VVVVV
Consequences Part Six: Found and Lost (2/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
PG-15
VVVVV
"Are you sure this is the place?" Angela looked around nervously.
The building she clung to loomed over the East River. It was the sort
of exclusive complex that looked none too friendly to the notion of
claw marks on the masonry.
"Tell me what you see." Her mother watched her. Angela took
another look. She saw nothing unusual, at first. The brick building
was the tallest in the complex, fourteen storeys and a penthouse with
a ledge all the wall 'round. "Think like a human," her mother said
impatiently.
And then she noticed.
Upset the neighborhood might be at the intrusion, but there were
already prolific claw marks on the bricks, almost disguised by the ivy
climbing and clinging everywhere. Someone landed here regularly, or
fell and climbed their way up. She hadn't noticed; every building she
was in or around had them in abundance as well.
"A gargoyle has been here," she said cautiously.
"Thailog," said Mother. "Unless Goliath has taken up a new
residence I don't know about."
"No." Angela craned her neck up to the balcony. Might as well
do this. "Let's go up."
They climbed the rest of the way to the balcony, then crouched behind
its protective wall for safety. Angela remained near the ledge as her
mother crept to the door.
"Locked."
"Can you get in?"
Mother showed her talons. "I've broken into harder places. Do we
care if he knows we were here?"
Angela swallowed. "No."
Mother nodded, and ripped into the wall beside the door. Moments
later, Angela joined her, and together, they quickly made a hole.
"Thailog's going to be very annoyed when he sees this," Mother
remarked. "Good. After you."
Angela hesitated, then shimmied through the opening. The room
inside was pitch black. There were no windows, and she fumbled in
the dark for a light even as her mother slithered through beside her.
Her fingers found the switch, but her mother stopped her.
"If I were him, I'd have an alarm set to go off if the lights were
activated when I wasn't home."
"Really?"
Mother nodded in the darkness; Angela heard the movement of the
air. Then there was a click, and a beam of light came from Mother's
hand. "So I brought this."
The flashlight illuminated the room in swathes: a sumptuous couch
and cushiony chairs, exquisite life-sized statues, monitors and
electronics shining tiny green lights, a dining nook.
No Delilah.
"Dammit," said Angela. "If this is Thailog's place, where's 'Lilah?"
VVVVV
The noise had scared her. Ripping stone and metal beneath claws was
not a sound she ever wanted to hear again. Delilah had buried her
head under her pillows, and wished for it to go away.
The noise went away.
Then there were voices. She knew the voices, from forever ago.
Demona was there, and she was bad, but Angela was there too, and
she had to get away. If she was very quiet, maybe they'd go away, and
they wouldn't be found when Master Thailog got back.
But she didn't want them to go away.
"Blast," said Demona from outside. "He must have moved her."
Angela said, "Maybe we can find a clue to where he's taken her."
"We shouldn't stay long. He could be back any time."
She heard Angela let out a sigh. "I have to find her."
"You won't find anyone if you're dead."
Dead. Something Master Thailog had told her before he'd left rung
back at her, something that had made her cold inside, had woken her
from the sleepiness she felt in her head all the time any more.
Dead. People were going to be dead.
"Angela?" Her voice came out as barely a whisper. Master didn't like
it when she talked much, and even as she spoke, she cringed, knowing
that somehow, he'd know. "Angela!" Again, she was too soft.
"All right," said Angela from outside. "We'll go."
Go? No! They had to hear! They had to know! Dead!
Her fingers reached out in the dark he kept her in when he wasn't
home, found her hairbrush. She seized it, beat it at the door. She
missed, hitting only the air, and she drew her arm back, thudded it
against the door hard.
"Hush," said Demona.
Angela said, "'Lilah, honey, is that you?"
"Angela?" She couldn't be sure they could hear, so she struck the
door again and again, tears flowing from her eyes. She was bad, so
bad, and he would punish her.
