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Souls of the Night –Vol3.
74.
I jumped aside as Fox, Flora and Alexander almost ran through me, so engrossed in their planning board that they didn't even notice me. Conscious of my large clawed feet and nervously swinging tail, I wandered through the Great Hall, which looked even more magnificent now that I had been gone for an hour. I had been proud of Lexington and my work – but Goliath and Brooklyn had now even stretched white and golden banners under the ceiling, which was estimated to be 25 feet high. Since no one except Lex, Heather and maybe me was light enough to hang upside down from a ceiling (but no one would have done it so as not to get stone crumbs on the freshly polished floor), they worked on huge ladders and I pressed my hands to my sides so as not to grab the lower end for fear they might fall. They were gargoyles- all but me more graceful than cats, they wouldn't tumble down like mere humans or hatchlings.
"Can I help with anything else, Brooklyn?" I called up.
"Have you and Lex hung the decorations outside? Sound system installed and checked? The lighting? The music system and selected songs?"
"Yes. Yes and yes."
"Chairs set up and covered?"
"Yes."
"Where is Lex now?"
"Checking when Judge Roebling's plane lands and sending a driver. The priest won't be here until just before the wedding."
"Xanatos?"
"He's skyping with the priest about his terms for sealing the bond."
We all knew that those terms included the most exquisite bribe. Probably a nice island on the Greek coast. What did it say about me that I cared as less about it as Brooklyn and Goliath, who continued to work while I reported and hoped to get further assignments.
"Can you help in the kitchen?"
"Broadway, Angela and Ares have thrown me out because I would disturb their Groove!"
"Have the beasts been walked?"
"They have rather walked me, but yes."
"Table set?" His gaze wandered from his elevated position over the banquet table, which was covered with the highest quality cloths and tableware that was probably so pricey that my hands had trembled the whole time I was setting it. Until the food was actually served, Fox and Owen (where was he, anyway?) would check and adjust everything three more times, but it all looked great, even if the table decorations weren't in place yet because Flora wanted to "create" them first.
"Yes."
"Just like Fox wanted? Did you follow the pictures in her etiquette book?"
"She checked it and nodded – so… she thought it was okay?"
"Do you think or do you know?" Brooklyn asked – and after I had squirmed under his hard stare for three seconds like a worm, he grinned.
"I'm just teasing you, Nate. You've already done a lot. Relax. You've been under a lot of pressure for the last few nights."
"But... it's a wedding! I-I'm - there's always something to do. I have to do something!"
I didn't want to say that this was my first wedding in many many years that I had attended. I remembered that my parents (and by default, I too) had often been invited to community celebrations and weddings when I was a child – before September 11th. No matter what the world thought or said about Muslims, the universal truth was that we usually threw huge weddings, full of music, dancing, games and endless amounts of food that just about satisfied the numerous guests. Some weddings went on for days (and nights). All of them cost a small to medium fortune, even if all the preparations, such as cooking, were done by the multitude of (mostly female) relatives and acquaintances. Muslims who were reasonably well integrated into their community had a dozen weddings to attend every season, often in all seasons, and were probably obliged to do so by social pressure. In addition, my father had earned well as a banker for "one of us" at the time, so his attendance (and his gifts of money) was always welcome – not to mention the fact that he had been very sociable, communicative and entertaining. But in the last twenty years... They had left it up to me whether I came to the few occasions on which they had been invited by relatives and acquaintances out of courtesy.
Later on, they didn't even ask me anymore, at least not since my involuntary outing at the end of high school. So this was my FIRST wedding in 15 years and I felt like a sack of springs and knew that everyone around me sensed it. I was not good company as a nervous wreck, but I WANTED, HAD to help. The urge itched under my blue skin.
Brooklyn gave me a sympathetic look because I probably looked like a kicked dog and felt like one too. I could see that work was being done on all fronts, because Alex and his mates were gifting his mother (AND THE CLAN!) a "real" wedding, albeit not an official one. And Fox- as if she sensed that this accommodating mood of her only child could be fleeting, like his Fey nature, had declared that three nights of preparation were more than enough. Something that seemed to stress NOBODY as much as me!
