VVVVV
Consequences Part Three: Cat and Cradle (3/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 1998, 2005
PG-13
VVVVV
"You!" The contempt in Demona's voice, the hatred, slapped Delilah
across the face. There was no love calling, no tiny affection, only very
bitter, very focused rage. On her.
'Lilah shrank back, feeling her blood calling her to stay, knowing too
late that staying would be very bad. She half-fell into the shrubs,
turned to flee.
A pale blue hand clamped down on her wing membrane and held.
She squealed from pain, tried to free herself. The hand was relentless,
dragging her back inside the circle with the numbing agony
concentrated at one point on her sensitive skin.
"Thailog's little whore."
"No," she said. "I am yours," she said as boldly as she could. "I am of
you."
"You are nothing but a mockery of me with the face of a human
beast." Demona's eyes traveled down her body. 'Lilah shuddered.
It was like when Thailog had placed his hands on her in the Game,
making her feel all sticky everywhere even when she'd just bathed.
"You carry his egg!" 'Lilah nodded unhappily. "So. Even
dead, his legacy lives on. She scowled. "I should destroy you
now, make sure his seed does not foul our race any further." Then
a cruel smile slid over her face. "But then again, it will be a
gargoyle, even with your human contamination. I could raise this
one right, make sure it knows the crimes of humanity against our
kind."
Raise. Demona raise? Delilah again pictured her baby, this
time in Demona's arms. "No!" she shouted, and pulled hard enough
to free herself. Her left arm protected her stomach, as her eyes
went white. "Mine!"
Instead of attacking, instead of shouting, or grabbing, instead of
anything 'Lilah expected, Demona started to laugh. "Foolish little girl.
You don't have a choice in the matter. Taking your form would be
useless; it's Elisa I wanted. But your child could be very useful to me.
Therefore, rather than gutting you, as I probably should, I'll just blow
your ugly human head off. Your egg should still be viable."
Suddenly, there was a mean-looking weapon in Demona's hand,
pointed right at her face.
"Mother, please!" It wasn't supposed to be like this. Her mother was
supposed to love her, be nice to her.
"Don't call me that. You're not my child. You're an abomination to
everything that we are. You're not a gargoyle. You're a freak that
Thailog created for his own sick amusement. But I can fix that. Join
your master, slut."
Like an angered god, she heard Thailog's roar, and fell to her
knees on instinct. A blast from the gun grazed the top of her
head, singeing her scalp, and she rolled on her back as a solid
shape appeared from the night sky and fell on Demona in attack.
Master! her heart cried out. You've come back!
Drawn by his presence, renewed by his renewal, she rose to her
feet and moved towards the two grappling combatants.
"Let me go!" screamed Demona, hissing and roaring. "She
deserves death!"
"No!" came her master's voice. "The only one who has committed any
crime here is you." Demona freed her hand with the gun, swung it at
him. Instinct moved Delilah faster than thought, and she whipped her
tail out, knocking the gun far from Demona's hand. The other female's
eyes blazed again.
"Demona stop this!" 'Lilah saw him clearly now, and her heart fell. It
was not her master, only Goliath. Defeated, trembling, she sank back to
the ground as the former lovers before her continued their brawl.
Demona slammed her palm into Goliath's face, driving him
backwards. "I'd intended to kill you tonight anyway," she growled.
"You haven't changed my plans."
"We'll see." He swatted at her hard, sending her flying against a tree.
She screamed and attacked again.
There was a hand on her shoulder. "'Lilah, are you okay?" She looked
up into Elisa's concerned, and kind of dazed, face.
"No," she said simply, and went back to watching Goliath.
He forced Demona's head against the ground, and she saw Elisa.
"It did work!" There was absurd triumph in her voice, and with a
heave, she kicked Goliath off her like a sheet, was on her feet
advancing towards Elisa in moments. "Come here, human. I'd prefer
doing this with your face anyway." She reached out her hand, as she
said, "Angela will see what treacherous creatures humans can be."
Elisa backed away quickly. "'Lilah, run! Go get Talon!" She ducked
to the side, away from where Delilah still sat. "Go!" Her tight skirt
made it difficult to step back, but somehow she managed.
'Lilah pulled her feet under her and pushed up unsteadily. Her body
mass shifted, the egg skewing her judgment of up, down and side. She
steadied herself against a tree, then saw Goliath slowly getting up from
where he'd been thrown. He looked hurt.
Forgetting Elisa's instructions, she hurried to his side and helped him
up. "Goliath?"
"I'm fine." His eyes locked onto Demona, blazed like white stars when
he saw her stalking Elisa. She pounced. He moved like lightning and
grabbed her tail. They both went down again, Elisa just beyond them.
Her human mother flew at her gargoyle mother with her fists. Delilah
crossed her arms over her body, feeling tears about to come. She was
very very scared.
"Stop it!" she cried. "Please!" Neither heard her. It was like the
amusement park, only the fires were inside this time, eating her alive.
Her mothers were fighting, and one of them was going to die. "Please,"
she squeaked.
Then she saw the gun. It had landed at the far side of the clearing. She
wasn't sure how to use it, but that was okay. Guns meant power,
Thailog had always said so, and it had to be true. She fell to the ground
beside it, wrapped her hand around the small handle. Definitely not
like the ones she'd been taught to use, but it would have to do.
"Stop!" she shouted as loudly as she could, and pointed the gun at
Demona.
Everyone froze.
Goliath held Demona down, panting. Elisa stood beside them, ready
for whatever happened next. She held out her hand. "Give that to me,
'Lilah."
"No." Goliath's head turned. So did Demona's. "Get off her,
Goliath."
"Delilah ... "
"Get off her. Please." He turned back to her. Demona growled, until
Delilah put the barrel closer to her face. Goliath extricated himself
from his once-lover, but remained beside her.
'Lilah continued to point the gun at Demona. "You want Angela
to think humans are bad. Humans aren't bad."
"Humans are a scourge on the face of this planet. Angela must be made
to see that."
"No," she said. "And she won't anyway. Angela went away."
"What? Where!"
"Where your poison cannot touch her," said Goliath.
"She went home," said 'Lilah. Then she waved the gun. Elisa
ducked. "You go home. And stay away. We know what you can do.
You don't need to do it. Humans aren't bad."
"Ugly and stupid," said Demona.
"I am not ugly," said 'Lilah carefully. "I look like my mothers. And
they are both beautiful." She waved the gun again, then pointed it at
Demona. "Go."
