***
Consequences: Fortune and Men's Eyes
a Gargoyles story
by Melissa "Merlin Missy" Wilson
missy@reimer.com
mtgat@aol.com
Copyright 1997, 2001
PG-13
***

*takes a long look around*  Oh, hello there.  Almost didn't see you.
It's gotten awfully crowded around the archive lately.  You know, I
remember the old days, when there were just a couple of us typing
away merrily.  The archive was on rat.org, and you could read the
entire contents in one night.  Things have changed, as they always
do.  New faces crop up, and quickly become old friends.  I remember
the day "Athena" (alias the story that began The Universe That Ate
Castle.Net) premiered, and reading the intro, thinking, "Isn't that
sweet?"  Today, I'm simply in awe of Proteus (my one remaining hope
is that he sticks to genetics and doesn't switch to chemistry ---
he's not gonna outshine me at that, too, dammit).  The same goes for
all sorts of people I've met here.  I've had the rare, wonderful
opportunity to see some of you start from your first stories, and
bloom into the best authors I've read, either on or off the Net.
I've even been so lucky to meet a few of you in the real world (and
perhaps more of you, come July).  There are a *lot* of times I look
at these stories I write, and wonder if it's worth the time and
energy.  Then I think of the people I've encountered because of
them, and I have to sit back with a cheesy grin on my face,
repeating "Wow" to myself.  (And Tara, I do *not* make squeaky
noises.  The stuffed pig with the purple overalls makes squeaky
noises.)  So, although the official dedication of this story is for
my sister Amy and my goober-in-law JuLynn, in a hell of a lot of
ways, it also goes out to Batya, and Constance, and Leva, and Lindy,
and Dave, and Ryan, and Christine, and Rat, and Mary, and Jeff, and
Gore, and Chris, and Jay, and Tara.  I don't know for certain how
much (if any) happiness my scribblings might have given you, but I
assure you, it cannot compare with the amount of joy I have in my
life for having known you.

Now that the sentimental claptrap is done ;) let's get to a (quick?)
explanation of things:  third season didn't happen.  This story
picks up the day after "HM3," and will eventually cover about three
years.  I say eventually because this isn't the full story.  It is
the first chunk of a much larger piece, which I may release later as
a whole.  Much more has been written already, but this particular
section was complete both time-wise and thematically, and was thus
feasible to release.  Therefore, some of the threads you encounter here
are part of the stories to come.  (Then again, I'll assume everyone
reading this reads Christine's marvelous works, so you should be
used to that.)

You might be asking yourself right now, "Where does this story take
place in regards to everything else I've read?"  That's a good
question.  I'm glad you asked.  You see, I've finally succumbed to
the "let's share universes!" bandwagon.  (My way, but more on that
in the next installment.)  Therefore, this takes place in the same
universe as Nancy Brown's twisted little tales. ;)  As far as my own
stuff goes, just out of contrariness, this is also in the multiverse
which spawned "All Through the Night."  Fortunately for you, gentle
reader, you don't have to have read any of our other stories to
follow this one.  It might help, though.

The characters and situations in the "Gargoyles" universe belong
solely to Buena Vista Television, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney
Company.  No infringement on their copyright is meant or should be
inferred.  The character of Hippolyta (who admittedly doesn't even
show up in this part) is the creation of Christine Morgan and is
used with permission.  Characters in this section of the story not
owned by either of these sources are my own creations, and are
hereby declared public property (just let me know if you do actually
use them; I'd like to see what happens).

I thank you for your time and attention.  Now, on with the show.

