The Punishment
Author: Darkness. Address: darknessdescending2000@yahoo.co.uk
Author's Note: Once again, I don't own the Malus Codicium, it was created by sci-fi author Dan Abnett (who rocks!), now that that's cleared up, don't sue me!
The Macbeth Estate
Malibu stood before an oak door, a metal tray in his hands containing a few sandwiches and a bottle coke.
"Brooklyn?" he called.
"Go away!" came an angry cry from inside the room.
"Please Brooklyn? Open up?"
"Just leave me alone."
The clone sighed sadly. It had been three days since Macbeth's funeral. Ever since then, Brooklyn had stayed in his room, refusing to come out at all, even for food. Goliath's banishment had hit him very hard. He had been brought up to believe that the clan was absolutely everything to a gargoyle. Without the clan, a gargoyle was nothing.
"Brooklyn? Please? You can't stay in there forever."
There was no reply. Perhaps he was reaching him.
"Brooklyn?"
Still no answer.
"Brooklyn! Are you okay?" Mal yelled again, panic in his voice. He had a very horrible feeling form in the pit of his stomach.
Brooklyn was obviously very depressed, but he would never do anything foolish, would he? Malibu didn't dare wait to find out. Setting the tray on a table, he tried the door. It was locked.
"Open up now Brooklyn! Or I swear I'll kick it down!"
There was still no answer.
Bracing himself, the clone rammed himself against the door as hard as he could, he could hear the ancient nails holding the oak door in place begin to buckle and give way. He rammed it again and was rewarded when the door was knocked from its hinges. The very heavy oak door crashed to the ground as Malibu leapt into the room, silently praying Brooklyn hadn't done anything stupid.
"Brooklyn! Where are you?!"
Malibu ducked as an object flew towards him, almost connecting with his head. He heard it smash behind him and turned around to see what it was.
It was a broken wine bottle.
"Oh Brooklyn," sighed Mal, shaking his head.
"What do you want?"
Malibu turned to look in the room, it was hard to see anything, the curtains were closed and the light was off, he thought he could see his friend near his bed, his hand fumbled along the wall for a light switch, finding one, he flicked it on and gasped.
The room was a total wreck. The mirror on the dressing table was smashed, the walls had deep claw marks in them, one of the two chairs in the room had been torn apart, the pillows on the bed had been completely shredded and as a result, the bed and floor were covered in feathers. Some books lay scattered around the floor as well. There were also almost a dozen empty wine bottles, most lay on the floor where Brooklyn had dropped them, while a couple of others sat on the dressing table.
Brooklyn looked even worse than his room.
His hazel eyes were bloodshot, the shirt he had worn to the funeral in human form was torn in the back where his wings had ripped through when he had changed himself back, it was ripped open at the front aswell, revealing his bandaged chest, even with the benefits of stone sleep, it would still take several more days or even a week for the injuries he had sustained at Goliath's talons to fully heal. He was hunched over, his arm outstretched and leaning heavily on the end of his bed for support, he looked like he had been crying for some time, a half empty wine bottle rested in his other hand.
"What do you want?" he repeated coldly.
Malibu winced; he could smell the stench of alcohol from his friend's breath even several feet away. He took a step towards his friend.
"I want to help you," he answered truthfully. The red gargoyle was one of the few friends that he had, and it hurt to see him like this.
"You want to help me?" replied Brooklyn sarcastically, "You really want to help me?"
"Yes Brooklyn, I do."
"THEN LEAVE ME ALONE!" roared the gargoyle, hurling the half empty wine bottle at the clone. Malibu saw it coming, it was a terrible shot, a simple testament to just how drunk Brooklyn was, he only had to move his head slightly to dodge it. The bottle smashed against the wall, spraying red wine across the dark red wallpaper.
Malibu took a cautious step forward, his arms outstretched, palms open so as to look as unthreatening as possible.
"Please Brooklyn. Let me help you."
The red gargoyle roared and staggered forward, trying to connect a right hook. It was slow and poorly placed. Mal caught Brooklyn's hand by the wrist, doing the same with Brooklyn's left hand when he tried to strike him with it. The gargoyle started to struggle.
"Let me go you fucking forgery!"
Malibu's eyes flared at that. Roughly, he forced Brooklyn on to his bed, still holding the gargoyle's wrists, Malibu pinned him to the bed, he put his left knee on Brooklyn's injured chest, putting some of his weight on it, hoping the pain might snap Brooklyn out of his drunken state. The red gargoyle yelped at the pain, before struggling a little harder to get out of the clone's rock hard grip. After almost a minute of struggling, Brooklyn just gave up and went limp. Tears began to form at his eyes as he started crying miserably.
Mal's anger at the insult died down instantly, he took his knee of Brooklyn's chest, ashamed that he'd hurt his friend. He let go of Brooklyn's wrists.
"Brook.I'm sorry I hurt you," he said.
"Don't worry about it," replied Brooklyn, covering his face with his hands as he sat up, he started crying harder. "What am I going to do Mal?"
Malibu moved to sit up beside Brooklyn, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders to show him support.
"Don't worry Brooklyn. Your not alone."
"My clan hates me now. I am alone."
"Nonsense," replied the clone, "You've got me haven't you?"
"Well..."
"And Fang, and Jezebel?"
"I.I guess so."
"See?" asked Mal, squeezing his friend's shoulder, "Your not as alone as you thought huh?" Brooklyn had stopped crying and was looking at his friend now, Mal smiled back at him, "We're your clan now. This is our home now. It will take some getting used to of course, but that's to be expected." He gave his friend a cheerful look; Brooklyn couldn't help but smile back at him.
"We're here for you Brook," said Mal, squeezing his friend's shoulder again, "We'll help you through this as best as we can, but you have to be willing to give us a chance."
Brooklyn looked down at the ground between his feet, a slight smile lingering on his face.
"Thank you."
"No problem buddy," said Mal cheerfully as he grabbed Brooklyn's arm and put it over his shoulders while he wrapped his right arm around his friend's waist.
"What are you doing?" asked Brooklyn as Mal lifted him from the bed, his legs weren't very steady so he had to lean heavily on his clone for support.
"I'm going to get you sobered up," replied Mal, "And then I'm going to get some food in you," he paused for a moment as he sniffed Brooklyn, "Of course, a few breath mints and a bath won't hurt either."
Avalon
Anubis, the Lord of Death, growled angrily at the Wyrd Sisters, who simply smiled back triumphantly back at him.
Oh how he hated them at that moment. Somehow they had convinced Lord Oberon to order Anubis to release the soul of Demona Wyvern back to the land of the living.
Bribery was probably involved somewhere. The sisters were renowned for their willingness to do anything to get what they wanted. Even thieving magical artefacts was not below them. In his own opinion, nothing was.
"Well Anubis?" snapped Phoebe.
"Are you going to bring back Demona or not?" asked Selene.
Using all the self-control that he had to stop himself from giving the black haired bitch a fat lip, Lord Anubis answered her coldly.
"I shall require her corpse and another person with which to transfer some of their life force to her."
"Could this potentially kill the other person?" asked Luna, taking her turn to speak the sisters' minds. He hated it when they did that.
"It would drastically reduce the amount of life the subject may have."
"Hmm, that won't do," stated Phoebe, "We shall have to recast the immortal binding upon them both."
"I gather then," ventured Anubis, "That you already have a candidate who will of course have no idea what's about to happen to him and will be totally unwilling to help you?"
