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Brood of a New Age
76.
Dante saw his boss sitting at one of the large tables at a private rooftop patio. An exclusive dining area of an exclusive restaurant in one of the newer skyscrapers of the city. Private but with a view over what Anthony Dracon considered his kingdom. But he was there not alone or with his boys. But sipping cocktails with a bunch of women. From above, he could already see that they were all not top models but quite beautiful. In a desperate, pleasing way that unfortunately inevitably made them look cheap and probably older than they were. Tony had his arm around a thin and cold-looking blonde, but she was regarding like a ravenous dog looks at a bone. Obviously his current favorite although Tony's attention, directed rather at the others, suggested that the blonde would soon be old news. However, it didn't seem like the tall black one, or the two brunettes were new targets for his boss either.
Dante was even looking forward to literally crash the party. The women (none of whom would pass for "girls") would all have panic attacks. He didn't necessarily enjoy terrorizing women because it was usually a little too easy for him. But these chicks were sitting in Tony Dracon's séparée so maybe they'd be a little hardened.
He didn't give a shit if Tony's chicks (and it was obvious to Dante that these were not whores because they all seemed a little too uncomfortable and hookers were better actresses) were about to flutter around. The boss had told him to show up and bring one of his keepsakes, and that's what he'd do.
Dante detached his claws from the stone a few dozen feet above the patio where he had clung to observe, pushed himself off the facade and soared down. Tucking his wings just above them, he landed massive feet first on the table - clattering but so catlike that none of the cocktail glasses fell over. He didn't go into a more natural crouching posture in this situation but even standing upright had to be a disturbing sight, fists clenched and eyes gleaming.
The women had shrieked when he came up - a reflex of their little brains to something unexpected without reflecting exactly WHAT was suddenly standing in front of them. But Dante prepared himself for the general shrieking that he so detested. But Tony immediately jumped up laughing and, grinning broadly, made general appeasement gestures.
"Easy girls! Easy," he said loudly and so mirthfully that those who had already opened their red-painted mouths shut them again. Tony sneered and looked around at his probably mostly platonic harem. "You all laughed when I said a gargoyle was working for me and he'd bring me a present later. Who's laughing now, chicks? I promised you an impressive sight and I kept my promise. Aren't I the best?"
"Yes, the best," croaked the blonde, who looked as if piss was about to run out of her miniskirt.
"This is Mister Dante, and he's wonderfully bloodthirsty and civilized at the same time, if you don't get silly with him. Dante, this is Bunny, Francesca, Marnie, Giulia. Wives of our best and I thought I'd introduce you to other parts of the family little by little. So. my souvenir, what do you have for me?"
Dante crouched down, right in front of Tony, brought the plastic bag to light and pushed it towards him. He thought he saw the little hairs on the women's arms stand up as the somber magic of his voice worked as he spoke.
"The lab is in ruins. The employees have been encouraged to work under Dracon protectorate now. The freight train with the videotapes is a smoldering pile of ash."
Dracon eyed the plastic bag, then pulled the serving dish out from under his glass and used it to keep his hands from getting dirty as he pulled out the bloodstained plastic packet, the contents of which looked a little like flour but of course were not flour.
After three seconds in which he was sure that all the hens had been able to get a good look at the gift, despite their shock at the gargoyle squatting between their cocktails, he shoved it back into the bag and handed it back to Dante.
"Excellent work. As always, Dante. You're a really helpful addition."
Dante showed a smirk without taking his staring eyes off his capo.
"Thanks boss. Nice to be appreciated."
Tony gestured to a seat at the edge of the corner bench.
"You're welcome Dante. After a job well done, you've earned a drink in pleasant company. Come sit with us. Next to Giulia."
Tony nudged the blonde next to him, but she jumped up with the horrified screech of a hamster thrown into a terrarium to a snake, shrilling something about restroom and powdering her nose as she stormed off. Tony smirked and didn't seem sorry at all as he apologized.
The gargoyle jumped silently from the table, straightened his suit, and settled into the seat vacated by Giulia. All the women were lucky to have Tony sitting between them and the gargoyle, whom they all stared at - in unison- with open mouths.
"No problem, boss. Not too wild about second hand anyway."
