VVVVV
Consequences Part Four: Fire and the Night (1/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2001, 2005
PG
VVVVV
My eternal thanks goes to Constance Cochran and Nicole Mason, for some
of the best and most constructive beta reading I've ever had. Thank you
guys, for everything.
Suggested reading: all of the "Consequences" series, and Nancy Brown's
"Hysteresis"
Most characters belong to Walt Disney/Buena Vista, to Greg Weisman,
Frank Paur and sundry members of the "Gargoyles" production team, or to
Ron Koslow/Republic Pictures. No infringement on their property is
intended or should be inferred. Anybody in this story who doesn't belong
to anyone else belongs to me, but probably can be hired out for birthday
parties and bar/bat mitzvahs.
The excerpt is from Guy Wetmore Carryl's "How Jack Found That Beans
May Go Back on a Chap."
VVVVV
Prelude
VVVVV
Pain.
He could not remember when he'd been in such impossible agony ---
neither ache nor soreness nor the knifing pain of a blow or blast, but the
unbelievable, inescapable torment of a body broken beyond its capacity to
stay sane. He felt the sharp ends of what had been his bones, poking
through seared skin like a mad seamstress' pincushion. Blood filled his
mouth, coppery and salty, his own life escaping into the thirsty ground.
With a herculean effort, he moved his left index finger. He moved it
again.
I'm going to live, he thought. I'm going to live I'm going to live
I'm going to live if it kills me. The ludicrous thought made him laugh,
but the only sound that came was a kind of wet cough.
He moved his thumb. Dimly, he was aware that night was about to
end, that a new day would start and he was going to live to see it.
There was a grinding in his chest, and in absent analysis he knew he'd
punctured at least one lung. No matter. He was going to live, by force
of will alone if necessary.
And they were going to pay.
VVVVV
December, 1997
VVVVV
"The Moral is that gardeners pine ... "
He glanced up to see his pupil's attention was not on the poem but on
Detective Maza. She had found a comfortable perch, and was reading a
paperback novel by the unseasonably warm rays of afternoon sunlight
streaming over the tower. Alexander appeared to be fascinated by the
scantily clad man and woman on the cover of her book.
Owen cleared his throat. Alexander's wide blue-green eyes turned
back to him, but he continued to fidget as Owen finished the poem:
"The Moral is that gardeners pine
Whene'er no pods adorn the vine.
Of all sad words experience gleans
The saddest are: 'It might have beans.'
(I did not make this up myself:
'Twas in a book upon my shelf.
It's witty, but I don't deny
It's rather Whittier than I!)"
He allowed himself a half-smile, noted Alexander's complete lack of
attention, and sighed.
"When you're about twenty, you'll find that quite amusing."
"'Kay. 'Nother cracker?"
"What do we say?"
"Peas." As Owen handed him a saltine, the roof speaker buzzed.
Someone was calling the residence line.
He stood, dusted cracker crumbs from his suit, and looked at
Alexander. The child was happily licking his cracker into a soggy mess,
and looked to be staying put for a few minutes. Besides, Detective Maza
was less than fifteen feet away.
The speaker buzzed again, and he hurried downstairs to answer it.
"Yes?"
"It's Vogel." Owen relaxed. "Mr. Renard is in the hospital again. I
thought Mrs. Xanatos should be informed."
"Is it serious?"
"No more than usual. Dr. Tribbut would like to keep him for
observation. He does not see a need for Dr. Howard to be consulted."
Owen paused. He had privately disagreed with the decision to bring
the Xanatos' personal physician onto Renard's case, an opinion he kept to
himself. "I will inform Mrs. Xanatos when she returns."
"Thank you." Owen clicked the phone down, then lifted it again and
dialed Fox's cellular. She could drop by to visit on her way home from
shopping.
VVVVV
Elisa closed her book and yawned. Sunset would be in just a few
minutes, and she needed to stretch. She stood, cracked her wrists and
ankles, then strolled over to the ledge and looked downwards. Rush hour
traffic crawled along below her, but from this height, she could not hear
the horns, the shouts. Everything below her was a gently moving stream,
and she smiled at the peace.
Something tickled at the back of her mind. Things were too quiet.
She turned around, frowning, and saw the empty blanket spread out over a
grassy spot. Owen had been reading to Alex earlier, had gone downstairs
to answer the phone. Had he taken the kid?
"Alex?" she called, not loudly, walking toward the blanket. Crumbs
covered much of it, and she noticed a half-eaten cracker in the brown
grass.
"Hey kid. Alex. Are you up here?" She heard a giggle from the
direction of certain statuary, and her stomach clenched as she looked.
Alexander was fine, by very strict definitions of the word "fine." He
sat suspended in midair, floating over Lexington's frozen head and poking
Lex's nose.
Elisa had just enough time to recall something about "equal and
opposite reactions" as the force of the poke gently pushed Alex over the
edge of the tower. He laughed again, unmindful of being more than one
hundred storeys above street level.
She swallowed, and approached Alex and Lex as slowly as she dared.
