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Souls of the Night – Vol 3
17.
Even though Alexander loved his parents, clan always came first. He knew that. And so did they. Being second in line wasn't something Fox or David were good at. But they had given up the struggle to be his only parents a long time ago. That's why love and duty to the majority of his foster father and his uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters won out over love and duty to his birth parents. Two nights later, after managing to shower (a real shower! With water!-he was already thinking about having to magically remove the beach sand from his butt crack and the dried semen) he was on his way to the clan's dining hall. If only he hadn't mentioned that he still felt a little wobbly on his feet. Because now he wasn't being carried through the doorway by Ares, who was trying to do some clan bonding, but by Flora, and all the gargoyles already assembled lost their joyful expressions and stared in bewilderment as his beloved carried him inside bridal style. Like the Xanatos he was, Alexander nonchalantly smiled away the embarrassment and reclined in his partner's inhuman arms like a Saudi prince on his divan.
"Ah, I see you've added on," he said chipperly, eyeing the second table, which was exactly the same height and width as the actual dining table but could seat six to eight more people.
Lexington jumped up - alert as he usually was when it came to him.
"Alex! Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
Alex waved him off. "Everything's fantastic. Flora insisted because the walk here might have been a bit too much."
Lexington gave his Nathaniel a look (like a husband seeking advice from his wife - how sweet!) and then hesitantly sat down again. Alexander knew from his crystal ball how things were with the two of them, of course, but seeing them in real life was adorable because they were both so wonderfully quirky in their own way. But he would have to think about how to a) let Nathaniel remain a gargoyle.
Or b) turn him back without getting bothered by this weird fire thing.
He would have to confer with Puck aka Owen about it. In fact, right after the gargoyles' breakfast, he had a meeting with Owen, who had wanted to discuss the matter on his own initiative ... in private - strange.
Lexington and everyone else watched uncertainly as Flora set Alex down on the seat at the new head of the table. She detached her tendrils from him, formed them into arms and hands and smoothed out her linen dress. She had made all her own clothes so far, although she had shown much interest when Alex had told her about Tachi's sewing skills.
"Good evening, I'm Flora, sorry I haven't been able to introduce myself yet," said his beloved. The gargoyles looked at each other, puzzled that the creature could obviously speak, while Flora curtseyed a bit and lowered her eyes like her son's guilt-ridden first girlfriend. His fey darling had been able to take on human form yesterday already but she had had to be carried by Ares into the Atrium where she had sunk her roots into the earth and drank half the natural pool dry. Tonight she was feeling much better. She stood there like she was being judged and she was truly being judged.
It was strange... but Alex knew Flora wasn't wasting away under the gaze of others. On Avalon, she had been a small, weak, sprite, constantly in competition with insatiable other spirits for the empowering magic of the isle and even a victim of bullying by stronger children. Here she was the most powerful being in the room, in the city, probably even on the east coast if you disregarded Alexander or Puck. She had become attached to the energies in Manhattan and drank from them to the fullest, even if she said that the energies of the big city tasted a little like plastic and metal in the aftertaste - however she "tasted" it. She drew strength from this and from Alexander's encouraging smile. She would be able to flourish here.
Brooklyn, the clan leader, caught himself after a few seconds and pointed to the empty seat next to Alexander with a boyish, somewhat lost smile.
"Oh please, um, Flora. No need to be so formal. Alexander's partners are ours öhm..." Brooklyn frowned, displeased with himself, and Broadway, Angela and Elisa began to laugh. The others huffed and grinned in amusement. And Alex laughed too where Flora just smirked. Brooklyn waved them off. "Oh man, you know what I mean! Welcome to the clan. If everything is peachy for Alexander, it's peachy for us too."
That largely broke the ice.