"Delilah, stop hitting the door," said Angela, from right outside. Her
arm went limp, numb from what she'd done, and she dropped the
brush. "Are you okay? Can you talk?"
She tried clearing her throat. "La la la." A croak emerged. She
coughed, and then louder, "La la la! Angela?"
"'Lilah." Angela sounded sad, like she was crying.
"Angela, you okay?"
"I'm okay. We're going to get you out of there. Stand back."
"Angela, I don't know if this is a good idea," said Demona.
"Then you can leave." Claws struck the wall beside the door, and dug
a hole. After a minute, 'Lilah could see light shining through. Her
paralysis broke, and she clawed at the hole from her side, digging for
the light, for Angela. She was tired, so tired, but she dug all the same.
When the hole was big enough, Angela stopped digging and tugged at
her hands. "C'mon, it's time to go."
'Lilah drew back. "Can't go," she said. "Gotta tell you."
"Tell us when we're away from here," said Demona.
"No! Master Thailog, going to ... " The words slipped from her. All
her words had been slipping away, even since he'd taken her away
from her brothers and Maggie and Talon.
"Going to punish you?" She'd expected Angela to say it, not Demona,
and not in such a bitter voice.
"Yes. No. Worse. People. Many people dead. Going to kill them."
"Who?" Angela asked. "Who's going to kill them?"
"Thailog!"
"How?" Angela continued to dig, widening the hole.
"He said, he said. Bomb. Small bomb, big boom. Um." She went
through her swimming memory. Three letters poked back at her.
"HMX?"
Demona swore. "When and where?"
"Tonight."
"Do you remember where he is?" asked Angela.
"No. Someplace." She started playing with her arms. "Benny fit?"
"Benefit?" asked Angela, something in her voice that scared 'Lilah a
lot.
"Yeah."
"Oh hell." She grabbed 'Lilah's hand through the hole. "We have to
go now."
"Can't. You go."
"'Lilah, this isn't open for discussion."
"Leave her," said Demona. "There isn't time."
"Mother, I'm not leaving without her."
"I would. Do you know why?"
"Yes," said Angela harshly.
Demona shook her head, and the flashlight wiggled. "You don't. I'd
leave her because she's stupid." 'Lilah drew back. "She doesn't get
that Thailog is demented, that he's evil, that he doesn't love her."
"He says ... " said 'Lilah.
"He says what?" asked Demona of her, mocking. "That he's sorry?
That at least the bruises will heal by the next night? That you
deserved them for talking too loud?" She was shouting, and 'Lilah
recoiled even more into the shadows. "He used to be my lover, too,
remember? He hurts people. He hurt me. He hurt you. He's going to
hurt hundreds of humans tonight, and you're too stupid to leave when
we're offering you a way out." She turned away, taking the light with
her. "Come on, Angela. We have work to do."
"He," 'Lilah stammered, "Not gonna stop looking for me. Not ever.
He said."
"And we'll always be there if he does," said Angela. She held her
hand through the hole in the wall. "We love you, Delilah." Demona
made a noise. "Well, I love you, and Talon loves you, and Maggie
loves you, and Elisa and Goliath love you, and your brothers love
you."
"We don't have time for this," said Demona.
"'Lilah, we have to go. It's now or never."
Angela pulled her hand back from the hole. It made a dark shadow
against the receding light, and then ...
Too many dark nights, locked in her room. Too many times playing
the Game. Too many times drifting into a half-slumber because it
was so easy, only to be jarred awake by the sound of his wings
brushing the walls outside her room.
'Lilah squealed and darted her own hand through the hole, toward the
light, blindly clutched to Angela's hand. For a second, she thought
Angela would let go, then felt a soft squeeze, and the entwining of her
sister's fingers in her own.
"I wanna go home," 'Lilah sniffed.
"Okay," said Angela, very softly, and helped her out into the light.
VVVVV
Angela watched her mother out of the corner of her eye, making sure
she wasn't going to "accidentally" crush Delilah's skull with her mace
or similar. As they emerged from the penthouse through the hole
they'd made, Angela saw a large winged form, and immediately went
into attack mode.