She'd seen enough of his training sessions to know that if he broke his
concentration, he'd be a grease spot. Shouting for Owen could be enough.
Distracting him could be enough. Silently, she damned herself for not
paying better attention to what had been going on around her, damned
Puck for teaching the kid how to levitate as soon as he could walk.
She reached the ledge a few feet from where Alex floated, and sidled
closer to him, making no sudden moves. He turned his head toward her
and smiled. "Hi 'Lisa!"
"Hi Alex. Will you come over here, please?"
"No." He reached out and poked Lex again, drifting further away from
the castle.
"Alex, please come over here."
"No."
Sunset was still a few minutes away. When it came, Lex's awakening
could be enough to kill Alexander.
Elisa stepped lightly onto the ledge and moved beside Lex. Alex was
now three feet away from the edge, and not at all interested in coming
back.
She got to her knees, crouching much as Brooklyn did not far from
where she waited. She bit her lip, and hooked her ankles around Lex's
legs.
Elisa really really hoped this would work.
"Alex, do you want a cracker?"
"Cracker!" said Alex, and he started to drop. Elisa pounced, grabbing
Alexander roughly around the waist and falling hard against the side of the
castle. Her legs protested as they took the unexpected force on her ankles
and lower shins. For a heart-stopping second, Elisa feared she'd slip, or
that the force would be enough to break Lex's legs.
Alex started to cry. Elisa, head filling with blood from being upside-
down, felt like joining him. She had the kid, with no idea of how to get
back up, and when Lex awoke, they were certain to fall.
"Just great ... " She heard an intake of breath, and a sound she could
only describe as a sparkle, before feeling herself suddenly untangled from
Lex's legs. She held tight to Alex as she levitated up and was gently set
down, safe on the castle's stones.
Puck floated before her, pale face even whiter than usual.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, before realizing he'd not been talking to her. He
plucked Alex from her arms, and touched a scrape on the child's cheek.
"Ow," said Alex. "Cracker?"
"Yes, you can have a cracker," said Puck, drifting himself and child
over to where the box still lay on the blanket. Elisa sat down on the wall
as her knees turned to jelly. Had she just been hanging over the edge?
Again?
Puck poked and prodded his protege until he was satisfied nothing had
been broken, then, Alex still safely in his grasp, came back over to her.
"Detective? Were you injured?" The fear had left his voice, but the
playfulness had yet to return.
She waved him off. "I'm fine." She rubbed her calves
experimentally. "Yeah, just fine."
"I don't know how to thank you," he said.
She shrugged. "How about keeping a better eye on him the next time?
We are a little high up from the sidewalk."
"I shall."
An awkward moment passed, filled only with the sound of chewing.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine. Really. Shouldn't you be ... um ... someone else now that
everything's okay?"
He shrugged and shivered into the form she knew better. Alex
laughed, as he often did when his Uncle did his trick. Owen looked about
to ask her something, probably again with her health, when the sun edged
under the skyline.
The night filled with cracking and popping, and Elisa went to greet the
being she loved more than any other in the world.
VVVVV
Owen placed Alexander in his crib. The boy stirred in his sleep, then
rolled onto his side. Owen drew the blanket over him and brushed his
bandaged cheek softly. It was barely damaged; Dr. Howard had placed a
bit of Neosporin on a Band-Aid and glared at Owen for not doing this
himself. He had not mentioned to her the circumstances surrounding the
injury. Alex's training provided a perpetual schedule of bumps and
bruises.
He'd slipped up.
He had assumed his charge would be fine, when he'd known in his
heart that the last place a young child should be was a rooftop. Certainly
the detective had been close by, but Alexander had not been her
responsibility, and he had not asked her to watch him.
Another minute, and both would have died, and it would have been his
fault.
Had the detective not been there at all, Alexander assuredly would
have fallen. His concentration was simply not good enough to maintain
levitation over long distances. Would he, Puck, have been able to
determine the child's position in sufficient time to rescue him? It was not
a question he wanted to consider, but it plagued him nonetheless. If the
boy died, his own life would shortly be forfeit.
Like it or not, Detective Maza had saved the child's life, and in
extension, his own.
He watched Alexander sleep. "What are we to do about that, my dear
boy? What are we to do?"
VVVVV
Interlude
VVVVV
They knew of beginnings and endings. Creatures in the stream existed,
and ceased to exist. They knew their own beginning, recalled with
something not quite memory the feel of the Maker's hand, as he wrought
them from iron and gold and borrowed magics, and presented them to the
Lord of the Isle. They had seen the Maker's beginning, and his end, and
with that which could not be grief, they mourned his ephemeral existence.
Although they had not seen their own ending, they knew it must surely
come to pass. They had known what creatures in the stream called gods,
but they themselves were not such a thing. They knew themselves to be
something ... different.
Through countless eons, they moved and watched, traveling with this
master and that, never interfering, always observing. They spent a
thousand years, less than a heartbeat of their existence, broken in two equal
pieces, one learning, the other sleeping and waiting for the inevitable
joining.
They were very good at waiting.
And then they knew. They saw him at a distance at first, one of many
creatures, no greater or lesser than all the rest. As they traveled, they
encountered him again and again.
