The last minutes before sunrise brought them to the edge of the village. Demona landed in the same park where she'd first seen Luach, now finding it completely deserted. The sky had grown very overcast and they were both thoroughly dampened by the rising humidity. But even the heavy mist began to take on a pleasant glow as the first beams of daylight illuminated them. Luach watched in amazement as Demona, giving herself a little shelter in a corner between two hedges, began to transform into her human form. Her anguish shocked him, and he was powerless to stop her pain and rather nervous that her cries would bring the attention of a passerby. But nobody came running, and the gasps and convulsions seemed to stop as suddenly as they had started.

"Must it always hurt so much?" he asked sympathetically.

"I don't know if it must, but it does," she replied, "When at home, I've taken to using the implants to make certain I sleep through the pain. But there's no such mercy for me this morning." She moved to lead him toward the gate but stopped in surprise.

'Oh! The shoes!" she cried in delight. To her great surprise, the shoes that the young child of Oberon had fashioned for her the day before had reappeared on her feet.

"He's thought of everything, the little trickster!" she chuckled.

"Who has?" Luach asked.

"Nevermind," she scolded, "Come. The shops won't open for hours, but perhaps the hotel will have someone running the internet café."

"But you can't go into the village that way!" Luach exclaimed, pointing out her lack of clothing.

"I'd definitely garner some attention," she conceded, "I suppose I could try raiding someone's wash line?" She laughed softly to herself at the humorous thought of going around in some other person's, ill-fitting set of clothes, and possibly encountering the annoyed rightful owner awkwardly in the street. She almost shared the vision with Luach, but she noticed a change in him. He seemed genuinely unsettled to be standing beside her and was reluctant to meet her eye.

"Well, what is it?" she asked sharply. He said nothing, but opened a bag that he carried strapped across his shoulder. He withdrew from it, a coarsely knit shawl, that had only minor wear to it, considering that it was nearly 900 years old. With as much respect as possible, he drew it around her waist, then fastened it at one of her shoulders with a carved, wooden broach.

"Well, of all things! Your Highness has never been so concerned about my attire before," she observed, not sure if she should take the gesture as considerate or overbearing.

"T'is different when you are in this human form," he offered as a weak explanation.

"How so?"

"Women are to be respected and protected," he told her and she laughed at his naivete.

"I'm afraid you'll find that many women in this age dress in as little as this loin cloth and often far less when the spirit moves them to do so."

"I have already noted that fact," Luach replied with open disdain, "I find it most confusing. But they aren't you, and this new human form is strange and confusing enough for me without…" Her eyes narrowed at this unfinished confession. She stared at him curiously for a long time, as if trying to decide what he meant by that statement.

"I do not wish to discuss it any further," she told him finally, "Thank you for lending me your shawl. When we are able, we'll purchase some new clothing for the both of us."

She abruptly turned away, and walked through the park, toward the gate and the street beyond. Still feeling a bit uneasy, he followed her through the streets of the village until she settled on a stone wall that bordered a rose garden, directly across the road from the hotel.

"It looks as if they will be opening soon," she observed as she watched a café employee in an apron wiping down aluminum picnic tables and opening up large, brightly colored parasols that sheltered an outdoor seating area.

"Have you any money?" Luach asked.

"I have," she replied, gesturing to the bag strapped to her shoulder, "This ill-fated quest is financed compliments of David Xanatos."

"Who is that?"

Demona told Luach about the industrious, wealthy man who moved a castle full of gargoyles across the sea and placed it atop a skyscraper, just to see if he could break a curse.

"He must be a great sorcerer!" Luach exclaimed.

"No," she laughed, "Though sorcery interests him. Almost anything interests him, really, if he thinks he can use it to his benefit. Anything or anyone for that matter."

"Anyone?"

"Oh, yes. He manipulates people like pawns in a game and he has no shame about it either. He has endless adversaries and a few substantial rivals, but he doesn't know a true 'enemy'. He holds no grudges and has no use for revenge. He takes no betrayal personally as he himself never extends true loyalty to anyone."

"And you are this man's ally?" he asked incredulously, causing her to laugh.

"I was for a while, or at least I let him think I was." Luach's face turned dark. Something about her callous laughter caused him despair.

"You betrayed him?" he asked, unable to conceal a tone of bitterness.

"Of course. He outlived his usefulness to me and I have myself to look after as well. He's never been the same toward me since, though. He knows he can't buy me or manipulate me as he does the rest, so he keeps me under the tightest control he can."