Heather, as always the most outgoing, crawled up to Flora after a polite smooch to Alex and complimented her on the flowers in her "hair". Flora displayed what looked to outsiders like blushing (although it was a very different process biologically). In fact, she had made a special effort with her hair tonight. It was Louisiana moss (Tillandsia usneoides) which she had allowed to grow smooth and in which roses were growing. Roses were the state flower of New York as she had read in the magical world called "THE INTERNET" while Ares and Alex had slept. The fact that said roses were orange like Ares' skin tone and Alexander's hair color was a particularly nice detail, her partner thought.
Heather squealed with happiness as Flora grew a rose from the palm of her hand and offered it to her. Then Flora put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder, who was sitting next to her, and hummed to him familiarly that he could braid the flower into the girl's hair. (Of course she knew him better than anyone knew, after all, "Natington Drama TV" had been her favorite program on Alexander's crystal ball in Avalon). Flora giggled at how Nathaniel could blush as she stroked his upper arm and Lex cleared his throat with a strange look on his face. Alex sipped his orange juice so that no one could see his smirk.
He had already spoken to Lexington last night, just as every gargoyle had paid his respects to him during the early evening hours. The usual questions about his stay on Avalon and his training program were always asked and it amused Alexander that the subject of his relationship(s) was burning under everyone's claws but no one dared bring it up because they thought it was in some way delicate for him. But it wasn't. On the contrary. He would have loved to put an ad in the Times saying that Alexander Fox Xanatos was not only off the market but also had the most wonderful lovers in this and other worlds. But ... indulging a little in the discomfort of others was simply in his DNA. So he wouldn't blab about it, and presumably his clan would just let it go and take it for the fact that it was.
"Where's Tachi?" Katana asked with a dissatisfied look at the clock on the wall, after a few minutes when pancakes, fried sausages and everything else that would eventually get cold and soggy was on the table.
"And Ares? Doesn't he want to join us? No one resents him for his protectiveness the night before last," Goliath said mildly. Alex scratched the back of his head.
"Oh, he knows no one resents him. He only caught Tachi on the wrong foot, as I found out. That's why I sent him to her sewing room as soon as he woke up to apologize. And I wrote to Tachi that he was expecting her there."
The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Before Nashville opened his beak and laughed out loud. He stood up and held out a ghetto fist to Alex, which the billionaire's son met with a superior grin.
"Badass move, bro. But I'm not wiping away the blood," Nashville then added.
Brooklyn grumbled. He didn't know who he should be more worried about. Tachi could take care of herself, and by God, when she got furious she was a mean beast in a fight, but Ares had really given the impression that he was a good warrior. However, Tachi still had a bone to pick with Alexander's partner because of Fu-Dog and because he had called her a hatchling and there were SO many dangerous and sharp objects in the sewing room (apart from Tachi's claws and teeth).
"Did he at least leave his bow in your room?" asked Goliath, who was thinking along the same lines as him.
Alexander laughed as he pulled out his cell phone (a brand new one, of course, because the sisters had grilled the old one).
"Of course! But there won't be any arguments. I think even, Ares and Tachi will be best friends. Let's be honest, nobody would have put up with Tachi's bitching at the table if they can't find common ground. And I've picked out the perfect ground."
Knowing that everyone was hanging on his every word, he opened the chat history he'd had with Tachi right after waking up, cleared his throat and read with audible mischief in his voice:
"Hi Sis. I'm sending Ares to you in the sewing room. He needs formal clothes as well as casual wear. I trust in your professional know-how and your sense of style when it comes to combinations, cut, patterns and colors. The suits should be largely suitable for going out, but his private clothes can be wrinkle-free silk, Pima cotton, Qiviut wool, cotton satin or organza and anything else you feel creative about. Make him look stylish and high-class. Don't skimp on appliqués, lace and ruffles, lavish but elegant patterns. Work with everything you could never use on or do with the others. Ares has my black mastercard for any orders. Have fun."
With a feline grin of self-satisfaction, Alex leaned back and enjoyed the gargoyles' silent horror. Flora next to him held a hand over her mouth to stop herself from snorting.
