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Brood of a New Age

66.

Trigger warning: drug use by minors.

Graziella slipped into the kitchen only in her underwear. After undressing and showering, she just couldn't muster the strength to put on her pajamas. Although she had to do it because of Maria, so she wouldn't see the bumps and bruises. Graziella was in so much pain. But Nash must have been worse. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes again. She didn't know what had caused the stupid cab driver to yank on Nashville's horns but it didn't matter. When the gray gargoyle, who looked a little like Nash but spoke big-city Naples Italian, had dropped her off on the roof of her estate, she hadn't been able to talk to Nash again before the adult who had saved them both had taken off. And honestly, she wouldn't have known what else to say. Nashville had been beaten up so badly! And kicked. She had seen one of the people spit on him! He had been spit on and almost killed. Just because he wasn't like them. Because of a shitty childish idea of hers. Graziella sobbed again and couldn't really see anything in the sparsely lit pantry where Maria kept her children's analgesic pills.

She wanted to be strong. She had sworn to herself not to cry anymore. But she just couldn't stop and it started again and again without her wanting to. She could hardly tell if she was crying because of her physical or emotional pain. It was definitely sometimes the one, then the other, and usually everything all together. She hated humans so much! But she hadn't been able to do anything at all. Just her being there had probably made it worse! She had to become stronger. Physically and emotionally stronger to help others. But also stronger in another relationship. What was that word? Stronger - but in a society. Power. Yes - she had to become more powerful. More powerful than a child, but also more powerful than any ordinary adult. She didn't know how to do that, but she would. For Nashville. That she could fight for him as he would fight for her.

Finally Graziella found the packet of her painkillers. She would take two. Or maybe even three. The bad black man had almost ripped off her scalp when he had tugged at her hair. And the bad men had hurt her terribly when they'd dragged her away from Nashville even though she'd held on as tight as she could, probably hurting even Nash himself. Then, when she had broken away from the guy who had wanted to take her "to safety", suddenly a body had come flying and although she had not been totally hit by it, it had knocked her over. And last on the roof when the gray gargoyle had made Nashville's broken wing better with a terrible cracking sound. There she had sunk gladly into his arms because she had been able to help him. But Nashville had been right. Gargoyles were so strong! He had hurt her very much when he had tightly squeezed her lower ribs at the moment when the gray Italian had straightened his wing. He had screamed loudly and that was probably the only reason why neither the adult nor Nash had noticed that she had screamed too. Something had cracked inside her. And her ribs had been hurting so much ever since. It had been hard not to cry out loud right away, and even harder when the gargoyle had picked her up again, even though he must have noticed how cramped she had been and must have blamed it on the previous aches and pains. She had been happy to be of help to Nashville. And somehow she believed ... that she deserved that pain now, too. Because she had been a stupid girl. Calling a cab! With some stranger who was then a Quarrymen! It would have been smarter to call the number on the card that was in her wallet, after which a driver from her dad would have come. She would have gotten in trouble for being out at night with a friend. Probably a few weeks of house arrest. But this driver would certainly not have questioned the "costumes" and would have driven her to the Eyrie building without any trouble.

The child was about to put the tablets in her hand when she saw that there were only a few left. There were six tablets left in the package. She looked down at the medicine blister. What if Maria knew how many children pain pills were there? Just like she knew when to buy new cans of pureed tomatoes? If she took some now and tomorrow too and they were empty- Maria would know Graziella had taken them and would ask why. But everything hurt her - she had to take something to make it hurt less or she wouldn't be able to sleep now because of the pain and she would get in trouble for falling asleep at day again.

Graziella looked at the shelf with the bandages and the medicines. And there, next to the anti-nausea medication, was the white plastic can. Her dad's co-worker had taken one of these last week when he had a bloody forehead because he had been beaten by a member of another family, as her dad had said. She stood on her tiptoes, which made her see dark spots before her eyes from the pain in her stomach and ribs. But she got hold of the can. It was not empty and when Graziella shook the can, many tablets clattered inside. Maria certainly didn't have her eyes on them. And even if she noticed that some of them were missing, she would think that one of Papa's employees had taken some out. Graziella tried to open the can, but she couldn't get it open no matter how hard she twisted the cap. Crap - she knew what that was ... a child lock! But she wasn't like the other kids. The other kids hadn't had a grandma who had arthritis in her right hand. Graziella knew since she was six how to open such cans, even if her wrist always hurt a lot afterwards because you had to push down the cap of the can first and then turn it and that was difficult with small hands.

