ACT V

I, Elisa Maza, stubbed my toe on the credenza after I had to pee, perfect timing because I never set an alarm. Hours of sleep greatly helped me.

I despised being unclean. Even during the Avalon quest I'd unfortunately gone for several days with no bathing. In the bathroom I cranked the bathtub faucets, stripped naked and cleaned myself under a jet stream of water. Then I dried off, ran the hygiene gamut, brushed my hair and dressed.

Cornflakes with banana slices for breakfast? Why the hell not. I imagined mornings in a charming, white picket fenced house where my husband fired up a backyard barbecue and where our children played. My hubby's face was a blank, that is, until I fell in love with Jason Conover.

But I couldn't be this girly girl on the taxpayer dime. I needed the clan to validate my DI7 hunch. I holstered my sidearm, put my jacket on, grabbed my dead phone and left. I'd have to wait for Lexington's texts because the chargers were in my locker. "Fuck it all, Maza; head in the game."

A breeze whisked my hair while I hailed a cab. New York City stretched her arms and scratched her belly. My whole life I hadn't fully appreciated her quaintness. The morning trip ended. I'd aimed for the clock tower but Conover sidetracked me, carrying coffee and bagels.

"Good morning. Okay, I think I remember how you liked it." Jason held out a cup.

I sipped it. "It's perfect. Thank you. See you in a few minutes."

"Sure thing," he nodded.

The sky gradually brightened while I ascended. Goliath's voice soon graced my ears but why weren't they outside?

"Hold on, Angela! Fight, my daughter! It is not long until dawn! The sun will heal you!" He was pleading!

I dropped the cup and bounded two steps each toward the sanctuary. Yards ahead of me, the clan huddled around Goliath shaking Angela in his arms. No. No. No. No. No God, please, not Angela!

"Give me some room!" I commanded.

They complied. Goliath set her flat and shifted over. She had no pulse and there was no accessible defibrillator. It was time for cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Her anatomy was similar to a human, adolescent female. I placed my right palm on her chest cavity, left hand atop, interlocked my fingers and compressed. After a minute of mouth-to-mouth breaths per thirty, Angela wasn't responsive.

Another minute; what if I wasn't pushing deep enough? Another minute; was her physiognomy making C.P.R. ineffective? At last, Angela gasped and inhaled nitrogen and oxygen. I touched her forehead while she came to. I couldn't discern all of the cheers from my joyous friends.

"It's a miracle!" Hudson shouted.

"She lives thanks to you." Goliath yet again showed me gratitude and gently turned me to face him.

"C.P.R., the gift that keeps on giving," was my levity. "What happened to her?"

"We were attacked at the warehouse by three humans in black," he recounted, as I checked her steadying pulse.

"Yeah, and Demona hit the place on the West Side," Brooklyn added.

"Demona. So she is still alive." We often neglected the bitch's immortality. She hated humans but now enlisted some. "Any idea who the others were?"

"They call themselves 'Hunters.' But soon they will be the prey," Goliath unfurled his wings, "my prey."

The sun froze all of them into stone. I crouched next to a literally petrified Angela and traced her rocky cheek with my right forefinger. "Sleep, my niece. We'll get the motherfuckers who hurt you."

I squeezed my fists until they shuddered. I hoped Bluestone hadn't left because I needed his help. Downstairs, I noticed the back of his red head and called him over.

"Hiya, partner," he seemed aware something was rotten. "What. What is it."

I said what happened to Angela and why.

"But she'll be okay, right?" Matt begged for a positive answer.

"We'll know by sunset. Would you please do some off-hours investigation of this?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll see what I can dig up," he answered.

"Thank you, Matt." I shook his hand before he left.

"Hit him, now," Jason said from a few feet away.

"Hit who, now?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry, was on the phone. A friend was watching football." He removed a Bluetooth and also looked worried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's go." Outside a WVRN reporter interviewed Matt about gargoyles. For the moment Jason and I observed Matt become Mulder on the guy. But I was impatient and dragged Jason. "Come on. We've got a crime scene to investigate,"

"What's the hurry? Afraid that reporter was going to grill you about gargoyles?" He reached the passenger door.