Tony looked at him with wide eyes for a few seconds. Then he began to laugh enthusiastically and slapped him roughly between the shoulder blades, at which Dante would have preferred to growl indignantly and angrily. But Tony was ignorant of this part of gargoyle anatomy (just as Dante had been ignorant until a few weeks ago) and the gargoyle certainly wouldn't think of bringing this weakness (in combat and otherwise) to the attention of the mob boss. By now the three other women at the table were laughing too. All rather reluctant because a gargoyle was sitting at the table but clearly succumbing to peer pressure from Tony and yes- also a bit gloating about his crack about the blonde which showed Dante that this Giulia was not liked by anyone.
Tony introduced Dante to the other three in more detail. He called them The Wives. And the big, dark one was Glasses' partner, the skinny brunette was Joey's, and this Marnie was God knows who's. As if Dante would care. It was pretty obvious that Tony had called him in to show him around. That this was necessary with employees, that he wasn't shot down, was a necessary nuisance. This one was different and pissed Dante off extremely. The drink brought to Dante by a trembling waitress did little to improve the situation, and the disgruntled gargoyle remained silent for the next few minutes while Tony talked about his latest successes in increasing the power of the Syndicate, which were actually Dante's successes.
Even after the third drink, Dante's mood didn't improve. Giulia had come back, with new, thickly applied makeup. But despite this mask (her own personal protective armor, presumably), one could see that her eyes were puffy. However, it did not stop her from stabbing Dante with glances. At the same time, Dante had been polite enough to let her slide back to her seat (although she had looked as if she would have liked to spray this seat with disinfectant) and was now sitting on one of the chairs. So he had the building, the access to the terrace (frosted glass doors - of course) and thus the direction from which most likely newcomers aka dangers would rush in at his back. And like every normal person (and like every normal criminal and killer) he hated this place because it made him vulnerable. This thin-skinnedness didn't get any better now as the conversation had come directly to him again.
Bunny addressed Tony:
"- unbelievable that you were able to get one again. And one that really follows your orders. Aren't you worried that he'll betray you? Or ... killing you?
Dante slammed his glass down on the table, making everyone wince, and looked at Bunny with his coldest stare.
"I'm sitting here at the table. You can ask me those questions, chocolate - muffin."
Tony scratched his stubble, slowly appearing after a long day, with a grin.
"Dante's right, Bunny. Ask your husband how bad things get for someone who doesn't treat Dante respectfully enough. Or do you think he got his cracked nose playing cards?"
The rather beautiful but strangely tall woman suddenly looked ten years younger as she apologized like a silly little schoolgirl - something not even Graziella would have done in this way, Dante observed.
She was no more unpleasant than Giulia or the other two who, since he was here, didn't dare to speak but just staredstaredstared but Dante was eager to get away from her and from everyone. There was something wrong with this Bunny. She smelled funny. And he had caught a glimpse of her big feet, hidden in the dark for human eyes, under the table earlier. Not pregnant, not high blood pressure, not merely swollen. Just big and together with the smell strange. He didn't want to deal with that mentally but was rather looking for a way to get out of here without his boss losing face in front of these ants. Anthony Dracon was a vain fop - that much Dante already knew. He didn't hold that against him. It wasn't an uncommon trait for someone who was the face of his organization even when it operated in the dark.
"If the boss is good to me, I'll never have reason to betray his trust," Dante muttered to close the topic.
"Spot on, ladies. Dante knows the drill. Get used to him."
"And he lives in the same house as your Graziella, Tony?" asked Francesca incredulously. They were the first words she'd spoken since Dante had arrived.
"Why wouldn't he?" replied Tony, shrugging his shoulders in boredom. Dante grumbled underfrequently in frustration because, like the broads, his boss was talking about him as if he weren't sitting at the table.
"Because - because gargoyles. The Quarrymen say gargoyles-" Francesca looked briefly at Dante, who knew exactly what she was talking about and purposely showed a lot of nice sharp teeth at his current smile, causing her to put her hand over her own mouth as if she were nauseous.
"Ahhh, Frani," Tony said lecturingly. "Gargoyles aren't like those lunatics say they are after all. Their fantasy stories are entertaining, but ask me what gargoyles are like. And as we see with Dante, like humans, there's more than one kind of gargoyle. This stealing and eating children thing is too wacky even for me. In fact, Graziella is totally in love with the gray one here. Wouldn't surprise me if they're sitting in the Jacuzzi together in a week and she's braiding his hair." He laughed that smug, smarmy laugh again and ordered another round of drinks with a sweeping wave of his finger as the waitress briefly poked der head through the frosted glass door.