"I think Tachi would appreciate your help in her studio," Goliath said with a mild smile that made his perfect chin look even more dominant. I felt my face light up like a Child's at Christmas.
"Yes! Great! I'll go there right now!" I called and was already out of the room with Gargoyleleaps, only hearing Goliath's quiet chuckling and Brooklyn's mirth-spiked comment: "The kids will get jealous if you start abusing him too, heh."
I ignored it. I could deal with Tachi. She was ruthless in her work and took the mission to create the three mates' wedding attire very seriously. In addition, suits for all males and dresses for all females. She had already tailored many things for previous events (or simply in the vain hope of getting Brooklyn, Broadway or Lexington into a tuxedo) but pretty much everything she had in her collection had to be altered somehow. She was too cool and too hardened to be a wreck like me, but a wedding dress and wedding suits - traditional and yet not traditional - that was a first for her too, and God have mercy on the poor guy who got in her way. But what harm could I possibly do with my humble ironing service in the corner? Yes, a nice, mechanical job to iron out the edge of my mental state.
But even before I knocked on the door, I sensed that... something was unusual. Inside, a sewing machine was rattling, but it was rattling... somehow differently? I couldn't even put my finger on what was off. Maybe it was diffuse, not yet fully attributable gargoyle instincts. Or just my tense pre-wedding jitters. I ignored it and knocked and entered. Only to see a strange woman at Tachi's sewing machine.
A woman I didn't know, with a salt and pepper bobcut. Alone in Tachi's workshop. Her round face, matching her round body, lit up where I just stood in the doorway and stared. I must have looked terribly stupid with my mouth open, but... here was a STRANGER in the castle, on the lower levels of the castle - close to our eggs and almost worse - using TACHI'S SEWING MACHINE - her sanctuary!
A question that would probably have come out more snarling than asking wanted to rise up in me, along with indignant heat, but the woman jumped up from the chair and the bright fabric on which she had been fiddling around in a suicidal manner and came to me.
"Ahhhh, man, there's the hellfire that the kids have been telling me so much shit about," the woman laughed and squeezed me in a crushing hug as if it were okay and normal and appropriate. She was strong for being human. Or was she human? She smelled strange – like ozone, subtle detergent and animal. A combination that made my neck hairs stand up. She actually lifted me off the ground for a second in her disturbing high spirits before bringing me to arm's length to examine me with a cat-like grin and chatter.
"You look fine. Not feral or patch-poisoned anymore. The grapevine reported that you were human again, now a gargoyle once more. Man fuckit, we've all been through such identity crises, huh? Cool that you want to stay in the club now. And never mind everything about last month. I'm cool with it. I'm supposed to tell you from all the Labyrinth Clan that they forgive you. And not because of that ABOMINABLE fat gift basket from Whole Foods that you had sent. Grumpy Cat - I mean Derek - was appalled with his broody default mode bitch-face, but I was delighted. Especially by the card. It's hanging on the fridge. So friendly and polite. I would have just written something like:
Sorry for dry humping my mate in front of your children. PS. Extra sorry for almost cremating your family and for kidnapping your hatchling- something like that."
As she chattered on, my anger had given way to confusion and then embarrassment.
"You-you're from the Labyrinth Clan!" I blurted out, noticing the white steam rising from my skin. The woman stepped back from me, shaking her hands a little exaggeratedly because of the heat, but still smiling teasingly.
"Mags would be all smart-ass about the fact that we haven't called ourselves that for a long time. But if it makes it easier for you in your head, be my guest."
"I-I'm so sorry for what I did - how I behaved," I stuttered, taking a deep breath so that the fire extinguisher chips in my pockets wouldn't go off.
"Man, Sparky, calm down. I told you everything's okay. No need for Operation Firestorm. So? How did you like your first dozen rats?" she asked cheerfully, but with that mischievous look that told me she could guess.
"I, I threw up terribly," I admitted, because the topic of my culinary disinhibition during my feral state was at least better than cremating children or dry humping.
The strange woman rubbed my arm comfortingly.
