Found and Lost Chapter 3, a gargoyles fanfic

VVVVV
Consequences Part Six: Found and Lost (3/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 2005
PG-15
VVVVV

The explosion had sent even more people running, screaming. Elisa
hadn't seen what had happened, was too busy corralling children and
theatregoers and passers-by. Goliath stood near her, choosing to
provide a large form for people to gather around in the smoke and
dust rather than go flying blindly around for more.

In the sky and through the streets, she caught glimpses of the rest of
the clan, of the clones, even of Derek, as they helped people find
friends and loved ones, helped the kids from the benefit find their
parents. Sirens blared, and within a few minutes, red and white lights
flashed through the smoke, spotlighting everything.

Elisa watched Goliath tense, watched him fight his instinct to call for
a retreat of the clan. Watched him stay.

Demona led a small boy to the crowd around Goliath. Elisa nodded
to her, not completely glad to see she was all right, but grateful
enough that she was helping.

Elisa bent down to the child, "What's your name, kiddo?"

"Ralph."

"Okay, Ralph," she said, scribbling his name with the others on the
quick list she was keeping. "You stand right here by my friend
Goliath, and don't move. We'll find your parents."

"Okay."

She looked up at Demona. "Thanks."

Demona shrugged. Xanatos and Fox, both covered in smoke,
emerged from the dimness. Demona glared at them, and hurried off.
Elisa tried not to roll her eyes.

"Hey. You two. Make yourselves useful?"

"Our wish is to serve, Detective," said Xanatos, and she really did roll
her eyes this time.

"Fox, you did a kid show. Hang out with them. They're probably
scared of Goliath."

Fox put on a big, sappy grin and turned to the small crowd of
children. "Hey, kids." Goliath sighed deeply.

"Xanatos, you can help me round up the rest."

"Of course."

A shape moved out of the shadows, great and hulking. Elisa drew
back, and then another cruiser pulled up close and in the flashing
lights, she made out Angela, dripping wet and holding something
equally soggy.

"Angela, what's ... "

Angela was stumbling, she realized, and shaking. "I couldn't ... I saw
where she fell in the river. I couldn't leave her there."

Distantly, she heard Goliath order Fox to move the children away.
She was aware of Xanatos reaching Angela first, helping her unload
her burden to Goliath. Other forms surrounded her: more on-lookers,
cops she'd known for years, the first of the news reporters.

Elisa's CPR training went through her head, any and all life-saving
techniques she'd ever learned. There were ambulances on hand.
Oxygen. Defibrillators. None of which mattered now.

McKenzie said quietly, "Maza, she looks just like you."

Elisa squeezed her eyes shut.

VVVVV

Thailog rested against a wall, fingers splayed. He caught his breath
and assessed his injuries. Some torn ligaments and ripped skin, not
nearly what he had been through before, possibly a broken wing from
the gunshot. Must find a quiet place to set it, hole up for the
day.

Damn Delilah. Why had she been so stupid? Demona was right on
one thing. Humans were unworthy. If a dozen died, or a thousand, so
be it. Better them than him.

His thoughts returned to Delilah. He'd seen her from the street. She'd
been so calm, even as she'd glided fast, faster than he'd anticipated.
Like she was flying for fun, and she'd cradled the heavy bomb to her
like an egg ...

Egg. She had an egg. Demona's rant filtered back to him
again. Something else he'd have to worry about: getting hold of his
son or daughter before it hatched and was corrupted by the simpering
morals of the clan.

"So much to do," he said. He pulled out his PDA from his back
pocket, flipped it over to make a note, and saw the casing was
cracked, the screen dead. Disgruntled, he shoved it back into his
pocket. He could retrieve that data later.

First things first, it was time to gather his resources, examine his
assets, and by the way, set the damned wing. It throbbed with every
breath. It could take several days of healing sleep.

Then he had to settle things with Castaway. The bastard had sold him
out, and Thailog was not about to let the double-cross go unrepaid.

There was the matter of replacing Delilah. If he had sufficient capital,
he would persuade Sevarius to work his genetic magic once more, and
do it right this time. The process would take months and money.

Damn her again.

He would of course have to retrieve the egg, but he had ten years to
worry about that, and could allow the Mutates to watch it for him
until then.

There was ...

"Master?"

Thailog felt a smile spread over his face. Brentwood limped around a
corner.

"Brentwood. You will assist me in finding a place to sleep during the
day."

"No," said Malibu, swooping in and landing perfectly behind him.
Thailog turned, and saw only grim determination on the other clone's
green face.

"Malibu. I assume Burbank and Hollywood are nearby?" On cue, the
other two walked out of the same place from which Brentwood had
come. "At last, we're a family again."

"Not with you," said Burbank.