All the women were in various states of silent horror or discomfort at Tony's words. Dante wondered where Tony had hidden said Jacuzzi. And how well Graziella could braid hair. Could she pull off a five-strand braid like Lexington?
"Those wings," whispered Bunny, (who smelled more like a fish than a bunny even with her perfume) a little bolder again. But though she looked at Dante (or rather eyed his wings) Tony replied.
"What about them?"
"Can I touch them?"
"Sure, if you're not attached to your hand, beauty," the gargoyle purred but Tony was more generous with his new employee's body.
"Oh, buddy. Let the girls get up close and personal. The less they're afraid of you. Graziella even grabbed your beak."
"That was different," Dante grumbled, downing his fourth, just-delivered drink to avoid freaking out. He didn't mind being touched by persons pleasing to him-or persons who turned him on. But he definitely didn't like it when other people asked Tony about it as if he were his owner! And he as the "owner" allowed it!
Dante wrinkled his nose but unhooked the joints of his wings that lay over his chest. He stretched out one of his wings and after another encouragement from Tony, Bunny's fingers brushed the inner skin of his wings. Even Francesca leaned to the side and her fingers, with the fragile but long artificial fingernails, also brushed Dante before she pulled them back, giggling, like a child who had touched the skin of a dead bloated frog ready for dissection in biology class. Dante felt dirty while everyone at the table laughed and the two braver women assured the others how weird it had felt.
"Well ... my boys would freak out if they could see him," Francesca admitted more casually now.
"Oh yeah, he'd scare the crap out of them," Marnie said in horror, and Francesca smiled tensely.
"I meant more during the day. He petrifies there at your house?"
"In the conservatory there. Sure, I can sell tickets to the wake-up show to your little Quarrymen."
Dante jumped up and growled without addressing anyone directly. it was more of a general statement.
"I'm not a fucking circus attraction, boss. If I ever see anyone other than you, Maria or Graziella in the conservatory when I wake up, I'm going to rip that person to shreds," he snarled menacingly. He didn't want to be the killjoy and sourpuss. But this conversation was going in a direction that threatened to humiliate him. Why, as he spoke the next words, was he thinking of his run-ins with Coldstone?
"I am not a thing," he whispered. "You give me assignments and I fulfill them. But I am not a pet gargoyle. I'm a living thinking being. No one has to talk over my head about me when I'm sitting right next to them. And I don't grope any of you broads and pretend it was disgusting afterwards, either. Respect is mutual!" He knocked his knuckles on the table - not anger but a parting salute. "I'm out of here. Thanks for the drinks but you can keep that kind of company to yourself in the future. Ciao, boss."
"Don't be such a huffy prima donna!" shouted Tony after him, and Dante heard his loud disgusting laugh still as he jumped onto the parapet and glided away, his hand in his pants pocket on his spare knife.
.
.
In the summer was always "late" breakfast at the Gargoyles. Even though the nights were already getting longer again, it was after 9 o'clock when Broadway prepared waffles. In the past - on Castle Wywern of the Middle Ages, the Gargoyles had almost always eaten in the open air. Either what bread, milk, fruit and vegetables people gave them - out of gratitude, but more often out of contractual obligation for guarding the castle at night and patrolling surrounding lands. Or they ate self-caught fish and hunted game - the latter much rarer because Gargoyles knew long before humans that hunting grounds should not be overused.
But the Manhattan clan did not eat outside even on the warmest nights. Though the shields around the castle could keep out most magical threats, and the automatic gunfire deterred terrestrial enemies, external helicopters could still reach the Eyrie's height. Helicopters from television stations, helicopters from Quarrymen, helicopters from the NYPD Gargoyle Task Force. And even if Elisa was one of them, and Matt was even their chief ... as they had learned a few months ago, it didn't matter. At best, it was a small advantage, for example, to acquire a head start in knowledge. But it had not prevented Goliath from being captured. Everyone knew that Elisa's and Matt's positions were more valuable than one or the other ill-considered rescue operation. That's why no one was allowed to put themselves or clan members in unnecessary danger - for example, by eating in the balmy summer air.
Nashville looked at the wall clock for the fifth time and Brooklyn followed his gaze to find out what was wrong with the clock. But there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. However, Nashville seemed restless and unfocused. After almost dropping a plate on Angela's foot while setting the table, and before that already knocking over a carton of milk, he had been allowed to sit down. Just sitting. Even for a boy of his age, that shouldn't be a problem. Brooklyn wanted to calm his suspicions with the fact that the child was naturally a bit clumsier tonight after his mate had imposed a whole week of training and meditation program on him, which almost brought every adult bushido warrior to his limits.
