.

Souls of the Night – Vol 3

63.

Xanatos sat at his desk, intent on handling some correspondence while the rest of the clan, including his son and his wife, took up positions by their sole presence during the conversation with Oberon. It was supposed to be a quiet, friendly meeting, but David knew how ill-tempered and proud the ruler of the third race could be. 26 years had passed since he had tried to kidnap Alex and that was only the blink of an eye for an immortal on an island where time passed much faster. Oberon was still the same stubborn, haughty bastard. And this time it wasn't about fetching a magical child like in the Erlking, but about eliminating or - or what? - keeping a dangerous threat at a distance?

"Mhmmm, do the others realize that they are on the side that is considered ' villainous'?" he mused loud.

Should he make them aware? For him, that was familiar territory, but his clan usually thought of themselves as the good guys.

David leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. If he were in a similar situation to Oberon, would it be enough for him to keep an rival at arm's length? The billionaire grinned. He would definitely not kill a business rival. He would try to use sneaky means that would not fall back on him directly to dry up the sources of his supplies, reduce his profits, tarnish his reputation in business and, if necessary, private matters and, above all, David Xanatos would make sure that his opponent didn't even realize what had hit him until it was too late. In the end, he would strike hard (again stealthily) and incorporate the parts of the companies that seemed profitable into his portfolio, leaving the former owner (lying on the ground and grateful for the crumbs that would be thrown to him) with peanuts. In return, he would be seen as a benefactor by the press, the business world and even his former opponent. And if none of this worked, David Xanatos still ended up with some material or immaterial profit for himself, either immediately or in the future. That was the Xanatos gamble, and from what Xanatos knew about Oberon, the guy was too cocksure and narrow-minded to play it that way. Which could be a good thing, because the world didn't need two people of that caliber.

"But you can't argue with a petulant child either," he muttered, only to get a frustrated huff on his crotch in response to his words. Xanatos lowered his head.

"You know, it would be easier to ponder if you weren't puffing on this region right now."

The beast rubbed its skull against his thigh and whined unhappily as a reply. Xanatos stroked its head and looked at the door to the next room, behind which the fate of his family, his city, his world was perhaps being haggled over. And a former human who had been traumatized many times in the past and was mentally unstable was the stake AND the spokesman. For once, Xanatos was less curious and intrigued than worried. The room was sealed against magic but at the same time unintentionally conjured to be bug-proof. Oberon would not have taken snooping well. And here he was condemned to inactivity!

"What does it say about me that every member of the clan present in there stands up to Oberon and only me and the beasts stay outside?"

The brilliant pragmatist in him understood. He really understood! As sureall as it was and as laughable as it was - HE - David Xanatos - was basically the most forgettable when it came to Oberon. Everyone was counting on that. That if something happened he would be the one left to take over the "affairs" of the clan.

He was a human where his wife was Titania's daughter and his son was her grandson and at the same time a magical prodigy who regularly visited Avalon. They had to be present. Then there was Goliath, for whom the lord had at least a modicum of respect, and of course the Lord knew Elisa as his companion. Then there was Brooklyn - the Rhydderch, the clan leader, who would of course vouch for his new gargoyle fosterling. Katana as Second also had to be on hand, all the clan children (it was inappropriate to hide the children from their negotiating partners - it would give the impression of serious menace. Heather in particular was known for her abilities, so her attendance was also mandatory). Then Angela as an Avalon Clan member and Broadway as her mate would never leave her alone. Ares and Flora because of their connection to Alexander. Lexington would have had to be shot to the moon with a rocket to keep him from participating in this stressful meeting for his mate (and he probably would have hot-wired that rocket to make it do a U-turn and get back in time).

So he was the only one left - the human who had shot Oberon once, but who the Fey King didn't give a rat's ass about. No amount of money or plotting would get him into that circle in that room. If Oberon decided to slay Nathaniel Sharif and all those who spoke out in his favor with a lightning bolt, then HE would be the only one remaining. Maybe Fox and Alex would be spared, but maybe they would be seen as traitors and killed or imprisoned. Were there cells on Avalon? What kind of ruler would Oberon be if he had no cells - even he had kept the cells in the lower regions of the castle and not converted them into a wine cellar as the architects had recommended. Basically, David knew that his wife was too resourceful and his son and Puck too cunning to be killed or imprisoned, but the gargoyles didn't have that protection against Oberon and his power. The billionaire simply could not turn off these threatening thoughts. What if no one ever stepped out of that door again!