"I won't forget this, you little freak of science. I'll have you again, and
no one will save you." She turned to Elisa. "That goes double for you."
She swiped at Elisa.
'Lilah fired, missed by a foot and hit a tree three yards behind them.
Demona grabbed Elisa, thrust her into Goliath, jumped into a tree, and
gained just enough height to glide above them. 'Lilah aimed the gun
again, but her hands shook too much, and by the time she got it aimed,
Demona was too far away.
She pulled the gun against herself, played with the barrel, shook
violently. Elisa was the first to reach her, and coaxed the laser weapon
away from her. That made 'Lilah shake even worse.
Goliath came closer. The same old look, of fear and something else,
was back on his face, but also gratitude. Elisa slipped her arms around
'Lilah's shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said, then burst into tears.
Goliath rubbed his shoulder. 'Lilah saw nasty red scratches there, and
cried more. "Let's take her home," he said.
VVVVV
You failed. Imagine that.
"Shut up," Demona said.
They'll tell Angela, and she'll hate you even more. Why don't
you end it now?
"Shut up!"
She trembled in rage. Her tail lashed out into a table, sent her lamp
crashed to the floor. It sparked, and the room went dark.
"I can try again."
That won't do you any good. They know what you can do, and
they'll guard against it. You'll never get another chance. Go on, find
Macbeth. You know where to look. The voice wheedled at her.
"No ... "
She placed her hand at her head, felt a vein throb under her fingers. It
had seemed like such a good idea. Stupid spell, calling that ... that ...
thing to distract her.
She went home, the abomination had said.
That's good. Blame the spell.
Spells ... She'd taken spells from the Grimorum, before Goliath had
stolen it back. A new thought forming in the depths of her mind, she
strode from the darkened room into her workshop.
"It was here. How did it go? 'Vocate venti' something." She pushed
ragged pages onto the floor, uncaring of their contents. The spell she
needed had to be here somewhere.
The page, edges torn from their hasty removal, passed beneath her
fingertips. Triumphantly, she picked it up, read it through, read it again
to make certain.
The Grimorum Arcanorum was a compilation of spells scribed by
several mages through the centuries. Often, the spells included stories
and fables associated with their origin and possible use. The story with
this spell was the tale of a great flood that had covered the world. Only
two humans had survived, a male and a female, because one of the fay
had given them the secret words to reach Avalon. Demona didn't
believe the story, any more than she really believed that the Goddess
had mated with the Moon and conceived the World, but at least this
fable included a spell that would probably work.
"Angela's home is Avalon," she told the empty air. Angela had
told her during those long months of her confinement. She was away
from New York, away from Goliath's influence. Demona would have
her ear
You're not seriously considering going after her.
"Why not?" she muttered.
And you're going to tell her what?
"I'll think of something."
VVVVV
Fox unzipped the diaper bag, looked inside, made certain everything
was in there that ought to be, and zipped it again. She'd
only done this seven times so far. Maybe she should check it one more
time ...
"Madame?" Owen tapped at the nursery doorway with his fist.
"Have they arrived?"
"Mrs. Sloane telephoned to say she and Mr. Sloane will not be here
until the day after tomorrow."
"What! Did she give a reason?"
"Yes." He frowned. "'Something came up.'"
"That's it?"
"That was the message, yes."
"But it's today. We can't postpone the operation any longer. She might
go into labor for real." Fox had spent far too much time in the past few
months going over the specifications for Hyena's cybernetic alteration.
Getting the child out after contractions had started would be a
nightmare.
"Then do not postpone it."
"It's her daughter," she said. "Mom flew in from Australia to be with
me for Alex's birth."
"Your mother is hardly a typical woman." His mouth twitched.
"No." She didn't fly in from Australia, did she? She just stepped
through a portal somewhere and let me think she took a plane. For a
moment, her thoughts were not on Hyena and the baby.
"If I ask you something, can you answer me as someone who's known
my mother longer than I have?"
"You may ask," he said, his voice changing slightly. This was
territory they didn't often cross. Since his recovery, Owen had been
extremely Owen-like, without a trace of his alter-ego.
"Other than the Three, did she have any other children? I mean, was I
... just another ... "
"No. Your mother gave birth to four daughters: Luna, Selene,
Phoebe, and you. I've always considered that evidence of how much
your father meant to her."
"She loved him," she said, wondering as she had since June if it was the
truth.
"Of that I have no doubt. She loves you, as well. You were never 'just
another.' You are her child."
"Oh. Good." She blinked her eyes quickly, then bent over the bag.
"Alex is with Mrs. Ong. Arkham Asylum wouldn't be a good place to
bring him."
"No."
"If the Sloanes aren't coming, I guess we should go. T-minus three
hours until Baby."
"As you wish," he said gravely, and bowed his head until she walked by
him on her way out the door.
VVVVV
Hyena's head moved up slowly to see her as the door closed and
locked behind her.
"Hi, sleepyhead."
"Hello," she responded, her eyes a little out of focus.
"How're you feeling?"
A broad, languorous grin teetered on her mouth. "High as a kite." She
blinked, pulling herself back to as close to reality as she typically came.
"Where's my baby?"
"Getting weighed and cleaned up. They'll bring her out in a few
minutes."
"Her?"
"Yeah. Congratulations, Mommy. You have a little girl."
"I wanna see her."
"You will." On cue, the lock clicked on the door, and an orderly
walked in holding the child carefully. "How is she?"
"Just fine," he replied, bringing her over to her mother.
When she'd caught her first glimpse of Hyena's child, Fox had searched
her face for signs of her probable lineage, a familiar shape to her nose
and ears or some hint of mongoloidal features. None were obvious.
She looked normal, almost cute if red and scrunchy. As she recalled,
Alex's head had been elongated at birth. Her first conscious thought on
seeing him had been that it looked a little like a football.
"Can I hold her?" asked Hyena hesitantly.
He held her out, and Hyena clumsily folded her arms to take her child.
The baby shifted, looked like she might start crying, then settled into
her mother's metal embrace.
"Hey," she said, her voice cracking. "Hello there." The baby's eyes,
brown like her mother's, wandered aimlessly. If Fox tried, she could
see the resemblance.
"Do you have a name picked out?"
"Jasmine. Jasmine Victoria."
Jasmine. "And how many times did we watch 'Aladdin' while we
were here?"
"I like the name. It's pretty."
"It's ... " She watched her former associate helplessly, and sighed. "It's
a name. Who do you want put down as her father?" Here goes
nothing.