After a minute she had made it and dropped two tablets into her hand. She saw that there were still so many left and shook 6 more out of the can. For the next few days. She would only take one at a time. She wasn't stupid and she was smaller than an adult and certainly didn't need that much. This Oxycontin wouldn't be that strong if it was just standing around accessible.

She took the first tablet with some water from the tap, then wandered back, her head full of worries. Most of all, she worried about Nashville. About whether he had gotten home all right. About him not meeting any of his relatives before sunrise, about making sure that when he woke up the next night his wing would be functional. If he couldn't glide because of her stupid idea...if he remained disabled. That would be so terrible. That would be much worse than if she had torn out the wings of one of the sparrows in Limatola herself. Because Nashville was not a small animal. But would have to live with a defective wing for many years to come and suffer from it. If she had stolen the sky from him - how could she live with that? Just as new sobs shook her, she was startled by the ringing of the phone. Startled, she gazed through her veil of tears through the darkness of the hallway.

The sun had not even risen yet. But Graziella knew that no one else was in the house. It was too early, no normal person would call so early. Everyone who wanted to talk to her dad had his cell phone number. All the people who wanted to talk to Maria would never call so early, when she would come in two hours at the earliest. Only people who had dialed the wrong number would call here now. Such people or ... Graziella gasped the moment the phone rang again. She ran to the phone as hurriedly as her injuries would allow. Her worrying thoughts of a moment ago didn't paralyze or frighten her now, because her head was suddenly full of one thing. HE had that number. Graziella had known it was a risk to give Nashville her number, but if an adult had answered, he could have just said he was one of the wives' children. Except for Sonny, Maria knew most of the kids only casually from "family" parties and wouldn't recognize his voice as fake. Breathless and in pain, she picked up the phone and couldn't stop her voice from sounding like that of a frog distorted in agony.

"Nashville! Are you all right? Are you home?"

"Hi, Graziella. "I'm sorry to call you so early. I'm sure I woke you up," she heard him say on the other end of the line. He sounded like he had been crying too! But he was a big boy and hadn't even cried the minute his wing was broken. Cold fear gripped her for the second time in a few hours and she quickly got the polite phrases over with to get to the more important question.

"No, it's okay, I was already awake. How are you doing? Your wing?"

"It'll be fine - I'm sure of it. Listen," he murmured, sounding uncertain and embarrassed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"I told my mom," he said.

When she didn't answer, he said it again.

"I told her. Everything. About you and me and all we've been through. ... Graziella, are you listening to me?" he asked, unsettled because she didn't answer. A sob escaped her.

"Graziella, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously and she would have found him sweet because he was worried about her but the situation was too serious for that.

"Your mom?" she whimpered. "So we can't ... she won't let us see each other anymore?" she asked, prattling on even though she knew the answer. No one let their child see a playmate who had arranged for them to almost be killed.

"Nash, I'm sorry! It was bad tonight but - I'm really, really sorry. I'm doing what you want. I'll do what your mommy and your clan wants. But please stay my friend," she pleaded, crying bitterly and hating herself for being so weak. But if begging helped, she would beg and whine.

"Graziella, it's okay-"

"No! No, it's not okay. I- I understand that the other gargoyles don't want us to be friends because I'm human and because humans are so mean to you but I didn't WANT this to happen tonight. Please, I never want us to go anywhere again. I never want you to do anything for me again. But stay my friend. I-I can't do without you. It's because of you that I endure the days when I'm alone or when I have to put up with my dad or the wives and their disgusting kids." Graziella babbled on and on although her voice sounded ridiculously choked because if she stopped talking he would hang up and the thought that this conversation would be the last they would ever have together was too horrible.

"Graziella," another voice suddenly said, making her stop her torrent of words instantly. It was the voice of a grown woman.

"I'm Nashville's mother, Katana," the voice stated.

Graziella expelled her breath, whimpering. That was a given. She was going to get a real telling off. And she deserved it. She pulled her nose up loudly and realized how sore her throat was from sobbing and crying and begging.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, squeaking.

Instead of reproaching her for what she had done to her child, came a gentle emphatic question. "You must have had a rough night tonight. How are you?"

Graziella ignored words and tone. "Please, let me and Nashville remain friends. I will never put him in danger again. Never again. I'll be good, I'll be stronger."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She heard Nashville say something from the sidelines without being able to hear it through the line.

Nashville's mother took a deep breath and when she answered she sounded like she was ... smiling?

"Graziella, we actually want you to stay Nashville's friend."