"I know it shows a lot of affection and trust that they left me outside," Xanatos said again into the leaden silence of his large office. He rubbed his temple and scratched Bronx, who was looking at him out of pupil-less white eyes, behind one ear. "But how am I supposed to teach three hatchlings the Gargoyleway of Life?" Bronx lifted his head and snorted at his crotch again, almost offended.

"Okay, alright, two hatchlings. Fu-dog and you handle the beast puppy. I mean... Alex turned out wonderfully for me but let's be honest- that was a clan assignment to make him the man he became and my part was ... Well, forgettable- I'm not fooling myself. Whatever moral compass he has, he didn't get it from me. How can they believe I could do that," he said and then immediately took a deep breath. He was David Xanatos! If he was to be the foster father of two Gargoyle children (assuming the world remained intact), he would be as moral, law-abiding and decent as he could possibly ...

"Okay, that's so not going to work," he admitted. Of course, he wasn't alone. There was Coldstone and Coldfire (who tolerated him at best), Warren and Zoey (who had their own lives), the whole Labyrinth Clan (who had no idea about living as real gargoyles). David sat up and made a note in his calendar to find out how much gargoyle nurses and tutors from England and Japan would cost him.

When the door to the next room suddenly opened, David had to restrain himself from jumping up. It was killing him to be left out and he was as anxious as hell, but he would do the devil to be seen as a needy billionaire.

So he just leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked, smug smile on his face, while first Heather came out on all fours, leapt over the wagging Bronx onto his desk and spread her wings to the max in triumph.

"We're going to live!" she shouted theatrically, which made David laugh. He opened his arms and the hatchling jumped in, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Nashville came out of the room throwing his hands up.

"I can't believe that worked!"

"It was truly the most disgraceful performance I have ever witnessed in a thousand years," Owen said stiffly.

"Then it fits the impression we wanted to give," Tachi said just as casually and coolly, nodding at Xanatos with her equally Xanatosian smirk.

"I mean, Nate was almost crying and shaking like a leaf. Even the lord has a heart," Angela said, coming out with Elisa

"At least it was only 40% stuttering. Not that we're being picky. If pity plays into our hands here, we'll take it," Brooklyn said, heaving a sigh of relief as he gave Xanatos a thumbs-up. Xanatos grinned wider as his wife and son, along with his mates-in-law, came out, all looking delighted. And finally, the man of the hour appeared, pale and clearly wobbly-legged, clinging to Goliath's arm, Lexington on his other arm and clearly murmuring soothing, comforting words. GOD, David was dying to know every single detail but again he reminded himself to stay cool.

"Does he need a drink?" he asked, gesturing generously to his not seemingly lavish but exquisitely stocked bar in his office.

"Obviously Lord Oberon let his energy ... rush over him the whole time during the conversation. But in the end, he was mellowed by Nathaniel's honest demeanor and his assurances to be gentle and good."

"Yes, Nate will stay with us and under our wing," Lex said with an unabashed smile of contentedness, brushing a few damp strands of hair from his bleary-eyed partner's face, who sighed gratefully.

"So - a reason to celebrate. Okay," David summarized over the loud chattering and gesticulating of the Gargoyle child now perched on his desk, who noticed Oberon's energy but only marginally because it wasn't directed at her.

"Help yourselves to a drink at the bar," he offered again, smiling because Elisa, Broadway, Alexander and Fox were already there.

"No drink. I feel queasy," Nathaniel mumbled, shaking his head numbly and he was so cute. How could Oberon want to wipe someone so droll off the face of the earth? Or didn't he want to anymore?

"I'll take his drink," Tachi said.

"Certainly not! You can have a Coca Cola," Katana decided, whereupon her daughter rolled her eyes and took a Coke from the mini-fridge hidden in one of the cupboards.