The Wyrd Sisters smiled cruelly at each other.
"We have someone in mind," replied Selene.
"Since Goliath didn't kill him, we might as well make him wish he did," said Luna sadistically.
Anubis shook his head, already feeling sorry for the poor soul the Sisters had in mind.
Three days later: A dance club in the Bronx
The dance floor was a field of bodies, sweating from the exertion of their chaotic movements in time to the ridiculously loud music. Not far off from the chaos that was the dance floor, two young men sat in a booth. They were obviously twins, as they both long had white hair tied back in ponytails, they were both quite handsome by human standards; both were tall and quite thin, although there were some slight differences between them. One was slightly paler than the other, suggesting he didn't see the sun that much, he had grey eyes and was dressed in blue jeans, a red T-shirt, black boots and a black leather bomber jacket. His brother's skin was a slight shade more tanned, he had hazel eyes and was completely clad in black boots, chinos, a long sleeve shirt, and a long black leather coat that reached his ankles, although this was currently rolled up on the floor. He looked a little depressed.
"Oh come on Brook," pleaded Mal, "Go out and enjoy yourself!"
Brooklyn looked back at the clone, "Its.not really my kind of music Mal. I think I'll sit this one out."
"You have been sitting them out all night," replied the clone dryly. He pointed out to the dance floor. "Him, on the other hand hasn't sat down in almost an hour."
Brooklyn looked out to the dance floor to where his friend pointed to where a man was dancing with half a dozen girls. He was in his early thirties, he had rugged look about him, which the girls seem to find very attractive. He had short, untidy chestnut coloured hair and emerald coloured eyes. He was a little over six feet tall and was very well built. He wore black jeans, a dark green turtleneck, black hiking boots and a black leather bomber jacket similar to Mal's. Brooklyn shook his head.
"I still can't believe his real name's Peter," he said.
"Me neither," replied Malibu, looking out at Fang, "He never really grabbed me as a "Peter" person."
"Peter" had now added another girl to his dance party, making a total of seven very good-looking girls dancing around him.
"How does he do it?" asked Brooklyn.
"Animal magnetism.I think," replied Mal.
"No.I mean how the Hell has he managed to keep dancing for almost a solid hour?"
"The electricity glands in his body," replied Mal, "they provide him with energy to shoot out of his hands. It obviously has other uses as well."
Fang stopped dancing, said something to his party of whom all nodded and dispersed while he strode up triumphantly to the booth that held his two friends.
"I still got it!" he yelled over the music.
"Well whatever it is can we have some of it?" replied Mal laughing, Fang joined in as Brooklyn shuffled over to let him sit.
"So Brook, how ya feeling?" asked Fang as he sat.
"I do wish you two would stop asking me how I am," replied the gargoyle turned human. He smiled at them, "I'm okay, it's just I feel like I should be out patrolling rather than sitting here at a dance club."
"Okay then," said Mal as he slid out of the booth and stood up, "What are we waiting for?" Brooklyn and Fang regarded dumbly.
"What?" asked Fang eventually.
"Lets go out patrolling," replied Mal.
"And what if Goliath sees us?" replied Brooklyn.
"Hey, they protect Manhattan don't they?"
"Yes."
"Then all we have to do is patrol somewhere else," explained Mal, "Manhattan not the only part of New York you know."
"Mal, I appreciate what your trying to do," said Brooklyn, "But patrolling can be very dangerous."
"So? We'll all look out for each other, won't we?"
"Why not?" said Fang, standing up again, "I always wanted to play the hero."
They both turned and looked at Brooklyn who had not moved from where he sat.
"Come on Brooklyn," said Fang, smiling, "You know you want to."
Brooklyn looked from Fang to Malibu and back again. Both were smiling pleasantly at him.
"You two don't have to do this just to make me feel better you know," he pleaded.
"We know," replied Fang.
"But we want to," said Mal.
Brooklyn shook his head while smiling for the first time that night.
"Okay, okay." He said as he grabbed his coat, "I'm coming."
Half an hour later
The trio glided across the Bronx, eyes firmly on the ground, looking for any trouble. They had left their coats in the car Fang had taken them clubbing in before finding a private place for Brooklyn to caste the transformation spell, he had become so adept at it, he no longer needed the Tome of Lesser Magic.
"Is it usually this slow?" asked Fang.
"Sometimes," replied Brooklyn, smiling back at both Fang and Mal. He felt better already. This was just what he needed. He was feeling down because he felt useless. Without the clan he had been told time and time again, he was nothing. Thanks to Fang and Mal, he was starting to see just how daft an idea that was. He.
He suddenly felt very tired. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. He.
Brooklyn drifted into unconsciousness in an instant. His wings went slack suddenly and he started falling.
"Brooklyn!" screamed Fang, making a mad dive for the red gargoyle as he plummeted to the ground, he wrapped his arms around Brooklyn's waist and pulled up.
"Brooklyn! Say something!"
The gargoyle hung limp in his arms.
"We have to find a place to land!" yelled Fang, "Something's really wrong here!"
"There!" yelled Mal, pointing to a nearby roof.
The pair landed and Fang gently laid Brooklyn on his back. The mutate checked Brooklyn's pulse and heart rate.
"Is he okay?" asked Mal as he kneeled beside his friend.
Fang looked up at him, "He fell asleep," he said, clearly astonished.
"How the Hell do you fall asleep in mid-air?"
"I don't know!"
"We do," said three voices in unison.
Fang and Mal rose quickly, turning to where the voices had come from. Three incredibly beautiful women stood before the pair. All looked and dressed exactly alike, wearing black pants, hooker boots, vests and leather jackets. The only thing that told them apart was the colour of their hair. One's was raven black, another's was golden blonde while the last's was platinum white.
"Who the Hell are you?" growled Mal.
"We are the Wyrd Sisters," replied Selene.
"The same chicks that binded Macbeth and Demona together?" asked Fang, remembering back to when Macbeth explained to him why he would die along with Demona.
"The same," replied Phoebe.
"What do you want?" yelled Malibu, losing his patience these women already.
"Him," replied Luna, pointing past the clone and mutate to the unconscious Brooklyn behind them.
Mal's eyes flared while Fang's fists began to glow with electrical energy.
"You'll have to go through us first!" roared the mutate. The Sisters looked unimpressed.
"If you insist," replied Selene. She raised her arms and fired a bolt of magic from them. The blast hit Fang full force in the chest, sending the mutate flying across the roof and crashing to the ground unconscious.
Mal's jaw dropped open at the sight of his friend being taken out so easily. He turned to the Wyrd Sisters, who were ignoring him as they strode up to Brooklyn. Eyes flaring again, he hurled himself at Phoebe.
The Fey looked startled as Mal brought her to the ground. Not waiting for her to react, Mal gave her a hard right cross in the face. His attack didn't appear to do much other than enrage Phoebe who grabbed the clone by the throat and kneed him as hard as she could in the crotch.
Mal's eyes bulged and he howled in agony just in time to have his scream violently cut-off when Phoebe squeezed his neck. As the clone struggled to break her grip, Phoebe released her own right hand and gave Mal a solid punch in his rather large nose. The gargoyle's head shot back from the force of the punch before he slumped forward on top of her, unconscious.
With complete disgust, Phoebe hurled the clone aside and stood up, a look of rage on her face. She began to kick Malibu in the ribs while her sisters looked on, rather amused by such an odd sight.
After she was convinced that she had broken at least half of the offending gargoyle's ribs, Phoebe turned to her sisters while fixing her disordered hair.