Half a second later, his hands in the air placatingly, she recognized the
form of her mate.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"Making sure you were all right with her," he shrugged as Demona
came out of the building. 'Lilah came out last, and with a cry of joy,
he ran to her and hugged her like a long-lost sister.
Angela didn't miss Delilah's flinch as he touched her, and she
suspected Broadway didn't either, as he immediately let go.
Angela stepped between them, noting that 'Lilah relaxed just that
much. She pulled out her phone and checked for a signal. Then she
pressed "2."
Moments later, Elisa answered: "Maza here."
"It's Angela. We found her."
"What! Is she all right? Are you all right?"
"She's ... " Angela glanced at 'Lilah. The clone stared around,
blinking at the two of them, at the night. She cowered and she was
too thin, and she wore a hunted look on her face. "She's alive. Elisa,
we've got another problem, a big one."
VVVVV
"Look," said the chick with the badge. "You have got to
evacuate that building. I've had a call that there's a bomb ready to go
off any minute."
Peterson looked the chick up and down: disheveled black hair, red
jacket, jeans, and a badge that said she was a cop. Of course, any
joker off the street could flash a badge and pretend to be a cop.
"Now listen, Officer," he said, holding his hands before him
helplessly. "I'll need to contact your precinct and confirm your
identity."
"There isn't time!" she insisted. "People are gonna die if you don't
act!"
She sounded so confident, Peterson considered pulling the alarm right
then and there, something about her tone, her passion, her seven-foot-
tall gargoyle rapidly losing patience behind her.
"All right," he said, and turned to his backup. "Harper, can you watch
the ... " Harper was nowhere to be seen. "Harper?" Ah, dammit.
Where did he go?
VVVVV
Harper had bailed as soon as he'd seen the gargoyle. He'd never
gotten over his initial fear of the damned things, no matter how much
he tried to hide it from the rest of the guys in the group.
Haveta tell Mr. Castaway, he thought. They know. They
know.
Castaway was nowhere to be seen. Harper tried to remember where
the boss was supposed to be during the plan, but he hadn't been
paying attention. He'd known he and a bunch of the guys were getting
jobs as security here at the theatre, and that when everything went
down, they were supposed to help rescue and protect the people, get
'em outside.
He was running now, and almost smacked into a woman headed to
the Powder Room. "Oh, 'scuze me, ma'am." Then he recognized her.
"Oh, hey Ms. Landsford."
Her eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"
"If you're here tonight for the same reason I am," Harper said in what
he thought was a prudent fashion.
Her eyes traced his face. "Oh, yes." She pulled his arm, and said
close to his ear. "I really think it would be best if we pretended not to
know one another. For the cause."
"Right. The cause." As she went to move away, he said, "But Ms. L.,
we gotta problem. There's one of them in the lobby, and they
know," he whispered.
She went pale. "Are you certain?"
"They have a cop, who's says they got a bomb threat."
Ms. Landsford looked away for a sec, then asked him, "Do you know
who has the remote?" He nodded. "Tell him to do it. Better ahead of
schedule than never."
"Can do." Harper worked well with orders.
As Ms. L. hurried on her way, Harper retraced his steps back to the
main lobby. As he reached the concession stand, he nodded to Stan,
whom he'd known from way back, and gave him the signal. Stan
didn't respond, and Harper went to the snack counter. "Blow it," he
said. "Ms. L. gave me the go ahead."
"It's early."
"It's now or never."
Stan shrugged, and pulled out a small remote. Their eyes met as
Stan's thumb made contact.
VVVVV
When the first bomb went off, everything in David's instincts told him
to dive for cover, save himself. He grabbed Fox, or rather, went to
grab for Fox, but she was already down between the seats, pulling
him down with her.
They communicated without speaking. Fox inclined her head to the
source of the smoke and light, and then frowned, making a slight
crease in her pretty forehead. He bowed, as he always did, to her
superior knowledge of firearms and explosives, and read in her
expression that whatever this was, it wasn't the real thing.