"You don't reckon that your betrayal grieved him?" Luach asked and Demona laughed again.

"Grieved him? Not Xanatos! He never takes anything like that personally. As I told you before, he doesn't know real contempt toward anyone, but likewise, he doesn't know true friendship. It's all a game of power to him."

She smirked a little and added with a touch of pride,

"But I scared him! I might just have been the first to do it too, but I managed to scare some of the cockiness off of the most powerful man in New York."

"Is he the ruler of New York?" Luach asked, now thoroughly engaged in her story.

"No. But he easily could be, if he wished. He has wealth and influence enough to gain any position of power. But he doesn't wish it. He buys the allegiance of brilliant and talented people as if he is collecting jewels or artwork, but he has no interest in ruling the masses and he certainly has no sense of duty toward anyone or anything but himself. Such a life would only bore him."

"Is there nothing else he lives for?" Luoch asked, "Or no one else? It seems almost sad for a man to have no greater purpose to serve."

"He has a family he seems to care for," she said slowly, recalling the day when the Hunter attacked the castle and Xanatos' inexplicable self-sacrifice for the clan. She still didn't know quite what to make of that, and she certainly didn't know how to explain it to Luach.

"Lately, he's taken to playing at being a hero now and then, but his main obsession is achieving immortality."

"Immortality?" Luach repeated slowly, as if he found the idea very strange, "Why?"

"He says there's no point to having all the wealth and power in the world if you can't live to enjoy it."

"T'is the same truth a great many men before him have discovered," Luach acknowledged, "But most have been led to the conclusion that wealth and power cannot be the true meaning of life, precisely because they do not last forever and immortality is impossible in this life."

Demona shrugged.

"He likes to do impossible things," she explained, "And he does them! You'd be chilled to the bone if I told you some of the impossible things he's done."

"I'm tormented enough having heard some of the impossible things you've been doing," he told her flippantly and her cordial affect immediately transformed into a scowl.

"I don't need your judgment," she grumbled, turning away from him.

"Goliath told me that you have no remorse for your crimes."

"I don't need his judgment either," she retorted, "And he doesn't have the least idea what I regret or do not regret. I suppose he felt the need to tell you all this so you wouldn't be careless around me once the others were asleep?"

"Aye. He warned me about your inclination for treachery," he confirmed, "As if I didn't already know."

"Then why did you come here with me? I could have contacted your father just as easily without you here."

The man looked frustrated by the question.

"I suppose I must see for myself that what he says about you is true," he replied, "Unlike your cold-hearted millionaire, I am very much grieved at the loss of your friendship. I can't accept you as an enemy."

"I think it might be much healthier for you if you did," she warned after a long, emotionless pause, but the man just shook his head and sighed.

"If that's the way you want it, so be it," she replied, thinking that Luach would do well not to wear his foolish heart on his sleeve, "It appears the café is open for business. Let's get this errand over with."

Demona led Luach to the counter where a young woman eyed their strange clothing and Luach's disheveled appearance suspiciously before reluctantly selling them a cup of tea, a pastry, and a time card for the computers. Then, Luach watched in amazement from a nearby table while she accessed an email account that had been dormant for over two years.

There, amid thousands of junk emails, she finally found the last correspondence from Macbeth. She read it again, recalling the despair that had caused her to contact Macbeth in the first place. It had only been two years, but it seemed like such a far off memory. So much had happened since then. So much had changed.

"Until we meet again, live for vengeance no longer and instead, seek hope. There are still good things in the world worth living for."

She had to admit that Macbeth had been right when he told her there was still much to hope for in the world, though she doubted he could have guessed everything that she had seen since he'd written those words. It occurred to her that she hadn't sensed Macbeth's suffering in a long time and she could only draw the conclusion that he was either very far away, or else reasonably content for a change. He had alluded to a new sense of purpose in his final message to her and she wondered what he might be doing and how he would react to the news that his son was alive and searching for him. She considered the best way to word her message so that it would be taken seriously.

Finally, she settled on,

Macbeth,

I have come into possession of something very important that belongs to you. Please reply and let me know where it can be delivered.

Most Urgently,

Demona

She sent the email, then settled back into the cheap, plastic rolling chair with considerable misgivings. It had taken Macbeth months to reply to her last messages, and she had no idea if he still used this email address. This was far from a foolproof method of contacting him. Even if he did receive the message promptly, it was almost certain that it would be received with a degree of mistrust. He might not reply at all, and he wouldn't be wrong to refuse to send her any information about his whereabouts.

