VVVVV
Consequences Part Four: Fire and the Night (2/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2001, 2005
PG
VVVVV
"There's really no need for the alarm," said the woman she'd
considered her mother, speaking quietly and calmly over the din.
"You are not welcome here," said Fox, knowing the guards would
arrive any second and having no idea what to tell them.
Footsteps pounded in the corridor, and David and Owen were there,
both armed. Owen dropped his weapon when he saw who it was, but
David kept his trained on her mother.
More footsteps were behind them as Owen shut off the alarm.
"We don't need guards," he said, and was then plowed off his feet by a
flurry of gargoyles.
"Brooklyn," Lex panted. "He ... "
"We have a situation here," said David, and Broadway's head shot
over to see her mother.
"You!" Lexington scrambled off Owen and growled at her mother.
"What did you do to him!"
Her mother brushed past Fox, and picked up a sopping Alexander
from the tub. His lip was trembling, and he looked to start bawling at all
the clamor.
"How's my boy, then?" Mother cooed.
"Put. Him. Down." said David, thumbing the safety from his gun.
Everything went very quiet.
"David, put that away," said Mother. "You'll hurt someone."
"Sir," said Owen. "If she wanted to abduct Alexander, he would
already be gone. I don't believe she is a threat."
"Easy for you to say," said Fox, as her husband reluctantly lowered his
weapon.
"Where's Brooklyn?" demanded Broadway.
Fox blinked. "What happened to Brooklyn?"
"There was a fire in the kitchen, a magical fire," said Lexington. "And
he was gone." He looked at her mother accusingly.
Mother looked at Owen.
"Phoenix Gate," they said at the same time.
"What did you do?" asked David. "I don't believe in coincidences."
"Nor do I," replied Mother. "But I don't know what happened to him.
I'm sorry." She turned her attention back to Alex, who grinned and
wrapped soapy arms around her neck.
There was a noise in the corridor, a noise Fox had heard before, on her
wedding night, and then more footsteps pounded their way. Brooklyn ran
into the room, joy on his scarred face as he saw Broadway and Lex. He
seemed to stop himself from throwing his arms around them, and instead
looked at Alexander.
"How old is he!"
"What?" asked Fox.
"Not quite eighteen months," replied Owen. "You've been gone about
two minutes."
"Two minutes ... " said Brooklyn. "This is December 1997?"
Broadway and Lexington nodded.
Brooklyn let out a whoop. "We made it! We made it back!" He
hugged his rookery brothers for joy, then shouted into the hallway. "Nash,
Tachi, come meet your uncles!"
"Uncles?" asked Fox, weakly, as a deep blue, beaked gargoyle female,
perhaps three in human years, dashed into the room and clung to
Brooklyn's leg. Behind her was a brick-red gargoyle boy in his early teens,
watching them guardedly. And behind him, unable to fit into the
cramped space, an adult female, the same blue as her daughter.
"Guys, this is my mate, Katana."
Mother said, "May I suggest we retire to the living room?"
VVVVV
Goliath and Hudson touched down on the tower. Hours remained yet
until morning, but the city had been quiet tonight. The holiday season,
Goliath had noted, turned even the more hardened criminal hearts towards
thoughts of family rather than thoughts of avarice and power.
Even Xanatos.
He would never completely trust the human who'd awakened them,
for Goliath was no fool. Xanatos had lied to them and betrayed them too
many times. Yet, the man was changing; as every day his son grew, so did
he.
Goliath had Lexington quietly monitor as many financial transactions
and acquisitions as he dared, but nothing had been out of the ordinary, no
gem stones that altered the wearer's outer form, no secret build-up of yet
another army. Instead, his charitable donations had increased remarkably,
as had his research funding towards disease prevention and cure. He'd set
up three large homeless shelters in the city, and staffed them with career
counselors and day care workers.
At home, when the day's work was finished, he could often be found
on the floor, playing games with his child like any other father.
Goliath would never trust Xanatos, but against his better judgment, he
was starting to like him.
So when he reached the living room, and saw Brooklyn, older than he
should have been, three gargoyles that he did not know, and Titania in her
human form playing with her grandson on the couch, he resisted his initial
impulse to grab Xanatos by the throat, slam him against a convenient wall
and demand an explanation.
"May I ask what is going on?" he rumbled.