Observing was useful to a point. They could not act, even when they knew
a tiny push in another direction could change the balance towards what
they thought of as the good. They needed hands, and a voice, and they
knew the face of the one who would be so.
It was not in their experience to be surprised, so when they found
themselves suddenly tossed free into the stream without a master, without
a guiding mind, they merely floated, and waited for the time to be right.
They knew all about the right time.
VVVVV
Fox let herself into her father's room at Manhattan Presbyterian. No
guard, she noticed, and made a note to have someone sent. Her father was
an important man, even more so because of his relationship with her and
her family. Anything could happen.
"Hello, Daddy," she said, slipping into a chair beside him.
"Janine." He continued looking over the papers in his hand for a
moment, then removed his reading glasses. "As you can see, I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You fainted again."
"And I was fine. Len's just using this for an excuse to give me a
physical before Christmas."
"I don't want Len on your case anymore."
Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've had this
conversation. I like him. I trust him. He doesn't lie to me."
"Dr. Howard doesn't lie to you either. And she's more up to date on
possible treatments for your condition. I'll be sending her over tomorrow."
"I don't want her here."
"Daddy, it's like this. I want the same thing you want. I want you to
be better. I want you to be able to play with Alex's children."
"That's not going to happen."
Fox drew back. "I'll make it happen." But she knew. She
remembered the last conversation they'd both had with Len Tribbut. No,
he wouldn't lie to her father. He'd told him plainly that there was no way
to know the future. Renard could live another twenty years like this,
always weak, deteriorating at a faster or slower rate depending on how
much stress he allowed into his life. He could have a sudden attack and be
dead in a week. No test or treatment could determine or truly affect that
outcome.
Fox didn't like that answer. In her experience, there was no problem
that could not be solved if one threw sufficient time, interest and money at
the solution.
Instead of thinking about it, she opened the bag she had brought in
with her; most of the shopping was back in the limo. "I found this for
Alex today," she said, pulling out a royal blue bunny with a navy-colored
ruff ringing its plush throat. "I couldn't resist. I know we've got more
than enough toys for under the tree this year ... "
"You're spoiling him."
"I'm not. I'm making sure he never has to ask for anything."
"I repeat." He looked down into the bag. "What's the pink thing?"
"Oh." She pulled out a matching pink bunny. "I picked one up for
Jasmine, too. I shipped her presents yesterday, so I'll save this for her
birthday." And if she'd gone a teensy bit overboard on the other child as
well as her own, that was her business.
"Alexander doesn't need so many toys. I've seen his playroom. He
won't have room to walk. Or float. Or whatever the hell Owen is teaching
him."
"We've already arranged to give most of his old toys away to kids who
need them, and everything I've got downstairs is going to the shelters we
sponsor. You need to have a little faith in me now and then."
He looked at her, in what she hoped was a new way. "Maybe," he
said, after a while. "Maybe I do."
VVVVV
Elisa rapped softly on the frame of the broken doorway. Maggie
looked up from her rocking chair, the one they'd scavenged a year ago, and
nodded. Elisa came into the chamber, and watched entranced as her
nephew finished his supper.
"I'll burp him," she offered. Maggie handed her the baby and a spit
rag. Elisa placed rag and child on her shoulder and patted his back as she
swayed from side to side. Maggie sat back in her chair.
"That's the most he's eaten in a while," she said, fastening her shirt.
"What a good boy," said Elisa, and kissed the back of his head. A tiny
belch came in response. "And again a good boy." She turned him around
and settled him into her arms, where he almost instantly fell asleep.
"I brought the toys. You sure you have wrapping paper?"
"Plenty. We've been scavenging newspapers for months. I'll have the
kids do the wrapping. Thank you, again, for doing this."
"Hey, it's no problem. Just don't tell Derek where half of them came
from."
"Agreed." Elisa, with input from her mother, had bought the presents
that would go to the clones and to Daniel, would wrap them and bring
them herself. But there were dozens of children in the Labyrinth, children
whose parents didn't give a damn about Xanatos and wouldn't care who
had donated toys. Derek would care, and truth be told, Elisa herself cared,
and so the gifts for their family would be separate. It was a way of keeping
score.
"Where are the kids?" asked Elisa.
"Brent's off playing with some of the children." She saw Elisa's look.
"They've gotten much better around him. Most of them have known the
kids over a year, and some can't remember life before them. Boo and
Banky are off patrolling with Derek. He thinks he might allow them out
on their own after the turn of the year."
"Good for them." Malibu had been emulating Derek more and more
in recent months. Elisa thought it was sweet, and heartening. She was
surprised to hear that Burbank was doing the same, but she was pleased
nonetheless.
The baby made a noise, and his breath came in tiny gasps. "Maggie ...
"
Maggie plucked him from Elisa's arms and slapped him once, hard,
flat against the back between his tiny wings. He shuddered, then settled
into a more normal breathing pattern.
"Maggie?"
"He'll be fine, now. It's been working fairly well. Just got to, you
know, jump start his lungs now and then."