The people around them screamed and stampeded towards the exits.
On the stage, the director for the children was fighting a losing battle
for their attention.
David surveyed the room. No one seemed interested in the kids on
the stage, some of whom had started to cry. He nodded to his wife.
Fox tossed off her shoes and stepped nimbly onto the back of her
chair. As though she were dancing, she tiptoed her way towards the
front of the room. He followed her less easily, amazed as ever at her
grace.
Fox reached the stage first, and put on her best kiddie show star smile
for the children. None of them seemed to recognize her, but as David
finally joined them, they had quieted at her presence. The director
gave them both a mute look of gratitude.
"Now we're all going to grab hands and go for a walk," Fox was
saying. The kids obediently lined up, hand in hand, forming a chain
across the stage. David took the hand of the last child, a boy of
maybe seven or eight, and smiled warmly.
"Time to go," said Fox, and started leading the children from the stage
towards the exit. Another smoke bomb went off — David recognized
the flash for what it was this time — and some of the kids faltered,
started to cry again. The director went to the crying kids, and took
their hands separately. Fox continued to lead the way.
"Train coming through!" she said brightly. "Kids, can you make the
sound like train does?"
"Choo-choo!" went up a few enthusiastic voices. The rest looked
around themselves dumbly, being more dragged than anything by the
hand of the child before.
Another bomb detonated close by, and David scooped up the two
nearest kids to him, while Fox tugged hard on the first child in the
chain.
"Oh, I don't think so," said a voice he knew.
David turned, kids still in his arms. June Landsford had pulled a tiny
but serviceable pistol from her purse and pointed it his way. "Put the
children down, David. We don't want them to get hurt."
"David ... " Fox said.
"Get them out of here," he said, placing the children down gently.
"Scoot," he told them.
Landsford wiggled the pistol towards Fox, and waved her over. "You
too, dearie." She nodded to the director. "Get those kids to safety.
These are the bastards who set the bombs."
WHAT?
The director turned even paler, and herded the children away from
David and Fox, out towards the exits. Around them, people still
moved and screamed. No one paid attention to the madwoman with
the gun.
"We didn't set the bombs," said David.
Landsford shrugged. "Ask me how many people will believe you
when your precious gargoyles take responsibility for this terrible
action."
"They're not stupid," said Fox. She looked at him and tilted her head.
You go that way, she was telling him.
He blinked his eyes in response. Done.
"No, but most people in this city are, and they want to believe."
"Really, June," David said, "The hood and hammer are out this year
as fashion accessories." Ready.
"The Quarrymen are not the most noble of souls, it's true, but we have
the noblest of ambitions. We must protect our own." She clicked the
safety. "Traitors to the species must be destroyed."
The blast was silent. Before David could move, before Fox could
scream, Landsford generated a strange look of surprise as her chest
imploded, and then she was dead.
"I quite agree," said Thailog, keeping his toy trained on them as
Landsford had done.
Good-bye, frying pan, thought David.
VVVVV
Angela and Demona landed on the roof, Broadway and the clone a
moment after them. Demona looked over the edge, saw the humans
running for cover. "Maza got the call out, I see."
She looked back at the abomination. "Do you know where the bomb
is?" Delilah nodded. "Get it, and get it out of there, understood?"
"Okay."
"Angela, Broadway, get as many humans as you can out of the
building. Leave Thailog to us."
"Mother ... "
"I don't want you near him." I don't want you in the vicinity if the
bomb detonates. "Go!"
Angela placed a careful hand on the clone's shoulder. "Dragon's luck,
sister." She glided off the rooftop and broke through a window
belching smoke.
Demona watched her go, then smashed her fist through the skylight.
"Coming?"
They slithered their way through the rafters silently. The one thing,
the only thing, she could give Thailog's playtoy: it could follow
orders. They quickly made their way to the light fixtures above the
auditorium proper.