She had decided against telling him that Luach was alive because she was fairly certain he would not believe her and would not even bother to reply to what he would perceive as a cruel trick. Her hope was that a vague description would pique his curiosity and he would, at the very least, send his stooges to collect whatever she meant to bring him. Now worrying that her message might be a complete waste of effort, she began to write another.

Xanatos,

Tell the clan that we are all still safe and well. We plan to leave Scotland tonight for the next part of our journey. We have been very fortunate with the weather thus far, but I think it will rain for most of the day. I very much need to speak with Macbeth immediately, and I hope that you might have a quick way to contact or find him.

Please Advise,

Adelpha

If she knew anyone who could quickly contact Macbeth, it was Xanatos, she reasoned. And even if Macbeth wasn't fond enough of the man to respond to his messages, Xanatos had a persistent nature that typically got the job done. Feeling a bit more confident, she glanced over at Luach, who looked absurdly out of place drinking tea from a paper cup at a rod iron café table. The café attendant thought so too, Demona realized, as she caught the woman's scornful gaze as it fell on him. She realized that the suspicious woman probably suspected them of being some sort of transients who would likely chase away her customers with aggressive begging. She had to admit, they looked the part.

She logged off the computer and joined Luach at the café table, speaking low so the judgmental attendant couldn't hear her.

"I sent the messages, but it could be a while before I hear a response. Let us visit the shops down the road. They should be opening soon and we might find some clothes that are cleaner and less conspicuous."

Luach was favorable to the invitation and they spent the next couple of hours collecting new sets of clothes, additional provisions for their expanding group of travelers, and a few other miscellaneous items that Demona felt might help them along the way. She also procured for Luach, some soap, shampoo, and a razor so he might clean himself up whenever they might find a place conducive to doing so. As they walked throughout the village, they continued to converse casually. Luach told her more details about his journey with the trio of gargoyles and asked more questions about New York and the clan of gargoyles that defended it. She found she didn't mind answering Luach's questions at all. They returned to the hotel, now jogging through a heavy rainfall, to see if they had received a response to her emails and she asked Luach if he would like to kill some time by seeing some images of New York and the building where the clan lived.

Luach was amazed at how she was able to use the computer to conjure such perfect images of a far off kingdom that he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. He found the photos of the city fascinating, particularly the great stone fortress that sat upon a tower, high above the clouds. She was even able to find a series of photographs on the Eyrie Building website that showed the rest of the clan in their stone forms. Luach had gasped in surprise at a photo that featured Angela in sleep.

"How lovely she is!" he exclaimed, pointing to her.

"She is my daughter," Demona explained in a voice unable to conceal her love and longing, "She is born of the only true happiness I have ever known. Her presence turns my prison into a home and a life of pointless suffering into hope."

Demona's eyes widened in surprise and she glanced at Luach uneasily, for the confession had tumbled effortlessly from her lips at the sight of her child's image, and before she could think to restrain herself. Luach didn't seem the least bit surprised at her words though.

"You must return to her quickly then," he reasoned compassionately.

"I only left New York to procure the means to break a curse that threatens her and the rest of my clan. I have obtained what I sought and now I must to return in order to finish this quest."

"Then you shall," he replied earnestly, "I will take you there myself, if need be!"

"How can I, when my three warriors need guidance?" she asked sadly, "And I cannot entrust them to Goliath."

"They won't be easily separated from you," he observed solemnly, "Nor should they be."

"I don't want them to be," she admitted, allowing him to see her sorrow, "But I will endure it if it is necessary to keep them safe."

Luach seemed to consider this for a moment, then replied,

"My friend and protector, you are not the cold-hearted creature that Goliath believes you have become. I know you love them. But consider this. Oberon's children saw fit to pull me from the brink of death and commissioned me to save three innocent gargoyles and bring them across time and space. All this trouble, just to reunite them with their leader. This cannot be an accident! There is a purpose for your reunification. I know not who designed it, or what that ultimate purpose may be, but I can only think that it must be for something good."

Demona shook her head in disbelief.

"Now it's you that will lecture me on fate? In one-thousand years, neither fate, nor fairies, have ever designed any purpose for me that could be called 'good'."

"When innocent lives are spared and weary hearts are reunited with those they love, I call that 'good'," he argued, and he reached for her shoulder to draw her closer.

