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Brood of a New Age
15
Afternoon:
Graziella sat at her desk and couldn't concentrate on her homework one little bit. She felt miserable. The wives had taken her to a restaurant today after another shopping trip in which they had mainly bought things for themselves with her credit card. The menu had been full of dishes she didn't know and even if she had known something, she wouldn't have been allowed to order it because Marnie had ordered her a Caesar salad. She didn't like salad at all and especially not the one with the white sauce because it tasted kind of fishy. Only the hunger had let her eat while she was wearing one of the newly bought frilly dresses that itched and where she had to be careful not to make any stains on it.
But she didn't feel bad about that. It was because of what had happened afterwards. Because her dad and Mister Glasses and some other men had also had lunch there. Mister Glasses had kissed Bunny and called her Babe. Graziella had found out that Mister Glasses was Sonny's dad.
Even her dad had talked to the women, called them "chicks", told them that "Daddy" would pay for everything. He probably meant himself and in that case he would have paid for everything even without his appearance because Graziella was sure the wives would have charged the credit card for her salad and their numerous drinks. All of them had giggled mindlessly, he had even kissed the hand of the mean Giulia and mumbled something that Graziella had not understood and Giulia had giggled even more. All four had behaved strangely in the presence of the men. Inhibited, shy although they were adults, and even more false than usual.
Her papa's eyes had been on her at last.
"You alright, Dolly?" he had said and she had nodded, not being able to look at him and the other men because she had found everything and everyone disgusting at that moment without being able to describe exactly WHAT she found disgusting.
"This is the child? The one from the Italian girl?" one of the other men had asked- like the others in the suit and like the others with their hair gelled back.
Tony had laughed in a disgusting manner.
"What do you want me to say? When all the mares run after the stallion, that's what happens. At least something quite comely came out of it. In ten years when she fills out the back and front of a dress, I will be able to find a suitable role for her." All the men had laughed and the women had laughed too - shamefacedly and more quietly and with those tortured almost desperate looks that practically begged for the men to be good to them. Then her father had turned away and one of the men, as he was leaving, had said a sentence with a very bad word in it, referring to the women around them at the table. And Graziella had looked at the wives and none of them had said anything, although Graziella knew they had also heard the bad word.
This had been bothering her for hours. Why were these women like this? And why were the men like that, including Tony? They all seemed to have no problem with it. The women didn't seem to have a problem with being treated meanly and the men didn't seem to have a problem with treating them meanly. From the top down- yes, that was the term! They had patronized the women. With words. And with looks. And they had looked at Graziella that way, too. She had hated it and had felt disgusting herself even though she had done nothing. Or ... was she the problem herself? Was it just the way they treated each other in America? Did she just have to adapt - get used to it like Maria had said. But she didn't want to get used to THAT at all.
For the umpteenth time, she felt this oppressive knot in her chest and this feeling that there just wasn't enough air to breathe in her room. Even though she recited her prayers every night now, the cracking and groaning of the house scared her when she knew that no people of the "family" were around to hear her scream. She hadn't been able to talk to her grandma about it on the phone because she hadn't sounded good. Her stomach was giving her trouble again. So Graziella lied mostly about how she felt and made up simple lies that adults liked to hear. All good, all beautiful, all nice.
She didn't know how long she could keep it all up. Grigio sat on her desk - leaning against a stack of new books - watching her reproachful. He had the detective's card on his fluffy little legs. But Graziella still knew what the man - Signor De Santis - had said. Just in case of emergency. And being unhappy was no damn reason (she liked the words and phrases she picked up almost every evening from the men in the courtyard better and better) to call there! Demonstratively, to show Grigio that she was not yet ready for it, she turned the card over.
.
.
Evening:
Brooklyn put his ear to the egg and closed his eye. One minute. Two minutes, a small eternity.
As always after waking up, before and after patrolling and before petrifying, his parents "looked" after the egg. Nashville didn't know if they had made such a fuss about his egg, too, and frankly he didn't want to know. On the other hand- they probably didn't keep checking on him because his mom had dragged him around for ten years. So when Katana stepped back from the hollow in the brood den where the clan's most prized possession rested and gave him a smile, he gave her one back. But his smile was tired and resigned.
"All good?" he asked, knowing full well that all was fine with that stupid egg.
"Of course. A wonderfully strong heartbeat. Just like yours was."
His dad lifted his head and again gently stroked the shell of the large spotted egg.
"The others are already waiting" Nashville said, not because he knew for sure but because that was just the way it was. When they were in the brood den, the soon to be renewed parents always had to be waited for.
The three patrol teams- Goliath and Coldstone and Angela, Coldfire and Broadway and Katana and third Brooklyn with Hudson and Lexington were already waiting in the wings. Brooklyn turned to him again but Nashville only managed a neutral (though not disrespectful) expression where his Second managed to smile at him.
"I'm glad you're resigned to your duties now."
He nodded. "Yeah. Have fun."
"It's not supposed to be fun. It's our duty. Our destiny."
YOUR destiny, Nashville thought almost hatefully, struggling not to let what he felt reflect on his face. Lexington and Hudson gave him empathetic looks. Lexington smiling, somewhat pityingly. Hudson thoughtful and scowling. As usual, Nash didn't know if Coldstone's grim expression came from his thoughts and opinions or from the "alterations" his body had undergone. But they said nothing. What could they say to Brooklyn or Goliath? It was not their place to fight for Nashville when they knew clan leader and Second were right. Even if they had been wrong, hardly any clan member would have contradicted them in front of the others.
Seven fleshy gargoyles leapt from the battlements, two electric ones ignited their silent engines and took off vertically like rockets before adjusting their steel wings and catching up to their respective teams.
The clan ( everyone who made a difference on the streets) glided off into the distance.
