All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of "Alex Checnkov."

The Avignon University presented here is not meant in any way to represent the Universite D'Avignon and any similarities are coincidental.

New Horizons: Arrival, Part 1
Alex Checnkov

Three miles northeast of Saint Paul, Nebraska
Eve of the Autumnal Equinox, 2018:

Though only nineteen, the toll of farm living with the rigors of martial arts training made Jacob Goldberg appear older. His knuckles were deformed from punching so many hard surfaces and his skin was well tanned by many sunburns. Standing over six feet tall and muscular he was an imposing figure, but Jacob's smile and soft hazel eyes always betrayed his kinder character; excepting now as he fought with his suitcase to stuff in his jeans and short sleeved shirts.

"Are you sure you have everything?" his mother asked from the doorway for the second time since he stopped counting. "Because if you leave something, we probably won't be able to ship it for a while."

Jacob closed the locks on his suitcase and looked at the other two pieces of luggage sitting by the door. He replied to his mother, irritated, "Yes, I checked and checked again, and each time I looked I had everything. I had everything sorted yesterday, I had it packed last night and it's all still here."

"You don't have to get snippy about it. I'm just concerned."

He sighed, "I know, Mama, I'm just nervous is all. I didn't mean anything by it."

"All right, well you settle. I don't want you leaving on a sour note." Before his mother turned the conversation into a lecture, she smiled and said, "Besides, I know how you forget things. Your head'd already be in France if it wasn't screwed on."

Jacob laughed politely, a learned reaction to the joke he had heard for years. His father came into the room and grabbed the luggage sitting by the door. "Rick called about a minute ago to say he just got on the freeway, so he oughta be here in about ten minutes."

"Thanks," Jacob said. "We don't need to set those out on the porch so soon, then."

"Nah, might as well. Gotta do it sometime," and at that his father left the room, luggage in tow. Jacob's mother turned to follow as did Jacob after grabbing the last suitcase off his bed. On their way outside they passed through the living room where his younger brother, David, had taken up his usual television-watching position, lying on his belly with his face a mere six inches from the screen.

Jacob's mother was quick to notice and scolded, "David, you sit back from the TV. What'd I tell you 'bout the screen making you go blind if you get too close?"

"I wasn't gonna sit for long," David replied as he made his way to the couch, forgoing his crutches and hopping the short distance on his one leg. His voice was inflected to match his disapproval for being snapped at over a minor infraction. "Was just changing the channel was all."

"You can do that from the sofa with the remote."

His parents continued on their way, but before he followed Jacob glanced at the television to see what had caught his brother's attention. To his surprise he saw the introduction for the evening news. Curious, he leaned over his brother to ask, "Since when'd you start watching the news?"

"I was tryin' to get to cartoons when they showed your picture."

Jacob groaned and stood back up. "Sorry I asked. Keep on looking for your cartoons," he said and went out the front door. He stood there with his parents for a while, none of them having much to say that hadn't been in the last few days. Soon a cloud of dust made an appearance on the horizon and the afternoon sun reflected off the vehicle at its head.

His father shook his head and said disapprovingly, "If my truck weren't broke down, I'd never let that boy take you to the airport. Doesn't know how to keep his damned car under sixty." Before Jacob could say anything in his friend's defense his father looked to him and said, "And for all your smarts neither do you."

As Rick did whenever he came by, he sped up the farmhouse's long, dusty driveway before making a sudden stop at the porch's steps. Jacob and his parents stepped down the few stairs leading out while Rick managed to work his tall frame out of the compact car and gave them all a smile. "Mister Goldberg, Miss Goldberg," he said with a nod to the respective parent. He approached Jacob and, with a punch to his shoulder, said, "Sad Sack."

Other than being similarly tanned from farm work, Richard Green did not match up physically to Jacob in the slightest. He was short and skinny, had matted black hair with dull brown eyes and a shy personality. Regardless, the two had been friends as long as they could remember, and Rick could still raise Hell whenever he was so inclined.

Jacob punched back. "You just worry about fitting all my stuff into that pile of metal you managed to fix an engine to."

"Ain't you gonna turn your car off, Rick?" Jacob's father asked. "Just burning fuel."

"I would, sir, but then I don't know if we'd get it started again."

"Are you going to make it to the airport?" Jacob's mother asked, visibly concerned by Rick's revelation.

"Oh yes ma'am, just gotta keep the engine running," Rick replied as he struggled with Jacob's luggage.

Once everything managed to find its way into the car, Jacob's mother called towards the house, "David, get out here! Your brother's leaving." David emerged moments later, crutches tucked under his arm, and went to his father's side.