"Yeah right, look, I just want to get moving before this trail gets any colder." I revved the engine and peeled out toward the West Side warehouse.

Just as I imagined my future family, I nearly lost a current family member. Goliath would be more infuriated than I was. I had no idea why Demona pilfered a disinfectant and endangered her child's life. Even one lead might allay Goliath's impending wrath.

Paying attention to Jason wasn't nearly as pertinent. My weaving through Monday-morning traffic partially rocked us in our seats.

"This is officially reckless driving. At least fill me in on which crime scene we need to break the sound barrier to get to," Jason commented.

"Xanatos Enterprises was robbed again. Happy?" I paraphrased Brooklyn.

We rolled between storage houses toward another mangled, singed and caution taped garage door. Jason halted my leaving by holding my wrist.

"Tell me the real reason," the temp saw through my bullshit.

"A very close friend of mine was assaulted. She nearly died." I sighed like a fuse burning down to detonate my emotional TNT and barely looked at him.

"Do we know who did it?"

"Not yet." I sighed yet again. "I feel so…"

"Frustrated, helpless, angry," were his suggestions.

"All of the above," I said with a terse, nervous chuckle.

"You wanna nail the guy who hurt your friend," Jason rallied as he leaned in closer.

"Yes I do."

"I've been there. I'm still there." He slumped.

There. He flashed back to his father. I was to again comfort the mourner who upheld the law and protected his family in his dad's memory. The man I was insanely in love with sat closely to me while his right hand rested on the dashboard. When I placed my right hand onto his, his line of sight turned to me. The windows to his tortured soul were a limpid blue.

"Check the point of entry, okay?" I lightly shoved him away. It was an inappropriate time for that.

"Right, chief," he replied.

While Jason checked the point, I entered the warehouse to see how it was destroyed. Owen Burnett, with clipboard and pen in hand, surveyed its damage. He was the human form of Puck, child of Oberon, who agreed to a lifetime of servitude to David Xanatos.

"So your boss is cozy with Demona again," I called out to Burnett.

"On the contrary, Detective Maza," he wasn't even looking at me. "Mr. Xanatos has had no contact with Demona for some time."

"Demona and some hired muscle tried to kill the gargoyles. They almost got Angela. I know Xanatos is involved." My lividness increased toward the butler.

"Mr. Xanatos bears the gargoyles no animosity. In fact, he feels a debt of gratitude to Goliath for helping him to save his son." Burnett still hadn't looked at me during his inventory.

"Gee, I wonder why I don't believe you?" Interrogating this disrespectful imp was playing into his trickster game.

"What you believe is your own affair, Detective," he retorted. "If there's any way that either of us can be of assistance?"

"No, thanks. I've had enough help from Xanatos to last me a lifetime!" I wanted to beat him up with his own stone fist, so I walked away.

Around the corner, Jason crouched next to the metal door and indicated its gargoyle-like claw marks. "Elisa, look. Ever seen anything like this?"

"Can't say that I have," even though I had, every single day, for the last two years.

"They look like claw marks. But what could be strong enough to leave claw marks in solid steel?"

"I told you earlier how the entire city is a cornucopia of oddities," I diverted.

"If you say so," he didn't seem convinced. "Were you questioning someone in there?"

"Xanatos' assistant, he wasn't much help." I hoped Jason hadn't heard any of it.

While we returned to the car, my phone rang. I recognized the Rikers Island number on caller ID and answered, "This is Maza."

"Good morning, this is Warden Riazzi. We've been trying to contact you since last night," he monotonously said.

"That's due to a change in my schedule, how can I help you?"

"Sergeant Baker will be arraigned today for allegedly murdering his wife," he announced.

I was still and silent because my soul collapsed. My friend and mentor Sergeant Selwyn Baker allegedly killed Tessie Baker after thirty years of marriage.

"Are you still there, Detective?" Riazzi inadvertently broke the defense mechanism I underwent. "He's been repeatedly requesting to speak to you ever since he was brought in."

"When it rains it pours."

END ACT V