother was gone, no doubt gone to his office. But there were voices.

"He went into the elevator!"

"Which would be nice, laddie, if we knew what floor he was going to."

The owners of the voices were Brooklyn and Hudson.

Robyn gulped. "Excuse me."

Brooklyn heard her. "Well, if it isn't the Huntress."

The woman gulped. "I know you have every reason to attack me, but listen."

"Why should we?" inquired Brooklyn. "You destroyed our home and featured us on America's Most Embarrassing Home Videos."

"Would it help to say I'm sorry?" Robyn asked. "Jason and I have to get to Jon before he does something crazy. Or Demona kills him. Or both."

"Demona's here?" asked Hudson.

"Jon said she was," replied the blonde. "My brother needs help."

"Say no more, lass," Hudson answered. "I'll help him. You and Brooklyn take the stairs."

XXX

Angela was still trying to use the lighter on the cell door. "Why didn't you get out of the city?"

Chester shrugged. "I tried to, but Ralph somehow found me. He's a human hawk."

"Where were you going?"

"Would you believe Guatemala?"

"Why? If that's where your friend died."

"I have an errand to run there. And I guess it's the only way I can reconcile with what happened."

"Chester, you're not going to do something stupid? Like try to confront the murderers?"

He laughed. "I don't have to. Interpol did it for me. Besides, the rumors say gargoyles show up during the day which you and I both know is ridiculous."

Not as ridiculous as you might think, Angela thought, but said nothing. "At least you didn't show fear."

"Sarcasm's my defense mechanism. I'm surprised it functions this far in my current state of terror."

"As long as you don't give the jerk the pleasure."

The door swung open again. Demona was in the doorway.

Angela was surprised but pleased. "Mother!"

Demona made her way to the cell door and broke the lock open with one swipe of her claws. She turned to Chester and grabbed him by his shirt color. "Is this human harassing you?"

"Mother, stop! He's a friend."

"There's no such thing as a friendly human, Angela, but I'll oblige you." The redhead dropped Chester. "I shut off the alarms, but it's best to get to Castaway before he suspects I'm here."

The door suddenly crashed down. Goliath surveyed the scene. "Demona! What in blazes are you doing here?"

"Saving my daughter, you dolt!"

Before Goliath could answer, a laser shot past them. Ralph was poised at the end of the corridor, laser cannon smoking. Goliath shielded Angela with his body. Chester ducked.

Demona had a different approach. She sprinted down the corridor, dodging the laser beams, then sacking Ralph – tackling him mid-section. Her eyes glowed. "You'll pay for your betrayal with your life, you wretched..." She prepared to rake her claws across his chest.

Goliath groaned. "Put him down, Demona." She responded by flinging the assassin into the concrete wall, knocking him out. "I meant gently."

There was static, then Castaway's voice boomed from the corridor. "I see you two have joined the soiree."

"It's the PA," Chester groaned. "He's got a microphone that can broadcast from anywhere in the building."

"It's no use, Castaway," Goliath yelled in the general direction of the voice. "Most of my clan's already penetrated your defenses."

The only reply was maniacal laughter, the kind that often echoes through psychiatric wards late at night.

There was a crash of thunder, then the lights went out.

"I certainly hope that wasn't planned," came Chester's voice in the dark. "Probably the storm. My guess is that Castaway will spring the emergency generator. It's on the floor below us."

The lights came back on.

Goliath headed down the stairwell. Upon arrival, he noticed Castaway was standing by the boiler. One of his colored contacts had fallen out. Some of his blonde hair had flopped forward in an eerie resemblance of his old hairstyle. The dim lights illuminated his face like a jack-o-lantern. His hand reached out and cranked the pressure to 300 psi. With all the force he could muster, he ripped out the safety valve. The action distracted him long enough for Goliath to grab an arm and flip.

The Quarrymen leader sailed through the air and landed on the concrete floor. The malicious gleam never left his eyes. He held up the glass box, which opened and revealed the silver cuff. The blonde took off his left gauntlet and slipped the cuff on his bare wrist. "This is my secret weapon." He pressed a button on the silver device. A green wall surrounded them. "It creates a force field. You won't be able to get out, and your posse won't get in. Only one of us can shut it off – and it won't be you. Ready to give up?"

Goliath's eyes flashed white. "Never!"

Angela and Demona ascended the narrow staircase. Chester followed. Brooklyn and Robyn quickly joined them. No words were exchanged. Brooklyn arched an eye ridge at Demona, but she maintained a steady poker face. Robyn scarcely seemed to notice the fire-haired gargoyle, concentrating her gaze on the force field and the battle within. Chester glanced nervously at his watch.

"My weapon also works on a cellular level. It sends electrical impulses into my body. My neurons respond by suppressing my pain response." The gauntlet went back on over the cuff, and Castaway raised his hammer.

Goliath backed away. The hammer missed by an inch and smashed into the plaster wall, leaving a gaping hole.