His mother said, "Well, I guess this is it." She stepped forward to hug Jacob who was quick to hug back. She laughed as her arms began to shake, "Been telling myself all day not to cry and here I go."

"Hey, Mama, I'll be all right," Jacob said. "I'll call you when I get there."

"You'd better," she managed, fighting back tears. Jacob's father stepped forward and joined in on the family hug when it became apparent that his wife wasn't going to let go of Jacob on her own, using the connection to pull her away.

David stood alone, looking at the ground in an unusual silence. Jacob knelt down and said, "What, you don't want to say anything?"

"Bye."

His father stepped in and said, "C'mon, Boy, that's all you're gonna say? Brother's going off for six months at least. I'd say a little more than that."

Rick spoke up, "Hey, I don't want to break up the goodbyes but we've gotta get going or Jacob won't be leaving at all."

Jacob patted David on the shoulder before opening the passenger door to his friend's car as Rick went around to the driver's side. "I'll call when I get in. Love you all," Jacob said.

"Drive safely, Richard," Jacob's mother called out.

"Don't worry, ma'am. I'll get 'im there in one piece."

The two teenagers took their seats in the car, and no sooner had they closed the doors than Rick put the vehicle into gear and was off. Traveling down the long driveway, Jacob rolled down the window, leaned out, looked back and waved to his family until they were out of sight.

"For the record," Rick said, "I think you're nuts."

"So you've told me at every chance," Jacob replied after he leaned back into the car and buckled his seat belt.

"I mean, you could have gone to any college you wanted, any major one that already accepts gargoyles. Instead you're going to France."

"When do you think I'm going to get another chance like this? If you haven't noticed, not a whole lot happens in this town after football season that's exciting."

"Don't knock the town, Jake. They pitched in a hell of a lot to pay your way."

When Avignon announced to the world who were the ten humans they accepted, the would-be students became celebrities in their hometowns and across the globe. For Jacob, the town celebrated his acceptance to the school by raising enough money to support him at there for the first two years, on top of saturating him with media coverage.

Before the announcement, Jacob had been outside of the state a mere five times and was only in the local paper or on the minds of the townspeople when he led his high school football team to victory.

But in the months leading up to this day he had been invited to nearly every get-together and formal event that took place within one-hundred miles of his home, mostly from high profile people he had never heard of.

The governor invited him to a cookout with state legislators; his congressman, whom he was sure his parents had never voted for and whom he never had the chance to not vote for, flew him to Washington to show him off for a weekend; he was the guest of honor at the state university's rivalry game, and the list of similar appearances went on.

Although he would never give up his seat at Avignon, the surge of attention he received often made him wish he could go back to being another nobody in another unknown Midwest town.

"I'm not knocking the people. Even they know this place is boring as all Hell."

"True enough," Rick conceded. "So, tell me again why you're doing this."

"Well, why shouldn't I? Gargoyles are as much a part of this world as we are, but we don't know a whole lot about them. I figure this is as good a chance as any to start learning."

"Oh c'mon, don't feed me that shit. We know plenty about them. And if you wanted to study gargoyles, you could have just moved to Colorado or Wyoming. They got good schools, gargoyles and are close to home. Seriously, why do you want to go so much?"

Jacob looked over, "What's with trying to keep me around all of a sudden?"

"Hey, it's your life," Rick said in quick defense. "All I'm saying is that I don't think you've ever told me why you want to go all the way to France. Hell, you didn't speak a word of French until a year ago."

"Well, again, I'm never going to have another opportunity like this, and I'm just going where it takes me."

Rick sighed and said with resignation, "Fine, but I'm hoping it doesn't take you too far from where you need to be."

Jacob raised an eyebrow and echoed, "From where I need to be? Where exactly do I 'need' to be?"

"How about home for starters. Your dad's going to have to hire an extra hand with you gone."

"Dad will be fine. We talked a lot about the farm when I was applying to the school, to schools in general. He said my being gone wouldn't be a problem." Jacob looked over at his friend, "But I don't think my going to France is what you were getting at."

Rick hesitated and said after some visible consideration, "No."

"What's on your mind?"

"Listen, you know I've got nothing against gargoyles…"

Jacob interrupted with a frustrated groan, "Shit, not this again."

"C'mon, hear me out."

"Has your dad been talking down on gargoyles again?"

John Green, Rick's father, often spoke ill of gargoyles in reflecting on his past experiences with the species.

"He's always talking down on gargoyles."

Before moving out to Nebraska, John had been in his family's livestock and tobacco businesses in southwestern Virginia, a location which kept him in close proximity to a number of gargoyle clans. For years he and his family hadn't had problems living alongside gargoyles as they rarely interacted. But on one summer night, John stumbled on a group of adolescent gargoyles looking for a tobacco fix without wanting to wait for the plant's processing, much less wanting to pay for it.

