September 18, 1997
9:45 p.m.
23rd Precinct

"You know that local business whose electronics may or may not have been stolen from those shipping containers a few nights ago?" Matt asked Elisa as he sat down at his desk.

"Yeah," she replied a little unenthusiastically, not even bothering to look up from her monitor. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, and she was feeling tired tonight, even after she'd had two cups of the office swill.

"Doesn't actually exist. At least, not physically. They don't have a storefront anywhere that I could find. It's most likely a shell corporation owned by a larger one. I'm still looking into it, but I thought the name Dreedle sounded familiar, and I realized why."

Elisa finally looked up when she realized he was waiting for her to respond.

"Jack Dane, Brod's consigliere—his mother's last name used to be Dreedle before she changed it," he announced triumphantly.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Elisa said, perking up at that revelation.

"We also got a report back from the lab. The swabs they took from the containers came back with all kinds of results, but most notably…"

He tossed the report on her desk.

"Ephedrine powder," Elisa said after looking at the results.

"And there are only five countries where ephedrine powder is known to be manufactured in bulk, and guess which country is on that very short list?"

"The Czech Republic," Elisa said, feeling a rush of excitement at this break in the case.

"Bingo."

"Think Brod's gang is planning on manufacturing meth on a large scale?" Elisa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Most of the large production is in Mexico these days, but New York is a long way from the border. He could possibly be trying to get a corner of the market here. Especially with his European connections."

Elisa folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair as she thought. "Sticking with this theory, we need to figure out if Brod's intending to manufacture meth or sell ephedrine to others to manufacture it. My bet is on the latter, but either way, we need to figure out where they're planning to base their operations."

Matt nodded in agreement. "I'll keep digging into Dreedle Electronics, see what we can find."

.

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September 20, 1997
6:56 p.m.
Castle Wyvern

Goliath awoke with a terrified roar, nearly stumbling off of his perch as he shifted out of the dream world and into the waking one. When he realized that he was awake, that this was in fact reality, immense relief washed through him.

He had only been dreaming.

He took a few moments to calm his racing heart and steady his nerves.

Nightmares had plagued his sleep. One after another. He'd never had a day like that. Horrible dreams full of death and pain. The remainder of his clan, murdered by Castaway and his Quarrymen, Elisa spurning him for a human lover, his clan abandoning him to join Demona on her genocidal crusade. Each dream brought him a greater horror than the one before it.

He shook his head and tried to clear out the daytime cobwebs that still lingered.

"You okay, Angela?" he overheard Broadway ask his daughter from the lower ring of the tower.

"I'm fine… I just had the worst dreams today," she replied.

"I did, too. Strange. What did you dream about?"

"Well, in one I was being chased by ghosts…"

Then they walked inside and out of earshot.

Goliath frowned. There was something unsettling about that… that they'd also had nightmares. He wondered whether the rest of the clan had been beset by horrors while sleeping as well.

As he stared into the great expanse of the city below, he suddenly felt a creeping sensation on the back of his neck. He turned, expecting someone to be standing behind him, but no one was there. Only shadows. He stared unmoving. His ears strained to listen for anything his eyes could not see. An intake of breath, a subtle heartbeat, the sound of skin sliding beneath clothing. But there was nothing. He growled low in his throat, clenching the stone merlon beneath him until it cracked. Something wasn't right, every instinct told him so, but the empty space offered no answers.

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September 21, 1997
3:00 a.m.
Castle Wyvern

Owen woke up with a start. His heart was pounding and his body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He glanced at the time. The witching hour. He kicked the sheets off and swung his feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor. He held his head in his good hand as his body calmed and cooled. Such were the trials of his human form.

He took a deep breath, assessing. The dreams had been getting worse.

No, not dreams.

Memories.

He got up and grabbed a glass of water from the sink in his bathroom with shaky hands and gulped it down before refilling the glass and drinking it down as well.

Laughter had woken him from his dream. Feminine laughter that was cold and cruel, piercing the night. But he wasn't sure if it had been part of his dream… or real.

It had been so vivid.

The sound had sliced through memories of an old war that had been plaguing his unconscious mind. Memories from when Puck had been a fighter instead of a trickster

He shivered.

Mab was free. He knew that.

But where was she?

And what was she plotting?