Below them, humans screamed and scurried like rats from a sinking
ship. Momentarily, Demona considered simply killing the clone and
letting Thailog's bomb go off. A few less humans in the world
wouldn't be a bad thing.
And she saw him.
Her last lover, dark as night, hair like snow, standing with a particle
beam weapon aimed at Xanatos and his bitch. She heard Thailog say:
"My little minions blew the plan. They were supposed to wait until
nine to set off their charges. Mine would have gone off ten minutes
before, and," he chuckled, "it's a bit more powerful than theirs.
Decapitated corpses, bodies littering the stage, oh, how I love the
theatre."
Xanatos said, "I suppose it's pointless to say you're mad."
Thailog chuckled again. "Doesn't matter anyway. I would have loved
to have seen you blown to shreds, father of mine. But this will be
even more interesting."
He changed his aim to Fox. "Shall I kill her all at once, or just blow
off a limb at a time?" He aimed. "Let's try potluck."
"No," said Delilah softly.
Had she considered it, Demona could never have given a concrete
reason why the thought of Thailog blasting a human, especially the
vapid wife of her one-time ally, would fill her with rage. As she saw
him take aim, something inside her cracked, and with a roar, she
dove, claws extended.
The human woman was bright enough to get out of the way, and she
and Xanatos bolted for retreat as Demona's talons ripped into
Thailog's back. She scraped him, tore away the gun from them both,
and fell back.
Stalemate.
From above her, she saw Delilah fall from the lights towards the
stage, start ripping up fine wood paneling.
Thailog turned at the noise.
"DELILAH, STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" His bellow shook the
auditorium, and slammed into the young gargoyle like a fist. She
turned frightened eyes on him, and took two steps back from the
stage.
"That's better," he said, clutching his wounded shoulder. "Now get
over here and help me kill your mother." When she stayed where she
was, he shouted, "NOW!"
Demona readied her attack, noting as she did the large satchel near
Thailog's feet, and she knew the rest of his plan, the same as always:
get the cash and burn the evidence. She wondered if he was even
going to come back for his toy in the locked room, or if he would
have left her to starve.
The toy remained where she was, taut as a fiddle string, and vibrating
with the effort of not giving into his command, as surely every fiber
of her programming instructed her to do.
The auditorium was almost empty of humans now. Demona swished
her tail. Angela loved that half-human abomination, called her
"sister," called her "friend," while barely trusting her own mother.
Mother. The thing had called her "Mother," that night in the
park.
"Delilah," she said, enunciating the hated name. "I am not your
mother. You do not belong to me. You don't belong to him, either.
You want to belong to something, belong to that egg of yours. Don't
do something because he tells you." She turned to Thailog, locked
eyes with his. "Do it because your child needs you to."
With a cry, Demona vaulted towards him, was met halfway with his
teeth. The girl quivered for another second, and then took the two
steps back to the stage in running strides, leapt up, and came down
with her powerful legs, shattering the polished wood.
Thailog snarled, but Demona gave him more important things to
concern himself with than a stupid little half-breed struggling with
something beneath the stage, as the flat of her hand connected with
his jaw, spinning him hard around.
She kicked him in the ribs twice, and then was pulled off her feet by
his tail. In an instant, he had his gun back and was pointing it at her
head.
"I really do wish you and Macbeth would settle things. This will be
sadly impermanent." She rolled just before the blast destroyed the
section of flooring beneath her.
Her tail locked onto the satchel, and she tossed it well into the sea of
seats. "Go find your money, if you have the time. It's eight forty-
eight," she snarled. "I'll survive the explosion. What about you?"
Thailog regarded his watch for a moment, looked to Delilah, who had
just lugged an oversized egg-shaped device from the ruins of the stage
and was attempting to drag it out of the auditorium.
He swore. "Another time, then, my sweets," he said, and blasted at
her again. She ducked, and dove for him, wrestled for the gun.
"You're not going anywhere," she said, and then he was above her,
and she was left holding nothing but the gun, as his tail zipped out the
nearest door.
