10.9: Fox Hunting

This was the most bizarre night in Heinrich's entire life. So bizarre, it made most of the fantastic adventures he'd written about 'Klein-Johannes' seem mundane in comparison. First, he'd come across another of his kind who'd turned out to be the worst sort of villain; then he'd met a woman who turned into a werewolf! And then more gargoyles—friendly gargoyles, who called him a hero! Some of these new gargoyles looked like cats or tigers or horses or bulls, and three of them had feathered wings, and two of them had electrical powers! And now he was helping them all hunt down that werewolf! And there'd been some talk of magic spells, talking as if magic was real

After all this, he wouldn't be surprised if the next thing to happen were for a dragon to appear in the sky next to him, and invite him to dinner. And if it was a big purple dragon with green eyes, like the one he'd written about in Johannes Und Der Drache, then that would be proof that he had either gone completely insane from staying in America too long, or was having the weirdest dream ever.

And if all this turned out to be a dream, then he was never, ever going to eat another of those microwaved "Hot-Pocket" snacks that Father Sullivan had given him. Especially not just before sunrise.

But in the meantime, he had to assume this was real and act accordingly. He had been partnered with three other gargoyles; Malibu, and two more named Broadway and Etienne. Broadway had a small two-way radio of some sort, which he was using to keep in contact with the other gargoyle teams as they methodically went through Manhattan neighborhood by neighborhood, searching for the werewolf—no, the were-fox. Well, whatever beast she was related to, he wasn't looking forward to facing those claws and fangs again. But better that he and the other gargoyles deal with the were-fox than some poor defenseless human, who couldn't glide out of reach of her claws.

Broadway's radio squawked for attention before Brooklyn's voice came out of it, announcing, "Xanatos says the kids, Anne and Owen are all safe at the castle now, and he's coming out in his power armor to help us search."

"Tell him to bring along a thick blanket," Broadway said immediately into the radio. "I've been looking, but I don't see any on clotheslines that we could borrow."

"What? Why would we want a thick blanket?" It wasn't hard for Heinrich to imagine the weird look that Brooklyn must have been giving his radio just then.

"For Fox, once she's unconscious," Broadway responded. "Her clothes don't transform with her, right? Elisa had to give her the skirt off her Belle costume last time she was turned back to human. And it's a lot colder tonight than it was that Halloween; we'll need to wrap her in something warm so she doesn't freeze to death before we can get her back to the castle."

"Good point. Okay, I'll pass that along," Brooklyn said before the radio went silent again.

"Now, that's right thoughtful of you," Etienne told Broadway with a grin.

Broadway shrugged, looking mildly embarrassed. "Well, Fox is clan now, or nearly is anyway. When Hudson and Goliath get back from Avalon, they really should have a formal clan ceremony for the whole family. Hey, what's that down there, in that open Dumpster?"

They looked, but it turned out to be just an exceptionally large dog rooting in the garbage for food. As they glided past, Etienne spoke up again. " 'Ey, Broadway, I been wondering something. That Renard, the guy that's Fox's father; you ever seen his feet without shoes on?"

Now Broadway gave Etienne a strange look. "The guy's in a wheelchair, and his legs were covered the one time I saw him at Goliath and Elisa's wedding, so I've never seen his feet at all. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's kinda fou, but… hell, this whole business has been crazy, so maybe it fits. You know there's more shape-changers than werewolves, right? The wolves, they get the most attention because they get organized into packs and even more dangerous, but they ain't the only folks that go from human-like to animal-like."

Broadway nodded. "I've never seen any myself, but the old clan had a rookery tale about a were-bear. And a story about the king stag of an elk herd that could turn into a human when it suited him, though I don't think he was a were type of changer."

"Ayuh, and there's other types too. Like were-foxes, for instance. And there's an old rookery tale in my clan about how you can recognize a child of were blood by the feet; even if the hands have five fingers, the feet only have four toes."

"And you think… Mr. Renard has were blood in him?"

"Renard means Fox in French, mon ami. And here's this girl with the last name of Renard who can change herself into a giant fox; I'm thinking that's more than coincidence, an' maybe she's getting that ability from her father's side of the family, not her mother's."

Broadway shook his head. "But according to your stories, if that were true, Fox would have four toes on each foot instead of five. And I've seen her feet with sandals on; she's got the same number of toes on each foot that all humans do."