Broadway was the first to speak, his voice dry and full of scary implications.
"Why do you hate your mate?" he asked quietly.
Something that made Alex and Flora crack up.
Both shook with bursts of laughter.
"Okay... we won't be seeing those two for the next few nights," Brooklyn muttered and began shoveling food onto his plate as well as the others.
.
.
"I don't have to tell you that I think it sucks to be your emergency replacement for Bronx or Fu so that the adults don't kick the crap out of you," Tachi grumbled, tapping away on the tablet she had brought with her. Allowing her uniform to get dirty, she stretched out on the gravel of the roof. After brainstorming vor 24 hours(minus stone sleep), Brooklyn and Katana had managed to divert Tachi's focus from her mission to make Ares the most stylish gargoyle in the world by threatening to dismantle her sewing machine. For a short time, because on her tablet was her fashion design program with 100,000 fabric patterns.
"So why are you saying it for the third time if you don't have to?" her brother asked without taking his eyes off his actual target.
"Because I don't want to make you too comfortable drooling over your Bond mate. ... We could prevent real crimes in our time here, you know that."
"As if you could concentrate on chasing criminals with your willing model in the castle. You wouldn't have come with me if serious work was your desire. Besides keeping an eye on Dracon is crime prevention," Nashville said absently, resting his beak in his hand as he watched Graziella Dracon sit in her room in front of the vanity mirror, burning away her curls with her straightener after her bath - something she did in the morning and in the evening. Something she did just to distinguish herself from the girl Nashville had loved so much.
"My God, if there were gold medals for lying to yourself, there would be no more space on your walls," his sister grumbled, raising her head like Nashville's when there was a soft knock on the iron door leading to the stairwell.
Tachi sat up, the two gargoyles looked at each other before Tachi smiled, whereas Nashville looked rather unhappy.
"Come on out," Tachi said - something you wouldn't be able to hear through the door. But a few seconds later, the little red light on the side of the door turned green and the seven-centimeter-thick gargoyle-proof door was pushed open. Vito bent down, picked up the tray he had placed in front of the door only to put it down again behind the door and quietly closed the door again so the security system wouldn't kick in. Then he pulled the key card back through the slot so that the little light turned red again. He bent down again and carefully stepped with the tray to the two gargoyles because his little bare feet were not designed for the gravel. He was wearing his favorite gargoyle pajamas - especially for the occasion. He placed the tray between them, two coffee cups with sugar and milk on top. And a bowl of cookies.
"Buona notte," he said softly, and Tachi and he planted gentle Italian kisses on each other's cheeks.
"Buona notte, little prince of crime," the red half-grown female said warmly, stroking the human child's back. Her eyes went to Nashville, whose gaze had broken away from Graziella down there and whose mouth had twisted bitterly. Something that changed to an almost neutral expression when Vito turned to Nash. Tachi in Vito's back rubbed at her nose to keep herself from sneezing. The stench got to her, but who would blame a child for the cruelty of his mother?
"Hi Nashville," the kid said.
"Hi Vito," he replied, turning his head back to Graziella's window as if he didn't care about the child. But one of his wings swung out as an invitation. Vito followed with a smile, sitting down on his lap and snuggling against his chest despite Nash wearing the rough Kevlar vest. Nashville stroked the soles of Vito's feet, removing dirt and prickly pebbles from his skin.
"I told you to wear shoes," Nashville complained as Tachi grabbed one of the cups and poured milk and sugar into it before drinking.
"If you lived with Mamma, you could remind me more often," Vito said quietly, not seeing the pained expression on Nashville's face. He didn't even know whether the child wanted this because he really liked Nashville or whether the manipulative behavior had been instilled in him by his mother. Here too ... the boundaries were often fluid and could be interpreted differently depending on the good or bad will of the observer.