Not for the first time, Elisa noticed the darkness under Maggie's eyes.
Daniel slept in the same room with his parents; over the months this had
happened uncounted times. His breath would come in spurts, or not at all,
and they'd have to be awake enough to hear him, and to bring him back.
Elisa pushed the tears away. No good to be crying in front of the
baby's mother, who deserved the opportunity to cry so much more than
Elisa did. Daniel was so small for his nine months, wee leonine face
scrunched in what she could only assume was pain, and he was so very
weak.
"Hey baby," she said to him, touching him under the chin. "Hey, baby
boy." He didn't stir.
"He'll be fine," said Maggie again. Whether or not she believed it,
Elisa did not dare ask. Instead, she spent a long moment watching her
nephew sleep.
He favored his mother, which was to say he looked like a very little
lion with tawny hair surrounding his face in a gilded mane. Like his
parents, his skin was covered by a fine pelt of velvety hair, midway in
depth between Maggie's amber and Derek's midnight brown. The small
wings, for the accommodation of which all his baby clothes had been
altered to have flaps in the back, were slightly darker than the rest of him,
and covered in the same fine fur over their leathery thinness. His eyes
were slitted, and surrounded by irises the color of the sea. Tiny claws
tipped his fingers, and once, when he'd thrown a rare temper tantrum, he'd
given Derek a bad shock, literally.
"Hi, Elisa!" 'Lilah, Holly and Claw came into the room. Claw
waved, then made a series of abbreviated signs she didn't recognize. Holly
laughed and 'Lilah beamed in mirth.
"What was that?"
"Claw says your nose is so red you could be Santa Claus," said Holly.
"Thanks, Claw," said Elisa, and the Mutate grinned toothily at her.
"Can I hold him?" asked 'Lilah, as she usually did.
"Okay, but be careful," cautioned Maggie, as she also usually did. She
handed her son to 'Lilah, and then stood, stretching her back and wings.
Daniel had been born a month after 'Lilah's egg. Whether or not the
egg would ever hatch was not something they wanted to consider. Delilah
seemed convinced that it would, and in the meantime, she wanted to spend
lots of time with Daniel to practice for when her baby hatched.
"I'm going to go with Elisa for a few minutes," said Maggie. "Call me
if anything happens."
"Okay." The clones went back to playing with the baby.
"C'mon, Claw," said Elisa. "You can help us carry things." Claw
shrugged and followed them.
"You've been leaving her alone with Daniel?" asked Elisa when they
were out of earshot.
"Somewhat. She's been very good with him, and she deserves some
responsibility. Two more women are expecting next year. We're setting
up a nursery in the upper level, and I think 'Lilah should help out in it."
Claw signed an "h" over his belly. Maggie nodded. "Holly, too. He's
very good around the younger children."
"Our kids are growing up fast."
Something passed over Maggie's face and was gone, and Elisa
regretting saying it. Not all of the kids would grow up. In silence, they
went to get the toys.
VVVVV
"Ah ha! Found you," Elisa said, scooping her book from the ground.
A night out in the air had not apparently damaged the cheap cover, for
which Elisa was grateful. Beth would have killed her. Elisa flipped
through the pages; none were more dog-eared than when her sister had first
handed it to her at Thanksgiving and said, "You've got to read this."
She gave an affectionate glance to Goliath, caught in a menacing snarl
for the day. "Wonder who's in trouble this time?"
There was a noise behind her, a soft clearing of throat that would not
deign to be something so crass as a cough. She cocked her head at Owen.
"Yeah?"
"Detective." He looked uncomfortable, like something had flown into
his boxers. She entertained herself with that thought for a moment. "I
must speak with you."
"If it's about my car, I'm only there for a minute."
His glasses flashed. "I am not referring to your parking place." The
discomfort remained, and Elisa started feeling itchy in her spine.
"I need to go." She exaggerated a yawn.
"You saved the child, when I put him into danger." The words were
quiet, clear in the cold air.
She shrugged. "Part of the job. Don't worry about it."
"I have to worry. I dislike owing debts."
"Then don't," she said flatly, getting annoyed. She never could
understand fay codes and laws, and she was too tired to find out now. "It's
fine."
"There must be some item or doing you want." Another tone entered
his voice, not quite wheedling, not quite coaxing. "Come now, Detective,
you can think of something. Riches? Long life? Wings and a tail?"
Her memory prodded her, muttering of a night when she glided high
above the city on wings of her very own, Goliath at her side. Then she
thought of Derek, gliding on wings he could not lose. Owen had helped
Xanatos deceive her brother into his transformation, and she knew from
experience the usual outcome of the Puck's "gifts."
"No thanks," she said. "I don't need any favors from you. I need to
go." She turned away from him, and hurried down the stairs.
VVVVV
Gwen Howard was having a good day. It had been unseasonably
warm this morning, and she'd walked to the hospital without her jacket.
She'd checked in with the nurses coming off the night shift to see how her
patient was faring. His blood pressure was finally coming back to normal,
and he'd asked for solid food. The steak was out of the question, but she
made a note that he could have a small amount of chicken and potatoes at
lunch.