"Hello, Goliath," said Titania pleasantly.
"Goliath! Hudson!" Brooklyn smiled with a deep pleasure as he
clasped Goliath's hand. "You don't know how good it is to see you both
again."
Hudson looked as confused as Goliath felt. He nodded to Broadway,
currently making faces at the little blue girl, who laughed at his efforts.
"Laddie?"
"Phoenix Gate," said five or six voices at the same time.
"Ah, hell," said Hudson.
VVVVV
Once Goliath and Hudson had returned, Fox felt better about leaving
the new arrivals unescorted. Even when he'd been her enemy, Fox had
known Goliath could handle just about any situation, and dammit, this
wasn't one for her to deal with this time.
Her situation still sat on the couch counting piggies with her son.
"Come on," she said to her mother. "Let's leave them to get better
acquainted."
"Certainly," said Mother, and she scooped the child into her arms.
Fox noted that she hadn't really stopped touching him since her arrival,
and her skin itched. As Owen had said, if she meant to take him, he would
already be gone. What Owen hadn't said was that her intentions might still
not be benevolent.
When they reached the Great Hall, Fox turned on her. "Why are you
here?" she demanded.
"I came to see you, of course. And Alexander. I've been away too
long."
"You should have stayed away."
"You don't mean that."
"Maybe I do." She couldn't help it. Whenever she was with her
mother, she felt her inner teenager start to grouse.
"Do you remember what I told you the last time we parted?"
Fox nodded. "But I'm not sure I understand it now more than I did
then."
"Someday, you will, child."
Fox growled. "You always do that! 'You'll understand when
you're older.' 'I'm four thousand years old, so I know better.' Can't you
for once just explain something to me like I'm an adult?"
"Fifteen thousand."
"What?"
"I'm fifteen thousand years old, give a few centuries or so."
Fox felt her knees go funny, and she sat in a chair which was a mere
two hundred years old. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?"
Mother nodded. "It's my new system: tell the truth to the people I
love. Your father isn't taking it very well, either."
"You went to see Daddy? He's in no condition to ... "
"To put up with his pain of an ex-wife?" Mother laughed. "So you
would like me to treat you as an adult but your father as a child. I see."
"What did you tell him?"
"That's between us." She turned her attention back to her grandson.
"It's past his bedtime."
"All right." Fox led her back to the nursery, when she watched with
mixed emotions as her mother changed Alex's diaper and lay him down to
sleep.
"How many ... How many children have you had?"
Her mother paused. "Four. I've raised a few more than that."
The one time she'd dared ask Owen the same question, he'd given the
same answer. That didn't mean they both weren't lying. "The three
weirdos and me?"
"I wish you wouldn't call them that."
"Sorry. Picked it up from Puck."
Her mother smirked. "He does have a certain turn of phrase. And he
never did get on with the Three."
"May have something to do with them trying to kill him."
"That was long ago."
"That was last year, Mom."
Her mother turned. "When?"
"Um. Last Fall. They sent someone with an iron knife. Puck had
Alex decode the spell or something. It was them."
During her lifetime, she had rarely seen her mother given over to any
strong emotion, so Fox was taken aback at Mother's startled expression,
following by a quickly-disguised anger.
"I see," she said through pursed lips. "I will speak with the Puck
later."
Later? "How long are you staying?"
"I thought I would stay just for the holidays."
"I meant it when I said you weren't welcome here." Did she? Now
that Mother had come, it seemed so natural for her to be laying the baby
down for a nap, for her to stay and help out, for her to be there ...
She tasted tin, and stepped a few paces back, holding her head.
"Stop it!" she shouted, disturbing Alex. He moved in his crib, but
without making a sound. "No more spells." Puck had taught her a basic
shielding spell months back, barely more than a mental bubble.
She envisioned the bubble now, wrapping her in pink safety. The
"everything's okay" feeling dissipated. Her mother was here, a virtual
stranger in her home, comforting her child back to sleep, and it was not at
all natural.
"How dare you," said Fox, stepping between Mother and Alex,
pushing the woman away from her baby. "What were you going to do,
convince me that you should move in?"
"Of course not," said Mother soothingly. "I thought perhaps it would
be easier for everyone if you felt it was your idea for me to stay. Just for a
while."
"Why? What do you want?"