The girl was so flabbergasted that she took a step back in the empty hallway even though no one could see her. "Yes?

"Yes. Please calm down. It's all right. He told me everything. And how comfortable he is with you. And that you're as ... alone as he is. I think you're good for each other. But you understand that something like tonight must never happen again."

"Yes! Yes, I don't want that to happen either."

"Good. From my side, there are no objections to you continuing to see each other after Nashville reflects that it was not appropriate to neglect his duties and sneak out of the castle. You will continue to see each other, but only where it is safe. But to ensure that, you must follow the plan I have. You must trust me."

"I'll do anything to keep seeing Nash!"

The voice on the other end laughed softly, sounding very warm now and the way Graziella wished her own mother had sounded.

"All right, listen to me. Here's what we're going to do. In a week, half an hour after sunset, you'll be-"

.

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Why hadn't she just thrown that awful college student out of the car in Newark! Why had she driven her home? A home that was in the backwater of New Jersey! And the whole ride, this dingbat had been babbling to her about what she knew (or thought she knew) about gargoyles. Then, what great things P.I.T. were doing, and that it was an outrage that these lighthouses of human decency (as Miss Hopkins herself was one) were not under police protection. Then, what needed to be changed about the work of the GTF and the work of the police in general in New York and all of America. What the government needed to do to give gargoyles better (or any) legal protection. Last, what she thought about Castaway and the Quarrymen. Which intersected remarkably often with what Elisa thought but she hadn't said a peep to endorse Miss Hopkins. Not because she was a representative of the state Lyla disliked so much but because Elisa was afraid (really afraid!) she would be invited to breakfast followed by a panel discussion afterwards. Lyla with an epsilon (and Elisa was sure by now that she had mentioned the letter not only because she had given her name for the record but also to emphasize that she belonged to a sorority and probably already had a higher "school education" than the stupid copper who was playing cab for her) had continued talking even without that.

Yet Elisa only wanted to get to the castle in a hurry! She arrived there after daybreak, had been on the battlements without finding Nashville, had searched the entire living area of the castle, and the panic inside her by now felt like a parasite sucking at her heart. She had no hope of finding Nashville here anymore. Still - one last try. She yanked open the door to his room. And saw Katanas and Nashville's petrified figures sitting on the bed. The child was in her arms and under their combined weight the bed frame sagged but remarkably endured the pressure.

Elisa's legs gave way under her and a groan of relief escaped her as she sank to the floor. He had made it home. Into Katana's arms. And his stone statue didn't look like it was missing an important piece of him either. He even smiled.

Elisa had never thought of herself as a mother or felt the pressing need to become one. At the latest since she was together with Goliath, she had banished this thought from her brain and heart. She could live without having children of her own. But she was a member of a clan. And every present and future hatchling of the clan would somehow be her child. And for the first time in the last few hours, she had become increasingly aware that this was not a decision she had made or would make someday. It was so. It was already so now.

Katana was Nashville's biological mother, and her bond would always be stronger than Elisa's to Nashville. But she somehow still perceived him as her child. As kin. The thought of losing him was as much terror to her as the thought of losing Goliath or Derek or Beth. Love was always supposed to make you stronger. But the fear that came with it in certain situations didn't feel like strength. The nagging insecurity whenever she saw Goliath talking to Grace didn't feel like strength either. Elisa hated feeling that way and wished Luca would finally get his act together and reel Grace in with the ring. She had felt sleazy with her manipulation attempt at Tiffany's and it obviously hadn't even worked.

And now this drama with Nashville.

She felt weak and tired. Especially tonight. She didn't feel it was basically a weakness to love. Not like Demona or in the old days Xanatos. Love and companionship made you strong and resilient against many evils of the world. Her love for the clan and even more her love for Goliath. But sometimes ... love could also be a stick thrown between one's legs. Currently, despite the relief, she was SO tired.

"Oh boy," she murmured, standing up, wandering over to the two statues and leaning down to press her forehead against Nashville's brow. He wouldn't feel it but she needed this now. To make sure her fledging was safe. Katana would already think of a punishment for his transgression (if it wasn't enough that the child was nearly torn apart by a mob). She had to go to bed now.

Even in Germany, many have heard that there is an opioid problem (crisis? epidemic? corrosion of entire communities?) in America. It certainly started before the nineties when Oxycontin was prescribed en masse but I don't need to know that much about it at this point. So maybe Graziella's unregulated use of this drug is much more distressing to some than it is to me. But either way - a bad development.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.