"You know I can't do that," he said hoarsely. When Vito had first noticed and surprised Nashville on the roof, the situation had been SO strange. Somehow the child always knew when they were there or when Nash was alone. Maybe you could hear their whispers or lonely musings on the roof over some air vents. But Vito was too much like Graziella from 25 years ago for the strangeness to have stood between them for long. He also usually made amends with coffee and cake or cookies, which spoke of his independence and courtesy, even if Nash suspected that eventually coffee or cake would be poisoned when Sonny or Graziella figured out that Vito was playing host and seeking nest warmth from beings who were the natural enemies of his actual family.
The kid either didn't seem to notice the pain in his voice because Nash rarely sounded any different around him, or Vito ignored it. "No Bronx or Fu tonight?" he asked.
"Brooklyn told Nash not to take the beasts on patrol," Tachi commented.
"Too bad, I like them," Vito said after a few seconds.
"They both like you a lot too," said Nashville.
"Oh, these cookies are good," Tachi mumbled.
"Uncle Sonny baked them. But I helped!" said Vito, flashing Tachi a big proud smile.
"Well, isn't he just a Jack of all trades?" Nash said and began to cradle the child, whose very existence kept reminding him that Graziella never was and never would be his. He even suspected ... that it would only be a matter of time before Graziella got herself knocked up again just to turn the knife in his flesh once more. When he lowered his head and a few of his black stubborn strands fell over Vito, the boy giggled softly because it tickled him. The little one rubbed his face against his beak and Nashville would have loved to take in his scent. Just as he had done with Graziella many, many years ago.
But Vito smelled the way he always smelled. The way Graziella always smelled. A mixture that almost made Gargoyles nauseous up close, and from a distance made them both blend with the smell of other people and the city itself, that you couldn't even filter them out by the stench. It was almost like ... an invisibility cloak... and Nashville hated himself for helping her develop this mixture back then. If Graziella sold this "perfume" to all the mobsters in town to deter or disturb the Gargoyles, she could make quite a bit of money. But she wasn't primarily interested in money in everything to do with Nashville and gargoyles. It was about torturing him. Vito's artificial stench stung his nose and he tried to blink away the tears that were gathering in his eyes, which he also blamed on the stench. Something Vito also did.
He looked up at him, his beautiful face with the birthmark (which in his case really was a mother's mark) contorted with worry. Then he wriggled out of Nashville's arms.
"I'm sorry for the smell, Nashville," he said softly.
"I know it's not you, Bambino. Thanks for the cappuccini and cookies. Please go to bed. You don't want one of the adults to scold you."
Vito bent down to his tray, but not to take it with him. He handed the untouched cup to Nashville, who took it and drank it without any extra milk or sugar, just so he had something to fight the icy lump of sorrow in his stomach. Vito, meanwhile, pulled a sheet of paper from under the cookie bowl.
"I drew this," he said shyly and handed it to Tachi, who had already finished her cappuccino. Her gargoyle eyes scrutinized the picture in the semi-darkness and her face looked sinister with its wide grin on her beak. "Not bad at all. Very good, in fact. I love it."
She handed the picture to Nash, who nearly sprayed his last sip over it as he choked and tried to keep his laughter, which wanted to burst out of him loudly, quiet so as not to lure the deadly lioness onto the trail of her stray cub.
"Dang! That's a pretty good likeness!" gasped Nashville, exchanging a genuine grin with his sister.
"Aren't the tears too much? The puddle his tears make?" asked Vito, kneading his hands and visibly embarrassed that he had made the gargoyles who were stalking his mother laugh and like his picture.
"Believe me, Vito. There can't be enough tears in a picture of Nathaniel. And I love how he's groveling on the floor in front of Graziella and Sonny is holding his gun to his head. That's good storytelling!"
Vito chuckled softly.
"Sonny didn't really do that. I made it up."
"Absolutely believable! You get an A for that," said Tachi and Vito cocked his head proudly.
