*CHAPTER 4*

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Brooklyn awoke at sunset, breaking through the stone sleep. He stretched, looking over each shoulder to inspect his surroundings out of habit. Recollecting the night before and remembering where he was, he turned around to peer into Gabrielle's window. "Hey, Gab?"

No answer.

Brooklyn was looking into a bedroom. It was tiny, with only a bed, a dresser, and a closet. All were within a few feet of each other. He tilted his head and shrugged. "Guess she went out for the night." He looked towards the west, just barely able to see above the tops of the buildings. "I should do the same." He climbed up the rest of stories, noting that there were thirteen of them. When he reached the top, he started out in a run and then jumped off the edge of the building, spreading his wings as he caught a strong draft.

0o0o0o0

Gabrielle leaned against the counter. Her shift was over, but she had just finished chatting to a co-worker. Though she didn't consider any of her fellow employees very close friends, they were friends nonetheless. They had spent much time together in the hospital and had gone through much together; saving lives, losing lives, dealing with the senile, with the stubborn, and working with the truly grateful people that made the job worth doing.

Gabrielle sighed. She wondered if she would see Brooklyn again. One side of her hoped that she would, while the other longed for normalcy, which meant to never meet up with him again.

She shrugged at her inner-conflict as she headed out the door. "What's life without excitement?" She muttered to herself.

Gabrielle cut through the parking lot. It was fairly well lit and wasn't packed, but had more cars than usual. Gabrielle didn't like this, for it probably meant that more people were sick or injured. She frowned. She loved her job because she loved helping people, but it was also sad and always had the effect of sobering her.

This night her long hair was in a pony tail and her scrubs were a bright green, a couple of shades paler that the color of her eyes. Her sneakers were still the same white that clashed with everything.

As Gabrielle marched closer to her apartment, she felt another presence. She started to sweat as walk faster, but the sensation of being watched—and, possibly, hunted—refused to leave her. The feeling soon started to become unbearable. Gabrielle feared that if she turned around that she would see something that she would wish she hadn't. Gabrielle broke out into a full sprint and checked behind, in spite of her worry.

Nothing.

Gabrielle whipped her head frontward again. She didn't care, she just kept running. She learned very soon in the medical field to always trust your instincts, no matter how silly or wild. Even if it's against all odds, just do what your gut tells you. The sweat that drenched her was cold and made her clothes stick. Gabrielle heard a swooping sound. The hairs on her arms and neck stood straight up as the sound came closer.

Woosh.

Gabrielle was so shocked and frightened that she couldn't even let out a scream when her feet no longer touched the ground.

Quickly she was lifted higher and higher off the ground. Two claws enveloped Gabrielle's shoulders, breaking off circulation to her arms. She breathed heavily, not from the run but from fright. "Who—who are you?" She demanded breathlessly.

"You humans call me Demona. Do not worry, human, I am a friend." The voice, though somewhat soothing, was also very aloof and uncaring.

"Y-you're a gargoyle, too?" Gabrielle tried to mask the hysteria in her voice, but miserably failed.

"Yes. I am a friend of Goliath's clan."

Gabrielle tried her best to not screech like a banshee. "Who?"

Demona was silent for a few moments. "I'm a very good friend of Brooklyn."

The information didn't register. Soon Gabrielle's feet were miles away from building tops. "Pl—please, put me down, I'm going to be sick!" Soon the scent of hey and home-made alcohol filled Gabrielle's nose and she was barely able to suppress the urge to vomit.

Gabrielle opened the door to her uncle's barn. "Bret?" She called.

"Up here, Gabbers." A voice from above replied. It was her cousin, Bret. Bret lived on a farm in Pennsylvania. Gabrielle's family visited them every summer since she could remember.

Gabrielle was eight years old. Her long dark locks were in pig tails and she was wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She climbed up the ladder that was near the stables that led up to the chicken coop. Gabrielle looked around and saw Bret sitting on the edge of a platform with the barn doors for the second story wide opened.

The doors led to nowhere. They just opened into the sky. They were used as a vent for the barn during the summer when it got hot, smelly, and unbearable. It was against Uncle Tommy's rules to just lounge about the second floor barn doors with them opened. Gabrielle tilted her head as she approached Bret.

"'Bout time, Gabbers." Bret was ten years old, tan, freckled, and on the muscular side. He was blond and wore overalls and boots that were meant for heavy-duty jobs and harsh environments like mud, cow manure, and other unpleasant things that would destroy any other type of shoe. Bret had a jar in his hands with a plaid covering for the lid. It looked like a jar of jam, but the contents were yellowish and more watery than any jam that Gabrielle saw.

Stepping closer, Gabrielle noticed that the mysterious jam had an extremely strong, distasteful smell. "Bret, what's that?" She sat next to him, but didn't let her feet dangle like he did. She sat with her legs folded under her and stayed away from the edge. She never liked heights. Plus, letting one's feet dangle was against Uncle's rule. "And why are you here? Uncle Tommy doesn't like it when—"

He quickly cut her off. "I promise to tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else."

Gabrielle nodded wildly, smiling.

"Okay… this here," he pointed to the jar. "Is moonshine. You know what that is?"

Gabrielle shook her head, wondering what a silly name like that could refer to.