"Have you found anything yet?" A cool voice said, startling him.

Owen whirled around, dropping his glass on the floor where it shattered instantly.

"My Lady," he said, relieved to see that it was his queen who had barged in on his private living quarters, and not the one he had feared it to be.

"We have not had any luck yet, my lady," he replied, and then he realized that he was standing in front of Titania in nothing but his underwear. As Puck, he couldn't have cared less, but as Owen, he was scandalized, though he tried not to show it.

"The Sisters have not had any either," she replied. "If only Oberon had taken away her power to conceal herself…"

"You know as well as I that the gift of concealment is not one that can be taken from any fae, not even by Lord Oberon himself," Owen reminded her. "It's an inextricable part of all of us—how we survived the time of The First Ones. Those beings may now be trapped in the Shadow Realm, and have been since time immemorial, but our very cells remember the time when they were the hunters and we their prey."

"More's the pity. If only Mab had not survived her banishment with the Lost Race as I had hoped," Titania lamented.

"She won't stay hidden forever. Wherever she is, wherever she has gone, I'm sure we'll know sooner than later. She was never one to be patient," Owen said.

"And that was her downfall," Titania agreed. "I fear you are right, though. She will do something soon… but we will turn that to our advantage and capture her. And this time, I won't let Oberon keep me from doing what needs to be done."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and Owen felt his pulse quicken. Consequences, there would always be consequences. After several seconds, he swallowed hard.

"I will call for you if and when we find her," he replied solemnly.

"Good," Titania said coldly.

And then she was gone, leaving him to pick up the jagged shards of glass strewn upon the floor.

…

...

Elsewhere in the castle, Fox gasped and bolted upright in bed, her nails digging into the mattress. She had dreamed that Oberon had come for her child again, but this time, she was helpless to protect him. Her power had failed her, and Oberon had stolen Alex away to Avalon where he had dominion, barring her from its shores. She shuddered as she recalled her son's agonizing cries for help, his calls for her. She glanced over to the other side of the bed for her husband, for comfort, but found him missing.

"Bad dream?"

Fox turned toward the deep, warmth of his voice and saw him sitting across the bedroom in a chair, shirtless, sipping a glass of scotch in black silk boxers. He looked tired.

"Yes," she said in reply.

"I couldn't sleep either," he said. A few lines were etched into his usually smooth forehead. Xanatos didn't want to admit that he had been suffering from nightmares as well. It was unlike him. Normally he didn't remember his dreams, he slept soundly and peacefully. But lately he had been having dreams every night about the only thing he feared.

The loss of his family, and his powerlessness to prevent it.

Fox slipped out of bed and padded across the floor, naked. She took the glass of whiskey from her husband's hand and tossed its contents back before placing the glass onto the service tray. Then she slipped onto his lap.

He held her close, and she laid her head on his broad chest, finding the rhythm of his heart, feeling comforted by its strong, steady beat. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a horrible dream. She needed to shake off her lingering feelings of powerlessness, and she sat up and looked straight into her husband's eyes. She reached down and gripped her husband's cock through his underwear, stroking him with rekindled vigor.

"Since we're both awake now and not likely to fall asleep anytime soon..." she implied, her vulpine smile returning as he hardened in her hand. Xanatos inhaled sharply. He could have sworn he saw a flash of green behind her smoldering blue gaze.

He thrust his hands into his wife's blazing locks, twisting the thick strands around his fingers. He tugged back, and she gasped excitedly as he exposed the ivory skin of her neck to him.

"What's the safe word?" he demanded.

"Queen's Gambit," Fox breathed excitedly.

He pressed his mouth to her neck and kissed along the line of her throat before pressing his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. Then he ran his hands down over her firm thighs and ass, savoring her magnificence, before lifting her up and carrying her back to their bed.

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September 25, 1997
3:03 p.m.
23rd Precinct

The GTF had a meeting that ran long, even though there wasn't much for them to talk about. Special Agent Martin Hacker had nothing new to report, and neither did ADA Margot Yale, and yet they still managed to spend sixty-plus minutes lambasting them all about their continuous lack of results regarding the gargoyles. Elisa speculated that they were getting increased pressure from their higher-ups. Especially in light of the new funding the task force had just received. They would have to produce results, and Elisa didn't want to think about that too much.