He never had a chance to defend himself.

During John's three week stay in the hospital, the Green family and the Bureau of Gargoyle Affairs searched for the gargoyles responsible for his injuries. When they were located, their parent clan and its benefactors were quick to offer a settlement, which the majority of the Green family accepted. John, however, was unwilling to settle the matter.

Upon recovering and executing the offending gargoyles' punishment, as he was so invited to do by the clan leadership as part of the settlement to ensure the sentence's full enforcement, John sought a place in the country that was both devoid of gargoyles and where he could still make a living.

His distance from gargoyles meant that only his slanted conceptions of the race informed his opinions about them, and those slanted opinions eventually grew to into unrelenting bigotry.

"But that's not important right now. Hear me out."

Jacob sighed, "All right."

"Like I was saying, I've got nothing against gargoyles. Pop hasn't worn me down on that. But I think he's right in that we shouldn't, you know, be living together." Jacob jumped to interrupt but Rick continued, "Not that we can't live near each other, but gargoyles aren't in our houses, and we aren't in their clans.

"I was even hearing it on the national radio a couple of days back. There was a gargoyle, a clan leader come to think of it, talking about how bad this all was, and how humans and gargoyles were getting too close for either one's good. I think you're, I don't know, disturbing a balance by going to this school."

Jacob waited until he was sure his friend had finished then responded, "Well, fair enough, but I guess I'm just going to have to prove all that wrong."

"While you're on that crusade, just be sure to watch your back. I'm sure there are plenty of folks who want you to fail."

New Amsterdam, New York:

Sophie snapped the last latches on the bag and set it on the floor with the rest of her luggage. She checked the list of items the school recommended she bring to make sure each item had been double checked prior to packing. Finding everything in order, Sophie folded the checklist and tucked it into a pouch on her carry-on bag.

She was a silver-skinned gargoyle with blue hair that flowed past her shoulders, her brow giving way to a pair of horns that curled behind her ears. Wearing her favorite plaid camp shirt and jean shorts which ended at her knee spurs, she reclined on the daybed in her room and looked out the window past her daytime roost into the evening cityscape.

Although night had fallen, New Amsterdam was still very much awake. The streets were full of activity, no building had fallen dark as workers stayed at their offices late into the night and others arrived home to their apartments. With the city's gargoyles awake, even the sky showed signs of life; familiar silhouettes glided about, their natural stealth deceived by purple strobes they were required to wear for gliding in the city.

Nestled among the humans' many skyscrapers were the island's four guild towers, home to most of the thousands of gargoyles who occupied the city, and the steel frame of a fifth rose out of the island's southern end; and, like each tower before, it challenged the height and engineering potential of the time.

The humans, in desperate attempts to maintain their sense of superiority, had surrounded each tower with buildings of comparable height. The constant race for domination of the sky had resulted in a city on a scale that almost overwhelmed its inhabitants.

Sophie tried not to think about how long it might be before she would again be privileged to the view, but her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Nicholas, her rookery brother, opened the door and asked, "Are you ready?" She nodded. "Great," he said as he stepped into the room. "What can I get?"

"Take these two," she said, carrying the heavier pieces of luggage to him, "and I'll get the other two and the carry-on."

"Okay," Nicholas said as he took the bags. "Let's go."

Sophie offered a weak smile as she slung the carry-on's strap around her neck and shoulder before lifting the last two pieces of luggage and walking out of her room. She turned and paused to give her familiar surroundings one last look before turning off the lights and closing the door, locking it for a length of time she didn't know.

Nicholas had long been the object of her affection, indeed he was the object of many of his sisters' affections. He was one of the taller and stronger males of their generation, with deep red skin and long blonde hair which, in the immediate years before his entry into the police academy, he had dyed with streaks of orange and red to give himself a fiery mane.

As the young gargoyles headed down the corridor towards the elevator bay Nicholas asked, "Did you say all your goodbyes?"

"I saw pretty much everybody at the party last night and caught the others before sunrise."

The clan had organized a going away party for her, which attracted most of the residents in her guild tower. While the party had lasted most of the night, it was only hers and the generation above that had the stamina to stay through it.

Sophie had spent most of the party trying to coax Nicholas away for a more personal farewell, but he hadn't responded to her advances. The best she could get from him was his promise to help see her off, which he was dutifully fulfilling at the moment.

Her brother's hesitation frustrated Sophie, as she was under frequent pressure from other potential suitors. She, while not able to lay claim to being the fairest of her sisters, was no eye-sore, and as she climbed the ranks within her clan she knew she could have her pick of most males for a partner.

But Sophie was stubborn and kept her eyes set on Nicholas.