"Well met sister," said Luna.
"Crude, but entertaining," said Selene.
Phoebe gave them both a look before kicking Malibu one last time and walking over to Brooklyn. Luna and Selene followed close behind. The Sisters surrounded the prone gargoyle and silently transported him and themselves to Avalon.
Avalon: roughly an hour later
Brooklyn began to stir slowly, his eyelids lifted slightly as he tried to figure out where he was and why he had suddenly nodded off. He was on a stone floor, he tried to move his arms but found to his dismay that they were securely tied behind his back with very strong chains. With great difficulty, he managed to prop himself up and began to take in his surroundings. He was in a huge hall that reminded him of Wyvern in size but nothing else, it wasn't decorated at all other than fire lamps, which hung along the walls and a huge tapestry depicting a man with blue skin hovering above a battlefield littered with an awful lot of dead bodies.
"It is good to see you have decided to join us gargoyle," came a powerful, imperious voice from behind him. Brooklyn managed to slide around to see who addressed him. His jaw dropped open in horror.
Sitting on a throne not twenty yards from him, sat Oberon, Lord of Avalon and king of the Third Race. Standing close to him was a man in ancient Egyptian style clothes and a jackal head. He looked just like a picture of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the Dead Brooklyn had seen in a book about Egypt he had read. He had a very sick feeling in his stomach that this guy was the same person.
"So, this is the one who interfered with the Wyrd Sisters' playthings," stated the blue skinned king as he regarded Brooklyn in an almost bored manner, "You are not very impressive are you?"
Against all the rules of common sense, Brooklyn felt anger welling up inside him. How dare he, this blue skinned, arrogant, aristocratic prick kidnap him so he could talk about how unimpressive he was?
Oberon saw the anger building up in Brooklyn's eyes and smiled mockingly at him.
"What's the matter gargoyle? Are you angry about something?"
"You can't do this," replied Brooklyn coldly.
"Really?" asked Oberon, obviously amused at Brooklyn's growing anger, "And why not gargoyle?"
"You have a compact with my clan."
"It is true, We do have a compact with Goliath's clan. But as We are informed, you are no longer part of it."
Brooklyn's eyes flared dangerously as he forced himself to stand, he still felt a little groggy but he wasn't going to let that arrogant bastard see it.
"You also have rules against direct interference you bastard!"
The smile on Oberon's face vanished. He rose from the throne slowly, his face barely masking the rage he felt for this nothing of a creature that dared to speak back at him.
"Now you listen to me you pitiful little insect," he said coldly as he approached the red gargoyle, "As far as We are concerned, there are no rules that constrain our actions, merely guidelines which We can choose to follow or ignore as we please." He stopped several feet from the defiant gargoyle and looked deep into his hazel eyes. What he saw there was fear masked by an intense hatred that threatened to erupt if pushed far enough.
-Perhaps not the best choice for this kind of procedure- he thought to himself -But it will not concern Us what he does after it is over. He cannot hurt Us. So We might as well continue.-
The gargoyle met Oberon's stare head on. He'd be damned if he was going to bow down to this arrogant shit.
"What do you want with me?" asked Brooklyn, the anger in his own voice not concealed at all while the little voice in the back of his head that was his common sense was screaming at him to shut up and get on his knees.
Oberon was a little impressed. This gargoyle was almost as stubborn as Goliath was! And definitely a lot less sane as he was willing to try and outstare the most powerful being on the planet! It would be most amusing to watch his reaction to his punishment.
"You have committed a crime against the Fey," he replied.
"What crime?"
"You assisted in the murder of Demona Wyvern," replied Oberon.
"So? She was evil! She got what was coming to her!" roared Brooklyn.
Oberon punched him in the stomach. The gargoyle doubled over in pain before falling to his knees gasping for breath. Oberon had knocked all the air out of him.
"Never raise your voice to the King of Avalon," stated Oberon as he turned his back on the severely winded gargoyle and headed back to his throne.
Brooklyn looked up at Oberon as he turned his back on him. He was fighting tears, his damaged chest hadn't fully healed yet and it hurt like Hell to suddenly put so much pressure on it by taking deep breaths to fill his lungs with air again. He snarled impotently. There was nothing he could do to get revenge on Oberon yet. The man was just too powerful. But he would find a way he silently vowed to himself. Everyone had weaknesses; all he had to do was find one of Oberon's so he could exploit it.
"Are you listening to me gargoyle?"
The voice snapped Brooklyn out of his thoughts for revenge as he looked up to see what Oberon was talking about.
"No. I wasn't listening. But I am now my Lord," he replied sarcastically.
Oberon let that one go, knowing the gargoyle was going to get his very soon now.
"We said that you have been found guilty and will now be punished for your actions."
The gargoyle didn't look so angry then, it was obvious he was trying not to show his fear though Oberon could tell from the look in his eyes that he was afraid of what might be done to him. Fear pleased Oberon.
"What are you going to do?" asked Brooklyn, trying to remain calm while at the same time trying to ignore the sudden acceleration in his heart rate.
"We have decided that your punishment should be that you be binded in immortality another."
Brooklyn's eyes bulged. Immortality? The same deal Macbeth and Demona had to go through? This didn't bode well at all. Demona had been driven mad while Macbeth had become obsessed with dying. His mouth trembled as he asked the next question.
"With who?"
"Her," said Oberon as he smiled cruelly and pointed to something above Brooklyn. The gargoyle looked up and screamed.
Above him floated a corpse. Demona's corpse. As Brooklyn screamed, the body ceased to float in the air, instead giving into gravity and falling ten feet before landing on top of the terrified gargoyle.
He shivered from the ice-cold feel of her skin as it rubbed against his face as he tried desperately to force her body off of him. He screamed again. This had to be some kind of horrible nightmare, it just had to be, and he would wake up any second now. But he didn't. After almost a minute of panic and kicking, Brooklyn had managed to force Demona's body off his and had kicked it several feet from him. He hyperventilating, all the while his chest ached from the exertion and his eyes threatened to start shedding tears. This was too much for him. He wanted to go home.
He heard cruel laughter coming from Oberon; he turned to look at him. The Lord of Avalon was seated on his throne again, a nasty smile on his face as he watched the gargoyle turn from defiant to terrified.
-He will pay for this,- vowed Brooklyn silently, -I swear he will pay dearly for this.-
"And now Lord Anubis," said Oberon, turning to the jackal headed figure, "Restore the soul of Demona Wyvern to her body and grant her some of the life force of Brooklyn Wyvern. So that both may live."
"Forgive me my friend," said the Jackal god as he raised his arms, "I have no choice in this matter." That said, he began to chant in a language the gargoyle didn't recognise.
Brooklyn suddenly felt very light-headed; he could feel his strength deserting him as Anubis continued his chanting. He fell down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had never felt so weak in his entire life. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy; it felt like he was going to nod off any moment.
Using all the strength he could muster, Brooklyn forced himself to stay awake, he had to see what they were going to do to him and how. He turned his head to look at Demona's body and swore viciously at what he saw.
Demona was breathing again. Slow, rhythmic breaths as if she was asleep. His eyes flared weakly.
Macbeth's sacrifice had been for nothing. The suffering and banishment he to endure had all been for nothing.
Oberon would pay for this.
Anubis finished his chant and lowered his arms.
"It is done my Lord."
"Very good Anubis," said Oberon as he rose, "Your presence is no longer required. Leave."