"Nobody. She's my baby." She made a gooey face at her
daughter. She moved the baby a little, freeing her right hand. The
orderly tensed, reminding Fox that the staff at Arkham consisted of
trained guards who also knew the proper treatment and handling of
lunatics.
Hyena used her free hand to stroke her baby's face, lightly, so as not to
scratch her by accident. She traced her nose and lips, the outline of her
ears, then rested her fingertips on top of the downy fuzz at her head.
"Here," she said, suddenly thrusting Jasmine towards Fox. "You take
her." Fox picked up the bundle, and with a motion made automatic by
months of Alexander, cradled her gently. Hyena
continued to stare at the baby, but made no further motion to touch
her.
"I'll get the paperwork filled out," said the orderly, and walked out,
locking the door behind him. It was an odd kindness, unexpected.
Hyena would have a little time alone, almost, with her baby.
"Do you want to try holding her again?"
"No," she said shortly. Still she stared.
As Fox had with Alexander, she began counting Jasmine's fingers, and
when Hyena said nothing else, moved onto her toes. Ten each. Good
start. Her eyes hadn't yet focused, probably wouldn't for a while. She'd
have to get her checked out by Dr. Howard when they got home.
"She's a pretty baby," Fox said, just to make small talk.
"Yeah," came the response and then, "You're good at that."
"Practice," she said, feeling like a liar, and they both fell to their own
private thoughts. The baby drifted into sleep.
After a while, the doctor came into the room.
"Mrs. Xanatos, I'm afraid you're going to have to step out now. We're
going to prep Hyena for transport."
"Transport?" She heard Hyena say it a fraction of a second later.
"Yes." He looked apologetic as he said to Hyena, "You're going to be
moved back to Riker's Island this evening."
"She just had a baby," said Fox. Men could be such idiots. Never mind
that she'd been toting a laser cannon a few hours after Alexander's birth;
those had been vastly different circumstances. "You can't move her
now."
"I have no say in the matter. I'm sorry." He held the door open.
"One more minute," said Fox. She held out the baby to her mother.
"C'mon. It'll be a long time until you can do this again."
For the second time, Hyena folded her arms, as Fox gave her daughter
to her. She held her for the space of two breaths, then said, "Fox.
Please."
Fox picked up the baby again, then saw the misery naked on
Hyena's face. "What?"
She looked up at Fox, small and scared and hurting from more than the
fading of anaesthesia. "I can hold her, and I can touch her, but I can't
feel her." She flexed her metal fingers, staring at them as she'd stared at
Jasmine. "I can't feel her," she repeated in a barren whisper.
Fox ran her hand over the baby's small face, one hundred moments of
holding Alex spilling into her mind at once. She placed the child down
near her mother again.
"What are you doing?"
"This." Gingerly, she moved the baby's head near her face, most of
which was still flesh. Hyena's eyes went wide. Then she closed them
as she placed her lips on Jasmine's forehead.
"Oh. Oh, she's soft." The doctor cleared this throat and she pulled
away. "Thank you," she breathed. Fox nodded, unable to speak.
"Mrs. Xanatos?" Holding Jasmine protectively, she went to the
door. She turned back, thinking she ought to say something else, make
them let the other woman stay a little longer. She remembered the cell
at Riker's, in the heart of the building, with no windows, hardly enough
room to breathe, guards always watching. Hyena would be going back
there, and would never see daylight again if the warden had anything to
say about it. The faceless They would find reasons to keep her locked
away, just as They were finding reasons to keep Wolf in prison. Fox
herself would go back to her castle, to her life, hand over the baby to
Hyena's mother, and that would be that.
The knowledge, and the unfairness of it, glittered in Hyena's eyes,
coloring the lingering gratitude with shades of silent accusation. The
words died in Fox's mouth, and she left the room quickly.
VVVVV
The needle slipped out of her grasp. Instead of picking it up
immediately, Maggie breathed on her fingers to give them a little
more warmth. When she could feel them, she reached over clumsily
and grasped her needle again, noting while she was down there that
her feet were indeed still attached to her body. One month to go,
by her count, and already she was ready and more than willing to go
into labor. Anything would be better than this endless wait in
the cold of the Labyrinth.
The kids, oblivious to the chill, were spread out on the floor, coloring.
Brent was finishing what looked to be a passable picture of Goliath.
Banky had gone for ... abstract. Yes, that was a good word for it.
Delilah, having given up on getting the purple back from
Brentwood, was busy on a green Muppet-like figure. She'd barely
spoken since her run-in with Demona. Maggie and Derek had been
stern with her about not going outside anymore, and she'd accepted
the restriction meekly. Derek had relented enough to allow her out
again after the egg was laid, which had earned him the largest smile
'Lilah had granted anyone in weeks.
Maggie wasn't sure what Hollywood and Malibu were drawing,
only that they had taken one big piece of paper to the other side of the
room and weren't showing anyone. She herself, for lack of anything
more constructive to do, was babysitting and making her very first
quilt.
She'd been collecting scraps of material since the day they'd
moved into this place. She'd told herself that they would make
good patches for the clothes they wore, but her little bag of scraps had
grown into a big bag of scraps, and when she'd read her mother's letter,
she'd understood why.
The nesting impulse had never been strong in Maggie. While
she'd often daydreamed about meeting someone kind and handsome,
and settling down in some nice house, she'd been aware that those were
no more than dreams. Finding Derek, falling in love with him, and
everything that had transpired around that love, these had been
accidents. She had accepted them with as much dignity as she could
muster, allowing her old daydreams to slip forever from her life
and be replaced with other dreams, of dark, cold chambers and a
lover who was not always kind and would never be handsome, but who
was gentle with her. The old dreams would not be silenced, though.
They touched at her mind, making her try to find some shape of them
in her so-different existence.
So she sat, in the weak light of a few kerosene lanterns (and
oh but how she was coming to hate the smell of kerosene with a
passion!) doing as she'd seen her mother do, and making a crazy
quilt for the child she carried.
The radio, the one expenditure of their stolen power that they
would not easily live without, drifted a popular song through the
room, and Maggie hummed along with it, neither knowing the lyrics
nor caring. 'Lilah was singing also, and as she didn't know the words
either, she made her own up. Maggie somehow doubted the phrase "I
want to hug Grover" had ever run through Ms. Etheridge's mind as
she'd recorded her latest cd, but then again ... The song ended.
The DJ's cheery voice said, "And now the news. Hello Dolly!