"I think, perhaps, this is your time, Demona," he said softly and although she was still conflicted, she embraced him briefly before drawing away at the noisy coughing of the attendant. Demona turned swiftly and sent her a chilling glare that immediately made the woman reconsider her career in busy-bodying as she scrambled to answer a convenient phone call.

Even Luach looked a bit self-conscious at her sudden show of physical affection.

"Are you embarrassed now?" she teased, "You were always the one who was most affectionate with me."

"I'm not used to you as a woman," he confessed, "I almost feel as if I'm taking liberties."

"I'm not a woman though," she insisted, "But I suppose this spell does make for a convincing deception. When Macbeth first saw me in this form, he didn't know me. So distracted by the spell he was, that he couldn't even sense the bond between us. He got past his concerns about taking liberties relatively quickly, as I recall." She grinned wickedly at the joke she had told herself, but to Luach she added,

"It's a little ironic, for he was always reluctant to show affection toward me in my true form. I suppose he must have found my appearance too grotesque."

Luach looked scandalized at such a claim.

"That's not true! He never saw you as grotesque in the least bit! Fearsome perhaps, because of your strength and cunning, but never grotesque! You were always as beautiful to us as a gargoyle as you are in this form."

She shrugged, not wishing to argue the point further, and explained, "He made certain to keep our interactions rather formal for an alleged friendship."

Understanding, Luach told her, "He saw you as a lady, and only meant to protect your reputation as he would for any woman. There were rumors..."

"Yes, I know all about the rumors," she replied tersely, "Surely you know those were lies, fabricated by his enemies. Your father and I were never engaged in any immoral acts that flew in the face of nature's laws."

"Of course, I know that!" he assured her, "No one who knew you and father ever believed such lies."

"If your grandfather didn't believe them, he certainly put a great deal of effort into spreading them," she accused, and Luach sighed.

"Aye. My father didn't want to believe his oldest and dearest friend would do such a thing, but I heard my grandfather whispering those malicious falsehoods to my poor mother with my own ears."

A look of anger flashed in Demona's eyes.

"Surely she knew better!" she cried in outrage, then lowered her voice as she recalled the attendant on the phone a few yards away, "She was your father's very life!"

"She knew they were lies," he assured her, "But the rumors were no small source of embarrassment for her."

Demona considered this.

"No wonder she hated me," she muttered as she opened her email again, hoping to see the response she was looking for. Dismayed, she noted that Macbeth had not replied yet, and she almost closed the program out, but the she noticed a message from a name she did recognize. It read;

Dear Adelpha,

I received your message earlier this evening, and on behalf of Mr. Xanatos, I am attempting to facilitate your communication with Mr. Macbeth at this time. In the meantime, please look for a package that I have forwarded to you, with some resources that might prove helpful to you. I have also taken the liberty to assist you in your efforts to thwart the weather.

Your Servant,

Owen Burnett

"What does that mean?" Luach asked, struggling to decipher the strange writing, as much as the cryptic message, "Who is this Owen Burnett?"

"He is Xanatos' head stooge, and if anyone is a sorcerer in this, he is! I'm nearly certain he can read my mind."

"If he has so much power in his own right, why would he serve another man?" Luach asked.

"That is a question I have often asked myself and I have yet to come to a logical conclusion on the matter. He's a tricky pest, is all I know, but I think he might come in useful this time."

"What could he possibly send you to 'thwart the weather'?" Luach asked.

"Who knows?" she answered, "If it's some sort of high-tech wellies, then they're all yours. You could use something more substantial than those poor scraps of hide barely hanging on to your feet!" Luach began to laugh at this, even though he didn't know what "wellies" meant, but stopped suddenly as he noticed the attendant was approaching them apprehensively.

"My apologies, ma'am," the woman said with a sudden inexplicable change in her demeanor, "I didn't mean to interrupt. I only wanted to let you know that your room is ready."

"My…room?" Demona repeated in confusion.

"You are Ms. Adelpha Destine aren't you?" she asked uneasily, "You fit the description so I thought-

"I am," Demona interrupted quickly.

"Oh, good!" the woman replied with a look of relief, "Mr. Burnett from Xanatos Enterprises called in your reservation a few minutes ago, and told me you'd be waiting in the foyer. Here is your key." Adelpha took the key and thanked the woman, who hurried back to her counter where she had several soggy café customers waiting in queue.

"What did I tell you?" she asked Luach.

"He is a magician!" he agreed.

"Come," she said, "Let's see what he's arranged for us."