"I'll take Nathanial to his room," Lex said.

"But I wanted to talk to the clan about my human family," the blue misery said.

"You can barely stand. Tomorrow, Love," Lex said.

"Tomorrow I might be able to contribute something to make this confrontation easier," Owen said. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, and if he wasn't Owen Burnett, you'd have thought the following was awkward and embarrassing for him. "I mean, Nathaniel did ... acceptably well in front of our Lord and Lady Titania. And now that I and Master Alexander have been chosen as his magical guardians, a little assistance to further stabilize his mental state would also be in your Lordships' interest."

Many in the clan grinned and gave each other meaningful looks.

"Well, tomorrow then," Nathaniel said, shaken and visibly exhausted, before slumping down with a sigh. For a moment, everyone was startled, especially Lexington, but Flora confirmed that Nate was really just sleeping- much like she had been "sleeping" after her energy-intensive uncoupling from Avalon. Without much further ado - glad that this chapter of new menaces was closed - Nashville threw the blue companion over his shoulder and the rest of the gargoyles disappeared. Without anyone turning around, Owen, Fox, Alexander, Ares and Flora were alone with David, the latter blaming it on magic.

He waited a few moments, letting Owen hand him an Ouzo while Ares and Fox sat down in the remaining seats where Alex and Flora sat down on the upholstered backrests to the left and right of their mate. Ares got the most comfortable seat and took it without flinching, so Xanatos filed that away for later questions until he had gathered more information. For now, there were more important things.

"So, how long do we have until war breaks out?" he asked. Because really - he would be an idiot if he thought someone like Oberon would be swayed from his path by whining and begging. He had already realized during Alexander's story at the table that this couldn't possibly have been everything and just as he understood that Alex didn't let the Gargoyles in on everything (chronic helper syndrome and overprotectiveness complicated many things), it galled him that his boy perhaps secretly thought he could get away with it. Towards HIM - David Xanatos. But he wasn't going to poke around for probably insignificant details like a cuckolded wife - as said; David fucking Xanatos.

Alex sipped his Bacardi and seemed to be mulling it over. David was unabashedly proud of how well his son managed to appear confident and unconcerned towards those he wanted to protect and how easily he could switch back and forth between his masks and the truth.

"Oberon will need a few days to gather information and allies," he said finally.

"He won't act on his own?"

"He may consider it too dangerous and only use it as a last resort. He'll try to eliminate the threat with less invasive means. Nate has given the impression that this might be enough - which is good. After all, his law of non-interference in mortal life also applies to Oberon himself."

"As if that would hold him back when he's getting serious," Fox muttered.

"It would also discredit him in front of his more independent-minded children if he previously forbade interference in human affairs and now calls on them to battle," remarked Ares while rubbing absentminded his gut in tiny motions.

"So at least we won't have to deal with the strongest? No Odin? No Wyrd Sisters or Anubis?" questioned David.

"Unlikely," said his son, " but nothing is out of the question. Presumably, from his point of view, he will let lesser beings compete. Those who have always lived in the human world. Those who live IN Manhattan, whether they are aware of their blood or not. None of the thoroughbred Fair Folk. None who would be welcomed on Avalon, but those with diluted blood, but not so diluted that he couldn't influence them. So he wouldn't actually be breaking his own law"

"Cannon fodder?"

"Which can also be extraordinarily powerful and some of which will not be harmed by iron."

"What entities are we talking about here?"

Alexander took a deep breath, then shook his head.

"Look through any of the encyclopaedias on mythical creatures and horrors, we'll probably have to be prepared for some of them. But that's just my speculation. This is how I would proceed. Weaken the opposing parties with diversionary maneuvers and break them apart."

"And then hit them hard," his father finished thoughtfully, spinning his desk chair and looking out over the artificial sea of stars of the megacity.

"Manhattan really is a melting pot, isn't it?"

"Indeed," added Owen.

"So he'll try to confine it to Manhattan again?"

"Most likely."

"Mhmmm, that gives us a home field advantage. How long do we have to prepare?"