Scientists in Scotland announced today the first successful cloning
of a sheep. The new sheep, Dolly, is genetically identical to her
'mother,' another sheep named Molly ... "
The clones stood still like the statues they were by day, as Derek
appeared silhouetted in the doorway. He looked to her and said, "Elisa
told me Sevarius was in Scotland about a year ago."
"Sheep?" peeped Brent.
"Sheep," asserted Malibu. He turned to Hollywood and poked
him. "Baa."
"Baa," said Holly back at him.
"Baa," repeated Burbank.
In moments, the room was a chorus of bleats, drowning out the
radio. 'Lilah was in stitches on the floor. Even Derek was smiling, as
Claw joined him at doorway, mystified. Maggie giggled.
The DJ continued. Maggie barely heard him above the noise
from the kids, and shushed them as he said, "And continuing on the
'Better Living Through Science' thread, two police officers are
dead, one severely wounded ... "
"Turn that up!" snapped Derek, instantly back to business.
" ... prisoner transport from Arkham Asylum to Riker's Island
State Penitentiary was brutally attacked by former television star,
now cyborg and wanted fugitive Jackal. The transport was carrying
Jackal's sister, convicted felon Hyena, also a cyborg. Police have
issued a statement that Officer Renee Montoya is in stable condition
at an area hospital, but have declined to release any further details at
this time."
Derek winced.
"Do you know her?" Maggie ventured, unsure if she wanted the
answer.
"We went out a few times," he replied. "She's a good friend."
Claw patted his shoulder. Maggie slowly got to her feet, something
more difficult these days. The kids had quieted down, although they
looked to start laughing again at any time. They didn't understand, and
that was perhaps for the best right then.
"I'm sure she'll be fine."
"She's not the one I'm worried about. They didn't name the other two
cops." There was fear in his face, for Elisa, for Matt, for yet more of
the bad luck that followed him from place to place and life to life.
"Elisa's fine," she said to calm his fears. But she wasn't certain, and he
knew that, too.
"Ow," said Delilah. Maggie glanced back to the kids, who had
returned to their coloring.
"Banky, don't step on your sister's tail."
"Didn't step on tail," mumbled Burbank.
She turned her attention to Derek. "Do you want to risk going up top?"
The names of Xanatos and the Eyrie Building remained unsaid. There
were a lot of unpleasant memories still attached to both.
"Not unless we hear anything else. I wish I could go by the hospital."
"Ow," said Delilah. "I ... " she clenched her face. "I hurt." Her hands
moved to her tummy. "Ow," she repeated.
"Ah, damn," said Derek. "Claw, can you please go find Ruth?"
Claw nodded and disappeared.
Maggie got up from her chair, not an easy task these days, and
went to the clone. 'Lilah's face was pale and terrified.
"What is happening?" she asked.
"It's going to be all right. Derek, can you ... "
"I'll get the clan."
VVVVV
The mists cleared before her, revealing the mysterious Island. No one
awaited her on the shore, as Demona pulled her small boat aground.
Tendrils of magic sought her out, caressing her, seeking her potential,
then left her again. She shivered with anticipation.
Whatever happened now, she had to keep her story straight. The palace
wasn't immediately visible, but her feet began moving her in the
direction of a path through the dark woods.
VVVVV
Brooklyn and Bronx stayed behind to guard the castle while the
rest of them followed Derek by air, she safe in Goliath's arms.
Excitement buzzed among them, and hope of things finally coming to
the good. The first egg in a thousand years, she thought, as the
streets and then the trees went by below her feet. The survival of
the clan always rested on the next generation, which was about to
become a population of one.
They landed. Goliath let her down gently. How much it had
become a part of her, to be carried in his arms! Lexington hopped
to the ground, continued almost bouncing.
Broadway walked behind him more slowly. He appeared excited,
but at the same time, sad. Elisa touched his arm.
"Hey, big guy. Are you going to be okay?"
"This is a sacred time for the clan."
"That's not an answer."
He shrugged. She read a lot in his shrug. His missed his mate. In a
better world, she would have given birth to the first egg. In their world,
Angela was farther away than a dream, and the egg would be birthed by
a child. Sometimes it just wasn't fair.
"It is a sacred time," said Goliath. "The adults of the clan gather to
welcome the eggs into the clan."
"What's it gonna be like?" asked Lex, his eyes wide and eager.
Hudson laughed. "I near fergot. Your clutch was nae present
fer th' last kindlin'. The females gather in th' rookery wi' their mates."
"What if they don't have mates?" asked Elisa.
Goliath said, "Female Elders would stand beside those who had no
mate."
Female Elders ... "You mean their rookery mothers?"
He nodded and looked pleased.
They reached the chamber that the clones used as their playroom,
classroom, and bedroom. Delilah sat on a frayed blanket on the floor,
with Maggie beside her. Ruth, the midwife who'd been examining
Maggie during her own pregnancy, held a hand on 'Lilah's abdomen.
She looked up from her patient. "Get out."
Maggie got unsteadily to her feet. "Elisa, I'm glad you're here. Can the
rest of you please wait outside?"
"Why?" asked Lex blankly.
"Because we don't need any more spectators than necessary," said Ruth
shortly.
"We are not spectators," said Goliath.
"I don't care if you're the President. Unless one of you is the father,
leave." Delilah's face clenched in pain, and then released. Was she
okay? Was this part of it? She knew next to nothing about gargoyle
birthing methods, she realized.
"We are her clan."
"You could've fooled me," the midwife replied harshly. "You don't
come down to see the clones, and the lot of you avoid 'Lilah like she's
diseased. If you want her and the rest of them to be part of your clan,
fine. Treat them that way. But for now, she's been raised human, and
she's part human. She's going to have her egg the human way, and that
means you leave." Guilt flashed through the gargoyles' faces, and Elisa
felt it, too.
"We'll just be outside," she started.
"No," said Maggie and Goliath at the same time.
"You need to be here," said Maggie, as Goliath said, "We're staying."
Ruth glared at Goliath. "Over my dead body."
"Nae," said Hudson, "but mayhap over hers." Gently, he explained,
"She's gonna have an egg, no' a baby. There's a rhythm tae be made if
she's tae get th' egg pushed out."
Elisa tuned out the finer points of egg-laying versus live birthing. She
went to 'Lilah's side and knelt.
"How're you doing?"
"I hurt." Her eyes were filled with pain, and more. Elisa
understood. She still saw Thailog as her mate, and whatever
gargoyle instincts she had were screaming that he needed to be with
her here.