Demona snarled and hurled the weapon aside. "Let's get that thing
out of ... Delilah?" She was faster than she looked — both bomb and
abomination were gone.
VVVVV
Jon's brain twisted and crackled and popped and buzzed. Ideas,
always ideas, rattling around, edging each other out for dominance
like pups squirming for a teat.
Kill the gargoyles, yes. Hurt them. Make them pay.
Jason ...
The smoke filled the air in front of him, and June was supposed to be
leading children out for him to rescue more, but all he could see was
Jason's collapsed form, superimposed over his father's body falling
from the sky.
He had to ...
He had to go inside.
Jon pushed his way past the people who screamed and fled, looking
for the main theatre. Find the children, bring them out, blame the
gargoyles, and then the shouts in his head would be stilled.
A shape loomed up over him in the stinging smoke.
"Thailog!" he said, pulling his gun automatically.
Thailog looked back over his shoulder, then growled at Jon. "You
brought her, didn't you?" He roared, flashing his great talons.
The gargoyle was attacking him.
Jon ducked and fired wildly at the gargoyle, shot after shot, Jason's
voice ringing in his head. Small chunks flew from the beast's flesh,
and Jon aimed one round at its wings before, enraged, it struck him
across the face and chest, sending him into the far wall.
Jon felt bones snap just before his head struck the wall and everything
went dark.
VVVVV
Angela held the two human children protectively in her arms until
they were away from the building. "You'll be safe here," she told
them as they landed on the sidewalk across the street.
"Jenna! Ivan!" cried a woman Angela didn't know, as she scooped
both kids into a big hug. Her eyes went to Angela. "Thank you," she
mouthed..
"Mom! Mom!" said the boy. "We were up in the air, flying!" His
sister nodded vigorously. "It was so cool!"
Someone screamed. Angela whipped around, and she saw Death.
Not large, perhaps the size of a watermelon, covered in wiring, with
an LED whose numbers she couldn't make out ticking down to
destruction, it lay heavily in 'Lilah's arms as a far too dense egg.
Angela did not need to be told that this one was real, that Thailog
would have bragged about it to his pet enough that she'd know just
where to go.
Even as this registered, even as she grabbed the children and dragged
them farther from the building, she knew there would not be enough
room, that the people scrabbling to get away from the girl and the
bomb were already dead.
And it seemed 'Lilah knew that too.
The younger gargoyle held the deadly egg in one arm as she thrust
talons into the nearest column supporting the front, climbing it nimbly
as a monkey. In moments, counted off by the moving numbers of the
display (what did they read? how much time left?) she was at the top
of the column, and she cast off, spreading her wings to catch the
brittle evening air.
"Out to the river," Angela murmured, knowing her sister could not
hear. "Drop it in the river."
'Lilah skirted the tops of the nearby buildings, on a direct course for
water. Angela drummed the seconds in her pulse, in the beat stuck in
her throat. 'Lilah reached the river, reached the safety point, and
Angela chanted to herself, "Drop it, drop it, drop it, drop it drop it ... "
For months afterward, this same image would be rebroadcast on local
and national television: a blue-white and brown angel streaking
through the night city sky, cradling death in her arms. There would be
a voiceover every time. The early voiceovers would explain about
gargoyles, about their initial contacts with humans, about their
society. For a week, no voiceover would be complete without a
mention of how gargoyles protect their territory, their families. Later
voiceovers would usually mark the moment as a vital footnote in
history, the instant when humans stopped viewing this intelligent,
noble race as mere monsters, and began to see them in a new light. It
was an historical moment, a Pulitzer-winning video for Travis
Marshall, an image no one alive at that time in the United States
would ever forget.
Angela would never forget.
She would always remember the flash first, and a rush of heat, real or
imagined, and then a deafening thunderclap. She would remember
the tug of a child's hand on hers, and when she could hear again, she
would remember the croak of her own voice repeating: "Drop it drop
it drop it drop it drop it ... "
VVVVV