"Aww, you're adorkable, sweeting the fuck out of me, the others were right. You're probably more of a pigeon type, it's okay. Your mate must have taken care of you."
"Did- So Lex did. But... he's not really, so we're not exactly- what are you doing here?" I skirted around my discomfort with my relationship status by asking the question that had been going through my mind from the very beginning. Even though this woman somehow belonged to the Labyrinth Clan... No one was allowed in her sewing room without Tachi's invitation or permission. And no one was allowed to touch her sewing machine. That was suicide and even though this peculiar woman was very friendly (and overwhelming), Tachi would be furious as she was so stern with all the work. I wanted to explain all this to her when Tachi and Heather landed on the outer balcony, Tachi carrying a cream-colored fabric over her arm - a dress that was probably intended for Heather. It made sense that Heather's fitting had taken place elsewhere - with all the fabrics and materials piled up everywhere in the actual workshop, you didn't fancy someone like Heather here too long.
Without noticing the strange woman or me, they jumped off the balustrade and came in.
"Heather, I'm telling you for the last time, only over my gravel will I sew MLP patches on your skirt!"
"But they're pretty!"
"It destroys the overall concept. At your own commitment ceremony, I'll sew whatever shit you want on your clothes, but here I have to draw the line."
In a panic reaction, I wanted to pull the human woman behind me to protect her from the wrath of the adolescent clan seamstress, but by then they had already seen her - and the reactions were not quite what I had expected.
"Momma Nora!" Heather screamed and jumped towards the human with a huge leap. She lifted her up with a groan and they kissed each other a dozen times.
"Hello, my little sweet monster. Uff, hooooly dibshit, you've gotten bigger again! Give your momma Nora a break."
She set chuckling Heather down on the only free edge of the large work table, stroked her cheeks again with a look that alternated between pure love and alienating sadness, then turned to Tachi, who was smiling (SMILING!) as she inspected what the woman - Nora - had sewn.
I approached the hatchling, stroked her wings and watched anxiously as the two of them immersed themselves in a conversation about fabrics and stitches and appliqués for the wedding attire. An absolutely respectful conversation, but one that was animated even by Tachi's side. They were obviously on the same wavelength - even their sentences were similarly littered with swear words, as if Tachi had taken casual slur lessons from ... Nora.
"What- so she helps Tachi with the creations for the wedding?" I asked - putting two and two together. "They... they get along well. They are... kindred spirits?"
Heather shrugged, rubbing her face against my T-shirt. "Somehow, yes. Tachi has a bit of Momma Nora's character. And a bit of Uncle Xanatos, too," said the child cryptically. Strangely quietly, with strangely sad eyes, Heather watched Nora.
"And... and you are close, too," I said and - I didn't know what I wanted to ask.
"Sure, I wouldn't be alive without her," the child answered, smiling at me, but that smile was full of woe. I wanted to take her in my arms, even though I had no idea what for, but then she slid off the work table. "Tachi, I'm starving. I'm going to the kitchen to see what Broadway, Angela and Ares are doing." Which meant nothing other than that she would try to snatch whatever she could. I was almost relieved when the hatchling crawled away after more kisses for Nora to eat away the aches and pains that were hidden in the stories I didn't yet know.
.
.
I groaned and lost a few yards, got nearly out of the air stream because the fabric almost slipped out of my arms. Only an immaterial boost from Whisp brought me back on course.
"Why couldn't Mr. Xanatos send his people? He has people for EVERYTHING," I whined.
"He has, could and would. Tachi is the super-paranoid artist with her materials. And that's Norwegian silk and ... other stuff I don't remember where it comes from. She doesn't want any klutzy humans to transport it and risk a stain or tear."
"She doesn't want anyone clumsy handling it and sends you AND ME? What if I sneeze and burst into flames?"
"My point exactly! I'm sure she just wanted you out of the castle because you're a bundle of nerves and would have disturbed her and everyone else during the preparations. ... And me so I can't hide from all this shit and have a defenseless babysitter at the same time," Nash added grumpily, which showed that he was well aware of his own moods in the last few nights. Just to say something and distract us both, I kept babbling.