Elisa almost wished he were. There were few places she wanted
to be less than here. Give me guns, give me terrorists, give me gangs,
give me catfights with psychotic gods, but please, don't leave me alone
with a woman going through childbirth.
Mercifully, Maggie came back, and took her place beside Delilah,
stroking her soft white hair away from her face. "That's my good girl,"
she whispered. "You're doing just fine."
Rookery mothers stood beside those with no mate. Over the
past months, Maggie had been more of a mother to the clones than
Demona, or anyone. Her own baby was on the way in a month, maybe
less, but her first thoughts right now were for a gargoyle she'd known
only since September. That was what it meant to be part of a clan.
Whatever else she was to her, this girl was her rookery daughter. She
slipped her hand into 'Lilah's.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked. 'Lilah nodded.
She noticed peripherally that the argument had ended. The clan stayed,
but at a discrete distance. Ruth returned to them and placed her hand
over Delilah's abdomen. Elisa watched her as she pressed her fingers
against the lump, wondering suddenly what tragedy or series of
tragedies had brought her into the safety of the Labyrinth. She had the
body and attitude of someone who had borne many children, but as far
as she knew, no children lived with her now.
She frowned, then went to confer with Goliath and Hudson, the
only ones present who had a working knowledge of gargoyle laying
habits. Angela wouldn't have been any help, Elisa mused. The only
female gargoyles in the clan who'd laid eggs were Demona and
Coldfire, and neither were available.
She returned her attention to Delilah. "Is there anything you want,
sweetie?"
"Grover."
"She left him in my chamber," said Maggie. "I'll get him." Again, she
huffed to her feet. Elisa looked around for Derek, thinking he could
retrieve the purple Muppet, but he had disappeared.
'Lilah clenched again; Elisa felt her own hand bruise. She brushed at
her hair the way Maggie had done, not sure what else to do. What
would her own mother have done? She had no idea.
A memory from her childhood returned, a night's stay in the hospital for
the removal of her tonsils. Mom had by-passed the hospital staff and
stayed with her, sitting beside the bed, holding her hand and singing.
She'd been six, and frightened of this strange place. The only familiar
things had been her mother's voice, and the old, beloved tune.
'Lilah had said that she looked like her mothers.
"Have I ever told you that I'm very glad you were born?"
"Why?"
"Because I like you. You're ... you're very special to me, 'Lilah."
"Really?"
"Really."
She rested her head on Elisa's shoulder. "This is gonna hurt a lot more,
isn't it?"
"Probably. But we'll all be here with you." She was so young, so
innocent, for all she'd seen.
Elisa remembered well the words her mother had sung that dark
night, over and over. They were highly inappropriate for a gargoyle, or
maybe they fit especially well. In a low voice, she began to sing very
softly to her frightened child: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear,
how much I love you ... "
She continued to sing until Maggie finally came back with Delilah's
stuffed Grover. If the clan paid her any attention, she neither knew nor
cared.
"It's time," said Hudson, approaching them solemnly. "Who would ye
have with ye, lass?"
"Maggie n' Elisa." Great.
Delilah hugged Grover, then gave him to Elisa so they could both hold
on to him as they held hands.
Ruth settled to the ground before her. She'd handle the delivery.
Goliath moved to a place just behind them. The rest of the clan did the
same.
"Do ye remember the words?" asked Hudson.
"I remember," said Goliath. "Now is the time that we gather. we of the
clan. We come to this place ... "
VVVVV
Fox had sent Owen to pick up the Sloanes from La Guardia,
while she spent time in the nursery with the kids. Alexander had
discovered the joys of pulling himself from place to place. He
would hoist his little body up until she was certain he'd stand on
his own, then fall on his heavily-diapered bottom and giggle.
She'd spread out a cotton blanket in a sunny patch of light,
polarized by the window. Jasmine lay asleep on her stomach, head
turned to the side, one pink fist against her mouth. Alex had been
this small once.
Her son burbled. He'd rediscovered his gargoyle teddy, and
made noises at it as he pulled one wing back and forth. There was
a repetition to the tone; he was talking to hear himself talk, but
it sounded like a first attempt at singing.
"That's a pretty song," she said to him. He turned his head
to her, then returned his attention to the bear.
The baby hadn't moved in a while. She placed her hand on the
tiny back. Still breathing.
The first few days with Alexander, after her mother and
stepfather had left them for greener pastures, had been terrifying.
She'd checked his breathing every few minutes, made certain he had
a wedge to keep him from rolling onto his stomach because she'd
read somewhere that SIDS might be related to that sleeping
position. Between her checking and his discomfort, neither of them
had slept much for the first few weeks.
She watched him at play. He was fascinated by the world
around him. Everything deserved an inspection, from his toys to
the pattern on his blanket, to the new faces moving in and out of
his sight. His head, surely too big for his little body, swivelled
around eagerly for new images once the old had been thoroughly
digested. She quietly suspected he was a genius.
What would this new baby be like? Would she be curious and
bubbling with smiles like Alex? She'd slept through the night
before, had spent today sleeping. Who would she be when she woke
up? Had she somehow managed to escape the thousand different birth
defects Fox had tried not to imagine before her birth, or was there
some unseen threat lurking in her genetic code that would surface
in a year or in five? With the right environment, she could become
anything.
Alex pull-crawled to her. Fox didn't move, let him do it on
his own. Such a perfect little being, she thought, not for the
first time. Some of the best damned genes on the planet, full of
potential. He might someday be a king among men, even a god.
He looked up at her. "Maaaa," said Alex.
He'd been forming sounds for a while. He had yet to identify
them as anything. Yet he was on the floor in front of her, looking
right at her. Was it possible?
"Alex, can you say 'Mommy?'"
"Maaaa," he repeated, and grinned. The baby didn't stir.
"That's my sweetie," she said, picking him up. He cuddled
into her arms, rolled over and closed his eyes.
Someday he might be a king. Today, he was just her little boy.
There was a cough at the door. Damn, she thought. She
swivelled her head and placed a finger over her lips. Victoria
Sloane waited there, eyes darting around her, taking in the
spacious room, the thick pile of the carpet, the toys that she and
David had picked up at FAO Schwartz, finally the three of them on
the floor.
"Is that her?"
"It's her." Mrs. Sloane came over slowly, as if the walk
pained her. She got to her knees beside them and looked at her
granddaughter. "Does she have a name?"
"Jasmine. I've got her birth certificate."
"I'll need that." She touched the child's head. "She looks
all right. Is she healthy?"
"I had my personal physician check her out. She's just fine."