"I estimate six to eight months," Alexander said, looking at Ares, who was turning the bottle of water he had been handed over in his hands, lost in thought. However, he no longer seemed eager to eliminate the threat posed by Nathaniel's existence himself. Instead, a serenity radiated from him that was either based on profound knowledge or profound manipulation of his emotions.

"I assume you have a plan," Xanatos asked no one and everyone at the same time.

Flora smiled.

"A whole bundle of plans," Owen said and suddenly a notebook lay in Davids lap. He opened it and flipped through the pages with a chuckle.

"It will be exorbitantly expensive for the protection mechanisms and diversionary maneuvers alone, of course," said his steward and courtier as if the remark was merely a matter of propriety.

Xanatos huffed cheerfully.

"I'm the man who took down a ruined castle weighing more than 300,000 tons and planted it on top of the tallest building in the world just to wake up a bunch of gargoyles. I think ... such a challenge is only fitting for our family," he said, laughing softly and enjoying the way the others in the room grinned, smiled and clinked glasses with him. Even Owen quirked one corner of his mouth! Big tasks lay ahead of them - but at least other distracting parties like Thailog or James Miller could be written off.

.

.

The black beast loved to be. Not having to be ANYONE but just to be. Of course, it was still James (Jim) Miller, and even if it could turn off its higher thoughts, Jim Miller had already been a hunter, a predator before. That kind of thing didn't vanish with the horror of resurrection and metamorphosis. It was multiplied many times over by the wolf. And so ... realizing that in this form the night was his best ally, and therefore sleeping away the day in a dry sewer, he set out to hunt at nightfall. He easily hunted down a stray dog out of pure instinct and was delighted at how incredibly easy it was to overpower the animal and crush its neck vertebrae. Its fangs, the claws on its paws, its bones and muscles all seemed stronger than they should be. His wolf instructed him which organs were the tastiest and which were too soiled and would upset his stomach.

Now that his initial fright and most pressing hunger had subsided and his frantic, still somewhat disoriented running had turned into an indulgent roaming, he was able to get to know his new body and the new abilities that went with it. He roamed areas he had known well as a human, but everything he had thought he knew now seemed ridiculous. Ridiculous when the wolf saw so much more, heard so much more, smelled so much more. The humans, on the other hand, were so blind, so deaf, so limited. He could dart through busy streets, from one shadow to another, and people would pass him by a yard away. They were disabled! HE had been disabled for 48 years and hadn't known it. NOW he finally felt complete. Jim Miller loved being a wolf. He spent two nights just being and reveling in his new superhuman animalism.

After devouring two more rabbits - but already coming to terms with the idea that humans were much fatter and much more accessible prey in New York - he wanted to retreat back to his sewer. But a distant police siren, distorted by canyons of buildings into a shrill, piercing scream, reminded him of something else. He roamed northward, strawing through Yorkville in the deepest darkness of the earliest morning hours. Arriving at his apartment, he knew it would be difficult to gain access so he awkwardly jumped onto the fire escape behind the building and tippled up the (for wolf paws) highly uncomfortable steps to the fourth floor. It was strange to recognize the scent of his pathetic pup even though he had never sniffed her in his wolf form. In the morgue she had only smelled of stinky menthol, camphor and disinfectant. And, of course, of fear and piss. He didn't know whether to be disappointed about that or about the fact that she had had his body on the table without recognizing him.

The wolf reminded him that he couldn't care less about his weak, unworthy puppy, but the human part - the part that was and always would be Jim Miller thought more strategically. He needed a human minion in this city full of humans. Jim would have taken ANY other human in New York with a paw-kiss, because Harper was a whiny little bitch. But she knew who the black wolf was - who was under the fur and so she was the only one who would feel obliged to help him. Or the only one he could keep submissive by snapping his teeth and growling. Sleeping in his own bed suddenly seemed so much more appropriate to Jim than sleeping in a sewer. And he had turned into a wolf - eventually he would turn back. Maybe when the moon waned again. He would learn to change back and forth at will. Surely he could learn something like that. He would be the perfect hunter, inconspicuous as a human by day, a creature to rival even a gargoyle by night - oh, that would be perfect! Jim Miller almost fell over because his tail had started to wag, but he still managed to take the steps.

