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Souls of the Night
108.
Later that night, Goliath joined Angela and Broadway, who were already browsing Macbeth's library. Unfortunately, he was traveling in his function as a professor of history at the university. But he made his library freely available to them. Which was not bad for a former enemy who had often tried to blow them out of the sky with the cannons on his manor. Now Broadway even had the remote code to shut them down from a safe distance.
Goliath stepped through the double doors into the library lit by overhead lamps. It smelled of old books and cold ashes from the fireplace, and it was cold because no one had aired out the rooms for several days. Broadway stood on a thankfully sturdy-looking ladder, skimming the book titles on the top row of a shelf, and Angela perched among several stacks of books taller than she was when seated.
"Did Macbeth give you any indication if there was anything in any of his books about a case like this?"
"No," Angela admitted, letting a book snap shut with a loud poof and looking up at him in frustration. "Please tell me that Enya had some idea in her sick head about what we can do."
"Since you're not limping, it doesn't seem to have come to a fight either." commented Broadway as he climbed off the crunching ladder with two other books and Goliath made a face at this reminder but didn't comment.
"We intercepted her on the way to the airport. She was very cooperative and her words seemed sincere."
"So did Sevarius' or Thailog's, always seemed to be. She was raised by frauds and lunatics and I don't trust her any further than I can throw her - uhh . "Broadway waved off as he noticed the error in his comparison. He could probably throw Enya, if she kept still and didn't bite around, half a block.
"She said Nathaniel's organism might need it to burn."
"What, this is crazy."
"Were we expecting anything else?" asked Broadway, and Goliath, because of his old grudge against the girl (no, she was a grown woman by now), regarded him with a look of sympathy, but one that included giving the matter a rest. It was true that Enya was quite different from Sevarius. She seemed more affable, seemed either fascinated or amused by everything, and didn't appear to be a dangerous adversary. But she had no respect for life and for the bodies of others. Probably not even for her own. She had no concept of respect or morality implanted in her and although she probably knew by now what was wrong and what was not, it was still hard to forget her involvement in earlier events. This woman was a ticking time bomb. As was everyone of her nameless clan. These enemies were more than weakened right now and were keeping a low profile. But for how much longer? How long?
Goliath took the books from Broadway's hands and opened one. Mysteries of Islam Past and Modern. Then the second.
"Myths of the Thousand and One Nights", he read aloud and looked questioningly at Broadway. He shrugged apologetically.
"I thought - Nate is from that culture - so- his ancestors. Maybe that has an influence on his condition."
Goliath hummed. Not a threatening growl. A deliberative humming. He couldn't imagine that Nathaniel's ancestry had anything to do with his current problems. Strange as it sounded - modern religion (except for a few stories from the Bible) had as much magic as a tax return compared to the Grimorum Arcanorum. Everything beyond that took place in the minds of desperate humans. Religious fanatics had certainly smashed more gargoyles to gravel in the last centuries than all the "savages" and "infidels" had done before. And Nathaniel was not exactly a poster boy Muslim, and religion obviously did not play a major role for him. He also had no connection with the country of origin of his ancestors - not that Goliath had noticed. From Gargoyle's point of view, Nathaniel was American through and through. Which did not mean that real Muslims could not be Americans. The big purple male shook his head to stop himself from wandering further, and handed the books back to Broadway.
"An interesting approach," he commented diplomatically. Broadway flashed a confident grin. Maybe - just maybe - he was on to something. Broadway's detective instincts had been on display before. Maybe it would come in handy this time, too.
He approached Angela, who was poring over a book in Latin.
"How about you?"
She rubbed her face with both hands.
"Mac Beth said on the phone he was never as versed in magic and didn't collect piles of books on it over the centuries like Demona. He said he makes one call to families of old friends - whoever he's met in his thousand years."
"Better than nothing."
"Yeah, better than nothing," Angela admitted, putting her head in her hands in resignation.
"What do we do if we can't help Nate?"
"I think it's too early to be despondent, Angela."
"Goliath is right, my heart."
"But- I said that stupid thing. And Lex ... we have to fix this matter somehow."
"You want to make up for what you said," Broadway helped her, leaning down to her. He kissed her gently-just a brushing of her cheek. Still, she visibly shuddered and seemed to instantly relax a little. He was her pool of calm. Her rock whenever her sea was churning. Goliath had never felt the need or seen the necessity to "advise" his daughter in her choice of mate from the beginning. He was not human - they were not human - and interference of this kind was absolutely encroaching. And that Angela had apparently instinctively made the best choice was obvious (whether Lexington himself had ever even been available to be chosen, or whether he had just gone along with the competition for Angela at the time, didn't even seem to be a question now).