"Good." She continued stroking the baby's fine brown hair.
"She looks like Hannah."
"I thought so." Might as well ask now. "Did you hear the
news report?"
"I heard. I've heard them all, from the day they were
arrested for trying to kill your husband. They think Jack took her
out of state. The Feds came by to ask us if we'd seen them."
"Have you?"
"No."
The woman's disinterest shocked her. "They're your children.
Don't you care about them?"
"Of course I do!" she snapped. "I've always tried to do my
best by my kids. Everything I did was for their own good."
She remembered the dingy apartment, and a half-dozen
conversations with her former associates. "Yeah," she said.
"You have a right to talk." She indicated the Baby Disney
decorations, the designer baby clothes. "I had two kids by the
time I was nineteen, and had a bastard of a husband. I didn't have
anywhere else to go, so I took it. Then one night, he ... " She
swallowed. "Never mind. It's in the past now." Fox didn't press.
"I told him to get out. I was twenty-three, with two kids, no
diploma, and now no husband. My mom died, and I tried to keep
everything together but I couldn't. I gave my kids to the state
for a while. I figured I could get on my feet, go to night school,
and then get them back after a year or so. I didn't think they'd
be gone as long as they were.
"I came home from work one night, and found my kids sitting in
the hallway. They'd gotten themselves thrown out of another home
because my little girl was pregnant. I looked at her, and I saw
the last seventeen years of my life about to be repeated. The
money I'd been saving for college was going to pay for a baby who
would ruin Hannah's chance at a good life the same way they'd done
for me, and the best thing I could say about it was that she had
the sense not to marry the father."
"You said she didn't have another child."
"She had a miscarriage." Her mouth twisted in a familiar
manner. "Can you imagine how things would have been different if
I'd miscarried with Jack?"
No doubt the woman was thinking on the wasted years of her
life, but Fox heard Owen's voice, dispassionately reporting the
findings from Coyote 3.0's memory tapes, supplementing the news
from the Emir's last known location: a city in Egypt, gone; over
five thousand people wiped out with a thought. New York was in
shock that he'd killed two cops, but he'd done worse, much worse,
and they would never know.
"I can imagine."
"I might've had a real life. Now I have another baby to raise. Just
watch. She'll grow up exactly like her mother. She's two days old, and
I can already tell you what her life is going to be. Just like mine. Just
like Hannah's. Maybe I can keep this one out of jail. Is she ready to
go?"
"I suppose." She looked into the future this woman described,
saw the baby sleeping in the sunlight as a young woman, growing up
and growing hard. No. She would keep that from happening. There
would be visits, and trips. She'd show the kid there was more to
life than that. When the time came, she'd make sure there was an
opportunity for college. This child was going to have a chance.
Her thoughts strayed to a little boy she'd met not long before,
with the same brown hair and eyes. He'd have a chance, too.
She picked up Jasmine. The baby's eyes opened, looked around
fuzzily, settled on her, and closed again. "Here you go."
Mrs. Sloane stood and took her. Fox picked up Alex and led
the way to her office. There was paperwork to finalize. The only
comforting thought was that this had to be the right thing to do.
The child belonged with her family. All children did. Really.
VVVVV
Demona hovered at the edge of the orchard, her senses keen for
the sounds of gargoyle or fay. She'd been aware of their nearing
proximity, and was frankly surprised that she had not been accosted
yet with demands of who she was and what she wanted. She had her
story set, would stick to it as long as it took to see Angela. She
doubted she could get them both free afterwards, what with the
entire Fairy Court surrounding them, but perhaps she wouldn't need
to escape. As before, she would docilely be led to captivity, or
perhaps escorted off the Island. Angela would see her, would hear
the tale she'd concocted of betrayal, and surely then she would
want to leave Avalon, see for herself.
And when Demona had her alone, she would show her the true
evils humanity was capable of; not the petty trifles she'd shown
Brooklyn, but real horrors like Bosnia and the remains of Auswitz.
She smiled, then put on her most distraught face as she saw
two young males approaching. Centuries of self-preservation moved
her into the dappled shadows cast by the moon through the apple
trees. Her tail made a faint swish in the grass.
The taller male jerked, his overlarge and tapered ears tipping
towards her. She stopped dead in the darkness, waiting.
"What?" asked his companion, a handsome copperish boy. He
seemed more perplexed than worried.
"Didn't you hear that?" She could see him clearer now, a
gangly youth, forest green but for the ebony of his hair. He
blended with the trees as well as his friend stood out from them.
"Hear what?" The copper looked around them.
"I heard a noise. There's someone here with us."
"Probably all sorts of people. It's a free island. Hello!" he called
pleasantly. She refrained from responding. The copper turned back to
the green. "One of Oberon's, I'll bet, and I'll also wager whoever it is
doesn't want to be disturbed right now, if you take my meaning."
The other male wouldn't be appeased. "It didn't sound like
one of the fay. It sounded like ... " He paused, uncertain.
"Julius." There was a weary patience to the shorter male's voice.
"Remember when you thought you heard a dragon in Princess
Katharine's chambers?"
"That was different. If you'd heard that sound, you would have thought
so, too." He shuffled uncomfortably in remembrance.
"We'll leave you in peace!" called the copper male towards her
general direction, then grabbed his friend's arm. "Come on. We can
gather lunch from the far side of the orchard."
"I guess," said the other, less than happy. Julius, his friend had said.
"Sorry!" he threw at her, and let his friend lead him into the trees, and
beyond to darkness. When they were out of earshot, she let herself
breathe. It might have been easier to let them see her, tell them then.
No. She wanted to be as close to Angela as possible first.
Demona continued towards the palace, knowing without thought
that her daughter would be there.
The feeling of unease she had experienced since her arrival
only increased as she approached the massive edifice, impossibly
soft grasses stroking her feet and tail. There remained an acrid
tang of smoke and sharp ozone upon the fresh breeze, less a smell,
more a memory of a smell, of a battle fought on this previously
undefiled land. No, beyond the scent of battle, the tracest memory
of more arcane warfare also lingered here. The innocent grass had
known the tread of warriors, bloodthirsty soldiers for all that
they fought without touching their opponents. This land, this
place, had seen much of fighting, and ghosts of those wars
persisted, trapped like a mist in the clinging grasses.
Why can I sense this?
The gleeful other voice responded in her ears: You can sense
this because you caused it. Not all of it, but much. The blood of
wounded children is on your claws.
But I've never been here before.
The voice trembled inside her, as if aching to give a
response. It subsided without answering.