"You killed 'Lilah," said Brentwood, wiping his large red eyes.

"Delilah killed herself. You all saw it as well as I. And to be frank,
wasn't it better that one die than so many?" He oiled his voice,
wondering if he could outrun them. Only Malibu was behind him. If
he broke the clone's neck quickly, he could go back that way.

"You made her die," said Hollywood. "We know that."

"You know nothing," Thailog spat. Was the pain in his wing never
going to subside? "Fine, she's dead. Collateral damage. There's
some words for you. She was stupid, and she was weak, and she died
because she was soft. Don't make the same mistake."

At the word "soft," Malibu's head jerked.

"Monster at the end of the book," he said, slowly.

Thailog took a step, and was shadowed by Hollywood. Malibu stayed
still, talking nonsense.

"We thought the monster was you, and we tied you up with string, and
wood, and bricks, and you kept coming and we were scared. But the
monster is you, and you're like Grover, all soft and squishy."

"Monster?" asked Brentwood.

"Listen," said Thailog, as Burbank picked up a heavy chunk of debris
and examined it. "I can take you away from here, teach you, train
you."

"Monsters are bad," said Hollywood. "They hurt people. We don't
like monsters."

"Except Grover," added Burbank. "And Elmo."

Hollywood said, "Elmo's bad. Elisa says so. I don't like him."

"What about Cookie Monster?" asked Brentwood.

"We like Cookie Monster," said Malibu. "We don't like you."

"I created you," he hissed. "Without me, you never would have been
born."

"You made us to hurt people, and you hurt us. You hurt 'Lilah. You
hurt everyone. You're a very bad monster, and the book is done."

He'd been expecting the rock from Burbank, and he ducked. He had
calculated that they would most likely use projectiles. He hadn't
expected that the only other weapons they would use were claws and
teeth, nor that as they set upon him, they could do so employing the
ferocity he had programmed them with so long ago.

He was larger than they, but he was weak, and they outnumbered him.
For a spark of a moment, Thailog allowed himself to be bitterly proud
of his sons. Then there was nothing but the agony of flesh ripping
from other flesh, from bone, and eventually, not even that.

VVVVV

It was well after three am when Fox and David finally returned home.
She was tired and smelly, and she wanted a shower, but more than
anything else, Fox wanted to see that Alex was okay.

She stood in his room, watching him sleep, listening to him breathe,
and she shivered until she shook so violently she had to collapse into
the rocking chair by his crib. Fox had seen death before, had seen
violent loss and broken bodies. Had caused some, too.

She'd never met the gargoyle, the one who had died. Nor had she
previously met the other gargoyles, the ones who looked like their
own clan but in odd colors. But she had watched them gather 'round,
as the crowd had grown, and moved, and shifted. Even as she'd taken
over Elisa's self-appointed task of matching up kids to parents, Fox
had watched their faces, and Elisa's face, and Goliath's. Angela was
still in shock.

Fox hadn't expected to see Angela there; she was supposed to be on
Avalon, awaiting Princess Katharine's death. She'd come from death
to more death, and maybe that's why the purple girl had looked so
pale.

The other gargoyles had vanished, leaving the three people Fox knew
alone with their friend and their grief.

Someone had remarked that the dead girl looked like Elisa, and
around the burns and the mess, he'd been right. Fox didn't know how
that had happened. She was betting it was one hell of a story.

She looked through the crib slats at her son. He slept peacefully, as
he always did. No weird mutations, except for the magic thing. No
time distortions. Not in need of long-term care at a children's
hospital. Not dead by a Quarryman's planted bomb. Just sleeping and
perfect.

How much karmic payback was he due for the things she and David
had wrought, intentionally or not, onto these other children tonight?

VVVVV

He was alone when Elisa found him, sitting on the floor in the
nursery, wrapped in his wings and holding his knees like when he was
small.

"Derek?" He said nothing, continued staring at the pile of eggs. "We
should talk about it."

"The last thing we should do is talk."

She'd known this wasn't going to be easy.

"I know you're hurting. We all are. Maggie's beside herself with
grief, with worrying about the clones, and about you." And when I
let this finally hit me, I'm not sure what I'm going to do.

"Did the boys come back yet?"

"They came to the castle just before sunrise."

"Were they hurt?"

"Not much. Not physically." Elisa had been there when the four had
landed, silent as owls. She'd tried to reach out to them, but they had
calmly rebuffed her, had taken places along the tower as naturally as
if they'd always perched there. The clan had been too surprised to
even consider stopping them.

"I'll think they'll come home tonight." I just don't think they're the
same kids who left.

"Good."

"Come out of here," she coaxed. "Mom and Dad are down. Mom's ...
taking it harder than I thought she would."