"I'm sure it's nap - silk is made by silkworms and it's too cold for them in Norway. And why is it so highly valued anyway? I mean - it comes out of the butts of worms. It's basically their excrement."
"Aha," grunted Nashville, tersely. I was probably annoying him. Man, I was annoying myself. But I was fidgety and nervous even though it wasn't my wedding. Just the idea of "my" wedding made Whisp flutter inside me with joyful excitement, whereas Fiery sent frustrated waves of heat through me that were too intense not to assume that this idea excited it in a good way. I myself, on the other hand, wanted to let out a shrill, incredulous laugh. I loved Lex, I loved him dearly, but the thought of marrying him or anything like that made me feel queasy and I didn't know whether it was a good queasy or a stress-induced queasy.
So I forced myself not to think about it any more, gripped the roll of white silk more tightly and hoped that neither my claws nor my sweaty hands would leave any marks on it while I talked about other products that were made from animals and that people appreciated. Nashville carried another of the expensive fabrics and a package with God knows what under his arm and stoically endured my currently missing brain-to-mouth filter. In the last few days, since the whole action with burning companies, exploding houses, Thailog, Miller and my family drama was over, he had retreated into himself again. The clan took turns looking after him again and it was intentional that he had been sent with me. Even though he probably felt it was a punishment. And I just couldn't shut up!
"I mean, I like coffee. Okay, I drown it in cream and sugar and cinnamon and everything that makes it milder, but I can still taste if it's the cheapest quality or better, I think. But honestly, I wouldn't even try civet cat coffee for a thousand dollars. I know they clean it, but just knowing would make me sick. By Allah, my wings hurt. Why was Tachi's contact in New Jersey? I'm not a very skilled glider yet!"
"You've got the wind literally on your side, Hercules! How about a little tailwind?" growled Nash. And hey, he sounded like he was about to give me a neck-slap with his tail, but it could talk!
"I promised Oberon and Alex and Puck not to use my abilities carelessly."
"Says the guy who carried his human nemesis almost into the stratosphere."
"That was something different!"
Nashville laughed - loud and vicious, but a laugh was good, laughter, even a spiteful one, was emotion. If it helped him, Nash could brotherly tease me as much as he wanted. I chuckled at the thought, which seemed so natural - to see Nashville as some kind of brother. What was Hassan doing right now? Was he okay? But I wouldn't approach him anymore. None of them. I had closed that chapter. One of my current brothers glided two hundred yards above the ground next to me, showing a horribly beaked grin at his words, although his gaze was relatively warm towards me. Accepting, if teasing.
"Quit whining, Hercules. Or... do you like Sparky better now?"
"Sparky? Oh man, you heard that?" I whined.
"HEH! Nora is a naturally vocal and loud person- I'm sure everyone in the castle heard her when she shouted it after you. She comes up with nicknames for most people. Nora dubbed you that. You'll be stuck with that name forever. Congratulations."
We both laughed, even though mine sounded rather awkward. But... it gave me the opportunity to open up another topic, albeit in a very clumsy way.
"So Nora... what's the deal with her and Tachi and Heather, because..."
I heard Nashville's surprised yell as a heavy weight landed on my back, instantly pushing me down as my wings lost all tension. I let go of the bale of fabric, but more importantly, that weight rolled off of me.
"Help!" the young man cried before he dropped helplessly into the void and fell again after my reflexive grab for him had missed his hands. I immediately went into a nosedive and after the guy.
"HOLD ON! Grab my hand! Grab it!" I screamed without wasting a thought on where a human being might come from so high in the air.
His eyes were wide, pleading, panicked, he was flailing and kicking with his arms and legs and I kept missing him because of that. The ground was so close! Getting closer and closer! I wouldn't make it! He would smash. And I with him if I didn't slow down but then his last hope would be gone and he would die! I tried to remember how I had created this glowing sphere through which I could teleport myself and others, but Fiery and Whisp were swirling around inside me, unable or unwilling, and I was on my own and would not make it! Only fifty yards to go - when the young man's expression suddenly changed from fear to disappointment, even frustration.