"Lex knows you didn't mean it. He can't think straight right now. I couldn't either if it was about you." Broadway placated his mate. She stood up to stretch her legs for once and incidentally received a double hug from Broadway's arms and wings.
"I'm scared for both of them." She admitted. "What if Nate ... I don't know - goes forever- and Lex goes insane over it and throws himself off the battlements - then I'd never have the chance- ohhh, I sound selfish. I should not think about how to calm my conscience but continue to look through the books. But my line - my stupid line. A great cop I am - I should have my certificates for psychology courses revoked."
"It's always different when it's your own family," Goliath said. "That's why officers get pulled off cases when they're privately involved. That's why psychologists don't counsel their own relatives."
"That's right, Angela. You and me, we're going to take a five-minute break and get some coffee from Macbeth's kitchen. That's all right, isn't it Goliath?"
"Of course, Broadway. That's a good idea."
He put a hand on Angela's shoulder, who was looking indecisively at the books at her feet, smiling down at her while she looked up with moist eyes. "It's understandable that you want to make up for what you said. But Broadway is right. This thing wouldn't have boiled up if Lexington was in control of his mind right now. It's enough that he's physically and emotionally draining himself and not open to assistance. The rest of us- despite the circumstances- need to pace ourselves. We have to keep a cool head now more than ever. Do you understand, my daughter? Take a break, I'll stay here."
"Thank you father. You're right."
She kissed him on the cheek- and let her partner lead her out of the room. As soon as they left, the confident smile disappeared from Goliath's face and he took a deep breath.
In situations like this, it was hard for him to stop acting like a clan leader and step back. But honestly - he would have done just as Brooklyn did. Fan out the forces one has- then pull them back together to brainstorm. That was the only sensible strategy. He looked wearily past the row of bookshelves. Not as big as Xanato's library or the one next to the police station, but in truth he had no more hope of finding clues here than he had previously had hopes that Enya would have helpful comments to share. He just hoped the others would have more luck.
.
.
Jeffrey Robbins heard the old familiar whoosh of Gargoyle wings that made him straighten up instantly. Hudson, he thought. Then he remembered that his old friend had been dead for twenty years and grinned at the fatuity of an old fool that old age sometimes makes one. Ludmila, his Croatian angel, who lived with him, kept house for him, and also took over every unpleasant activity that a blind old man needed help with, continued to clink her spoon in the teacup as if she had heard nothing. Which she probably hadn't. His Gilly would have immediately recognized this sound and would have made a noise. Vanja- Ludmilla's cocker spaniel and REALLY not a service dog, however, now dutifully raised her head and coughed a questioning sound into the room.
"Ludmilla- my dear, we have company coming. Get some more tea, please."
The woman got up without arguing with him - not because she couldn't understand the language - but because he had often surprised her by anticipating a knock at the door.
He grabbed his head and pressed the magic button behind his ear to turn up the power. Nothing and no one would restore his sight. But when Lexington had approached him several years ago and asked if he would like to participate in the testing program for a new treatment for blindness - he had agreed. Not because he had ever wanted to see again - he had never had any such illusions. But Jeffrey had realized then that this collaboration with this German Retina Implant AG had been vital to Lexa ltd's survival and there simply weren't enough people who wanted to pin their hopes on a company run by a gargoyle, he had agreed.
He had been ancient even then- what would he have lost that he could not spare or had already lost? The chips implanted under his retinas made his eyeballs tingle whenever they " powered up"-a strangely inarticulate feeling for a writer, but he couldn't describe it better. He took his special glasses from the walker, put them on, and instantly his pleasantly dark world was suffused with light. He dimmed the lamp next to his armchair in front of the television because its light seemed to him like the sun itself. Although originally designed for patients with hereditary retinal damage, Lexington and the scientists pretty much agreed that the procedure could help him, too. Powering the chip via a cable connected to the button cell implant implanted behind his ear really took some getting used to. Who liked having cables under their skin? But his expectations were exceeded even if he could not see colors. But he saw light and dark and even shapes and distances to objects. Something that made life slightly easier at the age of almost ninety. And not only that - he had quickly noticed that even bodies gave off a light even when they were standing in deepest darkness. It wasn't exactly like the infrared vision he remembered from the goggles in Vietnam. But still quite similar. A side effect that no one could explain exactly but that benefited him now because he saw two faintly glowing bodies standing in front of the window. Medium size - both with beaks.