"So maybe the old story about the feet was wrong, or maybe it's been so many generations since that Renard line was started by a were-fox marrying a human that the blood's diluted enough for five toes. Here's another question for you: does Fox ever wear silver jewelry?"

That gave Broadway pause. "Um… now that you mention it, no she doesn't. She doesn't really wear jewelry that often, but whenever I do see her wearing any, it's always gold. But that could just be a personal preference, and she's certainly rich enough to have everything made in gold."

"Yeah, could just be a preference… could be. Anyway, ain't no sign of her on this block."

"And we haven't gotten word of a sighting from anyone else, either. And it's been over an hour from the time Anne said they broke out… just how far has she run in the last hour, looking for food?"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

An apartment window in Tribeca opened, and a man from inside the third-floor apartment stepped out onto the fire escape. Then he turned around and deliberately broke the window with the butt of his handgun, and pushed shards of glass inwards until he'd made a hole big enough for someone to fit through.

It's taking care of the details that can make or break any plan, but Oscar Jansen was always good at remembering details. Details like the window; creating a clear sign of forced entry into the apartment, so the police would focus on that instead of wondering whether the killer had a key to the front door. Details like the handful of jewelry that was stuffed into his pocket; creating the illusion that the killer's main purpose had been to rob the place, instead of getting out of alimony and child support payments.

Details like the silencer on his gun; it had cost extra to purchase the silencer from that street dealer, but there'd been no noise to alert the neighbors as he'd walked in and shot the bitch and the two brats in their beds. And details like the movie ticket in his other pocket, from a show at the theater in Albany that should have ended only a few minutes ago. He'd bought the ticket and gone in twenty minutes before the movie was due to start, then just walked right out again as part of the crowd leaving from the previous showing. He'd paid cash to see the movie two nights ago and sat through that entire showing, so if anyone asked him about the movie he'd be able to tell them about the plot and characters; another important detail.

He'd make only one detour on the drive back to Albany, to the docks to dispose of both the handgun and the jewelry. It was tempting to pawn the jewelry and get back some of the money he'd spent on the ungrateful bitch who'd divorced him, but the police kept a lookout for stolen stuff appearing in pawn shops, and pawn shops kept records of who sold stuff to them. No, better to just dump it all, before going back to take care of the final detail; withdrawing some money from an ATM and keeping the time-stamped receipt. Between the ATM receipt and the movie ticket, he'd have proof that he'd been in Albany all night and couldn't possibly have had time to drive to Manhattan and back, so the police would have to look elsewhere for the killer.

With his mind on the final details, Oscar descended the fire escape. Then he paused just before jumping to the ground, at the sounds that were emanating from the open dumpster a few yards further down the alley. Something was shoving around the trash in there… just a dog, probably; nothing to worry about.

But on the other hand, it might be some bum who'd been scrounging for food; someone who had seen him come out of the apartment and then break the window, and was now trying to hide from him under the garbage. Besides, he had to walk past that dumpster to get to where he'd parked his car a block away. Just in case he had to silence a witness, he kept his gun out and cocked as he walked up to the dumpster and peered in…

Just as a big furry monster lifted its head with a charred and half-eaten roast in its jaws, and looked right back at him.

A startled man with a gun in his hand is apt to pull the trigger, and Oscar was no exception to the rule. But since he'd fired on impulse, instead of the deliberate targeting he'd done for the killing shots fired earlier, his aim was off. Instead of blowing its head off, he only hit it in the shoulder.

He had just enough time to remember that wounded beasts are the most dangerous, and to scream.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

She licked at the blood oozing from the wound in her shoulder. It hurt, very much… but the pain was already beginning to fade, even as the wound stopped bleeding.

Then she looked at the human lying under her paws. He was dead. She had killed him. The human had hurt her, she had acted instinctively… but the Alpha would be angry with her, for disobeying the rule about humans. The Alpha would punish her.

But the Alpha was not here. And she was still so hungry

She dragged the body into the metal box that she'd found the other food in.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Chris Carson had bought a police scanner six weeks ago, at an exorbitant price but it had already paid for itself in his work. He'd already been the first reporter on the scene for three different crimes, and his editor had praised him for the photos he'd taken as well as the reports from witnesses.