"To spend time with you and Alexander."
"We don't want you here. We can't trust you."
"Fox, I swear to you that I have only ever acted in what I thought were
your best interests."
"What you thought? Again with the 'I'm much older than you so I
know better' routine. I don't care how old you are, that doesn't give you
the right to meddle with my mind because you think you should."
"Perhaps not." Mother turned and exited the nursery. Fox stood there
in the darkened room, then followed her.
"Where are you going?"
"I haven't decided yet. I'll probably take a room downtown. I did tell
your father I would be around for a few days, and I don't want to lie to
him."
"Again, you mean." She couldn't help it.
Mother stopped, and slowly faced her. "Fox, my darling darling girl,
may you never have to know what it is to show your lover your true face
and have him meet you in return with a mob carrying cold iron."
"Daddy would never have done that to you."
"You gave your doctor a pure iron blade and told her to not let me in
to see him."
"I couldn't be sure of what you'd do."
"I'm not your enemy. I'm your mother."
"You could be both."
Mother inclined her head. "I'll be going then." She turned away again
and moved swiftly down the passageway.
"Wait." Fox caught up to her. "Look, it's late. No place will be
open. You can stay here. For the night. We'll talk." She held up a hand.
"But no more spells. And you are to tell me about each and every time you
cast a spell on me or Dad without our noticing it."
Her mother smiled. "Done."
VVVVV
And again, there were flowers.
Pretty flowers, roses with moist dew still touching the petals, gathered
in crispy green paper, had been placed where she would find them. She
looked at the card. The closest streetlight yielded just enough light here by
the carousel for her to make out her own name written in a fine hand.
'Lilah smelled the flowers, pressing her face deep into them until all
she could see and smell and feel were red petals, like fragrant blood
washing over her. Reluctantly, she pulled her face away, and plucked a
single petal from the prettiest one.
Then she threw them into the dumpster beside the doorway, burying
them deep below newspapers and half-eaten food.
She stuck the petal in a pocket, where she could feel the crushed and
drying petals she'd taken from the other roses she'd found. She always
kept one. Just one.
She hurried back inside, down through the passages she knew so well,
back to the Labyrinth. When she reached the playroom, Boo looked up
from the book he was reading by kerosene light.
"Hi, 'Lilah." He set his book down carefully so that Maggie wouldn't
yell. "You okay?"
She nodded. He cocked his head and moved his hand in a gesture that
asked if she was sure. She signed back at him that she was fine, but she
knew he could read the guilt in the way she carried herself, and she turned
away.
Her brother took her hand and plunked them both down on the cold
floor. "What's wrong?"
Her lip trembled. She'd been so happy when the notes had started.
They were simple, just said things like "You're pretty." She liked that.
When the first one had told her to go look in a nearby place up top for
something special, she'd been afraid for a long time, but eventually, she'd
been curious enough to go look, and there'd been ever-so-slightly wilted
flowers.
And she'd been scared, and she'd thrown away the flowers and the
notes, because she knew Maggie and Talon would be mad, without having
to asking why they were mad.
And she got more scared every time she went, thinking she'd get
caught, and knowing that it was worth it, for the good feeling she got in
her belly whenever she saw the flowers or the notes.
And now Boo wanted to know what was wrong, and she couldn't tell
him.
She made fists, and then started moving her hands to make shapes for
words she didn't know how to say, about wanting something that she
couldn't put a name to, and knowing it might not be right, and wanting it
desperately anyway.
Malibu watched her without speaking, without moving. Then he
wrapped his arms and wings around her and just hugged her, as she started
to cry.
When she was okay again, he asked her, "Can you tell me what it is?"
She shook her head.
"Okay." He took her hands in both of his. "Okay. No matter what,
it's okay. Okay?"
"Okay."
But it wasn't okay. Because she knew who was giving her flowers,
who was finding a way into the Labyrinth and leaving her notes where no
one else would find them, by his own hand or by those of a paid spy. Who
could be watching her even now. And as long as she didn't tell anyone, as
long as she didn't let on that she knew, as long as she took the notes and
the flowers and was good, Master Thailog wouldn't hurt anybody.
VVVVV
"I thought you destroyed that thing," said Elisa, still recovering from
the bone-crushing hug Brooklyn had given her. She was freaking out, just
a little. As far as she was concerned, she'd seen him the night before, and
here he was in the living room, obviously a lot older than he had a right to
be, thinking he hadn't seen her for forty years. And they were both right.