While his daily visitor was with him, she'd gone to L&D for a quick
hello; Gwen had interned at Manhattan Pres and still had many friends on
the staff.
Mr. Vogel left before morning Visitor's Hours were finished,
presumably to do whatever he and her patient had decided would best
benefit the company today. Gwen watched him go with a slight frown.
She was certain her patient would be healthier and suffer fewer attacks
from his disease if he'd slow down and not worry quite so much about
Cyberbiotics every waking minute.
She went in to check on her patient. "How are we feeling?" she asked
as she took his wrist. He hated the heart monitor, and refused to allow it
so long as he was conscious.
"We're fine. Shouldn't you be back at the castle making sure my
grandson doesn't catch the measles?"
"Alexander is current on all his shots. I have time to spend here with
you."
"Great for me."
"I've scheduled an MRI for tomorrow morning."
"I've had three MRI's. I don't need another one."
"You haven't had one in the past six months. I'd like to see if we can
see a change from the last time and perhaps explain why the frequency of
your blackouts has increased."
He mumbled something that she chose not to catch as she left the
room.
A woman waited outside, sitting on the chair normally occupied by the
security guard Mrs. Xanatos had posted there. As Gwen stepped into the
corridor, she stood and went to enter Mr. Renard's room.
"Excuse me, you can't go in there." Where was Harvey?
The woman narrowed her blue-green eyes, and something clicked in
Gwen's mind, flashing on a picture Mrs. Xanatos had shown her
accompanied by a gift and very specific instructions.
The picture had been of a woman with long auburn hair, eyes like the
ocean, and a slight smile. The woman before her had dropped the smile,
but the eyes were the same.
Gwen shoved her hand into her pant pocket and pulled out her
keyring: car key, apartment key, master key to the medical wing of the
Eyrie Building, mace, and a petite but sharp knife of pure iron bound in a
stylish black leather sheath. She whipped off the sheath and held the blade
threateningly in front of her, oblivious to the jingle of the keys against the
mace.
"You stay away from him," Gwen ordered.
Her heart raced. Gwen could still remember the stories her
grandmother had told her about the Old Country, about the elves, the
pixies, and the fairies, about puccas who drew travelers astray, and the
little men who crept outside at night, doing mischiefs. Gwen even knew
that not all the denizens of Castle Wyvern were human, including the ones
who looked it. She wasn't sure exactly what manner of creature stood
before her Mrs. Xanatos had been a bit unsure herself on the point
but she would be damned if it got past her to work evil on her patient.
The woman looked down at the knife. Gwen's eyes followed her
gaze. It was such a small thing, barely three inches long.
Leave a bowl of cream outside, said her grandmother's voice in her
head unhelpfully. Gwen doubted the woman would go away if offered a
bowl of anything.
"It's iron," said Gwen. "Now leave quietly and I won't shout for
help."
"I wonder," said Anastasia Renard, "What did she tell you about
me? We haven't talked in a while."
"She told me what you are."
"She doesn't know what I am. And you," she said, reaching out with
deft fingers and taking Gwen's wrist. Her hand went numb and she
dropped the knife. Without meaning to, without wanting to, she sat down
in Harvey's chair as the woman's other hand touched to her forehead like a
cat's kiss. "You won't even know I was here."
Gwen's eyes drifted closed.
In her dream, a great black horse stamped a foot impatiently until she
hoisted herself to its back. Obsidian hooves struck the earth, casting
sparks behind them. Her fingers entwined in its coarse mane as they raced
headlong through midnight and misty moors.
VVVVV
Preston had tweaked the blinds in his room so that if he strained his
head just so, he could see the top of the building across the street from the
hospital. No trees, no skyscrapers, just a view of sterile brick and concrete
occasionally interrupted by a pigeon, perching to check out the world
below. At least it was something to look at besides the paperwork.
The door to his room creaked. Renard scowled. It was bad enough
that his own doctor had been supplanted by Janine's medical spy, but the
woman insisted on bothering him constantly, shooing Preston away when
he needed most to be conferring with the boy, and making Renard feel far
older than he was.
"If this is about another damned test," he growled, turning his head
reluctantly.
"No tests," said the voice that wasn't his doctor.
In the space of a second, his mind filled with things to say:
You always were a test.
Can't you stay gone?
What the hell do you want?
I love you.
He opened his mouth and managed a half-hearted "Urk."
She smiled, and came to his bedside. He shrank against the other side,
knowing the fool he must look for cowering from his ex-wife.
"Get away from me," he spat, breath coming rapidly.
She stopped, hurt, and took a pace back. "I'd hoped you might start
with 'Hello.'"
Alert. He could. Alert the staff. Yes. He fumbled for the call button.
"Halcyon, please don't."
He got his thumb onto the button and pressed, hard. "Get out."
She folded her arms. "Do we really need to go through this?"
"You tried to take him away. That blue bastard you married tried to
kill me, kill all of us, and you didn't raise a finger to stop him."