And after tonight's business, he thought he'd be justified in asking for a raise. He'd already been the first reporter on the scene of a gang hangout that had been raided by the gargoyles; he'd taken photos of a pile of handguns that had been crushed or mangled by beings with incredible strength, and of the five 'victims' of the raid being led away in handcuffs by the police.

Chatter on the scanner said that suspected gang hangouts were being raided all over town, but Chris couldn't be in six places at once, so he had to pick and choose which reports to follow up on and which to leave to other reporters. But it wasn't hard to decide between police dispatcher calls about another vigilante raid on a suspected gang hangout… and another home invasion report, like the many that had occurred the night before but with one damn big difference. This time, the homeowner reported that he had killed the gargoyles breaking in!

Chris had put the pedal to the metal, and arrived only a couple of minutes behind the police officers responding to the call. And before the police could stop him, he'd gotten a couple of good photos of the dead gargoyles—who weren't gargoyles at all! He was sure that the shot of a 'gargoyle' with its ski mask pulled off to reveal an ordinary human underneath, would be on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow.

The apartment's resident, Mitchell Starsky, was led away in handcuffs by the police, but not before Chris had gotten a couple of good quotes from the man about it all being self-defense, and used his new cell phone to call the story in to his editor. And after the bodies had been hauled off and the apartment door sealed with police crime scene tape, Chris went around to the back alley and climbed up the fire escape, to get more photos of the shattered window and the chalked outlines on the carpet. In his head, Chris was already envisioning the article headline, "Home Invasion Foiled, Gargoyles Hoax Revealed"… and the Pulitzer Prize sitting on his mantle.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

They'd been searching the city for nearly three hours, and so far the only sign they'd seen of Were-Fox activity had been a convenience store that had been broken into, with all the lunchmeat and eggs in the refrigerated section eaten. Adam's team had reported that by the scents left behind in the empty store, they'd missed the Were-Fox by only a few minutes. Elisa had been gliding in Adam's arms; she'd stayed behind to secure the scene until more cops and the store owner could show up, and think of a good cover story to tell them, while the gargoyles hurried on to find the Were-Fox. But they'd lost her trail after less than a block, and that had been nearly an hour ago… Brooklyn used his radio to check on the other teams. "Anyone see anything?"

Everyone reported back in the negative, except for Broadway. "Just a minute; Malibu said he thought he saw something, and we're checking it out…"

Two minutes later Broadway was back on the radio, his voice urgent. "Everyone, she's here in Central Park; she's trying to get into the petting zoo!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

"Back off!" "Go on, shoo!" "Get away from there!" "Leave those poor critters alone!" Broadway and his team shouted as they took turns swooping down at the Were-Fox, driving it away from the petting zoo and the penned animals kept there. It had been a near thing, stopping her from getting into the zoo; she'd already climbed to the top of the fence and was poised to leap down inside when Malibu had swooped down on her with a roar, startling her into falling back to the ground on the outside.

Broadway had almost chewed Malibu out for acting without orders, but changed his mind when he saw the tactic had been effective. The Were-Fox didn't like the gargoyles swooping down on her, but backed away instead of trying to attack them. So they harried her away from the zoo, like pigeons chasing a cat away from their nest.

"Let's herd her towards Sheep Meadow!" Broadway told the others. And then he had to explain where that was to the rest of his team, none of whom had ever been there before. "Lots of wide open space there, and no humans will be here at this time of night; we can keep her there until everyone else arrives and we can gang up on her."

"What about using a stun grenade on her?" Etienne asked, brandishing the pouch of weapons they'd been using on the gang raids they'd been doing earlier. "Or one of my Tar Babies? With her blinded and deafened or her jaws and paws glued together, we could knock her out now instead of waiting for backup."

"Good idea! Okay, we'll use a stun grenade," Broadway decided. So everyone climbed the breezes up higher for a few moments, until they were a good sixty feet above the Were-Fox, who eyed them suspiciously but began moving towards the petting zoo again. Then Etienne dropped the stun grenade, while everyone looked away and covered their ears.