They came to the elevator bay, called a car and were soon up at the pre-flight station. In front of the elevator bay was a floor-to-ceiling window and sliding glass door that looked out towards the west, while flanking them were walls thinly decorated by old posters. On the south wall were two monitors, one displayed various anemometric data while the other showed weather alerts and the night's forecast. Below that was a control pad for the launch rail on the roof. Along the opposite wall were rows of gliding packs - a transponder, beacon light and radio - and accompanying headsets.

Sophie hated the packs. Other than being cumbersome, for her they represented humans imposing themselves on gargoyles. She could vaguely remember from her younger years when the skies were open, when a gargoyle could take to the air and glide at will. However, following two incidents within a year of planes entering well-known gargoyle airspace and almost coming into contact with gargoyles, the Bureau of Gargoyle Affairs and the National Aviation Administration, rather than urge for human pilots to be punished for their errors, required gargoyles in urban centers to wear these packs and adhere to gliding regulations.

However, not wanting to cost her clan several-thousand dollars should she be seen landing at the airport without a pack, she donned one.

Nicholas, donning his own pack, scanned the monitors and said, "Eleven knots outside coming from the west, and updraft's at six knots. Roads must still be hot. Want to go for a running start or a launch?"

"Launch," she replied. "It'll be hard to get a good run with this luggage."

Nicholas nodded as he looked over their cargo. "All right, give me a second to configure the platform."

The launch system used by Sophie's and most all urban gargoyle clans was little more than a large, pneumatic catapult, a system valued by gargoyles in light winds and short takeoff distances. Clans sometimes would use it for hatchlings who during gliding lessons didn't quite take to the idea of running off a tall building's roof. After reluctant hatchlings were shot off a building in the arms of a teacher, the theory went, they would prefer to take to the air on their own power from then on; yet in practice, however, many hatchlings who underwent a launch feared gliding for weeks, as was the case when Sophie received the treatment.

Younger gargoyles frequently got into trouble for launching various objects never meant for flight. Nicholas and some of his brothers had to perform community service for launching tomatoes they had taken from the tower's kitchen after one hit a national prosecutor half a mile away. Yet what upset Nicholas and his brothers more than their punishment was their denial of the world record for a tomato's flight since they did not start their launches at ground level.

Once Nicholas entered the necessary information into the system's computer via the console, the ceiling rumbled as the launch platform rotated into the wind and hissed as the system's tanks compressed air to the necessary pressure.

The gargoyles left the control station for the roof where they arrived in time to see the launch platform lock into place. The two walked up to the small, open elevator that carried passengers to the catapult rail, elevated twenty feet above the roof and spanning its length, where Nicholas held a hand out, grinned and insisted, "Ladies first."

Sophie smiled and nodded in response as she walked past him. She stepped onto the platform, made sure her luggage was securely on as well, and pressed the button to ascend. The lift, long overdue for maintenance, lurched up before climbing slowly, shaking with each inch.

Once at the catapult, Sophie made the short trip down the catwalk to the end of the rail and the waiting launch panel. The panel had one red button with "Launch" carved into it, the other green and declaring "Recover," and a timer that awaited her input. Sophie allowed herself fifteen seconds to prepare and, once she made the entry, the launch button illuminated. She pressed it, and the clock began to count down.

Sophie hurried onto the carrier platform set at the end of the rail and knelt with wings partially extended while keeping her hands firmly around the luggage handles. As the countdown entered its final seconds, each tick received a high-pitched tone until, at zero, there was a long buzz that was followed by a hiss of compressed air escaping its containers' valves to launch the platform forward.

The ride was smooth and quick. Once the platform neared the end of the rail Sophie opened her wings in full, caught the wind and climbed into the night.

She looked back and watched Nicholas arrive at the catwalk to recall the platform for his launch. Sophie flipped on the beacon of her glide pack, its purple strobe giving away her position in the night sky, and then called over the radio, "New Amsterdam Control, Golf Victor airborne over marker Whiskey Five Two with intent to enter general airspace."

After a few moments delay a female's voice responded, "Whiskey Five Two, squawk niner zero one eight and designate Golf Victor November Beta Six."

Sophie dialed in the assigned numbers to her transponder and replied, "November Beta Six copy, squawking niner zero one eight."

Sophie circled over her home and waited for Nicholas to launch. She looked about the night sky and saw a number of purple strobes off in the distance, the sign other gargoyles going about their business. For all that Sophie disliked about the gliding packs she and her kind were forced to wear in their native medium above their homes, their private radio band offered some welcome opportunities.

"Beta Six, this is Alpha Seven, are you goin' off to cross tails with the French?"