The door opened again, and two nurses rushed into the room. "What's
wrong, Mr. Renard?" asked the first, ignoring Anastasia and coming to
him to take his pulse.
"Get her out of here," he said between clenched teeth. The first nurse
turned to her companion.
"We're here to help you, Mr. Renard," said the other nurse.
"Jenn, step outside," said the nurse at his side. "Send in Carol." The
second nurse left the room. Anastasia stood quietly, a smile at her lips.
And he knew.
He pulled his arm away from the nurse. "Never mind. I'm fine.
Thought I saw something." He waved her away.
"Your pulse is racing and you're obviously agitated. You're not fine."
"I will be." He gave her a fake smile. "Sorry for troubling you, dear."
"Mr. Renard ... "
"And it's 'Doctor.' Please. I'll be all right. Just need some sleep."
She pursed her lips. "I'd like to get Dr. Howard."
"That would be fine." The nurse left the room, but left the door ajar.
Anastasia remained where she stood, but tapped the door closed again.
"Tell me," he said, "Was there any time during our marriage when you
made yourself invisible that I should know about?"
"There were times," she admitted. "It was easier to get work done in
the lab when I wasn't there to be asked questions."
"Ask me how much I hate you."
"You don't."
"No. I don't. I should. But I don't."
"We should talk."
"I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to think about you. You lied
to me, and you betrayed me, and you tried to steal away the one thing, the
one thing, that proved our life together wasn't a complete waste."
"Ah," she said, and sat in the green plastic chair the hospital provided
for visitors.
"That's all you can say?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"An apology would be a good start."
"No."
He let out a disgusted breath. "That figures."
"I won't apologize for being what I am. I can't change that."
"You lied to me for over thirty years."
"What did you expect me to do?" Annoyance crept into her voice, and
silently, he cheered. Even during their time together, he could rarely get a
rise out of her. "Come to my interview and say, 'Hi, I'm the Queen of the
Fairies, give me a job?'"
"You could have told me," he insisted.
"No, I couldn't have. I couldn't tell you when I met you, because we
don't tell people. Others have tried, and died for it. And after, what was I
going to say? That I'd been lying to you since we met? That I wasn't even
the same species as you? That I couldn't tell you for certain what species
our child was?"
"Do you think that would have mattered to me?"
"Apparently it does."
He slumped back onto his pillows, angry. "It would have been
different if you'd told me yourself."
"I never would have," she replied. "And you never would have
known, and you would have been happier never knowing."
"But Big Blue blew your cover."
She shrugged. "I suspected he would, as soon as I knew he would call
for the Gathering. These things have a way of happening."
"You could have stayed with him, on that island." He paused.
"L'Isle. You know, I never even noticed?"
A grin came and went. "We have a weakness for puns."
"Weakness is a good word for it. But you could have stayed there, not
come back. He wouldn't have found out about Janine or Alexander."
"Except of course when he came looking for the Puck."
"Who also should have been high-tailing it to Avalon."
"Do you honestly think either of us would have missed Alexander's
birth for the world?"
"If it would have kept him safe, you both should have."
"Oberon would have met him during his life no matter what we did. I
am certain. And instead of being a weak quarterling with barely a grasp of
the simplest magics, he will grow to be a powerful sorcerer with a chance
... " She broke off, found something interesting to watch on his bedspread.
"A chance to what?" She was old, she was young, she was as
changeable as the seas in her eyes, but she had also been his wife and he
knew the movements of her face when she was holding something inside.
"Is our grandson going to fight Oberon?" The air left his lungs.
"Perhaps. If so, not for a very long time, long enough for Puck to train
the boy and for me to change Oberon's mind."
"You have to tell them." Already, his mind raced with images. Alex
would have to be trained ceaselessly in things he himself could barely
fathom. All of their combined efforts had failed even to significantly slow
Oberon down the last time.
"Puck knows. What he chooses to tell Fox and David is up to his
judgment."
"How long ... " The questions assaulted him again. "How long have
you known about this?"
She came to his side and took his hand. "Do you understand anything
about prophecy?"
He thought. Nostradamus and his poems. Biblical texts. The late-
night psychics on the telephone.
"No."
"What about chaos theory?"
There he was on more familiar ground. "Enough."
"Then let me say this. The world is infinitely chaotic. But there are
nodes, times and places where the chaos distills down to a single question
of yes or no. My kind are very good at figuring out where the nodes are,
and where the two paths will lead. We can use this to predict the future, or
at least possible futures as opposed to futures that simply cannot be. A
rare few of us see the future that will be rather than the paths that could."
"But ... "
"Most of our kind care about what benefits or harms them personally.
Those who can see the future as it will be do so only in often-confusing
glimpses, and fear that what they see will upset one of their brethren, or
their Lord, so they keep quiet and keep living. At least one Seer I know of
is mad, and one," she smiled, with some bitterness, "has little reason to
trust me. So all I have are possibilities with which to guide me, and I don't
know which decision will lead down which path.
"So the answer to your question is that I have known that something
could occur for over two thousand years, but I will not know for certain
unless and until it actually happens."
"So," he said, "You think you know things that could happen, but in
reality, you're guessing."