"I did not destroy it," said Goliath. "I allowed it to go free in the
timestream so that it could not be used for evil purposes."
"About that," said Brooklyn, a frown on his face. "Thanks a lot."
"Hear hear," said Owen softly, passing by in the hall. She snickered,
then turned to be properly introduced to Brooklyn's mate.
"It is good to meet you," said Katana, as she shook Elisa's hand
gravely.
"Hey, likewise."
Elisa still had difficulty knowing exactly what was considered
beautiful by gargoyle standards, was coming to the realization that, like
human standards, they were probably individual to the person looking. For
herself, she thought Katana rather plain: short blue-black hair set off from
her midnight blue forehead by two nubs of horn at either brow, a simple
slash of mouth, and a slim body more suited for fighting than fashion
modeling. She was a far distance from Angela, whom Elisa considered
pretty even by human standards.
Brooklyn took Katana's hand in his, clasped his fingers through hers,
and on his face, Elisa saw that there was no one more beautiful to him.
"I'm glad you called me," she said to Goliath. "I wouldn't have
wanted to miss this for anything." His hand slid up her back to rest just
below her shoulders, but he said nothing.
"Well," said the boy, whose name was Nashville. "This has been
really nice. I'm glad we had the chance to meet your clan, Dad. So when
are we going?"
Brooklyn and his mate shared a glance. "We're not going anywhere,
Nash. This is our home. We're going to stay here."
"We're what?" asked the boy in shock.
Goliath stiffened. Dawn had come, and the living room was filled
with statues.
"My favorite way to end an argument," said Elisa.
Goliath's hand remain as it was, palm facing out, and she placed her
own against it. "See you later, big guy."
She went to let herself out, when she heard someone talking in the
kitchen. She didn't care to pry, but something sounded terribly familiar.
She paused by the doorway, entranced by the scent of hazelnut coffee and
the unmistakable timbre of Anastasia Renard's voice.
" ... and then he changed into a rabbit and bounced away." Fox
laughed as her mother chuckled, and Elisa was sure she'd missed
something. She debated going into the room and saying hello, but she
didn't want to intrude.
"Oh, speaking of rabbits, I found the cutest stuffed rabbits," Fox was
saying. "I'll show you, later. A blue one for Alex, and a pink one for
Jasmine. You'll just die."
Nerves shot like pale electricity through her body, as her stomach
clenched. Anastasia asked about the girl, and Fox told her how she'd just
gotten pictures from the grandmother, then explained why she was sending
gifts to the child of someone she had never really liked. Elisa couldn't
move, could barely breathe.
It wasn't fair.
Jasmine was doing fine. Was crawling. Was sitting up for pictures.
Was showing reasonable progress for a ten month old child. Was going to
open present after present on Christmas sent by someone trying to make
herself feel better for her part in turning the child's mother into a cyborg
felon. Would have a birthday, and would go to college on the Xanatos
Enterprises tab, and would have a future. Did not thus far show one flaw
in mind or body for all that she was quite likely the product of a union
Elisa did not even want to consider.
Jasmine was peachy and Daniel was dying. Sweet, perfect little boy,
his only mistake was being born to people who'd made bad deals with the
husband of the woman who now told her own mother about little dresses
and shoes she hadn't been able to resist buying.
She wanted to scream, and knew that she couldn't, that Maggie and
Derek deserved the chance to scream, and that they didn't even have that,
that they spent their days sleeping lightly, listening forever for their son to
stop breathing again.
Elisa wrenched herself away from the kitchen, away from the things
she couldn't change. Numb, she wandered towards the elevator, towards
her car, towards her bed.
She almost walked straight into Owen, going about his endless
service.
"Detective," he said in both greeting and parting.
The night had been late, and her nerves were raw, and she was giddy
and aching and brave.
"You."
"I?"
"You owe me a favor. You said, you said you owed me."
"Yes." He waited, patiently.
"I need you to help me." She paused. "Please."
VVVVV
Interlude
VVVVV
"I don't think this is a good idea," said Horus, and his wasn't the only
voice around the table with that same opinion.
"Have you got a better one?" spat back Ophelia, as she jumped to her
feet.