As they finally cleared out of the GTF headquarters, readying to depart for the day, Matt pulled Elisa aside.

"I found some more info about Dreedle Electronics," he led with. "It's owned by a larger business called Flora Holdings,"

"The guy really has a thing for his mom, doesn't he?" Elisa scoffed.

"Yeah, no kidding," Matt agreed. "Oedipus complexes aside, I was able to ascertain that it's a fairly new company that deals in real estate. Mostly warehouses. A lot of them."

"Real estate is one of the best ways to launder money."

"Exactly. Jack Dane is probably using these businesses to launder for Brod's gang."

"Do you think one of these warehouses is where they plan to distribute or manufacture meth?" Elisa asked.

"Possibly. If so, it will take us a long time to figure out which one. We'd need to organize some kind of sting operation, and it's not like you can go undercover with Brod's gang again."

"Nope," Elisa agreed. "Salli's days are definitely done. But, we have other assets we can put into play."

Matt took her implied meaning and grinned.

"I'm joining the clan at the castle for breakfast before our next shift starts. I can talk to 'G' about it then. You wanna join me?" Elisa asked.

"I'd love to, but… I have plans of my own," he said with a pleased smile. "In fact, I should get going."

"My my, blushing and everything. Alright, say hi to Dev for me," Elisa replied with a knowing smile.

"I will… if I remember to. He's awfully distracting," Matt said, before walking briskly away with nothing more than a quick wave in parting.

Elisa shook her head and smiled as she watched him leave. It was good to see him happy.

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7:48 p.m.
Castle Wyvern

One of the things Broadway enjoyed most about this new century was the food.

And not just for the reasons that most would have assumed of him. Indeed, the various kinds of cuisine to which they'd been introduced were certainly delicious, but the ingredients, the seasonings, the recipes—they also presented a thrilling challenge. Cooking in the 900s was limited. But cooking in the 90s—that was a whole other story. Here, he had access to kitchen accoutrements beyond his wildest imaginings. Even the meager groceries and kitchenware that Elisa would discreetly bring for them when they lived in the clocktower were far superior to what they'd known back in Scotland. And not to think ill or be ungrateful for what Elisa brought, she did the best she could, but her offerings paled in comparison to Xanatos's well-provisioned pantry.

Now that they were back at the castle, all that splendor was at his talon tips once again. As Broadway cast his gaze upon the gleaming appliances surrounding him, he realized he might be reveling in it all a tad too much. He was constantly cooking, baking, and experimenting in the oversized industrial kitchen these days—that is, when he wasn't with Angela or helping Elisa solve a case—because cooking was fun, cooking was love, especially when he made something for Angela, and cooking was comforting.

Baking especially.

It was usually safe and predictable. You followed a formula and it came out the same, every time.

Well, not every time. Sometimes, despite one's best efforts, unexpected things happened.

Dough wouldn't rise.

Cakes fell flat.

All the butter leaked out of the bottom of the pastry dough.

Things didn't always go as planned. And that was okay—it was all part of the challenge he enjoyed.

But lately, things had been weirder than normal.

Broadway would set something aside on the counter, like a mixing bowl or an ingredient, and it would suddenly go missing, only to be found someplace odd much later, like the walk-in freezer or even somewhere else in the castle entirely. And sometimes food would simply go missing, never to be found.

One night he'd baked a shepherd's pie only to turn his back on it for one second, and then it was gone. Poof! Into thin air. A whole pie!

Later that night, Broadway found the empty pie tin discarded on the battlements, with only a few crumbs remaining.

He would have blamed the beasts, they'd both committed their fair share of stealthy kitchen thievery in the past, but he happened to know that both had been down in the rookery, guarding 'Egwardo' at the time. Katana didn't always feel comfortable leaving her egg there as she had spent the last nine years carrying it everywhere with her, but with the newfound security of the castle and clan, she was slowly getting used to the idea of the egg being out of her sight for longer and longer stretches of time. This was due, in large part, to the devoted protection of the beasts. When 'Egwardo' was in the rookery, the beasts stood vigil, and they took their duty seriously. Everyone knew they would starve to death before they would leave that egg. So, the pie pilferer definitely couldn't have been Bronx or Fu-Dog.

But a pie just doesn't grow legs and walk away either.