***

       In her half-dreaming world between sleep and full awareness,
Elisa relived the moment on the tower.  It had seemed so natural and
perfect to jump into his startled arms and press her lips against
his.  Now, in her semi-conscious state, the scene replayed, changing
as it went.  She felt his wings enfold her as his arms moved around
her, holding her lightly against the quickening rhythm of his heart.
He began to return her kiss, and although she could sense the sun
rising behind him, he remained warm and responsive while she
explored the strange contours of his mouth.  His hands massaged her
shoulders and neck as ...
       *BUZZ*  " ... oh, it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night!"
       Elisa shot her hand out, slapping the top of her radio alarm
clock until she found the Snooze button.  Not quite awake, she
stared at the ceiling for about thirty seconds, then looked over at
her clock.  3:30.  She had a few minutes before she had to get up,
she decided.  She closed her eyes again and tried to recapture the
fantasy from which she'd been so abruptly pulled.  Her heart rate
slowed gradually back down as the adrenaline rush subsided.  Tower.
Goliath.  Kiss.  And after the kiss ...
       *BUZZ*  " ... so put your little hand in mine/There ain't no
hill or mountain we can't climb/Babe!"  That killed it.
       She looked at the clock as she hit the Snooze button again.
3:39.  Like it or not, she had to get ready.  She sat up and turned
off the alarm.  There were times she was certain that thing knew
when she most didn't want to hear it.  With all the magical objects
she'd encountered in the past two years, it wouldn't have surprised
her in the least to learn her alarm clock was possessed by some
vindictive spirit.
       Oh well.  Sunset would be in a few hours.  If Captain Chavez'
temporary replacement had a new case for her and Matt, she would
simply have to swing by the castle for a few minutes.  Or more.
       The castle.  It was odd to think about it as a place she
*wanted* to go.  For over a year, it had stood for her as a symbol
of the most devious foe she'd ever had to face, a man who played
with others' lives as if they were toys for his personal amusement.
He had utterly upset the balance that had been her own life, first
by introducing her to the gargoyles, then by changing her brother
into a mockery of one, and finally by managing to slip into every
facet of her existence one way or another.  Xanatos.
       Yesterday that same villain had called an end to the battle
between them.  *He* said it was all over; Elisa would wait to see
how long the uneasy peace actually lasted.  She was never going to
make the mistake of trusting that man, not for an instant.
       Merely thinking about him put a frown on her face that she
didn't notice until she passed the bathroom mirror.  She decided
quickly that she wasn't about to let thoughts of Xanatos set her
mood for the evening.  Instead, as she stepped into the warm spray
of the shower, she thought of Goliath again, and wondered how he
would explain the grin on his face that she'd left him with by
dawn's early light.

***

       She was still thinking about Goliath when she entered the
station a few hours later.  Her cheerful grin and wave hello to
Morgan and the rest of the guys earned her more than her normal
share of stares.  Considering the plywood that lay haphazardly
around, and the spackle which had managed to get *everywhere* in the
course of the last twenty-four hours, both grim reminders of what
had occurred, she supposed she probably should take on the same
serious aspect of the rest of her coworkers.
       The serious face lasted until she saw Matt at his desk, at
which point she could not help but let her smile shine through
again.
       "Have a nice day?" asked her partner over what was probably his
third cup of coffee.  There was just enough of a layer to his
questioning tone that Elisa wasn't sure whether to bat him on the
arm or start laughing.
       "Yeah, seven hours of sleep can work wonders."
       His returning look asked her if she was just talking about
sleep.
       Her silent reply asked him what else *could* she be talking
about during the day?
       He watched her for a moment, then began to study his coffee
cup, a smile of his own threatening.
       "I'm glad to see you're both in such bright moods," came a deep
voice to her left.
       "No extra charge," said Matt, straightening up.  Elisa felt
herself doing the same without trying.
       Carl McKenzie wasn't a large man, but he had a presence that
managed to make even the toughest creeps they brought in feel
inadequate.  He had the rare gift of being intimidating simply by
stepping into a room, which had come in handy on more than one
occasion in his fifteen years on the force.  Elisa had known him
half her life, had seen how much like a teddy bear he really was,
but every time she saw him, she couldn't get over the feeling that
she was still merely a scrawny little kid in the company of a giant.
She'd seen the same effect on the other officers in the precinct,
which she supposed made him a good, if not perfect, choice to take
command while Captain Chavez recovered from her injuries.
       Making a firm attempt to stay nonchalant, she asked him, "So
what's the bad news for tonight?"
       McKenzie leaned casually on a chair for a second, until he
noticed that it would not support him.  He slid to an empty desk and
sat against it, obviously half-convinced it too would fall, but not
wanting to take up any more space than he needed.
       "The Captain called this afternoon.  Bluestone, she wants you
to check out those leads you had on the whereabouts of these
'gargoyles,' but if you don't find anything, she wants you to drop
it and instead concentrate on finding Jon Canmore.  She said we had
full confessions from Jason and Robyn Canmore," Elisa's heart
skipped a beat, "concerning the bombing, and that the city could use
the funds being spent on the Gargoyle Task Force to repair the
station house sometime before the next millennium."  His mouth
quirked.  "If you could manage it, I'd like your preliminary report
on the gargoyles by tomorrow night."
       "I'll see what I can do," said Matt.  "What did she say about
my idea to substitute the Garg Task Force with an Alien Task Force?"
       "She said to take some vacation time, and that if you even
*thought* about running a check to find satellite interference, you
were to be put on suspension until after 'Independence Day' leaves
town."  Matt pretended to be hurt.  McKenzie turned to Elisa.  "And
as for you, she said that if you asked for any vacation time, you
were going in front of a firing squad."
       "There goes your trip to Tahiti."
       "So do I tag along with him all night?"
       "Not tonight.  Officially, you're still partnered with Conover.
We'll fix the paperwork tomorrow, as soon as they excavate the
Captain's office.  I have a Missing Persons report for you."  For
the first time, she noticed the manila folder in McKenzie's grip.
He handed it to her.
       "What's this about?  I haven't worked MP in years."
       He shrugged.  "This one is a little different.  A woman
disappeared while working for Gen-U-Tech.  Her parents filed a
report months ago.  They showed up this afternoon demanding to know
why their daughter hadn't been found yet.  The Captain figured that
since Xanatos was involved, you'd want to work on it."
       "She's right."  The truce might come in handy after all.  She
could get some information on the poor woman out of Xanatos, and
keep her parents from going through the same turmoil her own had
before they discovered what had become of Derek.
       She opened the folder, and looked at the photograph of the
missing woman.  She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was pretty, a
blonde Caucasian in her twenties.  Elisa had the feeling that she
had seen her around but couldn't figure out where.  She'd
encountered enough of Xanatos' employees in her recent travels to
populate a small city, but none of them in her immediate memory came
close to this face.  Another quick inspection of the picture told
her that it definitely *wasn't* the blonde woman from the XCG who
seemed to show up everywhere.
       She sighed and glanced at the name.  Margaret Ann Reed.  Her
fingers contracted involuntarily around the paper as the woman's
identity slid into focus.
       Maggie.
       Damn.