Angela murmured, "Down, sister."
"This is your doing," said Horus, turning on her. "No one would have
such a daft idea if you hadna gone off to see the World."
"We're not casting blame for the idea," said Gabriel, shooting a
warning glance to Horus and Ophelia, who looked to be coming to blows.
"We're considering its feasibility."
"I don't see a need," said Ariadne. "We can lay our eggs here. They'd
be safe from all danger in a rookery on Avalon."
"But they'll take centuries to hatch," said Julius, and Marc Antony
was beside him in silent assent.
"Ten years," said Dido. "Ten years wherever they go."
"But ten on Avalon is two hundred and forty in the World," reminded
Angela. "We know that."
"And?" demanded Horus. "What care have we for the World? We
were born and raised here."
"But there are gargoyles out there," Angela said. "Our clan, other
clans. I've met them. If we wait two hundred and forty years, we and our
hatchlings may be the only ones left anywhere."
"Better that we live," said Ariadne, "and not be killed by foolishness."
"Better that we all live," said Ophelia. "And 'all' means all
gargoyles. We are so few. Our eggs could make the difference for the
survival of our kind."
"And it could be the death of our children," said Michael.
"Enough," said Gabriel, and he stood. "Guardian, you have been to
the World. You have seen the clan of our parents. Do you think our
children could live there in safety?"
The Guardian looked away from him. He was tired. Angela couldn't
remember the last time he'd slept. "I have seen the World, aye, and the
clan, both recently and before any of you were hatched." His eyes
narrowed when he looked at Horus. "They are your family, as much as we
have been, and they sacrificed much that all of ye could even be born.
They are your clan.
"Angela's right. The World has few enough gargoyles left in it, and
no, it isna a safe place for them with wings. But if there are ever to be
gargoyles flying the night skies again, ya need to take this chance. Your
bairns will be safe with Goliath, and they will be mothers and fathers to a
new generation while ye are still barely more than children. You owe your
clan that chance."
He got up from his seat. "Ye know where I'll be," he said, and left the
chamber.
Angela sat back in her own chair. The discussion would continue, but
it had already been decided. The Guardian thought they should go, lay
their eggs in the World, and allow them to hatch there. It would be so
done.
As the debate rose again in volume, she tried to catch Gabriel's eye,
but he would not look at her. He looked instead at the Guardian's empty
wooden chair, and the two empty chairs beside it.
VVVVV
She'd brought a deck of cards with her. Halcyon looked up from the
endless paperwork that Preston brought him, and there she was in the
green chair, shuffling with nimble fingers.
"You shouldn't be slipping past the guard. It isn't nice."
"I didn't slip. Fox took me off the Most Wanted list this morning.
How are you feeling?"
"Annoyed." His eyes kept going back to her hands, and the cards
flying between them. "Are those tarot cards?"
She nodded. "I like the artwork on these."
"You would."
"So. I gave you time to think."
"I can't forgive you, if that's what you want."
"I didn't come looking for forgiveness. That's a mortal concept. My
kind don't forgive. We just go on."
"And you expect me to think you're better than us?"
"I never said such a thing." Flip. Turn. Walk the cards over her
knuckles. He heard the hum as they slapped into each other again and
again.
"But you think it. Because you're older and wiser than us poor
younger races."
She continued shuffling. "We're not wiser. In many ways, we're
more foolish, because we have no need to grow or evolve."
"I didn't expect you to say that." Had she ever done anything entirely
within his expectations?
"Like you said, I'm old. I may not be wise, but I'm observant."
He was getting dizzy watching her, or maybe that was from the lack of
sleep; Dr. Howard had made him stay awake the night before his MRI, and
Janine and Preston had been by afterwards. "I have too many questions,"
he muttered. "And I can't say that I really want you here to answer them."
"Then don't ask," she said, and began laying cards face down,
counting out seven for him, seven for herself. The rest she place in a loose
pile on the tray attached to his bedside.
"I don't believe in divination," he said, staring at the backs of the
cards. There was a quarter moon on each, and he could not tell if it was
waxing or waning.
"I never said you should. Now pick up your cards." He reached out,
took them. Seductively-clad young nymphs and stoic knights stared back
at him, holding cups, spears, other less recognizable things. "Do you have
a nine?"