"Well," He started proudly. "Me and Pa made it the other day. It's a grown-up drink. Pa drinks it all the time. He started when my ma died." For a brief moment his features drew into themselves, revealing sadness, but it quickly passed. "And now I'm startin'. Only Pa doesn't know. Now, Gabbers," He turned his body to face her directly and wagged a finger at her. "Don't tell my pa, you're pa, your ma, or anyone else. This is our secret. All right?"

Gabrielle nodded once, sharply.

"Good." He nodded in reply. He looked out into the distance, gazing at the horses in the field, the dog sleeping in the middle of the yard, his house, and the sun that was slowly fading. He gasped. "Is that my pa?"

Gabrielle followed his eyes. It was Uncle Tommy! They were going to be in so much trouble…

"Gabbers," He commanded. "Hide behind this stack of hey," He jumped behind it, waving for her to follow, his jar in the other hand. "When my pa actually is in the barn, we gotta latch ourselves on those there doors. "He motioned to the doors that were swung open and led to nowhere.

Gabrielle shook her head furiously. "No! I'm afraid of heights!"

He scowled. "Don't be a wuss. Here," He held up the jar. " I'll let you try some of my moonshine." He grinned slyly.

Gabrielle weighed her options. "Okay. But you have to promise."

"Sure thing! It's a deal."He dropped the jar into a pocket of his overalls.

A door slammed.

Bret's features changed dramatically from slyness to unhidden, shameless fear. He tiptoed to the edge and gestured for his younger cousin to follow.

"Kids?" It was Uncle Tommy. "You come out here! You ain't in trouble, but, good night, Bret, you know that it's your job to close the barn doors! They're all wide open!"

In the meantime, Bret had managed to creep onto the edges of the door and to hold onto the top, hanging from it quite similarly to the inspirational poster that Gabrielle saw in every hallway in her school that featured a cat that told them to "hang in there."

Slowly Gabrielle inched her way up the door. The door was old and had lots of crevices in it. As she hitched her fingers like claws onto the top edge of the door as she forced her feet into the larger cracks. She felt like a monkey. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she hoped that the old wood wouldn't give out under the stress she was creating.

After a few pregnant seconds of Uncle Tommy calling for the kids, he gave up and returned to the house. Gabrielle's hands sweated and she started to slip. She tried not to cry. "Bret! I wanna get down!"

"Sure thing, Gabbers." He still managed to sound casual. He pushed with one hand against the wall of the barn, forcing the door to close. His fingers got momentarily trapped between the door and its frame, causing him to give out a muffled holler as he hopped down onto the platform and started to suck on his minor injuries.

"Bret," The little girl whined. "Help! I'm slipping!"

Bret approached her and tried to reach around her to close the door, but couldn't. "I can't. You're too heavy on this thing. Besides, I can't reach anyway. It's no good." He studied the distance from him to her. "Jump into my arms." He suggested. "I can catch you."

"But you just said I was too heavy!" Gabrielle readjusted her hold on the door.

"Yeah, for a door. But if you jump to me, I'll either catch you, or you'll topple on top of me, but we'll still be on this here platform." He tapped the ground with his shoe, as if it gave his plan proof that it would work.

Gabrielle had a horrible feeling about this, but she didn't know what else to do. She tried to inch herself towards her elder cousin, but ended up slipping faster and twisting herself uncomfortably. "Bret, what do I do?"

He held out his arms. "Jump."

Gabrielle gulped as sweat stung at her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple of times, then replied, "I'm gonna jump on the count of three. So, I'll go 'one, two, three,' and I'll jump. You better be prepared and you better catch me." She quickly added. "Please?"

Bret nodded eagerly. "Sure thing, Gabbers. We can do this."

Gabrielle held her breath, tensed her muscles, and lunged.

Only, he never caught her.

0o0o0o0

Gabrielle was lucky to only have a broken arm and a sprained wrist. In a few months time, Gabrielle was perfectly healthy and normal.

She, however, was always then wary of heights and her cousin's schemes and antics.

Gabrielle moaned, wishing that her stomach wouldn't rebelliously rumble anymore. "I never did get to try that moonshine," She bitterly grumbled, groggy from sickness.

"What? Did you say something, human?" The grip on Gabrielle's shoulders, if possible, tightened.

"Put me down…please." She was doing little more than pleading.

Soon, Gabrielle was released onto a rooftop. She couldn't recognize where she was because she was disoriented. She didn't care anyway; she just wanted her feet to touch something solid. She collapsed to her knees, trying to even out her breaths. When she was confident that she wouldn't faint, Gabrielle finally asked, "What are we doing here?"

"You said you wanted to be put down." Her new traveling companion stated.

Gabrielle looked up. Demona was beautiful. She had a light blue coloring with fiery red hair that was glossy and thick. Her fangs were a bit more pointed than Brooklyn's; even with her mouth closed, they still peeped out of the corners of her mouth. However, like Brooklyn, she had large black eyes, though hers were just slightly beadier. She sported a golden crown on her forehead and had her claws in fists resting on her hips. "Or are you ready to go gliding again?"

Gabrielle solemnly shook her head. "No, thanks." She stood, hoping her knees wouldn't give way. "So… what can I do for you… Demona?"

oohhh... dun...dun...dun!

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