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Brood of a New Age

The cop, the hellspawn and the revelation

Author's remarks at the end

Sentences in Italian are marked with ^...^ .

^"You are the strongest and most caring woman I have ever had the privilege to meet. I don't care that I am human and you are not. Eva, I have grown to cherish you more than I am capable of describing."^

^"I cherish you too, Luca. You are the most important human being to me, my heroic detective who thinks he has to save Camorra murderers and spawns of hell."^ She stroked his arm reverently, her crimson fingers and claws a stark contrast to the cast. Her gentleness eased his pain more than any narcotic could have.

He was so weak compared to her. Not because her wounds - much worse than his - had healed by sundown, or because she really was physically much stronger than he was. No, her strength was different. It was the realization that eventually catches up with any half-smart man who realizes he simply wasn't a match for the woman who ruled his heart. And didn't want to be a match for her. Yet, or perhaps because of it, he had saved her life last night. Perhaps there would never be another occasion like this where she saw him not just as a former threat, not just as an ally or friend, but as an equal who could give her and her brother more than dubious protection by day when they slept in their stone shells.

In this moment he was unconcerned about anything. His morals, his life in Naples, the light of the sun, his mother (God rest her soul) who had always wished him a decent girl (presumably she hadn't had in mind a girl with wings and fangs who could tear down walls with her bare claws and shoot the beak off a sparrow with her sniper rifle from five hundred yards away). If his wounded leg had allowed this without Eva having to help him up afterwards like an old man, he would have fallen to his knees. But as it was, it had to be done without that. He grabbed her hand and clasped it as he spoke forcefully;

^"I don't believe in demons. And you never were one. Not to me. Eva, do you want to-"^

They both flinched up and apart as there was a sudden hammering on the door to the room. Normally, Eva would probably have heard an approaching enemy, but she had been so attached to his lips - with that smile, that smile worthy of Michelangelo's Madonna carved in marble - that she had been as startled by the knock as Luca. She had thrown herself behind the bed in Luca's barren room, where he had been quartered after Guiliano Della Marra had blown up his hotel, not to hide as a human woman would have done, expecting danger. No - Eva rumbled with gnashing fangs in the best "demon" manner, had the barrel of one of her weapons, modified for her, pointed at the door and it only needed another hint of a threat that whoever had dared to surprise her would be shoot to a sieve. Only when they heard the voice did her finger on the trigger relax and her glowing eyes lose their fire in a sudden drop of adrenaline.

^"Eva! Signor De Santis! You have to see this!"^ Where Eva's expression had instantly turned mild, Luca wanted most to curse loudly and vulgarly. This clueless priest had the timing of a sledgehammer! Just because they were supposed to "see something" he had swept away this moment, this almost perfect moment!

The woman of his heart folded her wings into a cape and hurried across the room with three steps. Her digitigrade gait, with mid-feet and heel-legs not making contact with the ground, made her movements, like her brother's, seem faster, more agile, and always ready to jump. And just as tense, she yanked open the door.

^"Don Armano! What's the matter? Is Fiore-?"^

^"He's all right. But you have to see what's on TV!"^ the young priest shouted, running his hand through his hair, which, since he had probably come running here, was quite disheveled.

Eva and Luca hurried after him, because even on his way back to the private living room of the church he was almost running and had this almost desperate disbelieving smile on his face, which made Luca think something strange was going on.

^"It's on almost every channel. Too many for it not to be true!"^ said the priest as he dropped down next to Fiore, who was squatting on the couch, so spellbound by the TV images that he couldn't even snap at the, to him, unpleasant priest. Eva exchanged a serious look with him. Her gray brother, like her, had narrowly escaped death last night, and although most of his wounds had healed without a trace (two or three more scars or minor cuts in the edges of his wings didn't matter anymore), he was taking advantage of his still weakened condition. Don Armano must have obviously allowed him to smoke in these premises - even if, in the absence of an ashtray, he ashed in a beautifully painted flower vase.

Then he turned his beak back to the TV and turned up the volume.

^"-apparently a terrorist attack in the heart of New York. We will show you again the still image of the beings that rose from the rubble and ask you to send your children out of the room first,"^ the blond-haired, voluptuous announcer of the evening news on her local station said with a serious expression and, had her plastic-surgeon-marked face allowed it, she probably would have frowned in disbelief and irritation as well. When, after a few seconds and further assurances that this sight was unsuitable for children, pregnant women and people with heart problems, the promised image appeared, Eva and Luca both gasped. And although the announcer now again summarized the supposed events that had led to this picture, also said something about a battle in a church and the subsequent escape of the "suspects" in an attack on a police station, the silence of the people who were in the room was almost stifling. Until Eva made a gasp as if she had been holding her breath.