Derek moved his head, turned that she saw his profile in the dim light.
She could just make out a grimy track along his dusty face. "Elisa, I
am so sorry."

She caught her breath. "She was ... "

"I killed her."

"Don't be stupid."

"I killed your child and I don't deserve to see any of mine again."

She knelt down beside him, fighting tears of her own. "You have
nothing to be sorry about. You did so much to help her during her
life. You and Maggie raised her and I was scared to even see her.
You tried so hard to find her."

He was shaking his head. "No, no. You don't understand. Burnett.
Fucking Burnett," he said bitterly.

"Owen wasn't there."

"He was. At Solstice."

And she knew, without asking. Derek bit the words out, what had
happened after she'd left him alone with the two fay. About Anubis.
About the deal. Liquid fire moved through her veins as he spoke,
leaving her tired and numb.

"I didn't know. They didn't tell me. If they had, I never would have
even tried."

"You came back."

"I wasn't going to. I sat down to try and figure out what to do, and I
feel asleep. 'Lilah found me." He watched the eggs. "I tried. I
ordered her to stay down here, I watched over her every minute I
could. It didn't matter, because I killed her the moment I set eyes on
her."

Elisa shifted her position, sat down, took his hand, held it for a long
time.

At last she said, "You didn't kill her. Owen could have made us both
leave."

"You did go. I had to be the protector of everything."

"And Daniel's alive and well. A year ago, we weren't sure we'd be
able to say that."

"The price was too high."

"And you should have been brighter when it came time to pay it. And
so should I," she said, closing her own eyes. She'd known the
consequences for involving the fairies. "And maybe 'Lilah would be
alive right now. And maybe she would have died anyway. We don't
know."

"I thought he'd want my life."

"We need your life. You're a husband, a father, a brother, a son, a
leader. The people here need you. We need you."

He nodded towards the nest. "That child needs her."

"It'll have you. And me. And Maggie. And I don't think you could
keep the boys away with a crowbar." She rested her head on his
shoulder. "Your son needs you. You did something amazing for him.
You fought for his life, and you won."

"I didn't fight. I stood there and begged, and then traded away the life
of my niece."

"Make it worth it."

"What?"

"Fine. If you want to wallow in guilt, fine. You killed my daughter.
Do you feel better now? Don't you get it? She's gone." She was
losing her battle with her tears. "You can't bring her back by moping
here and holding all the blame inside. We can never bring her back.
But if you're right, and the price was Daniel's life, then use it. Enjoy
it. However much time the two of you have together, use every
minute. If you really think that talking to fairies in the darkness had
more to do with killing 'Lilah than a three hundred pound bomb, then
at least make the price worth it. Or she really did die for nothing."

She got to her feet, shoved her hands deep in her pockets, and headed
back to the chamber where her family waited.

About thirty seconds later, she heard a rush of footsteps, and then he
was beside her. Neither spoke, but he slipped his hand in hers like he
had when he was five and she seven, the first day he'd gone to
kindergarten.

Hand in hand, they walked back towards light, towards home.

VVVVV

" ... found torn to shreds." Marshall was never a sunny reporter, but
his tone as he spoke was far more grave than Fox had ever heard him.

Fox sat on the couch, Alexander on her lap flipping through the pages
of an overlarge board book with farm animals. He wasn't looking at
the television, which was good as the picture had changed to a bloody
mess that bore a slight resemblance to Thailog.

Fox shuddered and clicked off the tv. David was already down at the
police station, meeting with Elisa to help answer questions about the
other dead gargoyle, Delilah. When Thailog's remains came in, things
were just going to get worse for everyone.

"Owen," she said loudly, and heard his footstep in the hall a moment
later.

"Yes?"

"Call David. They just found Thailog, or what's left of him anyway."

Owen paled even further than normal. "Another explosion?"

She shook her head. Then she looked at Alex and said carefully, "He
looked like he met the bad end of a mob."

"Thailog," chirped Alex.

Fox cuddled him against her chest and said, "Sh, now. That's a bad
word."

"I'll contact Mr. Xanatos immediately."

"Thank you."

He paused as he pulled out his phone. "Fox?" His tone had changed,
though not his voice. She met his eyes, knowing he was speaking to
her now as himself, the true him, whatever his name.

"Mm?"

"Angela has returned."

"I know." Even now, the gargoyle was sound asleep, well, stone-
asleep anyway, on the top tower, hand in hand with Broadway. Four
other new gargoyles had joined them around the walls of the castle
just before sunup. Fox wasn't sure yet if they were staying.

"As soon as my duties are completed this afternoon, I will be handing
Mr. Xanatos my paperwork for an immediate leave of absence."