He looked at the cards. A nymph held three shafts of fire in four arms,
and a sea creature scooped three golden goblets into suckered tentacles .
He plucked them out, lay them before him on the bedspread, and then told
her, "Go fish."
VVVVV
There was a soft whoomp from the balcony, followed by three clear
taps on her window.
"Come in!"
Derek let himself in, awkwardly moving Daniel to his other arm as he
did the latch behind him. Elisa hurried over and took her nephew from
him. The baby moved, then settled back to his normal listless state. Elisa
hoped this would work.
"How's my favorite boy, then?" she cooed.
"I left Maggie a note saying I'd be here. She's still going to kill me
when I go back."
"Let's hope we've got good news for her when you do."
"So. Who is this mysterious person? Geneticist? Doctor?"
"Neither," said Owen, as he walked into view from the kitchen. Derek
took a step back, narrowed his eyes, and growled.
"What the hell is this!"
"Derek ... "
Her brother grabbed his son from her arms. "I told you, I don't want
Xanatos involved!"
"I assure you, Talon, that Mr. Xanatos has no idea I'm here."
"He's not working for Xanatos on this one," Elisa said. "He's on our
side."
"I doubt that."
"Believe what you will," said Owen. "I am here at your sister's
request. If you would prefer me to leave, I shall."
"Like hell," said Elisa. "Derek, listen. Owen's here to help. He owes
me a favor."
"We don't need any favors from him."
"So help me," she replied, trying to combat the thickness in her throat,
"If you let Daniel die because you're too proud to accept help from
someone you don't like, I swear I'll ... I'll ..." She stopped.
"How can he possibly help Daniel?"
"I have abilities which are not readily apparent," said Owen.
Elisa caught his eye. He nodded, however slightly. "Owen's a fairy,"
she told her brother.
Derek turned back to Owen, cleared his throat, and then back to his
sister: "Um. Okay. So what?"
"What do you mean 'So what?'"
"I used to work for Xanatos, too. I read the whole non-discrimination
clause. I can't say I'm really surprised, but how does this help?"
"Oh. No. Fairy. Oberon's Children? Magic? You know, that whole
Avalon thing?"
"Oh!" Comprehension dawned over his face. A shiver echoed
through the air, and Puck stood behind Derek, tapping him on the shoulder.
Derek turned, and then almost stumbled, clutching Daniel protectively.
"Derek, meet Puck."
"Um. Hi."
Puck rolled his eyes, and tugged Daniel from Derek's unresisting grip.
"Gimme."
He closed his eyes and crossed his legs beneath himself, floating
nonchalantly on a three-foot cushion of air. His index finger touched
Daniel's nose, then his forehead, but neither he nor the baby opened their
eyes for what seemed an age.
"What's going on?" whispered Derek.
"Something good, I hope."
Puck opened his eyes again, and surprisingly, so did Daniel. Puck
stuck out his tongue and made a face, and Daniel's split upper lip creased
open in a smile. Gingerly, the fay handed Derek his son, and shimmered
into Owen's form.
"Take him home. Make his warm, and comfortable, and happy.
There will be little enough time for it."
Elisa stumbled back against her armchair, gripped it, as Derek's mouth
fell open.
"But ... "
"There is nothing I can do. I'm sorry." Genuine grief tinged his
voice.
"Do you know what's wrong with him?" asked Derek, his own voice
gone dead.
Owen shrugged. "I can speculate. When your genetic structure was
modified, along with that of the other Mutates, there was no data available
on how the alterations would affect your offspring. Additionally, the genes
which went into your creation differed from those which went into Ms.
Reed's. Cross-species breeding always has unforeseen consequences."
Derek nodded; this was the same explanation they had come up with
at Daniel's birth. Owen was only reconfirming their theories.
"So. My son will die. His is going to grow up in a castle." Owen had
the decency to look embarrassed.
"No," said Elisa, suddenly.
"'No' to what?"
"No," she said again, heart racing in her chest. "You can do
something," she said to Owen.
"I cannot."
"The find someone who can. Anyone. One of your kind. You've all
got powers, surely someone has the ability to make one little boy better."
"No. There is no one. Had he merely been ill, yes, I could probably
ask one of the others, assuming none of them have been ordered to kill me
on sight. He is not ill. He is dying. There is a dark cloud surrounding
him, and before the turn of the year, it will choke out his life, and that's all
there is."