There was a tremendous BANG! and flash of light that cast their silhouettes against the starry sky overhead, and as soon as the grenade had gone off, Broadway turned and dove down, knowing the others would follow his lead. The Were-Fox was sprawled on her side, just barely lifting and shaking her head. This would be easy now; just one or two good haymaker punches should knock her out! He swooped down, figuring to land right next to her—

And then the Were-Fox sprang to her feet, impossibly fast—

And he tried to dodge, to climb back up into the air, but he wasn't fast enough; his left wing wasn't—

And she caught him! Broadway screamed in pain as the Were-Fox sank her fangs into his wingtip, tearing the membrane as she dragged him down, throwing him to the hard earth.

Forget the pain, he had to get away! Broadway scrambled to all fours and surged forward, ignoring the agony of his wing being ripped by fangs as he tried to pull out of her grip. And then she let go, and he started to run—but she sprang on him again, sinking her fangs into the base of his tail! The agony radiating up his spine sent Broadway sprawling. He had time to think Oh Dragon, I'm Dead--

Whudd!

And the Were-Fox let go of her grip on his tail. Broadway jerked forward, looking back over his shoulder to see Heinrich stumbling off of the Were-Fox's back. The German gargoyle must have pulled that same drop-straight-down maneuver he'd used on Thailog, Broadway realized as Etienne and Malibu came swooping in to grab his arms, and lift him off the ground and away.

"Damn, you heavy, Broadway!" Etienne grunted as he and Malibu struggled to rise with Broadway between them. Broadway looked down, to see Heinrich at first limping on two legs away from the Were-Fox, then dropping to all fours; the German gargoyle must have hurt his foot when he'd slammed into the Were-Fox. But still, it had worked; their quarry was out cold…

…No, she wasn't. She was already lifting her head again, and staggering to her feet. And eyeing Heinrich, who was still on the ground!

"Run, Heinrich! Get into the sky, fast!" Broadway shouted, then looked over his shoulder at Etienne. "Leggo of me and go help him!"

And Etienne let go, then had to hurriedly grab him again because he immediately started falling. Malibu couldn't keep Broadway in the air by himself; the cloned gargoyle had never been trained in tandem gliding. And now Heinrich was running on all fours for the trees, but the Were-Fox was gaining on him; she was less than a length behind him, ready to spring—

And then Brooklyn and Isabel swooped in together and grabbed Heinrich by the wings, carrying him away. The Were-Fox snarled at the loss of her prey and leaped, but they managed to clear her claws by inches.

As the teams converged in the sky together, Brooklyn said angrily, "Dammit, you were supposed to wait for backup! I told you, no team engages the Were-Fox alone unless people's lives are in danger! Better that the petting zoo loses a sheep or a goat, than we lose one of the clan!"

"You're right; m'sorry," Broadway mumbled, his eyes downcast.

"How badly are you hurt? I see the wing; anything else? No broken bones on either of you?" Brooklyn asked Broadway and Heinrich.

"No broken bones; she got my tail, but the wing's definitely the worst," Broadway said. Heinrich said his right foot hurt, but he probably had just twisted the ankle instead of breaking any bones.

Brooklyn pointed off to the west as he ordered Etienne and Malibu, "You two take Broadway off to Belvedere Castle, then come back here; we don't have time right now to take our wounded back home. Heinrich, go with Broadway; we can't afford the chance of injuries slowing anyone down in combat."

Broadway glumly let Etienne and Malibu carry him away, while Heinrich glided after them. Some warrior he was now…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Brooklyn watched the wounded depart, then looked down at the Were-Fox, waiting to see which way she'd go next. If she went back towards the petting zoo, he'd have a hard decision to make; whether or not to let her take one of the zoo's penned animals for food. There'd be a public outcry, but with her huge appetite sated by a full meal in her belly, the Were-Fox might be easier to handle…

But instead of heading for the petting zoo, she was running on another course. Brooklyn, Isabel and Hollywood followed her from on high until the Were-Fox ran to the carousel.

"The equivalent of a thorny thicket; she's looking for cover from attacks from above," Isabel suggested to Brooklyn as the giant fox sprang onto the raised platform and disappeared among the painted ponies.

"That works for me, so long as she stays in there until Talon and Claw can get here," Brooklyn said. Which hopefully wouldn't be long; all the teams were converging on the park.

But the next one to arrive on the scene was Xanatos, in his power armor. And when Brooklyn told him where the Were-Fox had gone to, he slowly descended to land in front of the carousel.