Something strange was going on, and it only got worse that night at breakfast.

Elisa was able to join the clan for the first time in a while as the nights were finally getting noticeably longer. Overjoyed to have her with them again, Broadway decided to make her favorite, French toast.

But things did not go as planned.

As soon as they all sat down and tucked in, there was an immediate negative response from everyone who had taken a bite.

Katana politely spit her mouthful into her napkin. Nashville just let his bite fall right out of his beak-like mouth onto his plate. Goliath swallowed his but grimaced as he did so, while the others all burst into fits of coughing.

"I don't think," Elisa started and paused to cough, "I've ever had cayenne pepper… in French toast before."

"And certainly not this much," Goliath said, scowling.

"Are ye trying to upset our stomachs, lad?" Hudson coughed out.

"I don't know how pepper got in there!" Broadway exclaimed, putting his hands on his head in alarm.

"It's alright, love, we know it couldn't have been intentional," Angela said kindly to her mate.

Broadway felt awful and confused about his breakfast. It was possible he'd meant to grab the cinnamon container but grabbed the cayenne instead, and yet… he was all but certain he hadn't made such a foolish mistake. He knew that kitchen like the back of his talons.

"I'm really sorry guys," he said, ashamed, his ears turning a darker shade of turquoise.

Elisa stood up from the table, and gave Broadway a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't sweat it, B," she said kindly. Then she went to the giant refrigerator and started pulling out a few things—eggs and buttermilk, then a large container of flour from the pantry. Goliath stood up from the table to assist his mate.

"We'll have breakfast in no time," she said as Goliath handed her a large mixing bowl.

Broadway smiled gratefully at Elisa as he got up to help as well.

…

...

After breakfast, Goliath and Elisa slipped away from the others to have a few moments alone. Goliath glanced surreptitiously at his mate as they walked in silence. He had felt like he was on tenterhooks around her lately, ever since the night he had stopped her when she tried to initiate intimacy between them because it was too close to dawn. He had thought it a rational decision to which she seemed to take as a personal rebuke, and yet when he had tried to discuss some of his concerns with her the following night, she summarily dismissed them, insisting that she was fine, and that they didn't need to discuss the matter any further. It had the same effect as dumping a bucket of cold water upon their evening, ending any chance of picking up where they had left off the night before.

Since then she had been cooler toward him, more aloof as though she were angry with him for even suggesting he was concerned about her to begin with.

But tonight she seemed warmer, more like herself. Goliath wasn't entirely sure what had changed, but he hoped visiting the clan had helped ease some of her tensions, and despite how breakfast had started, the rest of the meal had been fairly normal and pleasant as the clan enjoyed one another's company. He attributed most of the success there to Elisa, and he said as much to her as they walked out together onto one of the castle's many courtyards, breaking the silence between them.

"That was kind of you to help Broadway after his breakfast went awry."

"It was nothing, really, mistakes happen," Elisa replied, that same apathetic dismissal in her tone that he had heard a lot lately. But Goliath wondered if he kept her engaged and talking, would she perhaps open up more to him again? It was certainly worth a shot.

"Oddly, they seem to be happening to him a lot lately," he added, glancing at her to gauge her reaction.

"Oh? What do you mean?" Elisa asked, perking up, reinforcing his theory. She couldn't ignore a mystery that needed solving. She was a detective through and through.

"He's been asking about the beasts' whereabouts a lot, and whether they've been nosing around in the kitchen, usually after complaining about missing utensils and ingredients. He's canceled several meals, often right as the clan has gathered to eat. It has been odd," Goliath elaborated.

"Huh, that is strange."

"Perhaps he has a lot on his mind, or he is distracted," Goliath offered as an explanation.

"Gee, I wonder why," Elisa teased.

"Fair point," Goliath said, though he smiled inwardly to hear her jest lightly. "I should cut him some slack. You only know young love once."

Elisa bumped him with her hip as they walked.

"Hey, we're still fairly young and in love."

Goliath gave her a crooked smile, feeling some of his own tension leaving as she continued to banter normally with him and speak affectionately of the love they shared.

"Speak for yourself," he retorted as he cocked a brow at her, meeting her witticism with his own. "I am over a thousand years old."

Elisa laughed, and it delighted him even more to hear, but not nearly as much as what she said next.