They watched each other for a moment. Fox had promised to go with
him back to Avalon once Angela returned, in order to bring charges
against the Three Sisters. She'd given her word in haste, angry at an
attempt on Owen's life and fired up by the new knowledge that the
Three were her family, and that the Puck was, too. Nearly two years
had passed, and Alex was bigger now, and Fox had cooled down, but
she'd promised. Only by traveling with her would Puck possibly be
allowed to return from his banishment, and she owed him.

Fox cuddled Alex again, kissing his hair. "You'll have to let me know
what I should pack for the trip."

VVVVV

Elisa still hadn't slept, not after the bombing, not after returning to the
Labyrinth. When they brought in Thailog's body to the morgue, laid
him on the next table over from where Delilah lay, unnaturally still,
she thought maybe this was some long, bad dream.

The expression on Xanatos's face, as he saw the remains of what had
been in a way his own first child, put that thought to rest. This was
real.

Elisa needed a lot more coffee to deal with today.

The ME examined Thailog's wounds critically, as Elisa stood back to
watch. She'd come down here, after the questions, to make certain
'Lilah's body was treated with some kind of dignity. According to the
preliminary paperwork, her death was not being considered a
homicide (or suicide) but was falling under "destruction of property."
Elisa wondered if they'd find the XE corporate logo tattooed on what
remained of Thailog's butt.

No tattoo. Dozens of puncture wounds, slices and gouges. Gunshot
wounds on his torso and wing, with bullets still internal, which the
medical examiner collected for evidence.

After a while, she turned away from the autopsy and pulled up a stool
beside Delilah. Procedure said not to touch the body until all the
evidence had been collected; this had already been screwed up when
Angela had retrieved her the river Instead, Elisa watched, listening as
the ME finished examining Thailog.

Then, both bodies were placed on trays and rolled into the cooler to
prevent decay. Elisa watched as the ME put a padlock on both doors
to prevent anyone from getting in, taking or defacing the bodies.

Xanatos placed a wary hand on her shoulder, which after a moment,
she allowed. Together, they left the cold room.

VVVVV

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I can call
Mrs. Ong, have Mason and Martens run things for a few days."

Fox placed her arms around his neck and kissed his nose. "You worry
too much."

"I have a right to worry. Once you're there, you're on their turf. They
can keep you. I don't want to lose you."

"You'll never lose me, David. If they try to make us stay, I'll do what
I did when I was a teenager."

"Holding your breath until you turn blue probably won't faze them."

"No, but I'll at least fit in better. Trust me. I'll come back to you,
before you even notice I'm gone."

"I doubt that." He wrapped his arms fiercely around her, until she
couldn't breathe, as if he were trying to become part of her, protect her
when she wasn't with him.

"Take good care of Alex, and make sure your girlfriends are out of the
castle when I get back."

"I'll do that. Remind me, the diapers go on which end?"

She stopped her giggle in her throat. He could still make her laugh.
He had always made her laugh. Love for this man surged inside her,
with it unsurety. Should she jeopardize the little piece of heaven
they'd built for the sake of a dead man?

No, not a dead man. Her step-brother, even if she'd never met him,
and that made it different. That made it family. Without David, she
would never have understood what it meant to have one, really, nor to
love someone more than herself. He'd taught her how, and she'd
taught him, and Alexander had driven it home. They were a family.
Owen was her family, too, and through him Ian, and through Ian the
gargoyles. If she'd learned only one lesson from the consequences of
her and David's actions, it was that families belonged together, and
protected their own. If they didn't, no one would.

By the boat, she saw Owen, waiting and trying not to watch.

"We have to go," she said. He squeezed her even tighter, threatening
her ribs before he released her.

"Be careful," he said.

"We will."

He turned to Owen. "You'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"You have my word. I will make certain she returns safely, and
soon."

David held out his hand. Owen, hesitating, took it. David pulled him
into a strange half-embrace, to Owen's shock. "And you, as well."

Owen pulled back, though not quickly, and nodded. "I will do my
best."

He stepped away from them both, and a green flickering light
surrounded him. It faded into Puck, who wore a distinctly Owenish
expression still on his face, incongruous to what she knew of him.
How much had the two personalities become one since Oberon's
decree?

"You should know this," said Puck to David. "Among our kind, it is
most uncommon to have more than a passing fancy for a particular
mortal. We like them, occasionally admire them, and often amuse
ourselves by playing among them at games of this and that. It is
almost never heard of for one of us to truly love one of those. That is
why Oberon finds the mention of Renard so distasteful, for he did
have the Queen's love once upon a time. A mortal who has the love
of one of our kind is rare, special. You, my friend, are beloved of
three."

David, for perhaps the first time in his life, was speechless. He
inclined his head, but said nothing as Fox kissed him once last time,
and then followed Puck into the boat. He pushed them off from the
shore, and stood, watching them pull out of sight.