Anubis bowed his head and vanished.
"And now gargoyle," said Oberon, raising his right hand towards Brooklyn and Demona, "Your punishment."
Brooklyn and Demona levitated in the air until they were in vertical positions with their backs to one another. Demona didn't struggle or resist because she was unconscious, while Brooklyn was too weak to attempt anything.
"The Lord of Avalon himself decrees that both shall live eternally. Sharing each other's pain and suffering. Neither of you shall ever die until one doth kill the other, whereby both your lives are forfeit. So speaks Oberon."
A blinding light raced from Oberon's palm and engulfed the two gargoyles. Brooklyn tried to struggle to break his chains and escape but it was a futile jesture, if he couldn't break them at his full strength, what hope did he have when he was weakened?
As quickly as the light appeared, it vanished again and both gargoyles slumped to the floor.
"My children!" called Oberon, satisfied at his judgement, "Take these two and deposit them wherever you see fit."
"Yes my Lord," replied three feminine voices. Brooklyn forced his eyes open to see who was speaking to Oberon. Before his prone body stood the Wyrd Sisters, all were wearing very smug looks.
"I'll get you for this." whispered Brooklyn, before darkness claimed him.
The Macbeth Estate
"Hey! He's waking up!" called a voice in the darkness.
Slowly, Brooklyn opened his eyes to see who was going to torment him now. He could make out three figures gathered around him but they were still a little blurred.
As his gaze gradually came into focus he realised that was no longer on Avalon, but back at the estate! He lying in his bed with Jezebel, Fang and Malibu gathered around him.
"Hey buddy," said Mal, sounding very relieved, "You scared the crap out of us."
"Sorry," replied Brooklyn weakly, "What happened?"
"These three strange chicks put you to sleep, kicked the crap out of me and Mal here and took off with you," replied Fang. "Then we found you lying in here the next day after we came back from searching for you."
"How long have I been asleep?"
"About a week," replied Jezebel, smiling kindly as she put her hand on his fore head to check his temperature, "You had a mild fever and were a little delirious for the first few hours but you recovered very quickly," she explained.
"Yeah," said Malibu, patting Brooklyn on the chest, "Your ribs weren't even bruised at all when we found you. Why do think that is?"
"Demona's alive," answered Brooklyn as he propped himself into a sitting position.
His three friends stared at him, shocked at this bit of news.
"What do you mean she's alive?" asked Fang and the others almost simultaneously. Brooklyn explained everything.
Castle Wyvern: One Month later
The clan had gathered in the main hall for Goliath's announcement. Everyone was there, both gargoyle and human members of the clan. Everyone already knew or suspected what this was about. It had to do with Demona.
Five weeks ago she had been found in the courtyard, alive, very weak, but alive none the less. The clan had taken her in and cared for her, overjoyed that she was alive again. She had no clue why she was alive. She thought she being given a second chance by the almighty, and worked extra hard to earn the clan's trust again.
After she had recovered, she apologised to the entire clan and swore never to try and destroy humanity; instead she would protect it, as true gargoyles were supposed to.
It had been hard, but over the few weeks after her recovery, Demona helped the clan, giving funds to the P.I.T and other pro-tolerance groups, as well as merging Night Stone Ltd with Xanatos Enterprises to become one of the richest and most powerful companies on the planet.
She'd also started patrolling with the clan again, and had risked her life to save Broadway and Lexington from a group of Quarrymen.
Tonight, they all knew, was the night.
"As you all know," said Goliath to the assembled party, "I have been considering a replacement as my second in command after Brooklyn's treachery. I have finally made my decision."
The crowd awaited the announcement as a tense atmosphere arose. Would their suspicions be confirmed?
"Demona Wyvern!" boomed the lavender gargoyle.
The crowd parted, and Demona approached Goliath, she appeared visibly nervous.
"Yes Goliath?"
"Over the past month, you have proven yourself time and time again that you have finally reformed your ways and can be trusted by this clan again."
"Yes?"
"I now offer you your place back with us in the clan. And to take my side as the second in command of this clan again. Will you accept?"
Demona remained silent for almost a minute, and then tears of joy began to form in her eyes.
"I accept."
There was a cheer from all sides as Goliath approached Demona and took her hand in a warrior's grasp.
"Welcome back. My Angel of."
The image ended abruptly as a blood red fist crashed through the mirror and cracked the wall behind it with the force of the impact.
Tears streaking down his face, Brooklyn slammed the tome he had been using shut, threw his head back, and screamed in rage and misery.
"IT'S NOT RIGHT! IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed to the heavens, which, typically, did not respond.
"It's not fair," he repeated, folding his arms over the tome and resting his head there as he began to cry like a hatchling.
Demona had killed who knows how many over the years, and Goliath had just welcomed her back and given her his position. He hadn't even killed her; he'd just beaten the living daylights out of her. And he was banished for it!
Where was the justice in that?
Oberon, the Wyrd Sisters and Demona had all ruined his life and he was powerless take his revenge. He stopped crying suddenly as a thought occurred to him.
No. He wasn't entirely powerless. But could he?
No. Unthinkable. Unthinkable.
He stood up as he started to wonder at what Macbeth had told him.
It's alive.
He snorted at that. Ridiculous. A book is an inanimate object; it cannot live nor hold any form of calculating intelligence. He had, if Macbeth was correct, one of the most powerful magical artefacts in history locked away in a secret room that only he had access to.
And he wasn't using it to get revenge on all those who had hurt him.
But then again, what if Macbeth was right, what if it was alive? What if it was evil?
"There's only one way to find out," he said to himself as he left his room and headed downstairs.
Half an hour later, Brooklyn was standing in the room, which contained the dreaded Malus Codicium. He had bypassed the thirteen titanium doors and the half dozen other security emplacements that kept the curious away using the codes Macbeth had entrusted him with. All he needed to do now was open the iron safe.
He felt a nagging at the back of his head. He wasn't so sure about this anymore.
-What if Macbeth's right? What if it is pure evil? What if by opening the safe I'll be destroyed?-
He shook these thoughts off. He had come this far, he would not walk away now like some frightened child. He strode over to the safe and entered the last code he needed to take a look at a book that the Prince of Darkness supposedly wrote himself.
Taking a deep breath, Brooklyn opened the safe's door. He was actually a little disappointed when nothing noticeably evil happened, no tentacles of infinite darkness, no creepy noises like wolves howling or something similar, the atmosphere didn't even change in any way.
"Alive my ass," he muttered as he stuck his hand in and took out the only item in the safe and inspected it. It was a small leather bound book, a little thicker than his own wrist, with the words "Malus Codicium" imprinted in gold on the front.
When he went to open it, a handful of pages in the back fell out and landed on the floor. Brooklyn stooped to pick them up and placed them in one of his pockets absentmindedly.
That done, he randomly picked a page, chuckling to himself for acting like a little hatchling and being afraid of the big bad book.
The very thought that a book could be alive and be tainted was totally preposterous!
He looked at the title of the page he had randomly opened. It was entitled "On the Daemon."
Without truly realising what he was doing, Brooklyn began reading.
To be continued.
Not as well written as some parts of the series I'm afraid but I haven't been feeling a hundred percent the last few days. Big thanks to Storyseeker for giving me the idea for this episode as well as to Caboose and anyone else who for one reason or the other, seems to like my work. I shall try my best to get the next instalment out as soon as possible. Until then, all suggestions and comments are greatly welcome. You all know my address!
The Emperor Protects!