"Man, shit," he exclaimed, turning once on his axis and I involuntarily spread my wings and gained altitude and thus distance as large pale purple skin with bones running through it burst out of his back - through the obviously hidden holes in his olive green bomber jacket. They grew and after another two seconds he spread his own wings. He quickly gained altitude himself as a bat-winged type like Goliath and flashed me a not really regretful-looking apologetic smile when he was at the same level as me.
"Can't blame me for trying, Nate," he said as we both ascended. I stared at him, unable to process it. He was a gargoyle, with brown wind-tousled hair, a dominant jaw but a slimmer build than Goliath. But - he had transformed without me seeing him remove a patch.
"WHAT were you trying to do?!", I yelled, knowing I sounded rude and snappish but he had almost died. I had believed he was going to die and I would have had his blood on my hands.
"He wanted you to create one of those teleport spheres that the others told us about," a delicate, soft voice informed me. I flinched at the sound of it, as did the young female gargoyle before she shyly smiled without showing a fang. She was smaller than the male gargoyle, but had similar light purple skin, though her wings were more like Angela's. Her full brown hair blew like a carpet behind her down to her rump. Her eyes smiled as warmly as she did and although I had never seen this female before, my heart began to beat faster in my chest than it had when I thought a human was about to fall to his death. I groaned because Whisp and Fiery were tugging at me from within, towards this individual, and I knew they wanted to tell me something but had no idea what?
Approaching fast, I heard a roar that sounded too cheerful to be gargoyle war cries. Before Nashville - an ice-blue flash of lightning - rammed into the young gargoyle man!
"YOU'RE BACK! Why didn't you tell anyone, we all would have picked you up!" he exclaimed the obvious with a joy I had never seen him show before and he and the other gargoyle man began to scuffle and wrestle and box each other like brothers while they chattered like magpies. Everything while gliding. I turned my attention back to the female, who, after a quick peck on the cheek from Nash, settled down next to me again. She must have interpreted my stupid expression correctly.
"I'm Zoey, the one who almost broke your back and still thinks he's funny, is Warren. We are-"
"Elisa and Goliath's children!" I blurted out. And after a few seconds I remembered my manners and shook the hand that was held out to me. Now we both flinched away from each other because Zoey, like me, probably felt the jump of an electric impulse from my skin to hers and vice versa, as if we had walked across the carpet with socks on. She smiled sheepishly and rubbed her hand. "Strange," she said, and I could only agree.
"How- how nice to meet you! Are you- are you here for the wedding?" I asked, trying hard to regain my composure. Which was difficult when a monster appeared next to me, which I again recoiled from.
"We wouldn't have missed this for the world," stated the creature, whom I recognized from Goliath's book and from old photos as Coldstone. And with him glided (flew? buzzed?) a robot in the shape of a golden gargoyle female. Coldstone's mate Coldfire! She had obviously intercepted my lost cargo.
Her artificial voice sounded real and fake at the same time, but was still gentle.
"We are also happy to meet you, Nathaniel. The clan kept us up to date on everything, welcome to the family," she said as she came closer to hand me the ball of fabric again. That was good, then I had something to hold on to. Because I was totally lost with all these new faces.
Now I finally feel safe enough to bring Coldstone and Coldfire and Elisa and Goliath's kids into the story. That's necessary because Zoey and Warren will play a role in 2009. Coldstone and Coldfire... not overly (I think). God, I have so many fucking storylines- how am I going to do this? But no, I'm really not planning anything big for Coldstone/Coldfire. My cast is huge – there is so much untapped potential, but like in the comics, you can't cover everything at once (Coldstone and his betrayal will perhaps be explored a little more), but Katana and Nashville are only on the fringes – too bad – I'm sure there will be more in the Timedancer storyline that is planned – man, I'd be looking forward to that. And Nora? Nora is kickass! I want a female mouthy asshole character who is basically up for anything and yet has a warm side that brings out the best (or worst) in people. Not a defective psychopath like Enya or a clever antagonist like Graziella, who wants to control everything. Nora is more of a gut person... not reeeeeally stupid, but well, smart decisions don't make for a good plot.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.