Puck moved to the prow of the boat, raised his arms, and said
something in Latin.

Mists moved in around them, swirling, covering their faces from his
sight, and then they were gone as if they had never been at all.

David was alone.

VVVVV

She was in the Park, at a playground. The bright sun warmed her face
and shoulders. Elisa looked up at it and smiled. The park was filled
with children. Alexander played in a sandbox, Xanatos watching him
dotingly. Fox was nowhere to be seen. Oh, yes, she'd gone to Avalon
with Owen, and would not be back for a while.

"Mother?"

She turned. For all the kids in the park, there was only one on the
swing set. She was perhaps seven or eight, and the sun made her
white hair shimmer like pure silver. As the swing moved forward, her
wings quivered behind her.

"See how high I can go!"

"'Lilah, honey, be careful," Elisa said, watching her in fear. Her
daughter was so fragile, sometimes it seemed a gust of wind could
break her.

'Lilah laughed. "Watch this!" The swing zenithed, and she jumped.
As she did, her wings expanded and caught the air. She glided easily
for a moment, then settled gracefully to the earth.

Her eyes were bright as she came to Elisa. "Did you see?"

"I saw," she said, stroking her child's wispy hair from her eyes. She'd
had a nightmare, of a broken body, much older than this girl, but that
had faded in the sunlight. At dusk, Goliath and Angela would
awaken, and the four of them would have supper, and they would talk
about their day in the park together.

The wind stirred the leaves in the surrounding oaks, momentarily
blinding her with light. She saw a flashbulb go off, and heard
McKenzie's voice. "Maza, she looks just like you."

She knelt down in front of 'Lilah, and placed her arms around the
girl's neck. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Aw, Mom," protested her daughter, squirming in embarrassment.

"I do."

'Lilah pulled away from her grasp. Stuck in place, Elisa could only
watch as she climbed on the merry-go-round, and spun faster and
faster and faster, her features blurring into white and brown and black
and blue ...

VVVVV

Elisa opened her eyes. She lay on her living room rug, covered in a
spill of quilts. Beside her, Goliath curled, in the half-dozing state that
passed for sleep when he was flesh. She sat up, fully awake. She
knew where she was. She had never given birth to a halfling
gargoyle, and Delilah was dead.

Gooseflesh prickled her arms. She pulled them against her, shaking.

Goliath opened his eyes. "Elisa?"

Everything crashed inside of her. Daniel, the failed cure, Katharine's
death, Delilah's abduction, and now her death, all hit her in
one overwhelming wave. In her mind's eye, she saw 'Lilah's face, her
own face, younger and more lost perhaps, but still her own, and in
many ways, her daughter's face. No matter how she'd come to be, part
of Elisa Maza had gone into the mix, and had come out as a new,
wonderful being with her own thoughts and fears and wishes and
dreams and ...

A sob pulled itself from her chest. She felt Goliath place his arms
around her, and she held to him still trembling, bitterly weeping into
his shoulder as she mourned the loss of all that never was.

VVVVV

"But Captain!" Elisa slammed her palm onto Chavez's desk.

Chavez looked down at Elisa's hand. Elisa followed her gaze and
grudgingly removed her hand.

"I'm sorry, Elisa. The investigation isn't closed yet, and until then,
they're evidence."

"They're not evidence!" she shouted. Softer, Elisa said, "In any other
case, the bodies would have been released to the family days ago."

"This isn't any other case. And frankly, these aren't normal bodies.
The mayor is fielding demands from half a dozen government
agencies who want to take them for study."

Her heart hammered. "No. Absolutely not. They're people. They
may have wings and tails and claws, but they're people, Captain."

"Not legally, they're not. Legally, they're property."

Elisa's stomach clenched. "You can't be serious."

Chavez sat back in her chair. "Of course, if someone came forward to
claim their property, the mayor couldn't refuse."

Elisa watched her carefully. "You just said they were evidence."

"And that's what I intend to continue telling the press and the mayor's
office." Chavez gave nothing away on her face, but her eyes gleamed.
Maria understood about family. "Your pal Xanatos ... "

"He's not my pal."

Chavez held up her hand. "The man whose castle you visit on an
almost nightly basis and who shows up at the same places as you do
and so on. The man everyone in town has seen around gargoyles. If
he showed up at the station and claimed they were his, we'd probably
believe him."

"He doesn't own them. Gargoyles are people. They own themselves."

Chavez glanced at her closed door. "Elisa, we both took an oath to
uphold the law. According to the law, the two bodies in the morgue
have the same legal status as dead dogs. If Xanatos comes to claim
his ... dogs, I can probably arrange that he get them. If you continue
to say no one owned them, then someone from the FBI is going to
take them back to DC and they're going to wind up in a storage
facility somewhere pickled in formaldehyde. Which do you want?"