Darkness
Author: Darkness. Address: darknessdescending2000@yahoo.co.uk
Author's Note: Once again, I don't own the Malus Codicium, it was created by sci-fi author Dan Abnett (who rocks!), now that that's cleared up, don't sue me!
The Macbeth Estate
Malibu stood before an oak door, a metal tray in his hands containing a few sandwiches and a bottle coke.
"Brooklyn?" he called.
"Go away!" came an angry cry from inside the room.
"Please Brooklyn? Open up?"
"Just leave me alone."
The clone sighed sadly. It had been three days since Macbeth's funeral. Ever since then, Brooklyn had stayed in his room, refusing to come out at all, even for food. Goliath's banishment had hit him very hard. He had been brought up to believe that the clan was absolutely everything to a gargoyle. Without the clan, a gargoyle was nothing.
"Brooklyn? Please? You can't stay in there forever."
There was no reply. Perhaps he was reaching him.
"Brooklyn?"
Still no answer.
"Brooklyn! Are you okay?" Mal yelled again, panic in his voice. He had a very horrible feeling form in the pit of his stomach.
Brooklyn was obviously very depressed, but he would never do anything foolish, would he? Malibu didn't dare wait to find out. Setting the tray on a table, he tried the door. It was locked.
"Open up now Brooklyn! Or I swear I'll kick it down!"
There was still no answer.
Bracing himself, the clone rammed himself against the door as hard as he could, he could hear the ancient nails holding the oak door in place begin to buckle and give way. He rammed it again and was rewarded when the door was knocked from its hinges. The very heavy oak door crashed to the ground as Malibu leapt into the room, silently praying Brooklyn hadn't done anything stupid.
"Brooklyn! Where are you?!"
Malibu ducked as an object flew towards him, almost connecting with his head. He heard it smash behind him and turned around to see what it was.
It was a broken wine bottle.
"Oh Brooklyn," sighed Mal, shaking his head.
"What do you want?"
Malibu turned to look in the room, it was hard to see anything, the curtains were closed and the light was off, he thought he could see his friend near his bed, his hand fumbled along the wall for a light switch, finding one, he flicked it on and gasped.
The room was a total wreck. The mirror on the dressing table was smashed, the walls had deep claw marks in them, one of the two chairs in the room had been torn apart, the pillows on the bed had been completely shredded and as a result, the bed and floor were covered in feathers. Some books lay scattered around the floor as well. There were also almost a dozen empty wine bottles, most lay on the floor where Brooklyn had dropped them, while a couple of others sat on the dressing table.
Brooklyn looked even worse than his room.
His hazel eyes were bloodshot, the shirt he had worn to the funeral in human form was torn in the back where his wings had ripped through when he had changed himself back, it was ripped open at the front aswell, revealing his bandaged chest, even with the benefits of stone sleep, it would still take several more days or even a week for the injuries he had sustained at Goliath's talons to fully heal. He was hunched over, his arm outstretched and leaning heavily on the end of his bed for support, he looked like he had been crying for some time, a half empty wine bottle rested in his other hand.
"What do you want?" he repeated coldly.
Malibu winced; he could smell the stench of alcohol from his friend's breath even several feet away. He took a step towards his friend.
"I want to help you," he answered truthfully. The red gargoyle was one of the few friends that he had, and it hurt to see him like this.
"You want to help me?" replied Brooklyn sarcastically, "You really want to help me?"
"Yes Brooklyn, I do."
"THEN LEAVE ME ALONE!" roared the gargoyle, hurling the half empty wine bottle at the clone. Malibu saw it coming, it was a terrible shot, a simple testament to just how drunk Brooklyn was, he only had to move his head slightly to dodge it. The bottle smashed against the wall, spraying red wine across the dark red wallpaper.
Malibu took a cautious step forward, his arms outstretched, palms open so as to look as unthreatening as possible.
"Please Brooklyn. Let me help you."
The red gargoyle roared and staggered forward, trying to connect a right hook. It was slow and poorly placed. Mal caught Brooklyn's hand by the wrist, doing the same with Brooklyn's left hand when he tried to strike him with it. The gargoyle started to struggle.
"Let me go you fucking forgery!"
Malibu's eyes flared at that. Roughly, he forced Brooklyn on to his bed, still holding the gargoyle's wrists, Malibu pinned him to the bed, he put his left knee on Brooklyn's injured chest, putting some of his weight on it, hoping the pain might snap Brooklyn out of his drunken state. The red gargoyle yelped at the pain, before struggling a little harder to get out of the clone's rock hard grip. After almost a minute of struggling, Brooklyn just gave up and went limp. Tears began to form at his eyes as he started crying miserably.
Mal's anger at the insult died down instantly, he took his knee of Brooklyn's chest, ashamed that he'd hurt his friend. He let go of Brooklyn's wrists.
"Brook.I'm sorry I hurt you," he said.
"Don't worry about it," replied Brooklyn, covering his face with his hands as he sat up, he started crying harder. "What am I going to do Mal?"
Malibu moved to sit up beside Brooklyn, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders to show him support.
"Don't worry Brooklyn. Your not alone."
"My clan hates me now. I am alone."
"Nonsense," replied the clone, "You've got me haven't you?"
"Well..."
"And Fang, and Jezebel?"
"I.I guess so."
"See?" asked Mal, squeezing his friend's shoulder, "Your not as alone as you thought huh?" Brooklyn had stopped crying and was looking at his friend now, Mal smiled back at him, "We're your clan now. This is our home now. It will take some getting used to of course, but that's to be expected." He gave his friend a cheerful look; Brooklyn couldn't help but smile back at him.
"We're here for you Brook," said Mal, squeezing his friend's shoulder again, "We'll help you through this as best as we can, but you have to be willing to give us a chance."
Brooklyn looked down at the ground between his feet, a slight smile lingering on his face.
"Thank you."
"No problem buddy," said Mal cheerfully as he grabbed Brooklyn's arm and put it over his shoulders while he wrapped his right arm around his friend's waist.
"What are you doing?" asked Brooklyn as Mal lifted him from the bed, his legs weren't very steady so he had to lean heavily on his clone for support.
"I'm going to get you sobered up," replied Mal, "And then I'm going to get some food in you," he paused for a moment as he sniffed Brooklyn, "Of course, a few breath mints and a bath won't hurt either."
Avalon
Anubis, the Lord of Death, growled angrily at the Wyrd Sisters, who simply smiled back triumphantly back at him.
Oh how he hated them at that moment. Somehow they had convinced Lord Oberon to order Anubis to release the soul of Demona Wyvern back to the land of the living.
Bribery was probably involved somewhere. The sisters were renowned for their willingness to do anything to get what they wanted. Even thieving magical artefacts was not below them. In his own opinion, nothing was.
"Well Anubis?" snapped Phoebe.
"Are you going to bring back Demona or not?" asked Selene.
Using all the self-control that he had to stop himself from giving the black haired bitch a fat lip, Lord Anubis answered her coldly.
"I shall require her corpse and another person with which to transfer some of their life force to her."
"Could this potentially kill the other person?" asked Luna, taking her turn to speak the sisters' minds. He hated it when they did that.
"It would drastically reduce the amount of life the subject may have."
"Hmm, that won't do," stated Phoebe, "We shall have to recast the immortal binding upon them both."
"I gather then," ventured Anubis, "That you already have a candidate who will of course have no idea what's about to happen to him and will be totally unwilling to help you?"