What had happened here? One battle was recent, one ages-old,
and a third still muttered its ripples although it had occurred in
time out of mind. Rebellion, she thought, someone had turned
against the ruler of the Island, and she shuddered the image away.
A face appeared in her mind, a human male, perhaps of fifty years,
with long, greying chestnut hair and clear blue eyes. He had a
sword, and he was using it to strike ... Macbeth?
She cleared her mind of this nonsense. She had never been
here before, and anything she picked up here was only a shadow of
what had happened long before her own time.
Sure it is, said the voice.
She hurried through the meadow to the palace gates.
In the twilight, before torches flared everything to a level
more amenable to seeing, the palace was filled with shapes that
shambled in and out of moonlight. She saw gargoyles among those
shapes, and her heart leapt. At the same time, she did not run to
them, knowing they would realize she was not of their own too soon.
Instead, she accosted a nearby pixie, darting by in her own
brightness on some errand. The little thing stood no more than six
inches in height, blonde hair piled at the top of her head adding
a half inch.
"Excuse me," said Demona in her most polite voice.
The pixie made a sound like little bells. Although she verbalized
nothing else, Demona heard a different voice in her mind. "Yes? What
is it?"
"I'm looking for Angela. Have you seen her?"
The pixie's face turned, more in annoyance than distaste, as
if to indicate it was not her responsibility to see which gargoyle
went where. "She's with the princess," came the tinkle in her
mind. She nodded towards a window overlooking the courtyard;
Demona knew which she meant instantly. The pixie no doubt was
saving herself from having to give directions.
"Thank you," she said, gritting her teeth against the sugar in her own
tone, and belatedly hoping the dim light would hide the obvious years
on her face, years unknown to the young gargoyles of this island.
The fay shrugged her tiny shoulders and tinkled again. "I know who
you are. You smell of the Three's magics." The thought was underlaid
with a sense of disinterest. For the first time in many years, Demona
was in the company of one who didn't see her as even a potential threat.
She briefly considered swatting the pixie to show she could, knowing it
would be useless.
"Wise girl," tinkled the pixie. "Maybe you'll grow up yet."
She zipped away on the night air. Demona watched her until her
little light was around a corner and gone.
The night was deepening. Soon there would be firelight, and
she would be seen. The window and the wall were both still in
shadows, and somewhat obscured by a large bush, heavy with roses.
She ducked behind the bush, and swatting away blooms, climbed the
wall behind it. Her exertions, silent as she could make them, bruised
the tender flowers and released their thick scent. Her stomach churned
with sweetness.
She heard voices from within, and paused, hidden, listening.
"Who are you?" It was a woman's voice, filled with time.
"It's Angela." Her heart twisted with the pain in the words,
picturing her daughter's face.
"Gargoyles don't have names. Except for Goliath, and he's dead."
"We all have names, now. You gave them to us." Gave them?
Then she was talking to one of the blasted humans who'd raised her.
"Don't be absurd." As if it had been yesterday, she saw a human girl
before her, snobbish and bigoted, put out by the presence of gargoyles
in her dining hall. That same spoiled little girl had raised Angela and
the rest. Raised her children.
"Angela. You were here yesterday."
"Yes!" her daughter said happily. "You remember."
"Of course I remember. I'm not stupid." I beg to differ, Demona
thought but did not say. "What happened? Why does my leg hurt?"
"You fell. You were walking down the stairs, and you tripped."
"Aye, that would explain it, then. Does the Magus think I broke it?"
He's dead, said the voice in her mind.
Of course he's dead. He died nine hundred years ago. But that
wasn't right. She remembered a hill, a stick-thin body collapsed on a
stone altar, the sound of a woman weeping.
What is happening to me?
You're remembering.
Remembering? What have I forgotten?
Everything.
"Xanatos' doctor said you had. That's why we brought you home."
"Angela, when did you get so tall? Wasn't it yesterday that you and the
others were climbing trees to get aloft?"
With her new-found memory, she tried to pull an image of her Angela
as a little girl, small and bright and full of life. There was nothing.
Of course not. You weren't there when she was young.
They stole my eggs!
You let them go. The voice added, And it was good that you
did. She's become a fine young woman. Watch her. Listen to her.
Demona climbed higher, peered in through the narrow window.
Her daughter stood next to a bed. The old human, whom she could
only assume was Katharine, sat and watched her in confusion.
"That was a while ago. We're all grown up now." She looked
up at the window. Demona held perfectly still in the shadows until
she looked back at Katharine again. "In fact, some of us are carrying
eggs of our own."
What! Her body went numb, and only by force of habit did
she maintain her hold on the wall. Egg? My child is pregnant?
You're going to be a grandmother.
"How did that happen?" asked Katharine. Angela blushed. "I
know about that part, child."
"I couldn't tell you before. I've taken a mate. Broadway."
"One of your rookery brothers?"
"No. He's from the clan that you knew when you were young. I love
him. I love him," she repeated.
Broadway. She would have thought Brooklyn, herself. Among
the Trio he was the most attractive. She pictured Broadway, large
and stupid and always hungry. How could her daughter love him,
unless she saw something more. Not for the first time, she regretted not
knowing the others better. Had she gotten to know them, she might
have been able to control them.
The woman sat up suddenly and tried to move. She cried out in
pain.
"You need to rest, my princess," said Angela, and tried to coax her back
against the pillow.
"I don't have time to rest. We have to gather the eggs and take them to
my uncle. Tell the Magus to ready a cart and horse. I don't want
anyone else near them."
This was new. The human surely knew the eggs had already
hatched. Didn't she?
"Princess," Angela said, "you took the eggs to safety. We
hatched on Avalon. Remember?"
Katharine looked at her daughter. "Who are you? I haven't seen you
around the castle."
Angela watched the woman on the verge of tears. She sat down
on a stool near the bed, her wings folded around her gracefully.
"Who are you?" she asked again.
"A friend," said Angela.
She's mad, thought Demona.
She's grown old, corrected the voice. You've seen senile humans
before.
Why does Angela stay? It's obvious the woman hasn't any idea
who she is.
Angela knows that. She doesn't care. Katharine is her
mother.
I'm her mother! I was the one who carried her egg. I gave
birth to her.
Katharine raised her. Katharine loved her. You left her and
the rest.
I had no choice!
I know that. You also cannot complain.
But I ...
But what?
She closed her eyes.