Outside the force field, Brooklyn tapped the 'wall.' It felt like solid titanium. His claws weren't even scratching it, either. "No luck. Goliath's on his own."

Angela quivered. Her mother squeezed her shoulder. The raven-haired gargess buried her face in Demona's chest to keep herself from crying. Amazingly, Demona wrapped her arms around her daughter as if to reassure her.

Castaway reraised the hammer and swung again. The head slammed into the artificial green wall with such force that it broke. The stem severed from the head. The blonde let out a snarl and curled his hands into fists.

Meanwhile, the boiler hissed.

Goliath dove forward and sank his claws into Castaway's chestplate. The metal tore, but Castaway punched the gargoyle in the stomach before it could come off.

"Give up?" taunted the blonde. "Notice the silence? One-way soundproofing. They can hear us, but we can't hear them."

Hudson and Jason joined the others outside the force field.

Goliath swung a fist, which Castaway blocked. Goliath's other hand slashed across the human's arm. Three torn lines appeared in the armor. One dripped blood from where the claw had broken the skin. The ribbon of blood slowed to a trickle.

Castaway pulled off his left gauntlet, revealing the scratch. It had closed, but was still visible. "The secret weapon also accelerates the clotting process. I don't feel anything short of invincible!" He swung his right fist, which Goliath barely avoided. The fist slammed into a crate. The crate seemed to explode. Bolts of navy blue cloth, spools of thread, and wood splinters flew everywhere. "Think that hurt?" The gauntlet had dented considerably. "You might as well give up! I can last till dawn!" The boiler was sputtering. "You can't, and neither can that thing! Ever seen a boiler explosion? Steam and sharp metal everywhere!"

You'll be impaled too, Goliath thought but didn't say anything. He could tell his rival's hatred overrode any desire to save himself.

"And once you're gone," the Quarryman continued. His blood pressure was nearing a peak of 175 over 90. "I'll pick off your remaining friends one by one." Once again he charged. Goliath spun like a matador dodging a bull. This time the assailant slammed into the boiler, leaving a dent. It looked like the Incredible Hulk had used the device as a punching bag.

Goliath panted. Strength was his forte, not agility. He glanced at the two Canmores, observing the mixture of fear and disgust in their faces.

Kill him now, Goliath, thought Demona. I know you support the human race, but this one deserves to die the most. Do it now!

"How long can you keep this up?" cried the blonde man. His right gauntlet was dented beyond use, so he pried it off. "Dodge a hundred times. I only have to nail you once! And when I do, how much of you will be left?" He snatched up the discarded hammer head and threw it. Swifter than a catcher playing in the World Series, Goliath caught it and threw it back. Castaway tried to dodge it, but the projectile slammed into his right shoulder. The armor dented. There was a sickening crunch as the clavicle beneath shattered. Castaway didn't feel pain, though his right arm was nearly immobile.

Goliath appeared to be studying him. "Canmore?"

"Don't call me that."

"I think I've heard enough." Goliath's eyes flashed as his fist met the man's jaw.

Castaway flew backward from the impact. With a glare, he sprung back to his feet.

"Look!" Goliath pointed at Castaway's hands.

In spite of himself, he did so. The peach skin was an angry red. His knuckles were swelling. Bruises were already turning purple. He couldn't move two of his fingers. The phalanges on three more were dislocated, sticking out at crazy angles. Dried blood was crusted around multiple cuts.

"You're still made of flesh and bone, Jon Canmore. Ordinary muscle and bone, which have limits. Too bad there was no pain to tell you when to stop." Goliath leaned closer. "You just can't stop yourself."

"No! You're wrong!" Castaway was on his knees but he pointed a shaking hand at the boiler. "I get the last laugh on my treacherous siblings, the police, your clan, and on you." The cuff fizzled and fell apart. The force field disintegrated.

Goliath wasted no time. He ran to the boiler and without hesitation ripped the hull open. White steam hung in the air, hissing angrily. His claws had mild burns, but Goliath ignored the inflammation.

Hudson leaned close to the fallen hunter. "You've threatened numerous innocent people, caused a lot of property damage, and drowned a reasonable and rational man. So between you and me, who's the monster?"

Castaway could only groan and lose consciousness.

There was clapping, coming from Chester. Everyone else turned to look at him. He blushed and stopped mid-clap.

How could you let him live? Demona thought in disgust. She let go of Angela and ran toward the stairs, ducking into a corridor alcove.

Jason knelt by his unconscious brother and felt a steady pulse. Tears streamed from his blue eyes.

Goliath moved toward them. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jason replied. "He did this to himself."

"I never did thank you for taking that laser shot. Or saving Elisa."

Jason did not meet Goliath's gaze. "I don't deserve it, for all I did to you. I can say I'm sorry, but it hardly changes anything, does it?"

"You're forgiven, Canmore. Rage can make you do things you wouldn't ordinarily do."

"I've called EMS," Broadway chimed in. "When the paramedics see him, they'll only be too eager to lock him in a padded cell. I'd say it's over."

To Be Concluded