The Wyrd Sisters smiled cruelly at each other.
"We have someone in mind," replied Selene.
"Since Goliath didn't kill him, we might as well make him wish he did," said Luna sadistically.
Anubis shook his head, already feeling sorry for the poor soul the Sisters had in mind.
Three days later: A dance club in the Bronx
The dance floor was a field of bodies, sweating from the exertion of their chaotic movements in time to the ridiculously loud music. Not far off from the chaos that was the dance floor, two young men sat in a booth. They were obviously twins, as they both long had white hair tied back in ponytails, they were both quite handsome by human standards; both were tall and quite thin, although there were some slight differences between them. One was slightly paler than the other, suggesting he didn't see the sun that much, he had grey eyes and was dressed in blue jeans, a red T-shirt, black boots and a black leather bomber jacket. His brother's skin was a slight shade more tanned, he had hazel eyes and was completely clad in black boots, chinos, a long sleeve shirt, and a long black leather coat that reached his ankles, although this was currently rolled up on the floor. He looked a little depressed.
"Oh come on Brook," pleaded Mal, "Go out and enjoy yourself!"
Brooklyn looked back at the clone, "Its.not really my kind of music Mal. I think I'll sit this one out."
"You have been sitting them out all night," replied the clone dryly. He pointed out to the dance floor. "Him, on the other hand hasn't sat down in almost an hour."
Brooklyn looked out to the dance floor to where his friend pointed to where a man was dancing with half a dozen girls. He was in his early thirties, he had rugged look about him, which the girls seem to find very attractive. He had short, untidy chestnut coloured hair and emerald coloured eyes. He was a little over six feet tall and was very well built. He wore black jeans, a dark green turtleneck, black hiking boots and a black leather bomber jacket similar to Mal's. Brooklyn shook his head.
"I still can't believe his real name's Peter," he said.
"Me neither," replied Malibu, looking out at Fang, "He never really grabbed me as a "Peter" person."
"Peter" had now added another girl to his dance party, making a total of seven very good-looking girls dancing around him.
"How does he do it?" asked Brooklyn.
"Animal magnetism.I think," replied Mal.
"No.I mean how the Hell has he managed to keep dancing for almost a solid hour?"
"The electricity glands in his body," replied Mal, "they provide him with energy to shoot out of his hands. It obviously has other uses as well."
Fang stopped dancing, said something to his party of whom all nodded and dispersed while he strode up triumphantly to the booth that held his two friends.
"I still got it!" he yelled over the music.
"Well whatever it is can we have some of it?" replied Mal laughing, Fang joined in as Brooklyn shuffled over to let him sit.
"So Brook, how ya feeling?" asked Fang as he sat.
"I do wish you two would stop asking me how I am," replied the gargoyle turned human. He smiled at them, "I'm okay, it's just I feel like I should be out patrolling rather than sitting here at a dance club."
"Okay then," said Mal as he slid out of the booth and stood up, "What are we waiting for?" Brooklyn and Fang regarded dumbly.
"What?" asked Fang eventually.
"Lets go out patrolling," replied Mal.
"And what if Goliath sees us?" replied Brooklyn.
"Hey, they protect Manhattan don't they?"
"Yes."
"Then all we have to do is patrol somewhere else," explained Mal, "Manhattan not the only part of New York you know."
"Mal, I appreciate what your trying to do," said Brooklyn, "But patrolling can be very dangerous."
"So? We'll all look out for each other, won't we?"
"Why not?" said Fang, standing up again, "I always wanted to play the hero."
They both turned and looked at Brooklyn who had not moved from where he sat.
"Come on Brooklyn," said Fang, smiling, "You know you want to."
Brooklyn looked from Fang to Malibu and back again. Both were smiling pleasantly at him.
"You two don't have to do this just to make me feel better you know," he pleaded.
"We know," replied Fang.
"But we want to," said Mal.
Brooklyn shook his head while smiling for the first time that night.
"Okay, okay." He said as he grabbed his coat, "I'm coming."
Half an hour later
The trio glided across the Bronx, eyes firmly on the ground, looking for any trouble. They had left their coats in the car Fang had taken them clubbing in before finding a private place for Brooklyn to caste the transformation spell, he had become so adept at it, he no longer needed the Tome of Lesser Magic.
"Is it usually this slow?" asked Fang.
"Sometimes," replied Brooklyn, smiling back at both Fang and Mal. He felt better already. This was just what he needed. He was feeling down because he felt useless. Without the clan he had been told time and time again, he was nothing. Thanks to Fang and Mal, he was starting to see just how daft an idea that was. He.
He suddenly felt very tired. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. He.
Brooklyn drifted into unconsciousness in an instant. His wings went slack suddenly and he started falling.
"Brooklyn!" screamed Fang, making a mad dive for the red gargoyle as he plummeted to the ground, he wrapped his arms around Brooklyn's waist and pulled up.
"Brooklyn! Say something!"
The gargoyle hung limp in his arms.
"We have to find a place to land!" yelled Fang, "Something's really wrong here!"
"There!" yelled Mal, pointing to a nearby roof.
The pair landed and Fang gently laid Brooklyn on his back. The mutate checked Brooklyn's pulse and heart rate.
"Is he okay?" asked Mal as he kneeled beside his friend.
Fang looked up at him, "He fell asleep," he said, clearly astonished.
"How the Hell do you fall asleep in mid-air?"
"I don't know!"
"We do," said three voices in unison.
Fang and Mal rose quickly, turning to where the voices had come from. Three incredibly beautiful women stood before the pair. All looked and dressed exactly alike, wearing black pants, hooker boots, vests and leather jackets. The only thing that told them apart was the colour of their hair. One's was raven black, another's was golden blonde while the last's was platinum white.
"Who the Hell are you?" growled Mal.
"We are the Wyrd Sisters," replied Selene.
"The same chicks that binded Macbeth and Demona together?" asked Fang, remembering back to when Macbeth explained to him why he would die along with Demona.
"The same," replied Phoebe.
"What do you want?" yelled Malibu, losing his patience these women already.
"Him," replied Luna, pointing past the clone and mutate to the unconscious Brooklyn behind them.
Mal's eyes flared while Fang's fists began to glow with electrical energy.
"You'll have to go through us first!" roared the mutate. The Sisters looked unimpressed.
"If you insist," replied Selene. She raised her arms and fired a bolt of magic from them. The blast hit Fang full force in the chest, sending the mutate flying across the roof and crashing to the ground unconscious.
Mal's jaw dropped open at the sight of his friend being taken out so easily. He turned to the Wyrd Sisters, who were ignoring him as they strode up to Brooklyn. Eyes flaring again, he hurled himself at Phoebe.
The Fey looked startled as Mal brought her to the ground. Not waiting for her to react, Mal gave her a hard right cross in the face. His attack didn't appear to do much other than enrage Phoebe who grabbed the clone by the throat and kneed him as hard as she could in the crotch.
Mal's eyes bulged and he howled in agony just in time to have his scream violently cut-off when Phoebe squeezed his neck. As the clone struggled to break her grip, Phoebe released her own right hand and gave Mal a solid punch in his rather large nose. The gargoyle's head shot back from the force of the punch before he slumped forward on top of her, unconscious.
With complete disgust, Phoebe hurled the clone aside and stood up, a look of rage on her face. She began to kick Malibu in the ribs while her sisters looked on, rather amused by such an odd sight.
After she was convinced that she had broken at least half of the offending gargoyle's ribs, Phoebe turned to her sisters while fixing her disordered hair.