"Xanatos, this ain't smart!" Brooklyn said worriedly, circling above the carousel. But Xanatos ignored him as he reached up and took his Goliath-resembling helmet off.

And then the billionaire spoke: "Fox… Honey, it's me, David. I'm David, and I need you to be Janine again. To be human again. I need you... and our son needs you. Our son, Alexander; remember this?" as he reached into a compartment built into the armor, and withdrew a bright yellow and lumpy scrap of knitted fabric. "You made this for him… it was going to be a blanket for our baby, but you couldn't quite get the hang of knitting and you stopped after just a few rows. Then your mother picked it up on one of her visits, and she turned the work you'd done into a cap for the baby. Alexander wore it for the first month after he was born; it has his scent on it," as he slowly stepped forward just far enough to lay the cap on the platform, then backed off. "Go on, take a sniff… and remember our son. He needs you, Fox. He needs you to be a human again, so you can be a mother to him… And I need you too. Please, Fox… Janine… please, be human again."

The Were-Fox stepped slowly out of the shadows, russet fur gleaming in the moonlight as the huge creature stooped to sniff the scrap of cloth. Everyone held their breaths as she sniffed, then as she lifted her head to look at David, standing there with his head uncovered and vulnerable. She looked, and she whined softly…

And then she ran.

"Shit!" "Dammit, she's on the move again!" the gargoyles cursed as they wheeled and went after the Were-Fox, who had leaped from the carousel and was now running flat-out through the park. Leaving behind her husband, who called out futilely "Fox, no! Please!" before donning his helmet again.

She ran, and they went after her… but now Fox wasn't running for prey; she was running scared. Running faster than anyone had ever seen her run before, and the gargoyles in the air could barely keep up with her; too fast for anyone to stop her from running to another form of cover. Down a slope and into a large drain culvert set at the bottom of a small hill; they saw her red bushy tail vanish from view into the shadows.

"Well, crap! What do we do now, follow her down into the tunnels?" Etienne asked.

Brooklyn shook his head in frustration. "Bad idea, without some long-distance weapons handy. We can't maneuver down there, our wings would be useless, and we'd be stuck in single file in the narrow tunnels; if she turned and sprang on us, she'd have the advantage. We'll have to wait for Talon and Claw to get here; their electrical powers are all we've got for long-distance weapons that might work on her. They should be here soon…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

She had made cover without being attacked again, and she paused inside the mouth of the tunnel, panting harshly. She was safe now…

Safe from those who wanted to make her weak and small again. Who wanted her to go back to being half-deaf again, with a nose that was useless. And she couldn't go back to that; she would never go back!

You will.

Startled, she turned and began to show her fangs… and then she cowered. The Alpha was there in the tunnel, on the other side of a metal grate.

She whined, but the Alpha would not be placated by her show of submission. He told her that she had done enough that night, and now it was time for her to rest…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

When Talon's team arrived in Central Park a few minutes later, Talon was horrified to hear that Were-Fox had gone into the tunnel. "For God's sake, there's innocent people living down there!"

Brooklyn gave him a startled look. "But the Labyrinth is miles away from here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but we're not the only people who live below the streets; we've seen signs that other people live down here too, homeless folks who avoid the Labyrinth for some reason. Probably because they're scared of us mutates; lots of folks are at first. But they'll be helpless down there if the Were-Fox finds them! Hollywood, take this," as he unslung the tranquilizer rifle that had been his back, "and follow me!" and with that, Talon charged into the drain culvert.

Hollywood was right behind Talon, rifle at the ready, and the other gargoyles followed at his heels. So closely that they nearly ran right into him when he abruptly stopped; they just barely avoided piling into each other and him as he reached down to pick up…

Fox, in human form, totally nude and sleeping like a rock.

"What happened to her?" Brooklyn asked, scratching his mane as Talon carried her out of the culvert. "I mean, not that I'm not glad we didn't have to fight her and beat her unconscious, but… did she run headlong into that metal grate and knock herself out, or what?"

"Maybe she just… burned out, kinda," Lexington speculated. "Maybe without food, she just ran out of energy to keep going in her Were-Fox form, so her body switched back to human form because it burns fewer calories that way. And the last bit of energy used to change back to human just wore her out enough she fell unconscious. Maybe?"