Finally arriving outside his living room window, he was horrified to see that his home was no longer a safe haven! Even through the window, it smelled of many strange people and other odors that he was not yet able to classify. Jim Miller - not knowing for sure that this would work, pressed his head against the window with a low growl. He pressed so hard that the pane cracked and finally broke with a crunch. Shards trickled onto the carpet in the apartment. Jim didn't even notice the cuts as he squeezed through the hole with the sharp-edged shards, and his thick fur protected him. He would heal and this was too important. He came up a little awkwardly on the living room floor, shook himself huffing and then ran into the hallway. Where the doors to his study and archive were open. He ran into the first room. He felt sick from the stench of strangers in his lair and they had turned the whole room, everything he owned and had been working on, inside out. Or had stolen it! His crime wall of clues had been swept clean! And his computer was gone! Whimpering, Miller ran into his archive. His cameras! His evidence, years of work, his LIFE was GONE!

And Harper's stench hung over everything like a cloud of wretched fraud. That filthy cunt had betrayed him! He would hunt her down, find her and devour her! No, then her suffering would be over far too quickly. He would track her down, lurk in front of whatever hole she was hiding in, show himself just enough so that she knew what to expect soon, so that what little sanity she had retained so far would shatter - then he would feast on her. No-no-no, not enough. Not enough for this bitch. Bitch? BITCH! The wolf in him - now pragmatic at this point - suggested something else - something Jim Miller initially recoiled from out of disgust, aversion and, not to forget, flimsy human moral standards.

The beast in him laughed barkingly at his timidity in this regard. That alone made Jim Miller's abhorrence of the idea waver. The pup he'd had so far had always been weak and pathetic - a disgrace for a predator like him. But ... she was his blood. She hadn't inherited the strength, savagery and ruthlessness that made a good hunter - but perhaps the next generation would. If Harper was nothing else, she should at least make sure he got a chance at better offspring before he mauled and devoured her. He would keep the strongest of the litter and eat the others- scraps recycling at its best. To the wolf, a bitch was always a bitch.

Just as Miller squeezed through the broken window again, his mind still darkened, overwhelmed but unwaveringly hateful, he heard something hiss through the air. A human wouldn't even have heard it, but because he was halfway into the window opening, trying as hard as he could not to get skinned by the broken glass, he couldn't react. He felt the pinprick as the dart pierced the skin of his back despite his thick pelt and winced more from fright than pain. He hurriedly wriggled out onto the fire escape and looked around.

He would tear every dogcatcher to shreds and eat as much of him as he could before the pathetic worm died. But the person dressed in black with the night-vision goggles on the roof across the way was clearly NOT a dogcatcher. Miller recognized expensive equipment even as a wolf, and his good night vision made it even easier. Still too unfamiliar with his new body despite the wolf growling at him to reach this threat with an alley-bridging leap, Miller rushed down the fire escape now giving a flea-shit about concealment. Escape was certainly better than being caught by these humans. He felt the dizziness and a slight light-headedness make his steps unsteady and he plopped inelegantly and rather painfully yelping down the lowest platform of the fire escape to the ground.

A tranquilizer dart! What was it - detomidine, azepromazine, burtophanol? He had already used the stuff himself, but damn it, he didn't know how much was in a dart and what his new metabolism could take. But he could still get away. He was fast and could merge with the darkness. If he made it just two or three blocks away and managed to hide somewhere - one of his hind legs slumped as another dart hit him in the flank. Damn it - there were several of them! There was no way the human could have gotten down from the roof in a few seconds.

Miller whirled around groggily, his eyes sweeping the alley but he could barely focus his gaze. He felt so dazed but also angry and now let his wolf side forward. Flight or fight. If they wanted to corner an animal - he would show them what his new fangs and claws could do before he would go down, knocked out. Just then another tranquilizer dart hit him. He saw the shadows close in around him and didn't know if it was enemies or the drug. His menacing growl died in his throat and he sank to the ground, losing consciousness.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.