"Well met sister," said Luna.
"Crude, but entertaining," said Selene.
Phoebe gave them both a look before kicking Malibu one last time and walking over to Brooklyn. Luna and Selene followed close behind. The Sisters surrounded the prone gargoyle and silently transported him and themselves to Avalon.
Avalon: roughly an hour later
Brooklyn began to stir slowly, his eyelids lifted slightly as he tried to figure out where he was and why he had suddenly nodded off. He was on a stone floor, he tried to move his arms but found to his dismay that they were securely tied behind his back with very strong chains. With great difficulty, he managed to prop himself up and began to take in his surroundings. He was in a huge hall that reminded him of Wyvern in size but nothing else, it wasn't decorated at all other than fire lamps, which hung along the walls and a huge tapestry depicting a man with blue skin hovering above a battlefield littered with an awful lot of dead bodies.
"It is good to see you have decided to join us gargoyle," came a powerful, imperious voice from behind him. Brooklyn managed to slide around to see who addressed him. His jaw dropped open in horror.
Sitting on a throne not twenty yards from him, sat Oberon, Lord of Avalon and king of the Third Race. Standing close to him was a man in ancient Egyptian style clothes and a jackal head. He looked just like a picture of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the Dead Brooklyn had seen in a book about Egypt he had read. He had a very sick feeling in his stomach that this guy was the same person.
"So, this is the one who interfered with the Wyrd Sisters' playthings," stated the blue skinned king as he regarded Brooklyn in an almost bored manner, "You are not very impressive are you?"
Against all the rules of common sense, Brooklyn felt anger welling up inside him. How dare he, this blue skinned, arrogant, aristocratic prick kidnap him so he could talk about how unimpressive he was?
Oberon saw the anger building up in Brooklyn's eyes and smiled mockingly at him.
"What's the matter gargoyle? Are you angry about something?"
"You can't do this," replied Brooklyn coldly.
"Really?" asked Oberon, obviously amused at Brooklyn's growing anger, "And why not gargoyle?"
"You have a compact with my clan."
"It is true, We do have a compact with Goliath's clan. But as We are informed, you are no longer part of it."
Brooklyn's eyes flared dangerously as he forced himself to stand, he still felt a little groggy but he wasn't going to let that arrogant bastard see it.
"You also have rules against direct interference you bastard!"
The smile on Oberon's face vanished. He rose from the throne slowly, his face barely masking the rage he felt for this nothing of a creature that dared to speak back at him.
"Now you listen to me you pitiful little insect," he said coldly as he approached the red gargoyle, "As far as We are concerned, there are no rules that constrain our actions, merely guidelines which We can choose to follow or ignore as we please." He stopped several feet from the defiant gargoyle and looked deep into his hazel eyes. What he saw there was fear masked by an intense hatred that threatened to erupt if pushed far enough.
-Perhaps not the best choice for this kind of procedure- he thought to himself -But it will not concern Us what he does after it is over. He cannot hurt Us. So We might as well continue.-
The gargoyle met Oberon's stare head on. He'd be damned if he was going to bow down to this arrogant shit.
"What do you want with me?" asked Brooklyn, the anger in his own voice not concealed at all while the little voice in the back of his head that was his common sense was screaming at him to shut up and get on his knees.
Oberon was a little impressed. This gargoyle was almost as stubborn as Goliath was! And definitely a lot less sane as he was willing to try and outstare the most powerful being on the planet! It would be most amusing to watch his reaction to his punishment.
"You have committed a crime against the Fey," he replied.
"What crime?"
"You assisted in the murder of Demona Wyvern," replied Oberon.
"So? She was evil! She got what was coming to her!" roared Brooklyn.
Oberon punched him in the stomach. The gargoyle doubled over in pain before falling to his knees gasping for breath. Oberon had knocked all the air out of him.
"Never raise your voice to the King of Avalon," stated Oberon as he turned his back on the severely winded gargoyle and headed back to his throne.
Brooklyn looked up at Oberon as he turned his back on him. He was fighting tears, his damaged chest hadn't fully healed yet and it hurt like Hell to suddenly put so much pressure on it by taking deep breaths to fill his lungs with air again. He snarled impotently. There was nothing he could do to get revenge on Oberon yet. The man was just too powerful. But he would find a way he silently vowed to himself. Everyone had weaknesses; all he had to do was find one of Oberon's so he could exploit it.
"Are you listening to me gargoyle?"
The voice snapped Brooklyn out of his thoughts for revenge as he looked up to see what Oberon was talking about.
"No. I wasn't listening. But I am now my Lord," he replied sarcastically.
Oberon let that one go, knowing the gargoyle was going to get his very soon now.
"We said that you have been found guilty and will now be punished for your actions."
The gargoyle didn't look so angry then, it was obvious he was trying not to show his fear though Oberon could tell from the look in his eyes that he was afraid of what might be done to him. Fear pleased Oberon.
"What are you going to do?" asked Brooklyn, trying to remain calm while at the same time trying to ignore the sudden acceleration in his heart rate.
"We have decided that your punishment should be that you be binded in immortality another."
Brooklyn's eyes bulged. Immortality? The same deal Macbeth and Demona had to go through? This didn't bode well at all. Demona had been driven mad while Macbeth had become obsessed with dying. His mouth trembled as he asked the next question.
"With who?"
"Her," said Oberon as he smiled cruelly and pointed to something above Brooklyn. The gargoyle looked up and screamed.
Above him floated a corpse. Demona's corpse. As Brooklyn screamed, the body ceased to float in the air, instead giving into gravity and falling ten feet before landing on top of the terrified gargoyle.
He shivered from the ice-cold feel of her skin as it rubbed against his face as he tried desperately to force her body off of him. He screamed again. This had to be some kind of horrible nightmare, it just had to be, and he would wake up any second now. But he didn't. After almost a minute of panic and kicking, Brooklyn had managed to force Demona's body off his and had kicked it several feet from him. He hyperventilating, all the while his chest ached from the exertion and his eyes threatened to start shedding tears. This was too much for him. He wanted to go home.
He heard cruel laughter coming from Oberon; he turned to look at him. The Lord of Avalon was seated on his throne again, a nasty smile on his face as he watched the gargoyle turn from defiant to terrified.
-He will pay for this,- vowed Brooklyn silently, -I swear he will pay dearly for this.-
"And now Lord Anubis," said Oberon, turning to the jackal headed figure, "Restore the soul of Demona Wyvern to her body and grant her some of the life force of Brooklyn Wyvern. So that both may live."
"Forgive me my friend," said the Jackal god as he raised his arms, "I have no choice in this matter." That said, he began to chant in a language the gargoyle didn't recognise.
Brooklyn suddenly felt very light-headed; he could feel his strength deserting him as Anubis continued his chanting. He fell down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had never felt so weak in his entire life. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy; it felt like he was going to nod off any moment.
Using all the strength he could muster, Brooklyn forced himself to stay awake, he had to see what they were going to do to him and how. He turned his head to look at Demona's body and swore viciously at what he saw.
Demona was breathing again. Slow, rhythmic breaths as if she was asleep. His eyes flared weakly.
Macbeth's sacrifice had been for nothing. The suffering and banishment he to endure had all been for nothing.
Oberon would pay for this.
Anubis finished his chant and lowered his arms.
"It is done my Lord."
"Very good Anubis," said Oberon as he rose, "Your presence is no longer required. Leave."