"Captain, this is all going to go public. And if we say they're
property, people will assume the rest of the gargoyles aren't covered
by any kind of legal protections."

"They already aren't covered, under the current law. Though I hear
they're probably going to get a spot on the Endangered Species List."

Elisa paused, weighed her options, and knew she had to pick the one
that hurt less. "Thank you for your time, Captain. I need to go back
to my desk and make a call now."

Chavez nodded. As Elisa's hand touched the doorknob, Captain
Chavez said, "Elisa? Laws change."

VVVVV

David made calls. Normally he'd have Owen do this, and although he
had a temporary assistant provided by Moonrise to handle Owen's
more mundane tasks, not everything could be delegated to someone
new.

Detective Maza had described the process as something relatively
simple. He had to show up at the station and fill out the form for
return of property in evidence. A few days later, his item or items
would be returned to him, assuming they were no longer needed for
the investigation at hand. Biological materials, such as dead animals,
were usually turned over quickly.

Maza hadn't known, or hadn't told him, that enterprising individuals
from no less than five government agencies had filled out the same
forms requesting Thailog and Delilah be given to them instead.

The mayor didn't want to alienate the Feds, but he also didn't want the
media hounding him about denial of personal property to one of the
city's most prominent citizens. He really didn't want David calling
him and reminding him about the large contributions XE had made to
man's campaign.

David was a good businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted,
and he knew when to deal.

He had the competent young fellow from Moonrise bring him the
documents from the Thailog project and draw up a form to sign over
ownership of the project's final result to the Department of
Agriculture. In exchange, the various agencies would drop their
claims to Delilah.

It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but few things ever were.

After his assistant took the forms away to hand-deliver them at the
precinct station, David stayed in his chair at his desk, looking out over
the city until long after darkness claimed the sky.

If it had been in his nature to apologize, David would have asked
Thailog's forgiveness. Instead, he pulled a rarely-touched bottle from
the wall cabinet, and pondered his sins.

VVVVV

Xanadu was always beautiful, but the first days of fall were the
loveliest, full of raucous red maples and majestic orange and yellow
oaks. Such bright colors still clung to the trees, like festive scarves
for a gay party, illuminated by the property spotlights.

Funerals weren't supposed to be pretty, but sometimes they were
regardless.

Xanatos had made the arrangements, gotten the permits necessary.
He'd even selected the coffin: slender and white, with silvery accents.
Elisa had glared at him when she'd gone with him to the morgue,
when she'd first seen it; her face had softened as she watched the
orderlies tenderly lay the body onto the silk interior, and she'd thanked
him in a quiet voice.

She'd recognized what he'd done. It was a girl's coffin, or to use the
old-fashioned parlance, a maiden's. She'd thought he'd been making a
cruel kind of joke at first, before seeing that he was trying to give
Delilah back some small piece of innocence.

He couldn't understand, wouldn't understand, that despite all she'd
been through, she'd never really lost it.

The coffin was closed now. While the clan had seen many a warrior
lost in battle, and gargoyle children were not normally spared the
sight, these were new times, and Delilah was also human. Elisa had
only opened the latches once. Her rookery brothers had each kissed
her forehead in turn, and Elisa had placed her favorite toy beside her,
and they'd closed up tight inside before Maggie could see and start
sobbing again.

Hudson spoke the words, what Goliath had told her was the usual
litany at the death of a clan member. Elisa barely heard him, listened
instead to the night wind blowing through the trees, to Alexander as
his father, standing a respectful distance back from the rest, tried to
shush him.

The white roses Beth had sent twisted in her hands as Hudson stopped
talking. Malibu nodded at Derek, and they lifted the coffin together
and lowered it into the grave. Then, Boo crouched at the edge of the
grave, and folded his wrists across his chest. Love.

Elisa tossed Beth's flowers onto the coffin. She had nothing of her
own to leave; she had only brought Grover. The rest filed by,
dropping pebbles and small flowers and handfuls of dirt. Tachi blew
a kiss while she clutched at her brother's hand.

Boo didn't move from his perch until the last pebbles had hit and
rolled and stilled.

Then he stood, pulled something from a pouch — Elisa saw a strange
glint of metal and thought it was a knife before she realized it was one
of the new electronic organizers, but one with a cracked and broken
screen — and cast it hard into the grave.

He signed, almost savagely, "For you." And he didn't speak or sign
another word until hours later, after her grave had been filled.

VVVVV

They came back to the city in the late evening hours, no one speaking
much. The Mazas returned home; the Mutates and the clones went to
the secret place below the city streets they thought he didn't know
about. The clan, minus Broadway and Angela who had opted to go
with the Mutates for the night, went back to the castle. Elisa had
taken a few nights' leave from work for personal time. Currently, that
personal time was being spent in his living room with the gargoyles.