Brooklyn was quite proud but also completely irritated how his son had managed to keep it up without grumbling and bargaining even in his most exhausted hours. More than once he had wanted to come up to them and lift the punishment with paternal and deputy decree. But Nashville had kept going and seemed even more diligent at it every night despite the fact that every morning he had only been able to crawl onto the battlements from exhaustion and sore muscles. And now his son kept bouncing his one foot so that the bench Brooklyn was also sitting on vibrated as if it had a motor built into it.
"Please no nervous tic," Brooklyn whispered that Katana gave him a questioning look and he lowered his beak and waved it off. He hoped his son wouldn't develop neuroses and tics like a human with post-traumatic stress disorder now that the time travel and sneaking away thing was over (for now).
Then suddenly the intercom in the clan's kitchen-living room cracked, and Nashville jumped up, wide-eyed, before Owen's voice could even be heard.
"Brooklyn," said Owen whose voice would have sounded unmodulated and cool even without a mechanical intercom.
Brooklyn stood up, walked to the intercom, and pressed the talk button (he could hardly wait until the technology was at least rudimentary enough to bypass such unhandy inconveniences). "Yes. We're here. Is there a problem?"
"There doesn't seem to be. But-" The in-house fey-in-disguise seemed to ponder for a moment how to express himself "-we have a situation here."
"Brooklyn glanced back at the others. They were all rising from their places anxiously. Katana discretely rested her claws on her son's shoulders as if to prevent him from levitating with anticipation. From behind the thick scarf that still hid the signs of last weeks bruising, Luca curiously observed Nashville's eyes twinkling, not from apprehension, but delight. Indeed, the boy looked as though someone had told him that Christmas was coming early this year!
"What situation?" asked Brooklyn tensely, hearing Owen clear his throat. Brooklyn wished that Goliath had not been so quick to rush off at sunset. He had certainly just remembered in his dream again a book he wanted to "borrow" from the National Library and had said he'd be back for breakfast but this timing was still unfortunate because it left them short another warrior. And Coldstone and Coldfire were already on patrol because they didn't have to eat.
Quick, get the two-way so we can radio Golaith," Brooklyn muttered to Lexington, who was squatting beside him. But Owen overheard him.
"That won't be necessary. Because Goliath is landing on the battlements right now with a guest. "
"What kind of guest? Signora Elisa?" asked Grace.
"No ... A very young lady, from what the cameras show. I just wanted to give you a warning so the beasts could be put away, should they not perform their duty in the rookery right now."
Suddenly, Nashville broke free from his mother and pushed past Brooklyn to shout excitedly into the intercom.
"I'm coming!" he shouted so loudly that Owen hissed on the other end because he must have been yelling in his ear.
"Nash - what's this about?" inquired Brooklyn but Nashville had already jumped halfway across the room, his arms raised in celebration and his face lit up with a wide, excited grin.
Babbo Natale has come to town, Luca thought as Nashville declared:
"No one is freaking out here now! She's my guest. Be nice to her! Be normal." Briefly his face showing a pinched expression because those present were ANYTHING but NOT normal and he corrected himself. "Be - just be cool! Everyone just stay cool! Don't embarrass me!" Then he raced through the doors on all fours.
He left the room in speechless silence before a wide grin slowly spread across Lexington's face and he looked to Brooklyn.
"If he's allowed to have friends, I could invite some of my internet buddys and we-"
"Lex, don't fuck with me now!" hissed the Second in Command totally flustered and Lex grinned wryly.
"Sorry, bro. How does he even know her? He's never alone outside the castle?"
"That ... Is so not quite right," Katana muttered, slipping out of her seat. Brooklyn looked at her open-mouthed as she came to him with a smile that he actually more than loved.
"You knew about this? Goliath knew about this?" He was aware that his voice sounded hoarse, and a vague insinuation of betrayal of trust resonated in it. But his mate would never be so dishonorable. She must have found (or reinterpreted) some bushido rules that justified her actions. She took his hand and kissed the back of his hand - a rarely public and physical show of affection, emphasizing the importance of this whole affair and with which Katana was assuring her indubitable love and loyalty to him even if she had acted that way. When she raised her head, she couldn't help but see his darker shade of red on his cheeks.
"I told you why I took him under my wing last week."
"I thought he snuck away ONCE."