Anubis bowed his head and vanished.
"And now gargoyle," said Oberon, raising his right hand towards Brooklyn and Demona, "Your punishment."
Brooklyn and Demona levitated in the air until they were in vertical positions with their backs to one another. Demona didn't struggle or resist because she was unconscious, while Brooklyn was too weak to attempt anything.
"The Lord of Avalon himself decrees that both shall live eternally. Sharing each other's pain and suffering. Neither of you shall ever die until one doth kill the other, whereby both your lives are forfeit. So speaks Oberon."
A blinding light raced from Oberon's palm and engulfed the two gargoyles. Brooklyn tried to struggle to break his chains and escape but it was a futile jesture, if he couldn't break them at his full strength, what hope did he have when he was weakened?
As quickly as the light appeared, it vanished again and both gargoyles slumped to the floor.
"My children!" called Oberon, satisfied at his judgement, "Take these two and deposit them wherever you see fit."
"Yes my Lord," replied three feminine voices. Brooklyn forced his eyes open to see who was speaking to Oberon. Before his prone body stood the Wyrd Sisters, all were wearing very smug looks.
"I'll get you for this." whispered Brooklyn, before darkness claimed him.
The Macbeth Estate
"Hey! He's waking up!" called a voice in the darkness.
Slowly, Brooklyn opened his eyes to see who was going to torment him now. He could make out three figures gathered around him but they were still a little blurred.
As his gaze gradually came into focus he realised that was no longer on Avalon, but back at the estate! He lying in his bed with Jezebel, Fang and Malibu gathered around him.
"Hey buddy," said Mal, sounding very relieved, "You scared the crap out of us."
"Sorry," replied Brooklyn weakly, "What happened?"
"These three strange chicks put you to sleep, kicked the crap out of me and Mal here and took off with you," replied Fang. "Then we found you lying in here the next day after we came back from searching for you."
"How long have I been asleep?"
"About a week," replied Jezebel, smiling kindly as she put her hand on his fore head to check his temperature, "You had a mild fever and were a little delirious for the first few hours but you recovered very quickly," she explained.
"Yeah," said Malibu, patting Brooklyn on the chest, "Your ribs weren't even bruised at all when we found you. Why do think that is?"
"Demona's alive," answered Brooklyn as he propped himself into a sitting position.
His three friends stared at him, shocked at this bit of news.
"What do you mean she's alive?" asked Fang and the others almost simultaneously. Brooklyn explained everything.
Castle Wyvern: One Month later
The clan had gathered in the main hall for Goliath's announcement. Everyone was there, both gargoyle and human members of the clan. Everyone already knew or suspected what this was about. It had to do with Demona.
Five weeks ago she had been found in the courtyard, alive, very weak, but alive none the less. The clan had taken her in and cared for her, overjoyed that she was alive again. She had no clue why she was alive. She thought she being given a second chance by the almighty, and worked extra hard to earn the clan's trust again.
After she had recovered, she apologised to the entire clan and swore never to try and destroy humanity; instead she would protect it, as true gargoyles were supposed to.
It had been hard, but over the few weeks after her recovery, Demona helped the clan, giving funds to the P.I.T and other pro-tolerance groups, as well as merging Night Stone Ltd with Xanatos Enterprises to become one of the richest and most powerful companies on the planet.
She'd also started patrolling with the clan again, and had risked her life to save Broadway and Lexington from a group of Quarrymen.
Tonight, they all knew, was the night.
"As you all know," said Goliath to the assembled party, "I have been considering a replacement as my second in command after Brooklyn's treachery. I have finally made my decision."
The crowd awaited the announcement as a tense atmosphere arose. Would their suspicions be confirmed?
"Demona Wyvern!" boomed the lavender gargoyle.
The crowd parted, and Demona approached Goliath, she appeared visibly nervous.
"Yes Goliath?"
"Over the past month, you have proven yourself time and time again that you have finally reformed your ways and can be trusted by this clan again."
"Yes?"
"I now offer you your place back with us in the clan. And to take my side as the second in command of this clan again. Will you accept?"
Demona remained silent for almost a minute, and then tears of joy began to form in her eyes.
"I accept."
There was a cheer from all sides as Goliath approached Demona and took her hand in a warrior's grasp.
"Welcome back. My Angel of."
The image ended abruptly as a blood red fist crashed through the mirror and cracked the wall behind it with the force of the impact.
Tears streaking down his face, Brooklyn slammed the tome he had been using shut, threw his head back, and screamed in rage and misery.
"IT'S NOT RIGHT! IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed to the heavens, which, typically, did not respond.
"It's not fair," he repeated, folding his arms over the tome and resting his head there as he began to cry like a hatchling.
Demona had killed who knows how many over the years, and Goliath had just welcomed her back and given her his position. He hadn't even killed her; he'd just beaten the living daylights out of her. And he was banished for it!
Where was the justice in that?
Oberon, the Wyrd Sisters and Demona had all ruined his life and he was powerless take his revenge. He stopped crying suddenly as a thought occurred to him.
No. He wasn't entirely powerless. But could he?
No. Unthinkable. Unthinkable.
He stood up as he started to wonder at what Macbeth had told him.
It's alive.
He snorted at that. Ridiculous. A book is an inanimate object; it cannot live nor hold any form of calculating intelligence. He had, if Macbeth was correct, one of the most powerful magical artefacts in history locked away in a secret room that only he had access to.
And he wasn't using it to get revenge on all those who had hurt him.
But then again, what if Macbeth was right, what if it was alive? What if it was evil?
"There's only one way to find out," he said to himself as he left his room and headed downstairs.
Half an hour later, Brooklyn was standing in the room, which contained the dreaded Malus Codicium. He had bypassed the thirteen titanium doors and the half dozen other security emplacements that kept the curious away using the codes Macbeth had entrusted him with. All he needed to do now was open the iron safe.
He felt a nagging at the back of his head. He wasn't so sure about this anymore.
-What if Macbeth's right? What if it is pure evil? What if by opening the safe I'll be destroyed?-
He shook these thoughts off. He had come this far, he would not walk away now like some frightened child. He strode over to the safe and entered the last code he needed to take a look at a book that the Prince of Darkness supposedly wrote himself.
Taking a deep breath, Brooklyn opened the safe's door. He was actually a little disappointed when nothing noticeably evil happened, no tentacles of infinite darkness, no creepy noises like wolves howling or something similar, the atmosphere didn't even change in any way.
"Alive my ass," he muttered as he stuck his hand in and took out the only item in the safe and inspected it. It was a small leather bound book, a little thicker than his own wrist, with the words "Malus Codicium" imprinted in gold on the front.
When he went to open it, a handful of pages in the back fell out and landed on the floor. Brooklyn stooped to pick them up and placed them in one of his pockets absentmindedly.
That done, he randomly picked a page, chuckling to himself for acting like a little hatchling and being afraid of the big bad book.
The very thought that a book could be alive and be tainted was totally preposterous!
He looked at the title of the page he had randomly opened. It was entitled "On the Daemon."
Without truly realising what he was doing, Brooklyn began reading.
To be continued.
Not as well written as some parts of the series I'm afraid but I haven't been feeling a hundred percent the last few days. Big thanks to Storyseeker for giving me the idea for this episode as well as to Caboose and anyone else who for one reason or the other, seems to like my work. I shall try my best to get the next instalment out as soon as possible. Until then, all suggestions and comments are greatly welcome. You all know my address!
The Emperor Protects!
Darkness