"Yes."
"Welcome back to the human race." Her eyes crinkled, and for a
moment, he knew her for the woman he'd loved for over three decades.
"I didn't come to talk mysticism with you."
"So why did you come?"
"As I said, we need to talk."
"We've talked. You've tried to explain to me that it's all right that
you lied because you're what you are, and it's all right that you tried to
take Alexander away from his parents because now instead of Oberon
maybe meeting him in some future he now assuredly knows of Alex's
existence and will probably kill him. Have I been following correctly?"
"So you do hate me."
"No, but I should. And you should leave now."
"Halcyon."
"Go. I need time. To think."
"All right. I'll be in the city for the next few days. I'd like to see how
Alexander is growing."
"Don't expect a warm reception."
"I should know better by now." She turned and left the room without
saying goodbye.
He almost called her back, but said nothing as the door closed. He
turned back to face the window, and craned his neck to look for pigeons.
VVVVV
Goliath woke and shook off the remaining stone bits from his body.
Another crisp evening had begun. He took a quick look around the
rooftop, but Elisa was nowhere to be seen. He hid his disappointment.
Elisa had been there at his awakening most nights since ...
He smiled, very slightly, at the memory, and hid that as well. What
had passed between him and his love was not something to be discussed in
front of the clan.
He glanced at Broadway, whose face watched Angela's empty perch
with open mourning. Especially not now. His daughter had been gone for
just over a year, a fortnight in the magical land she visited. She had
returned there to attend on the death of the first mother she'd known, but
the longer she stayed away, the less likely it seemed she would ever return.
Broadway wasn't the only one to ache at her absence.
"Hudson," Goliath said abruptly. "Come with me on patrol tonight.
Brooklyn, a word?"
His second leapt from his own perch and came to him. "I thought
Broadway and I had the patrol tonight?"
Goliath indicated Brooklyn should walk with him, waiting until they
were no longer within easy earshot of the rest. "I want you and Lexington
to stay in tonight. Cheer up Broadway. I don't care how."
Brooklyn sighed. "I don't know if we can."
Goliath read his unspoken words. "She will return."
"When he's Hudson's age?"
"Soon."
"She said that a year ago. And, um, didn't she have a boyfriend back
home?"
"She will return," repeated Goliath, and turned from him. "Hudson,
when you're ready."
Hudson nodded, and Goliath hopped to his perch, spread his wings,
and jumped into the night sky.
Angela would come back. He knew it.
VVVVV
Interlude
VVVVV
Angela woke with a roar on her perch. She stretched, and for a
moment, believed that she had never left home, that all of the preceding
year had been a dream, that down in the courtyard her three rookery
parents would be even now bringing out breakfast.
And she leaned over and saw the fairies at their sport, and knew
everything was changed.
She had been back on Avalon only a short time, and she was happy to
be among her rookery siblings, but she missed the World, and her father,
and the clan.
An ache poked at her deeply between her ribs. She missed Broadway.
"Good evening, sister," said Gabriel, too merrily for her liking. She
knew he was glad to have her back, even for what had brought her.
"I'm going to go check on Princess Katharine," she said.
"I'll help you," he said, falling in step with her.
"Fine."
The Princess was slumbering when they reached her room, and
unattended. Angela made herself busy around the room, fluffing pillows,
airing the blankets, wishing her brother would go away and leave her in
peace.
"You don't have to keep avoiding me," he said somberly.
"I'm not avoiding you," she responded in a low voice, mindful of
Katharine's presence. "I'm just busy."
"You're making yourself busy, you mean. You've taken on more than
your share of watching over the Princess. Only the Guardian is in here
more."
"Maybe if some people would actually take a turn, I wouldn't be," she
said, and regretted it. That made her time here seem like a chore, and it
wasn't. Even during Katharine's less lucid times, she was a comfort, a
mother she could accept and love without fear.
He took her arm as she refolded a quilt that really didn't need it.
"What are you not telling me, Angela? There used to be a time when you
could tell me anything."
She sighed. He was right. Once upon a time, when she had been
much younger, she had shared every secret of her heart with him, not even
considering holding back. He'd been her best friend, and she owed him
some explanation.
"Out in the World. I've met someone. One of the old clan."
"Ah," he said, and sat down in the chair by Katharine's bed. "I see."
She doubted that. She touched her belly. "I'm carrying an egg."
Emotions played over his face, more pain than anger, and she ached
for hurting him, knowing that for him, only a month had passed since
she'd left their home, and that before Oberon's return, before Goliath,
before the Archmage, before everything, he had meant the most to her of
all the clan.
"How could you?" he asked of her.
"I knew you'd be upset."
"I'm not upset." The lie was easy to read on his beloved face. "I'm
concerned. What do you know about him?"
"Everything I need to know. He's kind, and he's sweet, and he loves
me. And I love him."
"But ... "
"Don't get this way. Please. I wanted to tell you as soon as I was
certain, but time got away from me."
"You're too young."
"Half our sisters already had mates when I left. Marc Antony and
Julius have been mates for five years. Why should I be any different?"