David stayed there with them for a few minutes, watching Lexington
and Alexander play cars with Tachi on the vast superhighway of the
carpet, also observing Elisa and Goliath as they put a tape in the vcr,
and Brooklyn and Katana as they sat together, and Bronx asleep and
Hudson reading. Alexander was accepted among them as a part of the
family, maybe even a surrogate hatchling. He himself was not one of
them, was accepted on certain terms and no more. They would never
completely trust him, no matter what he did, and he supposed that was
a fate he'd bought and paid for with all that he'd done since he'd first
read the story in the Grimorum and wondered. He was not of their
kind.

Feeling the stranger in his own house, he left Alex in their care and
went up to the top parapet of his castle.

The biting wind was always strong, always pushing him out to and
possibly someday over the edge. It wasn't the highest spot on the
tallest building in the world, but it was damned close, and he had the
place to himself tonight.

To be alone.

Angela had been gone nearly two years before her return from
Avalon. He had a strong suspicion she'd been back sooner, although
he couldn't say why, merely that she'd somehow aged more than she
should have on the fairy island.

Time passed differently there, certainly. Someone who got lost could
be gone for an age before they returned to familiar ground. It was like
the speed-of-light time dilation theory, and the more he thought about
this last, the more he worried with justifiable cause that by the time he
saw Fox again, he would be an old man.

If he ever saw Fox again.

They'd only been gone two weeks, fourteen hours as the fay held time.
He tried to take heart from the thought, thinking maybe it meant there
had been a full trial for his sisters-in-law. The name O.J. Simpson
passed through his thoughts, and he banished it before it took hold. A
year-long trial on Avalon would mean twenty-four years without his
wife. He didn't think he could face that.

He peered over the edge of the parapet. It was a long way to the
levels below, a much, much longer way to the ground. Demona, in
her human form, had jumped off the building once, and it being
sunset, had more than enough time to transform completely and take
flight. He doubted the same thing would happen if he jumped.

Who was he kidding? He'd spent every day of his life since his
mother's untimely death trying to cheat his own. He'd gathered a
fortune around himself, matched with the power and influence it
brought. He'd collected magical trinkets, potions, had in his time held
two gods captive and a god-like being bound to him.

If there were some way, he would give it all back, in exchange for
having Fox in his arms, Owen at his side, Alexander binding them all
with his magical laughter. Standing here, alone, he was aware of
being incomplete.

Once, he'd been strong and independent. He'd used Janine Renard to
get nearer to her father and take whatever he could from the man.
He'd used Owen in the same spirit if not precisely the same fashion,
as a tool to meet his ends. Fox and Owen had allowed him to use
them, because they were using him back, Fox to aggravate her father,
Owen to relieve the incredible boredom placed upon him by
Halcyon's moral rigidity. He wasn't certain when he'd fallen in love
with Fox, nor could he name the day Owen had stopped being merely
his assistant and had entered the unknown territory of friendship.

Perhaps weakly, he'd become reliant upon the continued presence of
both. He liked waking up beside Fox each morning, enjoyed hearing
Owen's unique perspective on issues other than simply the daily
operations of the business. He had asked Fox to marry him to keep
her near, and while Puck had made the offer himself, David had been
the one to choose a lifetime of having Owen at his side.

Tonight, he had to face the possibility of losing them both to the
impossible lure of the Isle, whose call echoed inside their veins in a
way he could not share.

He saw an image: himself and Alexander, existing as he had with his
own father before he'd finally left, two strangers who happened to be
in the same house and share the same genes, but with absolutely
nothing in common.

Alex would grow as one of Them, the Fair Ones. The pull would
draw his son away from him into a shimmering destiny.

And then David would be utterly alone.

He looked upwards. The stars were cold and bright up here, more so
than in the city below. If the ancient pattern in them declared he
would be alone for all his life, he would be alone.

David had spent his life raging against the force of pattern, seeking a
way to escape its clutches. He dared to oppose Death itself; surely he
could find a way to outwit mere Fate.

David Xanatos, corporate giant, Illuminatus, brilliant innovator,
billionaire with a mansion and a yacht, stared up at the silent stars and
stuck his tongue out at them.

He walked back downstairs, went to the living room. He listened to
strains of the second musical number from "Hercules," heard Alex's
car noises.

Without so much as a notice from the gargoyles, he sat on the floor,
then lay stretched out on it beside Alex. He picked up a powder-blue
truck about the size of the end of his thumb, and rolled it across the
carpet to the delighted laughter of his son.

My students have many questions to ask me at the beginning of a
semester. Other than "Will there be a final?" and "What are your
office hours?" the most common question I am asked is, "What is it
like to be a gargoyle?"