"Will you give it to Nathaniel for me? Please?" he asked quietly.
Nashville looked thoughtfully at the picture made of thick, spidery lines of felt-tip pen.
"Don't you want to keep it? Your mom would pin it on your fridge." Vito grinned a Graziella Dracon grin. "I painted the same thing twice and the second one is already on the fridge. My art teacher gave me a smily sticker for it."
"Ohhh, fantastic," Tachi praised almost non-sarcastically (because everyone knew that Vito's private tutors always gave top marks for everything where possible out of fear of his mother and Sonny). Nashville could only look at Vito fondly, remembering old times. Times before all the torment and disgust. Long summer nights when two mismatched kids roamed New York.
"We'll give it to Nate and if he won't hang it up, we will," Nash promised, tolerating how painfully his heart clenched as Vito hugged him and then disappeared with the tray of empty cups across the rooftop and through the door.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he took a deep breath.
"Is the smell getting worse or is it my imagination?" asked Tachi, standing up.
"The smell always stays the same," Nashville mumbled, looking back down from the sheet to Graziella's window. But the lights were out. He put out his invisible mental feelers - struck that vital thread that connected them both and felt like it had never been torn and abused over that short distance. He sensed that his counterpart was about to enter her sleep phase. No reason to stay any longer (no apparent reason). Nashville stood up exhausted, dejected and beatific at the same time, which shouldn't be possible but was because of his particular condition.
Nashville folded the sheet very carefully and tucked it just as carefully into the largest pocket of his vest where his ID and authorization to be a Guardian citizen of New York was stored.
With an elegant, light-footed leap, Tachi catapulted herself up into the air.
"Let's get this patrol over with so I can get back to the castle."
Nash jumped behind her and let the updraft carry him higher. "Because of Ares?" he asked, showing a grin that almost overshadowed his pain.
"Sure. He is a fantastic client. He never complains because he knows that Alex wants the best gargoyle tailor in the world to outfit him. As his partner, Ares can hardly stay in a loincloth."
"You do know that Alexander only gives you free rein so that you forgive Ares for his first night."
"Brother. I always know everything. You don't have to explain other people's intrigues to me. But I now have access to a black mastercard and to a gargoyle with a swimmer's figure who doesn't fucking pull a pout of sheer horror when he's supposed to be wearing a paisly pattern. Nobody's taking that away from me!"
"You can marry him," Nash gloated.
His sister chuckled. "Me becoming the fourth in a union with my human brother? ... that would be too warped even for me. No. But I'm happy for Alex. It's strange to see him jump into this relationship so quickly. But honestly - he's a Xanatos. Want, take or conquer and keep. Alex has found his pearls of great price and wouldn't let them meet his family and clan if he didn't love them both more than anything in the world." She faltered briefly, gaining a little altitude as Nash followed her, leaving the darker, more distant lights of Queens behind them, the Manhattan skyline in the distance before them like a curtain of LED lights. "He's not my type, you know that," she then added more quietly, barely audible over the wind.
Her brother looked to the side, noticing her expression wavering between deep thought and longing.
"Soon, Tachi. I'll tell Brooklyn to get her over soon."
"I don't blame you. I know I'm too young from a Gargoyle point of view and the adults' brains would fly off. It's just ... the radio silence pains me."
"Lex would get wind of it too quickly if you chatted with her all the time. I like Lex but he would push it and kind of mess it up for us. We need to take this slow and subtle."
His sister cackled loudly, her voice slipping back into childish high pitches.
"YOU! The master of subtlety. Marvelous. I can look forward to that."
Nash slipped rudely into her airspace, knocking her off her updraft, causing her to curse vulgarly as she plummeted a few yards. Nash laughed. "Let's go find some crime and kick some ass, sis! The fattest fish is for me!" he shouted and glided away from her.
"Wait for me, you bloody cheat!" she called after him.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.