"Alpha Seven, Beta Six. Yes, Chris, I'm on my way out."

Chris was a friend of hers from one of the city's independent clans who, unlike Nicholas, was never shy about showing his interest in females, and Sophie was often the target of his advances. She counted him as a potential suitor should she ever give up on Nicholas.

"Got time for a drink before you go?"

"Only if you catch me at the airport bar."

"Ah, I think I'm going to have to pass. I'm northbound. Well, good luck to you. Give 'em hell. Seven, out."

Once Chris signed off, Nicholas announced his launch over the radio, "New Amsterdam Control, Golf Victor airborne over point Whiskey Five Two with intent to enter general airspace," and climbed to meet Sophie.

"Whiskey Five Two, squawk niner zero two zero and designate flight Golf Victor November Charlie One."

"November Charlie One copy, squawking niner zero two zero." Nicholas got off the radio and called over to Sophie, "You got your bags okay?"

"Just fine. You?"

"I'm all right. Let's go." The two dipped their wings and turned south towards the airport. The glide was long and, for the most part, silent, broken only by the occasional radio calls to the airspace controllers for directions to stay clear of human traffic.

After a while they saw the airport lights on the horizon and began to glide in. Nicholas called on the radio, "King International Approach, Golf Victor November Charlie One, squawking niner zero two zero, coming in from the north and in need of glide path."

"November Charlie One," a male responded, "I see you on my screen, illuminating tonight's glide path. Look for it on your right. Approach, out."

"Thank you. One, out."

The two gargoyles followed the lights to the airport until they felt comfortable enough to land at the terminal on their own direction. They glided low to scan the terminal entrances for the appropriate airline entrance and landed when they saw their destination.

Nicholas handed Sophie her bags and said, "Well, I guess you're all set."

"Yeah. This is it," she replied with a weak smile. Nicholas took a step forward and hugged her. Sophie quickly reciprocated, resting her head on his chest. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"We'll all miss you, too, but we know you'll make us proud."

Sophie looked up at him, "That's not what I said." Nicholas raised his brow in curiosity and she placed a hand on his cheek, "I said 'I'm going to miss you,' Nick."

"You don't like everybody else?" he joked.

"I do! I like all our brothers and sisters, and I'll miss them. It's just," she paused to search for the words that had to come next. Unable to find them quickly, she moved her hand from his cheek and stroked his hair with affection. "It's just that you're special to me," she finally managed. "You always have been."

Nicholas was taken aback by her candor. "Oh. Wow," was all he could say in response and, in his state of surprise, dropped his hands from her.

Sophie's optimism faded at his reaction and she took a step back from him. "I'm sorry." She looked down at her feet, "I didn't want to leave without saying it."

"No, I'm - I'm glad you did." Sophie looked up from the ground and waited for more, as surely he had more to say, but Nicholas was reluctant to push further, rubbing the back of his neck and looking in all directions but in hers while he formulated a response.

She was determined to get answers. Sophie stepped forward, placed her hands on his cheeks and turned his head so his eyes could only look at hers. "I want to know. It's okay if, you know, but just tell me."

Nicholas sighed and placed his hands over hers, guiding them away. Sophie's heart sank for a moment but was startled when he leaned forward to rest his brow against hers; the unexpected contact sent a pulse through her, shutting her eyes and exiting from the end of her tail, forcing it to lash against the ground.

He brought a hand up to stroke her hair, and she tilted her head so that their noses rubbed. They were not more than a hair away from a kiss, but that small space between them was more electric than a summer storm It must have been, for it felt to Sophie that her hair was standing on its end.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, she expected him to say more and, perhaps, she thought, he was expecting the same from her, though it seemed that nothing more needed to be said. But after some time he admitted, "You are very dear to me, but I don't think I'm ready for this, especially not with you going away for so long."

Though each small breath that accompanied his words felt soft as they brushed past her lips, and the deep pitch of his voice was soothing, those words stung her.

"Will you be ready at all? Ever?" She opened her eyes and saw that he was looking right at her, no signs of hesitation or reluctance, and the two youths were locked together. When he took too long to respond, she tried to look past him and into his intentions, his thoughts, but couldn't.

Nicholas placed his hands on her cheek, lowered her head and kissed the bridge of her nose. He might have left his reply at that alone, but as he began to pull away Sophie threw her arms about him and brought him in for a kiss.

His body pulled away as his wings snapped back in surprise, but she kept him close, encouraging his response.

Nicholas put up no further resistance.

Jacob's family had purchased coach tickets for this flight, but someone had taken the liberty to upgrade him to first class. Unfortunately, whoever the kind person was hadn't upgraded the ticket on the first leg of his trip, leaving him an arm-length from the lavatory, and Jacob was aware of the stench which clung to him.