His voice had not raised once, but Elisa could hear the emotion
begging to be let free. There was a strong aspect of the Puck that loved
little children desperately, and as much as she wanted to hate him for not
helping her, she knew without asking that it hurt him almost as badly to be
telling her so.
"All right," she said. "All right. Thanks. Thanks for trying. Forgive
me if I don't see you out." He nodded, and went to the coat rack to
retrieve his overcoat. Elisa placed her arms around Derek from behind,
something only a little more awkward now than before, because of his
wings. She felt him shaking, but knew he would not break until Owen was
gone.
"I am sorry," said Owen again, and he was gone.
"Damn," said Elisa, softly. "I thought it would work. I really did."
Derek said nothing to her, whispered things she could not hear to his
motionless son.
VVVVV
Owen held up his good hand to a passing taxi, which sped by him
unseeing. He'd had such high hopes at the beginning of this. He'd
assumed the child had merely been ill, perhaps a touch of pneumonia.
Even without his powers, he'd have been able to see what was wrong,
perhaps use it as an excuse to measure Alexander's healing potential.
Instead, he had seen only darkness, and an empty cradle. Death in one of
His many forms would come soon to visit and take his due. Nothing could
prevent that.
No one could ...
He frowned, and stood oblivious as another cab passed by. No one
could cheat Death, but so many tried. In his entire experience, no one had
ever succeeded, although, now that he considered it, anyone who had
succeeded would be awfully quiet about it, if they had any intelligence.
There were always rumors: Utnapishtim, Lazarus, other so-called
immortals. He had yet to meet anyone who was truly immortal, not merely
long-lived, as his own species was, but he didn't want immortality for the
Mutate child, merely an extension on a too-short life.
Death had been known to grant extensions, once or twice.
The third taxi slowed to a stop before him, and he got inside.
"Where to?"
"Central Park West," he said, hoping this would work.
VVVVV
"What do you mean, we're not going back?" Bits of stone skin
littered the living room carpet.
Brooklyn pinched between his eyes, pushing back the headache that
threatened every time he talked to his son. "This is our home now. This is
the place we've been trying to reach, that I've been trying to reach for
the past forty years."
"Great for you. What about the rest of us?"
"I have been looking forward to coming here since your father first
spoke of it," said Katana. "He is right, this is our home now."
"It's not that bad," piped up Broadway. "We were kind of upset when
we ended up here, too, but this time is really fun."
"Fun," said Nash, scowling. "Hover bikes haven't been invented yet."
He looked at Brooklyn again. "Did you know HRV won't exist for
another fifty years?"
"What's that?" asked Lex.
"Something that hasn't been invented," said Brooklyn quickly, and
reminded Nashville: "We need to talk about what we do and don't mention
to people. No future references."
"We do not want to disrupt the timestream," said Katana.
"This time sucks," said Nash, and he grabbed Tachi from the floor,
where she and Alex were rolling a large ball back and forth between them.
"Lemme go!" said Tachi.
"Do you really want to raise her here? This place is primitive. She
could catch anything. You want to settle down in a time, fine. Make it
one where she'll be able to grow up healthy."
"She'll be fine," said Brooklyn, losing his twin battles with his
headache and his temper, and snatched Tachi back from Nash. He pinched
her arm as he did; tears started welling in her eyes, and her beak trembled.
"I'm sorry, honey."
"Mama!" she called, and Katana took her, wrapping her wings around
her daughter protectively.
"Shhhh. That's a good girl. Why don't you and I and Alex go to the
kitchen to find something to eat?"
"Okay," said Tachi. Katana reached down a hand, and led Alex out of
the room.
"It really isna so bad here, laddie," said Hudson.
"Yes it is," sniffed Nash. "Besides, I've heard music from the 1990's.
It sucks eggs."
"Watch it," said Brooklyn.
Lexington asked, "What music do you like?"
Nash shrugged. "I dunno. Music."
Brooklyn said, "What about that one band? The ones we met in San
Francisco a few jumps back. You liked them."
"The Warlocks," said Nash. "But that was over thirty years ago.
They're long gone by now."
"I'll bet there are still some cd's or something around," said Lex
kindly. "Let me look." He went off, no doubt in search of his laptop. By
the dragon, how Brooklyn had missed seeing Lex at his computer.