"Two cups, Ludmilla," he called to the back as a gargoyle claw was already tapping on the window of his living area.
"It's open," he said, then cool evening air briefly filled the room. The dog whined - seemingly unable to comprehend WHAT had just come into the house. He let go of Vanja's collar - at his age she probably would have broken a bone or two if she had tugged on him - and instantly the dog was gone. He heard her claws on the stairs to the upper floor. No- really not a Gilly.
With difficulty the author of more than thirty best-selling novels straightened up and stretched out his arm. He was greeted by the familiar scent of stone dust and nocturnal freshness. In addition, human notes of soap and detergent.
A respectfully firm, yet mindful of claws and the age of his opposite, gargoyle forearm shake was delivered to him, then a similar from the second barely more delicate figure.
"Ah, Brooklyn. Katana, beautiful as ever."
Brooklyn's partner laughed politely at this but still with a tinge of pleasure at the compliment from a blind man who at best saw shining figures. Lights in the sea of oblivion, Jeffrey remembered, pointing to the couch across from him.
"How are you doing with the implants, Jeffrey?" asked Katana, and he smiled at the polite attempt at small talk - something none of the Gargoyles had ever gotten overly good at.
"I always turn the system on for a few hours a day. But it's really sensitive and I get headaches really quickly. Besides, I don't want to lose my independence too much."
"Independence, of course," Brooklyn muttered, and he saw that his head was turning toward his walker.
"I'm old, Brooklyn. I'm almost ninety, and some days it feels like one hundred. But I don't want to complain. I'm doing fine even though any Corona infection could be my last."
At the subject, the Manhattan clan leader and his second-in-command looked at each other, and though he couldn't see her features, he guessed it wasn't a good subject. Scientists still disagreed about the circumstances and causes of the outbreak. But in the weeks after it became known that bats might have been carriers (even if humans were actually to blame because they spread further and further into their habitat like tumor cells in healthy tissue), creatures with bat-wings had had almost as bad a time as they had in 1997.
At that moment Ludmila came in, announced by jingling of dishes. Seeing that monsters were sitting in her employer's living room, she gasped and the tray with teapot and cups slipped from her hands. Brooklyn had jumped up, faster than his modified eyes could perceive, seeing only a rushing light. But he heard only clanking and no smashing dishes so Brooklyn must have caught the tray. He straightened up again, muttered a refreshingly nonchalant "Thank you," and set the tray on the chouch table while Ludmilla- backed against the doorframe, one hand on her chest but far too young for a heart attack- kept muttering Jebati and gargojl. Had she believed his stories to be tall tales? Jeffrey almost were pleased with her shock, but he turned his head to her and smiled. "That will be all, Ludmilla. You can go upstairs for today. Don't trip over Vanja, she's holed up there somewhere."
She nodded, still not taking her eyes off the two gargoyles, one of whom was now filling the tea cups and also refilling Jeffrey's in a strange - somehow meditative Japanese-like - way.
"Dobro," she muttered- and then remembering again that she knew English. "Okay, Jeffrey - good-good night."
"Good night," human and monsters were saying in unison then they heard her footsteps on the steps- shortly followed by a loud jebati and a whimper because she must have tripped over Vanja.
All three gasped in amusement or chuckled, then it was quiet for a few moments while they all sipped their tea. Even though he could only dimly see them, he suspected this was not a courtesy call. Both gargoyles seemed restless and anxious.
"What brings you to me?" He asked, and both seemed grateful that he brought it up, though Brooklyn started with an apology like a kid who didn't visit his grandpa often enough.
"'Oh, now don't do that. I'm not one of those old men who complains that the grandkids never call. So I'm all the more interested in what brings you guys to see me."
"We have a problem with a clan addition, Jeffrey."
"A clan addition? I thought the eggs didn't hatch until 2028."
"It's not that kind of clan addition."
He smiled, took off his glasses again and turned off his visual aid because he guessed he wouldn't need his "eyes" for anything coming.
"I may be the writer but I'm still always up for a good story."
He heard one of them pull something from his or her vest, then talons tapped on a smooth surface.
"Listen to this recording first," Katana said.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.