Nashville watched them glide away.
He was on top of the tallest building in town. The wind was blowing strong and inviting. Yet why did he feel like he was suffocating again? His wings ached and he rubbed his shoulder. How he wanted to do more than glide around the castle. His claws scratched his wingtips where they grew from his shoulder blades and his wings twitched urgently. They were still there! His wings were still there. His claws were still there, his tail, his beak, his horns. He may have been a child but he was a gargoyle! He had desires that were not just about reason, but instinct. And he had a hunger that he would not be able to satisfy with human food. He turned around and looked at Fu and Bronx who were watching him expectantly with their pupil-less eyes. Fu tilted her massive head questioningly.
Nashville took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he felt as if an immense weight had fallen off his back simply because he had decided to do the following.
"I'm sorry. But I know you don't need me. I'll be back before the adults even realize I'm gone."
With that, he jumped over the battlement to retrieve his mission clothes from his room.
.
In his office, David Xanatos was having his majordomo read him the schedule for the following day before he left for the night. He had Alexander bouncing around on his knees. The child was wide awake and now permanently showed a peak of activity in the first half of the night- clearly not just a genetically inherited quirk but an adaptation to the beings with whom he would share castle and life and to his babysitter Lexington. Although he listened to Owen quite half-heartedly, and the squirming child didn't fall off his lap either, Xanatos did watch with a smirk as Nashville's streamlined figure whizzed past the outside cameras - barely recognizable with his dark "outfit."
"Looks like someone's getting into his rebellious phase," he muttered.
Owen, too, had turned to the screen- the motion detectors just caught the figure disappearing into the distance.
"I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner," Owen muttered without flinching.
"Oh? After one year already an expert in child rearing?" asked Xanatos, grinning at the sight of his own son- his heir to the throne, the child of one of the shrewdest men and the most quick-witted woman in America, the grandson of one of the most powerful Fey, Lady Titania herself- producing spit bubbles. He could hardly wait until this guy gave him similar trouble, and although his parenting style would never compare to Brooklyn's (and he didn't want it to!) he would watch it closely with Argus-eyes and listen with Panotti-ears to what would become of it. Only as reference material.
.
Graziella had been standing on the top landing of the stairs to the second floor for ages. Where Graziella's room was on the third floor, Anthony Dracon's rooms - bedroom, private bathroom and study - were on the second. The door to Tony Dracon's study (ONE of his study rooms, because surely he had "study rooms" somehow in the hotel or in the other Dracon family homes) was closed but she heard her dad talking and laughing. And talking again- low, kind of smarmy- and then a woman giggling. He had come home tonight. Not to HIS main home but to Graziella's. Surely that had to mean something? Or did it mean nothing at all? At least nothing that had to do with Graziella? It was nearly a week since Maria had promised her she would ask Tony for a dog. Had she done it, he had said no, and Maria just didn't dare tell Graziella? Had she asked him tonight? He hadn't said anything in the restaurant, but there had been all those strange men with him. Around nine o'clock the entrance door had fallen into the lock and Graziella already knew by HOW the door fell into the lock that Maria had gone. Maybe she had asked him tonight. Anthony Dracon's laughter rang out again and he seemed to be in a good mood. Graziella's feet were already aching and the dress she had decided to put back on was scratching her back and shoulders. And just as Graziella - despite everything a child without an infinite attention span - was about to go back to her room, the door downstairs opened.
"- but no, baby. Believe me. The show is a blast. And when they see whom you're hanging on the arm they'll clear the best box and if they have to throw the mayor out of there personally."
Graziella scurried down the steps just as Tony was about to push the blonde woman in the silver tight-fitting plastic tube that was supposed to be a dress out the door.
"Dad!" she said, eyes wide as her father and the woman she did know turned and looked at her emotionlessly. Giulia gave her a cool but very dismissive superior look. She had a different kind of makeup on than usual and had fancy highlights in her freshly coiffed hair but that didn't make her any more sympathetic.
"I-I mean Tony?" she corrected herself quietly. "Did Maria ask you?"
"Asked what?"
"Oh ... Nothing. Nothing important," she whispered. All the wind had been taken out of her sails by the sight of Giulia.
"Go to bed. Little girls shouldn't be out of their rooms at all after dark."
"Because of bad men?" she thought of what one of the wives AND Maria had implied days ago.
"More likely because of the monsters that lurk in the dark." Dracon and Giulia laughed. Tony pinched the blonde's silvery wrapped shapely ass. She snickered like a little girl and scampered down the front entrance steps despite her high heels. Tony turned around again with a dirty grin.
"Go to bed, Dolly. That's where you belong."
The door slammed shut behind him. Suddenly, the house was dead silent. Without Maria, and without another staff member. And even if it was one of the rare evenings when Antoinette or Dino were there ... they wouldn't have bothered with her.
She fled from the silence in the house to her room.
Graziella hardly noticed how she went back to her room, but suddenly she was sitting on the bed. The huge bed. In the huge room. Dead silence here as well. She had never thought about whether the princesses with their many beautiful things had not nevertheless felt miserable. Not nevertheless lonely. At that moment she would have given anything for someone to talk to. Even that stupid Roberto she would accept.
She took Grigio off the pillow because she suspected he needed a hug right now. How tiny he was here. Among the Dracons. In this house. And in America.
Suddenly the air seemed too little for her to breathe. The air in this house. She got up from the bed. Hectically and awkwardly stripped her dress over her head, tossed it on a chair, pulled from her dresser a pair of jeans and a thin hoodie. She didn't care what her dad (NO, Tony!) had said at that second. She didn't care about the town full of bad men and Quarrymen and Gargoyles. She would rather be torn apart by claws and beaten to death by electric Quarry hammers than stay here tonight. She had to get out of here or she would suffocate.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.