"Okay, well, we're madly in love, at least."

Goliath paused mid-stride, causing Elisa to turn back to look at him. He caught her hand and pulled her playfully into his embrace. She let out a delighted gasp as his arms engulfed her, dipping her back so that she was looking up at him and the halo of sky and stars above.

"That we are," he said before pressing his mouth to hers.

Elisa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and Goliath felt elated at her response, but before they had a chance to really indulge themselves, Goliath flinched and pulled away with a sharp growl, rubbing the back of his head with a look of puzzlement.

"What's wrong?" Elisa asked as he abruptly set her back on her feet.

"Something struck me," he replied as he looked around. "Something small, I think."

And then Elisa yelped as she felt a sharp sting on her shoulder.

"What the hell?" she said as she rubbed the sore spot and peered around for the culprit, but they appeared to be alone.

Goliath picked an object up off the ground that he had seen ricochet off the back of his mate's arm. At first he thought it was a rock, but it turned out to be a piece of stone skin shed by either him or one of the clan upon waking. They both looked at it curiously.

"Strange…" he muttered.

"Maybe someone is playing a prank?" Elisa said, shrugging it off. "Gnash seems a little old for that, but it's easy to get bored when you're the only one your age."

"Perhaps," Goliath said doubtfully. His clan didn't indulge in such behavior normally, though if he was being honest with himself, he hadn't spent a lot of time getting to know Brooklyn's son since his second had rejoined the clan with his family in tow. He quickly brushed that twinge of guilt aside and cast his gaze about instead, continuing to look for anything odd. "I spoke earlier about strange things happening to Broadway… but he's not the only one experiencing odd occurrences."

"What else is going on?" Elisa asked.

"I have had others in the clan confide in me about inexplicable things happening. Items that go missing and turn up somewhere else later, or small accidents, like tripping or falling, or sensations of being pushed. At first, much of it sounded like fairly harmless happenstance that can be attributed to clumsiness or absentmindedness, but it quickly became cumulative and widespread, and more and more baffling—so much so that it raised my suspicions. And then, when I was in the library the other night, numerous books fell off the shelves of their own accord. I cannot simply explain that one away," Goliath rumbled.

"Hmm, do you think it could be the handiwork of your resident trickster or his miniature apprentice?" Elisa offered up as an explanation.

"That is what I thought at first, and perhaps it is he and his pupil, but somehow it does not strike me as his style. From what little I have seen, Alex's lessons have progressed well beyond such trivial parlor tricks. And while comedy may not be my strong suit, I see little humor in such occurrences. On top of that, I have no proof, and without it, I cannot bring the issue up more than I already have with Xanatos. There is already enough strain on our relationship as it is."

"Well, that's deeply concerning, especially since you know I don't believe in coincidences. Not to mention, someone could get hurt. We'll need to get to the bottom of it." She glanced at her watch and noted the time. "Damn. I need to get to work, but there's something I wanted to talk to you about first."

"Oh?" Goliath asked, wondering if maybe she was finally going to open up to him about her troubles.

"Matt and I have been tracking down some possible drug manufacturing and trafficking activity within Brod's gang."

"That is troubling," Goliath said as he folded his arms across his chest, signaling to her that she had his undivided attention.

"You don't know the half of it," Elisa said with a heavy sigh. "The last thing this city needs is another drug ring. We have enough problems with addiction, homelessness, prostitution, and violence as a result of drug abuse as it is… this will only make things worse, and it's always the vulnerable, the downtrodden and exploited who suffer the most from it…" She looked away, and Goliath could see how much it weighed on her heart. She cared so much for her community, for her people, often taking it personally when she couldn't fix the source of their problems, doomed to only slap a band-aid on the symptoms as they arose. Perhaps this case was what had been troubling her so much lately?

"We have a list of warehouses where we think they could be storing a key drug component," she continued. "We could take the time to set up surveillance at each one, but—"

"If the clan helps, it could greatly reduce the time it takes and the, uh, 'red tape'," Goliath said a little awkwardly, but nodding in understanding.

"Exactly," she said, relieved that he got it immediately.

"Give me the details, and we will be happy to assist," he said as he lifted her hand and kissed it, eager to help her in any way he could.

"Thank you," Elisa said gratefully, already calculating her and Matt's next move.