He had been at the gate for little more than an hour and was growing bored and impatient. Though he had laid out books to read for the flight the night he packed, he recalled now that he packed them in his checked luggage instead of his carry-on.

Before Jacob turned his gaze out the window, he caught Sophie's entrance to the gate. Her wings were caped, carry-on bag slung across her chest and secured under her arm. He watched as she scanned the aisles of chairs for a seat and settled on one across from a family. She glanced at her watch before digging through her bag.

Though grabbed by his first gargoyle encounter in ten years, he broke his stare so as not to be rude and turned back around to resume contemplating the enormity of the plane before him. It wasn't long before a child began to cry and Jacob heard a woman's voice from some rows back, "Excuse me, could you move, please?"

Jacob along with several others turned to see what the disturbance was. He couldn't see anything apparent, though noted the agitated child was among the family seated before Sophie.

"Excuse me?" Sophie asked, brow raised.

"Could you move?" the mother asked again. "You're frightening my son."

Sophie looked confused and, after exchanging glances with some other passengers, including some with children who were not making a fuss, said, "I'm just sitting here. Would it be too difficult for maybe you to move?"

"We were here first. I don't mean to be rude; we're from Ohio and there aren't any gargoyles there. I don't know how to explain you to him."

"'It's okay, she's just a gargoyle' while cradling it could be a good place to start."

"'It' is a he," the father protested. "You don't need to be rude with us, just move."

"I don't have to! And how is telling your wife how to teach tolerance being rude?"

"Do you want us to get security? Someone call security!" the father shouted.

"No! Fine, I'll move," she relented. Sophie stood and walked away from the family. "You didn't need to make a case out of it," she hissed.

With Sophie's departure, the mother took action to calm her child, "It's okay. It's gone, now."

Sophie walked over and took a seat next to Jacob. Before returning to her book she looked at him and asked, "I'm not going to scare you, am I?"

"Not unless you try," he responded with a smile. He extended a hand to her, "Jacob Goldberg."

"Sophie," she said, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake before pulling back. Although she looked like she had a light frame, Jacob could feel the superior strength of her kind present in even that slight exchange.

He thought to strike up a conversation, but she was clearly flustered from the exchange with the Ohio family. So he left her alone while he carried on with his own musings and, during which, he further recalled that his reading materials were not checked, but rather were still in his bookcase at home.

Night had fallen in earnest outside the airplane, some few hundred miles south of Greenland according to the route tracker on the screen in front of him. The attendants had distributed meals a while earlier, and all the other passengers in first class had retired for the flight - except for Sophie who, seated next to him, was engaged in her book.

In preparation for Avignon and having to live on the gargoyles' nocturnal schedule, Jacob had spent the last few months training himself to stay awake throughout the night. What Jacob could never fully overcome, however, was the boredom and feeling of isolation that came with nighttime living in a daytime-dependent, sparsely populated region. His friends could sometimes keep him company through the first few hours of night, usually until the bars closed, but more often than not he was on his own. And now, with his books back at home, Jacob had nothing with which he could occupy his time.

Once more he put on the headphones that, despite his first class ticket, he had to purchase for three dollars, a discount for first class passengers, and flipped through the various music channels provided by the airline. Yet, as he had discovered just ten minutes earlier, there was nothing on that suited his tastes. Jacob, again, tried the few television channels available and was similarly disappointed.

Jacob set the screen back to the route tracker and stowed the headphones. He looked around the cabin at the sleeping passengers and hoped that the sedated mood might help him drift off, but he had no such luck.

With the view outside nothing more than darkness, he ended up focused on Sophie, trying to understand how a form so alien to what he knew could also feel so terrestrial to him.

In doing so he got a lesson in gargoyles' superior field of vision. "You're doing it again," Sophie said without looking up.

Jacob turned away, "Sorry. Just bored is all."

"You could try going to sleep."

"I'm not tired. And, anyway, that'd screw up my internal clock."

Sophie looked over at him. "Wouldn't being awake all night kind count as your internal clock being screwed up? Being human and everything."

"Probably," Jacob mused. "But it's a necessary evil. I've been training myself to survive it for the last few weeks."

"What possessed you to do that?"

He hesitated. "Well, I'm going to be spending a lot of time with gargoyles for a while and, well, I have to keep pace." Sophie raised her brow, quietly asking for further explanation. "I'm, um, one of the 'Avignon Ten,' as we're being called."

Sophie's reaction was what Jacob had feared and the reason why he had not mentioned the purpose of his trip sooner. She turned away in a kind of daze, as though in shock, then let out a frustrated sigh, then a muted growl and closed her eyes, though not fast enough for Jacob to miss a flash of crimson. She pinched the bridge of her nose and, after a few tense moments of controlling her anger, suppressing a snarl or two, laughed. "That's beautiful. Of all the people I could sit next to, first a family of bigots and now a damned sapper."