He said nothing. He knew as she did that many of the others were
carrying, and it was only a strange chancing of events that kept him from
being the father of her egg.
Angela turned towards the Princess, saw that she was awake, just as
her eyes flicked past them to the door.
The Guardian came in, nodded to them, and took her hand. She pulled
it away again.
"An' who might ye be?" Katharine demanded. Angela could not help
but stare. The woman spent more and more time not knowing the people
around her, but it was a painful shock each time.
"Who would you have me be?" Tom asked her. She squinted at him.
"Wheezer?" she ventured, then scowled.
"If that's who you think I am, then that's who I am." Angela read the
pain in his face, placed a comforting hand against her foster father's back.
"Father will no' think kindly on ye if he finds ye've been in my
bedchamber. Now go!" She waved him away, and reluctantly, he walked
out of the room, with a glance to the other two. "All of ye, scat!" She
shooed them out, and lay back against her pillows as they closed the door.
The Guardian rested against the wall. "I'll go back in after a moment.
You two head off now. Have some breakfast."
"All right," said Angela, and grieving, she walked with her rookery
brother back towards the courtyard and left Tom to deal with his dying
wife.
VVVVV
"So," said Brooklyn, coming back from where he'd been talking with
Goliath. He put on a grin, clapped his hands together and said, "Let's do
something fun!"
"Like what?" asked Lex.
Broadway ignored them both. A year, and she was still gone. A year,
and not a word. She could have forgotten him. She could have ...
"Yo, Broad," said Brooklyn, in a fake accent reminiscent of the
borough from which he'd taken his name. "What do you wanna do?"
"I dunno."
"Breakfast," suggested Lex.
"Okay." Despondently, he followed his brothers down to the kitchens,
where he should be working as the evening chef. He hadn't been in the
mood for a few weeks. Not even cooking sounded like much fun.
"What're you in the mood for?" asked Brooklyn, his jovial mood
jangling.
"Oooo. What about waffles?" asked Lex, pulling out the iron.
Broadway looked at the waffle iron, felt the sadness crest over him.
Angela loved waffles.
"I don't think I'm very hungry," he said, and sat heavily on one of the
chairs.
"You had to say 'waffles,'" hissed Brooklyn.
"Sorry. He normally likes waffles."
"Okay, okay. Breakfast is a wash. Why don't we go watch t.v.?"
"You go," said Broadway. "I'll stay here."
"We could play a game," suggested Lexington. "We never did finish
the 'Clue' marathon."
"We could go see a movie," said Brooklyn. "'The Little Mermaid' is
still showing downtown."
"We have it on video."
Lexington sighed and pulled up a chair beside him. "Broadway, we
miss her too. But you've got to get out of this."
"I know," he said miserably. "But then I think of how pretty she is
when she smiles, or I go to make something she likes to eat, and it just ... "
He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her for days. "I just miss her so
much."
"Yeah," said Brooklyn, pulling up another chair and a bag of potato
chips. "Us, too."
VVVVV
Bronx had watched at the parapet until Goliath and Hudson were out
of sight. Then he'd scratched himself, peed against the wall, and was
currently occupied by rolling around on his back in a patch of brown,
scratchy grass in an attempt to get at an itchy spot his teeth and tongue just
couldn't reach.
So it was that he lay prone unto the sky when the Lady stepped down
from nowhere onto the tower. She set one perfect foot onto the stones, and
a thrill ran up his spine. He flipped back onto his feet and panted, awaiting
her command.
"Good boy," she said, and scratched his ears. This he knew, and her
scent, layered like puddles of apple blossoms and pine needles and amber.
She shimmered into another form, but his nose knew her all the same.
"Downstairs."
Bronx turned, stuck his stub of a tail smartly into the air, and led
Titania into the castle below.
VVVVV
Interlude
VVVVV
They sensed it. Magics, like those which had forged them so long before,
if time meant anything to them, were nearing the one, and opening a
pathway towards that one.
They, and they were the minds and hearts and souls of all that had ever and
would ever touch them, and so much more, allowed themselves a moment
of pleasure, of anticipation.
The time was right.
They gathered their energy, focused it on the one, the right one at last.
They burned.
VVVVV
Fox splashed water over Alexander's head and then poured a dollop of
cold shampoo into her hand. The bathroom was at least snug from the
steam, as opposed to the normal dank cold the stone walls seemed to
generate.
"Hello, my dear," said a much too familiar voice behind her. Fox
turned, the blood draining from her face, the bottle falling to her feet and
spilling into the bathroom's white shag carpet.
VVVVV
"And she always liked apples," said Lex, taking another potato chip.
"Had to do with Avalon," said Brooklyn. "Island of Apples."
"We know," said Broadway.
Lex hiccupped, and then his eyes focused. "What the ... "
A circle of fire glowed hugely around Brooklyn. His brother had time
to turn and stumble away from it before the fire sucked him inside. The
flame burned bright and hot, and was gone as suddenly as it had come.
"Brooklyn!" shouted Lex and Broadway in unison, just as the castle
alarm sounded.
VVVVV