Nostalgia bit him, hard.
Hudson caught Broadway's eye, and gestured. The two of them went
after him, and Goliath followed silently, leaving Brooklyn alone with his
son.
"It doesn't matter," said Nash.
"Look," said Brooklyn, "I know this is going to be tough on you for a
while. But we need to stay. This is my home."
"It's not mine."
"It could be, if you'd give it a chance."
Nash folded his arms and hunched his shoulders in a familiar way as
he stalked out towards the towers. Brooklyn watched him go, then let out
a deep sigh and went for some aspirin.
VVVVV
Owen steeled himself against the voices in the Chamber of the Winds.
He knew their wiles, knew of the sweetness they offered, like siren-call:
enticing and deadly. He had no time for their words, their half-heard
whispers. Instead, he made his way directly to her chamber, and let
himself inside.
"Narcissa?"
There was no answer. A brief search ascertained that she was absent,
although not for long; one of her many potions simmered on an unattended
fire, and she would surely return before it boiled dry. He made himself
comfortable on a much-repaired cane chair, and waited.
Twenty minutes later, he began to doubt his initial thought. Perhaps
she had been called away for something important and forgotten the
potion. Perhaps she had fallen and injured herself. Perhaps ...
"What do you want, Trickster?" Narcissa demanded as she entered her
chamber.
"A pleasure, as always, to see you as well," he said, rising to his feet
smoothly.
"You're early. And you haven't brought me anything."
"I know about your arrangement with Anubis."
She drew back, eyes wide, then appraising. "And how would you be
knowing about that?"
"I guessed. But apparently, I guessed correctly."
"That you did. What of it?"
"There is a child. He is dying."
"Yours?"
"No. I owe his aunt a favor."
"Repay your favor yourself. I have no need to be dealing with your
affairs."
"I helped you and yours travel from Avalon to the World without
being killed, when there were many of our kind that would have gladly
seen you dead."
"Oberon would not have allowed that. Against his law, you know."
"He would have allowed it. I protected you."
"That you did, and that you do. I still don't see why I should help
you."
"Because this child is special. Give me your thoughts." He held out
his hand. Reluctantly, she took it.
Mind spoke to mind, and he showed her the aura he'd read from the
Maza child, the dark mists that covered him, showed her too the other
thing he had seen, the path so ghostly pale it could barely be seen, a path
along which the child might live.
When they broke free, Narcissa stared up at him. "Give me time to
consider it."
"There isn't much time left."
"I know." She paused. "He looks ... "
"Yes. He favors his mother, hence the name."
"That was not my meaning, and you know it."
Owen dropped his eyes. He knew her meaning; Daniel bore a
remarkable resemblance to another baby they had both known once upon a
time, a boy who now wandered these same Tunnels as eternal protector
and prisoner.
"He's had another child," she said. "If this winged boy of yours ... "
"Not mine."
She waved her hand. "If this winged boy looks as you have shown
me, he could be Micah's twin."
"But the first two children were human! Looked human," he amended
at her glance. "At least, from what you told me."
"They do. This one is going to be like his father. You can thank your
Master for that."
"You know he is no longer my Master."
"What I know," said Narcissa, "Is much. You may protest each day
for a thousand years that you have left his service, and that human whose
boots you lick today will probably believe you every time. But I can read
your heart, my dear little Puck, and I know as you do that should Oberon
whistle, you would scamper to his side without a backward glance."
Angered words flew to his mouth, but before they could escape, she
placed her wrinkled hand against his stone wrist. "As I would return to my
Lady's feet should she call to me, her slippers in my mouth. You and I are
lucky among our kind. We already know our place, even when we have
been banished from it."
"I do not serve him," said Owen, but he heard the uncertainty clear in
his own words. More clearly, he said, "The Queen is here, in the city. She
has come to seek a reckoning with her mortal family. I will give her your
regards."
She tilted her head. "I will send you my answer in two days. Go
safely, Trickster." He nodded, knowing there would be no more
discussion, and left her firelit chamber.
As he passed through the Chamber of the Winds, he again heard the
voices calling to him: Go back to him, little fairy. Go home go home
go home. Go back home to die ...
He closed his ears to the sounds, and hurried onwards into the night.
VVVVV