As I stated, this is not an especially original question; however I am
not foolish enough to believe that many of those finding this book in
the bookstore or library are not flipping through to ask that same
question. After all, to my knowledge, this is the first nonfiction book
published by one of my species. There are bound to be questions.

Initially, I will muddy the waters further by answering the same way I
answer for my students. That is, I have never considered myself a
gargoyle.

One may then point out my wings, my tail, my rather obvious
aversion to sunlight (oh, the joys of night classes), even as my
students do. Scientifically speaking, yes I belong to the species
gargoylites. As one may already have known, I am in fact a genetic
clone of another gargoyle named Broadway.

This is what it was like for me to be a gargoyle.

I was not hatched, as most gargoyles are, in a rookery among many
parents, many siblings. I was created in a decanting chamber, and
allowed to breathe my first in September of 1996. As of this writing,
I am twenty-six years old. If I had been born in the normal fashion, I
would be approximately thirteen in human years. I am physically
about thirty-three in human terms.

I have three rookery brothers who were decanted at the same time as I
was. The reader is probably aware that Brent Wood is my brother.
Our other brothers are named Malibu and Burbank. They live in New
York. Hi, guys, if you're reading this.

We were created by another clone, named Thailog. The reader who is
gifted with anagrams already realizes he was a clone of Goliath,
whose fame far outreaches mine. Thailog created us to be mindless
drones, to serve him in his megalomaniacal plans for the world. He
gave us programming while we were "in the vat," simply that we
would always obey him. Shortly after our birth, we were taken from
him and placed with loving foster parents, Derek and Maggie Maza
and Toby Swires. They taught us to read, to speak, to think, to
become real people rather than simple robots. We did not consider
ourselves gargoyles. The real gargoyles, as we called them, were
Goliath and his clan. We were something else. We were clones.

We had a sister.

Delilah was created at the same time my brothers and I were. She
was also programmed to obey. When we were young, we didn't
understand that her programming was slightly different, that there
were other commands he had given her to obey without question.

The reader must understand, by the time we were taken from
Thailog's custody, the five of us were in adult bodies, but were
mentally about four years old. We had been alive for about a week.
In that week, Thailog molested our sister at least six times to my
knowledge, and probably more.

He did something worse to her, and I am sure the reader is asking,
"What could be worse?" Thailog programmed us, as I said. In his
programming of Delilah, he included a subroutine to ensure her
submission. He convinced her that he was the only one who would
ever love her, and that any pain he caused her was her own fault, for
something she had done, for something she failed to do.

The reader will certainly have seen the tape of August 13, 1998.
What the reader may not know is that two months prior to her death,
Thailog found us, and abducted 'Lilah. The night of August 13, two
members of our clan discovered where he had been keeping her, and
went to free her.

She didn't want to go with them.

Delilah was convinced that he would find her, no matter where she
went, no matter what she did. She was convinced that every wound
he gave her was for her own failings, that in fact he was doing it for
her own good.

She very nearly stayed in that room, and if she had, who knows what
might have happened that night.

She decided to go. I cannot say what went into this decision, whether
it was fear of his anger when he returned, or a realization of the
difference she could make by standing against him, or something else
entirely. I never will know. All I know is that, in the end, she chose
to leave her prison.

This book details the psychology behind abusive relationships, with
an emphasis on sexual relationships, but also selected case studies of
parent-child relationships. First, the mind of the abuser is studied,
with the current theories on the initiation of the behavior. Much more
time is spent on the psychology of the abused, what kind of
"programming" goes into this particular mindset. Some time is spent
on co-dependent relationships, as another aspect of abuse. Finally, a
discussion is made on the best methods of treatment for someone in
an abusive relationship, both abused and abuser. Both must be treated
for the cycle to end.

The first step to treatment is, of course, the hardest. The abused party
must first admit to the abuse, that it is a problem, that it is not okay
for any reason. The abused must take this step, must walk out of the
dark room, clinging to the hand of a friend, or just the hope of light.

It's a difficult choice for some. There is comfort even in pain if it is a
known pain. There is the chance of retaliation from the abuser, even
the exchange of a possibility of death for the actuality. There is the
ever present thought, "What if this is the best I'll ever have?" So
many fears are wrapped up with the decision to leave, to seek help,
that it is often a wonder anyone ever does. Yet, for the healing to
begin, it is the one thing that must occur, the choice that must be
made. No one else can make that choice; only the person in the dark
room can walk out the door.

For those of us outside, waiting, it can be frustrating to know
someone we love is in pain, and cannot or will not take that first step.
As friends, family, therapists, or legal officers, we must know that we
cannot do it for this person. We cannot go into the situation and save
Delilah.

The only one who can save Delilah is herself.

VVVVV