They hadn't spoken the remainder of the flight.

Jacob stared out the window while Sophie tried to focus on her book, but she was too upset to get past more than a few pages. Eventually she put the romance novel away for another night and brooded. Her hope had been to avoid the sappers, the humans who were infiltrating the last bastion of gargoyle heritage, as long as possible, but that hope had been shattered.

Sophie didn't hate humans, she had no reason to. But the species' constant intrusions on her kind made it very difficult to like them at least; and their invasion of Avignon was the last straw for her. She had grown up hoping to go to the gargoyles-exclusive school to learn more about her own kind without the interferences and distortions of humanity.

Even if it had been the gargoyle chancellor's decision, he was under pressure from the school's human benefactors, whose millions of dollars allowed gargoyles to attend without risking their clans' finances. She knew they had long insisted on having human membership, and that they must have conspired to threaten the school with bankruptcy if they didn't finally have their way.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder and turned to look at the person responsible. "Excuse me, ma'am," the young, male flight attendant said, "but we'll be entering daylight in a few minutes. If you'll please come with me, I'll get you squared away."

Sophie glanced out the window to see that the sky had become a familiar pre-dawn grey, accented by faint streaks of red and orange along the horizon. It was then that she felt fatigued and knew sleep was not too far off.

She stood, took her bag from the overhead bin and followed the flight attendant aft, past the many rows of sleeping passengers to the crew cabin. The attendant called the service elevator, used normally for transporting the food cart between levels, the two stepped into the car and descended to the cargo deck.

Farther back in the plane, Sophie was shown to a padded compartment with a single, padded seat, bolted into the wall and without arm rests. Sophie wondered if for flights without gargoyles the room was used for criminals and insane or unruly passengers as it looked to be straight from an asylum.

"Have a seat, keep your wings caped, cross your arms and make sure your tail isn't wrapped around anything," the human instructed, and she complied. He reached over her shoulders and pulled down a set of belts that crossed over her chest before locking.

The attendant pulled on the straps and asked, "Too tight?" She shook her head.

"Great. Well, sun'll be up soon, and we'll take care of you from there."

"Thank you." As the attendant turned to leave, she asked, "Um, has there ever been any, uh, 'chipping' in this process? I've seen how some airlines handle bags, so - you know."

The attendant smiled. "We and our somnio shuttle services have a flawless record. No dings, chips or scrapes."

"Good to know," she said, relieved.

He continued, "Only losses we've had are when the plane's gone down, but at least they were asleep when it happened." He chuckled, "That's more than can be said for the folks up top."

Sophie looked at him with eyes wide in utter disbelief that he would say something like that, and humorously. The human cleared his throat and, after some stuttering, said, "Thank you for flying Pan Global. Sleep well," and left the compartment.

She shook her head and thought of filing a complaint, but dismissed the thought. She yawned and looked out the window just as the morning's first rays of sunlight came in, ushering in her sleep.

Avignon, France:

The bus navigated the narrow, winding streets of the old city to arrive at the school's front gate. The sudden stop brought Jacob out of his sleep and he exited the vehicle to help the driver unload his bags from the bus' hold.

With everything in order, Jacob tipped the driver and walked up to a small guardhouse at the university's iron gate which, like the stone walls, was too high for Jacob to see past and into the campus, leaving only the towers of the Palace of the Popes visible. The guard, short but imposing, left the guardhouse and with his hand held out and up said, "Pardon, monsieur, est-ce que vous avez rendez-vous?"

"Non," he replied, "I'm a student here. I'm supposed to arrive today."

The guard went back to his station and flipped through some papers. After a few moments he said through an open window, "Let me see your identification." Jacob handed him his passport and a letter the school sent out.

Once the guard was satisfied, he returned Jacob's passport and went to open the gate. "Have a good day, sir," he said as Jacob walked past.

"Thank you, you too."

Once inside the school's complex, Jacob was amazed by what he saw.

Jacob had entered the campus from the south, and starting sixty feet to his east and west were the main walls, each fifteen feet high and at least six-hundred feet long as they enclosed the campus from the south gate all the way to the Rhone River.

The campus of Avignon University greeted him with a garden, planned by Pope Urban the Fifth almost seven-hundred years earlier, that spanned from the east wall to the west, at most one-hundred fifty feet deep and three-hundred feet across. The garden was cut in half by a walkway that led from the gate to the former papal seat with a number of lesser walkways branching off to other points in the garden.