VVVVV
He was no longer their Leader, but the new Leader of the clan
was beside her, holding tightly to her hand. The other had
graciously agreed to say the words this last time, help bring in
the new members of their clan. He looked on it as an honor, an
honor freeing her love to be with her as she pushed their first
egg into the world.
"Now is the time that we gather, we of the clan." The elder's
rough voice filled the rookery. Demona allowed his words to
consume her, focused the muscles in her abdomen to follow his
cadences. "We come to this place where we were hatched, where our
rookery parents hatched, this safe place. Winter touches Spring,
becomes summer, slips into fall, and returns to itself. The sun
sets, we arise, we fly with the moon, and sleep again with the
dawn." The words dulled the pain, made it power.
Sweat rolled off her face, her arms. A wave of agony rippled
through her body; she forced it to work for her. Her knees ached
from squatting, another pain to focus into her exertions. She felt
a hand wiping her damp hair off her cheek, turned to see her love
watching her with awe and envy. He had helped her conceive the
mystery; only she and the other females around them could complete
it. Theirs was a sacred rite the males could but join in by proxy.
The mothers were the keepers of the bloodlines, the movers of the
worlds, as it had been in their clan since forever.
"Tonight we begin another circle. We that are here hatched
long ago. The shells that were our parents still crunch at our
feet, making a nest for our children. Tonight our children will be
born, as we are born each night. We will watch them in love when
they are eggs, teach them our ways when they are hatchlings, hold
them in friendship when they are grown, and bring them here when
their time has come to lay eggs of their own. Thus the world moves
on, as night follows day, as winter follows autumn, as death follows
birth and birth follows death. Thus closes the circle."
He paused. "Now is the time that we gather ... "
Her body was going to rip apart. She was going to die. She
threw back her head, pushing all her pain into one bright ball, and
forced the thing within her out of her body with a scream.
Her love let loose of her hand, and cradling that hand beneath
his arm, used his free hand to coax loose the egg, remained holding
it as she spasmed twice more in after-quake.
The sudden absence of pain came like an unexpected rainstorm.
She barely felt the continued ache of flesh stretched and swollen, as she
fell from her knees to her side and lay still. Her love held the delicate
egg in his large hands, and showed it to her. She reached out, felt the
leathery softness of yielding shell. By morning, it would solidify, and
begin the long process of maturation. Ten years from now, the clan's
eggs would hatch.
"Thus closes the circle," intoned the elder, as the last of her rookery
sisters pushed out an egg.
Her love's face had retained the same look of wonder, had gained more
if that were possible. He was their Leader now, was supposed to be
strong and wise. For this moment, he was a hatchling who had seen the
face of the Goddess as she'd given birth to the World-Egg again through
her.
"My Angel," he choked out, still staring at their egg.
"The kindling is complete," said the elder, and she noticed that he also
wore the look of magic. "We welcome these eggs to the clan, our sons
and daughters to be. May they grow in safety. May they grow in joy."
VVVVV
Demona risked another peek at Angela. She remained on her
stool beside Katharine's bed, unaware that she was being watched
from a few feet away. She's beautiful, thought Demona.
Aye, agreed the voice. She's got the best parts of both of
you.
I need to protect her. She deserves so much more.
Than happiness? Look at her.
I am looking at her.
Look closely.
Demona did. Beyond the apparent sadness at the condition of the
woman before her, an emotion played on Angela's face that Demona
knew only from memory. On Avalon, she had grown in safety. In
Manhattan, she had grown in joy. She was in love, with Broadway of
all gargoyles. She carried his child; the glow of that shone on her face
now that Demona knew for what she looked. She was strong, and wise,
and graceful. And happy.
If you go to her now, you will steal away her happiness. You will be
responsible for her pain.
I would never hurt her. I love her!
Do you?
"Yes," she said aloud. Angela's head turned, but she did not see her.
Then do something about it. The voice left her again.
Angela was with the only mother she'd ever known, and when
that woman died, she would mourn, far more than she probably would
were Demona herself to die. In a short time, Angela would push her
own egg into the world, and ten years after that, she would hold
her child in her arms. All the clan would. Did Demona have the
right to take away that joy by interfering? Angela was her egg,
her only egg. But her egg had hatched and grown without her.
Demona watched her daughter, inscribing every detail of her
face to memory, taking note of each muscle's movement beneath her
skin, each expression of mouth and eye, the gentle shape of her
neck and shoulders, even the texture of her wings.
I did that, she thought with pride. She spared a glance to the old
woman. And so did you, I suppose. She hadn't the strength to hate
Katharine anymore, not if Angela insisted on loving her. Simple
contempt was easy enough, and could remain.
Again, she focused on her daughter, wishing she could scoop her up,
place her back inside her egg, and begin again; barring that, she wished
she could enfold her child in her arms, feel her soft hair, tell her a
thousand years' worth of stories, never let her go.
Neither option was possible.
"I love you," Demona said in the softest voice she dared.
Angela's head did not move this time. If she'd heard anything
at all, she probably thought it the wind, nothing more.
Silent as the moon, she climbed down the wall. The darkness
was full on them, and had been appropriately driven back with fire.
The fay were gathering in the courtyard, bringing pipes and drums
and harps. There would be fairy music, as Oberon's Children
celebrated the restoration of their family.
Demona didn't feel like attending any more parties. She slipped around
the perimeter of the courtyard, keeping an eye open for the Three and
Oberon's annoying little servant. If they found her there, they could
bind her.
She stepped through the gates of the palace, and breathed a
sigh of relief. Without looking back inside, towards the window,
towards her child, she walked purposefully away and towards the
shore. Only when she stepped on the sand did she realize she had
no idea where to go next.
Back to New York? To Paris? To Scotland?
Just away, said the voice, and she agreed.
VVVVV
"Our charge is getting away!" Selene snarled at the mirror.
It was not their mother's mirror, but their own, which meant no
traveling to capture the retreating gargoyle.
"Peace, sister," said Phoebe. "We have no need of her now."
"We could use her. If we enchanted her, she could eliminate
the Puck."
"We dare not," Phoebe responded. "They know what we have
done. Our little sister could bring the matter to the Queen."
"But the Puck ... "
"Will be taken care of," said Luna. "He will break his
banishment to seek us, and then Oberon will deal with him."
"What if our Lord allows him to speak?"
Phoebe added, "Oberon always did favor Puck."
"He is still angry with him. And if he does allow the brat to
speak, we will also speak. Let the Puck come." Luna smiled into
the mirror, her beautiful, cold face superimposing over the
miniaturized image of Demona in her fingernail of a ship, drifting
out to sea.
VVVVV