Talon shrugged as he handed the sleeping Fox Xanatos over to her husband's arms. "Whatever; I'm just glad it's over."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

It didn't take long to collect their wounded and get everyone back to the castle. Cecelia had already finished with treating Anne and Owen, and she hurried to get Broadway and Heinrich into the clinic and treat their injuries. Martha came out onto the battlements to announce that she had prepared a good meal for everyone, and had been keeping it warm for them or the past hour. And while they all trooped down and inside, Martha handed Adam a pair of lists she'd written, with an apologetic smile. "This is a list of the things I'd like to have sent up here to me. And this is a list of recipes I'll need Amelie and Antoinette to copy for me."

"It'll be a poor Christmas feast this year, without your talents in the kitchen," Adam said dolefully to Martha. "After what Broadway said to me and Goliath back in New Orleans, I'd had hopes of eating your cooking and enjoying your sense of humor for a long time to come."

"Life is what happens while you're making other plans," Martha quoted with a smile. "But I'm sure Amelie and Antoinette can whip up a grand feast without me. They're probably already marinating the beef brisket and baking the Bûche de Noel."

Everyone ate with a much heartier appetite than the night before… except Brooklyn. Now that the crisis was over, he was busy second-guessing the entire campaign, and berating himself for being so quick to assume that the kidnapping had been done by a human enemy of the clan. "And Elisa was right; it was stupid to ever think the Quarrymen were behind the kidnapping! They've been trying to pass themselves off as saviors of humanity; being even implicated in a kidnapping would completely wreck that image!"

"While I'm not disagreeing with you, I do think that if the kidnapping had succeeded in creating a wedge between you and Xanatos and driving you away from the castle for good, the Quarrymen would have applauded and even supported the kidnappers instead of condemning them. …If it hadn't been done by a gargoyle, that is. But one thing I've learned from living by both daylight and starlight, is that hate groups tend to be a lot better at hating their chosen enemies than at having compassion for innocents," Adam pointed out.

"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that in assuming the Quarrymen were behind it, by going after them in their homes, we've just made all the lies they've been spouting about us look true in the public's eyes," Brooklyn growled. "There are few things more terrifying than having your home invaded, being attacked while you're asleep and helpless… By now probably even the P.I.T. founders think we're monsters! Goliath is going to shred my wings when he gets back from Avalon."

And the newspapers Brooklyn read after dinner, the evening editions from the day before, only confirmed his fears about how the public viewed the gargoyles now. "Yup. Shredded wings are in my future," he said glumly, staring at the screaming headlines.

"Before that happens, I'll make sure Goliath knows that any gargoyle no longer wanted in the Manhattan Clan is more than welcome in mine," Adam said firmly.

Broadway, who had just emerged from the clinic with his wings and tail stitched up, told Brooklyn that he was being too hard on himself. "Heck, the way Castaway ambushed you and Isabel last night pretty much had us all convinced he was involved in the kidnapping! And I'm sure Goliath will see it that way too, when he gets back. We'd had no reason to think Thailog was even alive, let alone he was behind the kidnapping--"

"But we should have! It's his M.O.; the bastard got his first twenty million dollars from Xanatos by pretending to have himself kidnapped!" Brooklyn reminded them harshly.

"Yeah, hindsight is twenty-twenty, just like in the detective novels," Broadway said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You had to work with what little info we had at the start, and that information pointed to someone well-organized who hated gargoyles. The Quarrymen and Dracon's gang both fit that description… and in fact, I'll bet the newspapers are more appreciative tomorrow of the work we did tonight, shaking down all the gang hangouts. We destroyed a lot of drugs in the process, and a lot of guns that would otherwise have been used to kill and threaten innocent people." Broadway looked at a clock on the wall and continued, "The news trucks should be delivering the early editions to the newsstands soon; why don't you go out and get a paper, and see what they have to say? I bet they'll have changed their tune about us already."

Brooklyn doubted it, but he still took some loose change and went out, to sneak the early editions off a newsstand and leave money for them as soon as someone's back was turned. Then he brought the papers back to the castle, and read aloud one of the headlines: " 'Home Invasion Foiled, Gargoyles Hoax Revealed'… what the hell? What happened while we were busy tonight?"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

To be concluded…