"Once, twice. He made friends with a human child. He needs friends. "
"He's got a whole clan!" exclaimed Brooklyn in an almost shrill voice, folding his snapped-up wings back together under his partner's admonishing gaze. She smiled at the docility of her sometimes quick-tempered Gajin warrior.
"We have been blind. Let us become seeing ones. He doesn't want to lie to you anymore, you are his chichi ue and his second. Be merciful."
Brooklyn bit his lips (which was really not easy with a beak). Breathed deeply ... And nodded. But by all four points of the sky, he was having a hard time not making a scene right now.
"Did he really tell us not to embarrass him?" asked Hudson with a perplexed face.
"He-he can't be serious. You can't be serious," Brooklyn stammered, rubbing his hand over his face and looking at his confidently smiling partner. At least everyone else seemed to be in the dark about the scheme, as was he (the Second AND the Father). He certainly understood why Katana had conspired with the clan leader. He would NEVER have allowed Nashville to roam New York to make friends. And his heart ached at the realization. He would never have allowed Nashville to make friends? What kind of stupid asshole of a father acts like that, thinks like that? Someone who wants to protect his child and his clan. Because he is not a normal boy and your family are not people, replied another voice in his head. He understood Katana and Goliath at this point. They probably thought more with their hearts than he did and took this risk for the current well-being of a clan member. In the meantime, his relatives had recovered from their surprise.
"He said we shouldn't embarrass him. I think as elders it's our duty to embarrass him," Lexington said dryly, moving toward the kitchen exit.
Broadway followed. "How do you do that not embarrass a boy in front of a girl? Angela, you watch more romance movies than we do."
"I have no idea, don't ask me," she said softly.
"ROMANCE!" hissed Brooklyn like he was choking on the word.
All together, Brooklyn holding Katana's hand, they made their way to the castle courtyard.
"Did the laddie really invite a lass here?" asked Hudson incredulously but with a sort of sly smirk as if that were a reason to be proud.
"And how does he even know a human girl? He'll have to tell us that story," said Broadway.
Grace curiously pulled Luca along behind her that he could barely keep up. "Oh. That's so wonderful. That the people in this town are sporadically so connected to our kind that other kids come here. Maybe she's a child of PIT members."
"Even if she were, a visit here at the castle would be more than unusual," Lexington assured.
"And then it's even a girl," Angela chirped, really daring to blush, and even Broadway grinned. What was everyone thinking here just now?!
"I remember a trio that constantly left the castle against the orders of the elders and clan leaders and got into trouble more than once," the clan elder said, and Brooklyn, Lex, and Broadway sheepishly lowered their ears and cringed under his cutting gaze and smirk. But Brooklyn regained his composure the quickest since he also had the most time distance from his youthful misdeeds.
"That was something else. Nash will be punished again for leaving the castle without permission multiple times. He endangered the safety of the castle and the egg."
"I'll leave that to the Second," Hudson returned, striding toward the door to the castle's innermost courtyard.
Lexington straightened while walking and rubbed his hands together, his grin looking almost surreal with his overbite. "Let's take a look at Nashville's little girlfriend," he said.
"Can you please not call her his "little girlfriend".
"Why?" Broadway teased. "Does that make you feel old? We're all curious about who he met. That's why we're all here, isn't it?"
"More to be able to intervene immediately when that weird girl pulls out a quarry hammer," Brooklyn quibbled, and the others strode past him out the door, more interested than alarmed.
The second section reminds me of a scene from twenty years ago. True story: I had invited a friend so we could go to a theme park (really just a friend and not a boyfriend ... really not!). And he rings the doorbell downstairs and I go down and accompany him up. And where two minutes before my father was sitting at the table with his newspaper, he now squatted there and cleaned like the pure innocence his 375 Magnum. And the boy's eyes almost fell out of his head at the sight (because in Germany it is NOT normal to see a firearm as a normal citizen. Most never see one if there is no hunter or professional firearms carrier in the family or if they do not live in the ghetto).
And my father like this: "Hello, you know how to behave towards them? And when to bring them home and where to keep your hands?"
And the poor boy almost pissed himself. He would certainly not have done anything questionable! ... Which doesn't mean that I didn't do anything questionable that night. (evilgrin*).
So Brooklyn - where is YOUR gun now?
Thanks for reading, Q.T.
P.S.: Chapter tomorrow- certainly dramatic, perhaps traumatic. Again, not a good light on the clan. Trigger warning. Forgive me.