^"Oh, for the love of all that's holy!"^ she whispered, taking stiff steps toward the apparatus and sinking to her knees directly in front of it. She stretched out her hands to the television that showed the still image of the group that had apparently just escaped a bombing, although the announcer speculated that they were the perpetrators. A large purple demon carrying a clearly old bearded fellow. A turquoise bald one, even a likewise purple girl, and a demon that looked like a dog and had no wings. A small olive one, perhaps one of their children, also injured like the old one lay limp in the arms of a red demon with a beak like Fiore's.

^"So many demons,"^ Fiore muttered with narrowed eyes, showing his bewilderment by puffing on his cigarette as if it might be his last. Which it might have been, because there was a crumpled pack of cigarettes at his feet.

^"Those demons look like me and Fiore!"^ said Eva in a breathy voice.

^"Gargoyles! They call them gargoyles here!"^ exclaimed Don Armano, made the sign of the cross with a broad grin as if thanking God. ^"If these are your kind, then you are Gargoyles! You were never demons! I've always known it."^

^"So have I, Eva,"^ Luca said softly, placing a hand on her trembling wing.

^"We are not alone,"^ whispered the woman who had thought herself a hell-beast all her life. ^"We have never been alone."^

When she turned to Luca with moist eyes, he smiled. It was not a happy smile. Because now he knew he couldn't tell her what he had intended to say.

And without suspecting this, Eva confirmed him.

^"I have to go to New York. We have to go to New York."^ She looked at her brother and Fiore put down his pretty improvised ashtray and stood up, visibly weakened from last night's stabbing and hail of bullets, to go to the kitchen counter.

^"Where's the communion wine?"^ he asked, grumbling, and since he didn't answer in the negative, that probably meant he didn't have a clear opinion of his sister's plans that included him.

Then Eva looked at him and Luca knew what to expect. He clasped the hand she had held out to him. He couldn't tell her anymore. Not now and maybe never. But he would accompany her on this path and protect her as best he could.

It was the only right thing to do now that their "father" Angelo Della Marra, dominant Carmorra boss of the Naples region, was dead, his human heir (who should never have become heir but had always striven for it by the most vicious means) had been killed in a final battle with Fiore, the organization they should have inherited if it had been up to the crazy Della Marra was in ruins, as was the mansion in which they had grown up.

And now that even the normal population knew about them (not that Neapolitans were not good at keeping secrets, but especially the older ones were very devout and above all superstitious), who was to say that one sunny day the appeasements of Don Armano would not eventually be washed away by their fear of the "demons" or gargoyles as they now knew, and they would set out with hammers and drills to smash the monsters to dust. And let's not forget Don Carlo, the oldest but certainly the most malicious priest of St. Mary, Mother of the Redeemer, who had set out for Rome before the big battle to find new allies for his fight against the hell-spawn Della Marras - which he would certainly find now that the news of Gargoyles was going around the world.

New York was far, far away, in a foreign land with a foreign language, and even there the Gargoyles would not be safe at the moment, as could be seen clearly from their old destroyed lair. But these seven had survived. Seven others of Eva's and Fiore's kind, maybe a partner for Fiore - whichever Gargoyle girl would want to have the spitfire, who had been raised to be a real mafiosi and killer, which would take a lot of effort to drive out of him. And a partner for Eva - a more suitable partner than himself. So Luca did the only thing that was right, smiled wider even though he wanted to cry and said:

^"Anything you wish, Eva. But I have to organize some things. And you have to learn English and find another place to sleep until you both can leave."^


Welcome to my new story in the Nathaniel/Lexington universe (but Nathaniel and Lexington are not a topic here for a LONG time, because as you can easily see it's the year 1996/97). Also, you should read Souls of the Night book 1 and 2 first because this is a prequel and chronologically and in terms of the story arc it would make more sense to read the other story first (unless you don't give a fuck).

THIS story "Brood of a New Age" starts not with our beloved characters of the show and the comics.

But with ICONS of Gargoyle fan culture from the 2005-2015. EVA and ADAMO (respectively Fiore) Della Marra created and portrayed by ritam (Rita Mira). Gargoyle Ultras know the characters and of course this fantastic artist who now works on many projects and has collaborated on books. I emphasize - the figures belong to her and although the original story about these two special gargoyles has been lost - unfortunately also with the original sound of Fiore and Eva - she tried to outline the story to me as good as she could. She said, and I quote: if they're going to make a sort of appearance as the characters I created in your stories, you can use them. And here I am - or rather here they are. With Luca, of course, where would they survive without their ally, their own Detective Luca De Santis.

As well as the Paris Clan in a later story which takes place around 2019, I had to borrow them both - my form of declaring my love. I LOVE Eva and Fiore just by the few pictures that are circulating on deviantart (under Gargoyles and Scetchbook).

- But if you want to check out ritam's current projects, you better go to her FB page. I asked ritam if I could change Eva's and Fiore's names in the course of the story for reasons that will be revealed at the end, but she didn't answer, which is okay, she's a busy woman. But it is Eva and Fiore as they live on in my head and their story with the Manhattan Clan!

And so all that remains is to say: Enjoy these OCs and the story of Nashville and Graziella getting to know each other.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.