The old seat of the Papacy, now the university's primary academic building, was a massive structure, improved many times during the centuries of the French papacy before it was handed over to the gargoyles' custody. The Gothic palaces' walls, easily fifteen feet thick, looked as though it had come from the Earth itself. Towers forty feet high guarded the palaces' entrances, incorporated into the western wall. With a total area comparable to four gothic cathedrals, the palace complex was the focus of the campus.

Beyond the palace were the parade grounds where the students would soon be honing their combat skills; and past the field the terrain became cragged as it neared the Rhone. Atop this hilled area Jacob could make out the dormitories, one Gothic from the founding of the school back in the sixteenth century, the other looking newer but in an old style.

His luggage in tow, Jacob walked past the palace towards the hill, and once past the palace he could see more of the parade grounds where, blocked from his earlier view, a motor pool of vans had gathered, unloading their cargo of sleeping gargoyles.

Directing the unloading process was a short, slim and well-kept brunette in a suit who, though she was speaking too fast for Jacob to fully understand, he gathered was emphasizing the need for the crews to be careful with the new students, punctuating her directions with threats.

Cautiously he approached her and, when she got a break from yelling at the work crews, said, "Pardon, madam, I'm looking for registration."

"And you are?" she asked with suspicion.

"Jacob Goldberg. The letter the school sent out said registration was today."

"It opens tonight, yes, but I can get you into your room now. Goldberg, you said?"

"Yes."

The woman flipped through her clipboard and said, "Constantine 417," then turned to a stack of boxes where, after some searching, she pulled out a set of keys and handed them to him. "Constantine Hall is the building to your right when you reach the top of the hill," she directed before returning her attention to the crews handling the gargoyles.

"Thanks," he said and carried on his way.

Jacob's luggage helped the trek up to the dormitories become an arduous affair as he climbed a great number of stairs - he felt bad for the crews bringing up the sleeping gargoyles. Once atop the hill, Jacob looked north to take in the vista presented to him of the Rhone and the hills beyond.

The dorms flanked his view. To his left was the newest building, Urban Hall, modern in its design and making the attempt not to clash with the medieval architecture surrounding it. The limestone walls made it look native to the rocks around the city, and the building's pointed arches over the doorways and windows as well as stubby flying buttresses along the outer walls were done to mimic the Gothic style. However, the building's single-paned windows, modern-styled balconies, a penthouse complex on the roof and its walls too thin to possibly support the weight of the rock on their own all told that a steel skeleton was at work behind the rock, which itself lacked many fingerprints of weathering like the city's older structures.

On Jacob's right was his new home. Truly Gothic in construction, Constantine Hall looked like a cathedral in miniature, right down to its cross-like footprint and high towers. Elaborate flying buttresses and columns lined the outer walls, which showed the wear of centuries of weathering, and were interrupted by grand windows with perches at their bases for the gargoyles' daylight slumber.

Inside, however, modern renovations were plain. Though the lobby and main hallway still showed the structure's vaulted ceiling and grand columns, inner walls had been built over the years to partition the structure into a more fitting housing complex, lessening the inner grandeur that Jacob had expected from the outside view. A building map in the lobby showed him that his room was at the top of the northeast tower.

Walking back there Jacob noticed a gym and lounge with signs indicating a computer center and food area on the west side of the dorm. He climbed the tower's staircase and when at the top floor saw that the tower floor, like the main building, had been partitioned by drywall to accommodate multiple residents. Jacob walked to the end of the makeshift hallway to a window facing north, where in the distance and to the east he saw Mont Ventoux, a sentry for the French Alps not too far away.

Turning around he took the few steps to his door, his room taking up the east side of the tower, and unlocked it. Inside he found a bed, small desk with a lamp and bookshelf on the north wall, all barren. On the south wall was a couch, and similar furnishings, but they had been decorated and filled, evidence that his roommate had arrived. Jacob dropped his luggage on the stripped mattress and approached his roommate's wall where a vast array of pictures had been taped up.

Eager to get a glimpse of his roommate, details of whom the school refused to disclose ahead of time, Jacob approached the wall to examine the pictures.

In one, a green male gargoyle with platinum hair and dressed in a hide vest and red loincloth smiled as he held close a blue female gargoyle with black hair and long horns wearing a white tunic with silver trim; in another, the same male was surrounded by three other males over the corpse of a recently-killed deer; and in another still, the male was alone, sitting with his legs crossed and a stern face dressed in far more elaborate clothes and holding a decorated spear.

Jacob looked away from the pictures and to the room's window where on the southern perch, overlooking the city of Avignon and the mountain peaks beyond, with claws raised, wings extended and bearing his fangs, in stone slept the human's gargoyle roommate.

To be continued