***

       They were waiting in one of the less-damaged areas of the
station when Elisa located them.  Mr. Reed looked to be in his early
fifties, his salt and pepper hair thinning just to the point where
brushing it over the top of his head no longer helped.  He was
easily half a foot taller than she, and had the kind of build to
make potential attackers think twice.  He sat, reading one of the
handful of antique magazines kept around for the law-abiding among
the passers-through of the precinct house.  Beside him sat his wife,
a mousy little woman with darting eyes.  Her hands had knotted
together in a manner suggesting she'd been toying with them
uselessly minutes before.  She was probably around his age, but her
face was older, sadder.  Elisa had seen that same face worn by a
hundred women, coming to the station to drop charges against
husbands and boyfriends.
       "Mr. and Mrs. Reed?"
       The woman's head shot up.  Her husband looked up from his
magazine, and his frown deepened a fraction when he saw her.
       "It's about time."
       Elisa ignored the irritation in his voice, reminding herself
that he'd probably been under a great deal of stress since Maggie's
disappearance.  Her own father certainly had.  She gave them a
professional smile as they stood.  "Detective Elisa Maza."
       "Detective," said Mr. Reed, "perhaps you can explain why we've
been left here for so long."
       "I'm very sorry for the delay.  Things have been a little crazy
here lately."  She indicated the mess.  "If you don't mind, I'd like
to ask you a few questions."
       "What's there to ask?  We filled out the report months ago.
We've heard nothing since then.  I got some time off work to come
here, and now you want to ask questions?"
       "It could help us in our investigation."  Elisa didn't want to
acknowledge it, but she was really beginning to dislike Maggie's
father, and she'd only known him a few minutes.
       "All right."  He sat back down abruptly, and his wife followed
suit, watching Elisa carefully.  So far, she hadn't spoken a word.
       Elisa pulled up a chair and sat down casually across from them,
trying to broadcast her good intentions.  She opened the folder and
scanned the file again.  She'd read it carefully before she'd come
in, but she needed to remind herself of just what she was after.
       "It says here that your last contact with your daughter was in
September of last year.  May I ask the nature of that contact?"
       Mrs. Reed said in a small voice, "She sent us a letter."
       "Do you have the letter with you?"  She nodded and dug into her
handbag.  She pulled out a somewhat crumpled envelope with the same
address on it as was on the report.  Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.  "May I?"
       Mrs. Reed looked to her husband.  Mr. Reed appeared unhappy,
but nodded.  Elisa took the envelope.  She pulled out a piece of
stationary paper, with the Gen-U-Tech logo emblazoned on the top and
read it quickly.

              Dear Mom,
                     Hi, it's your long-lost daughter.  Sorry it's been
              so long since my last letter.  I've been very busy
              lately, but I have good news: I'm working at Gen-U-Tech
              Systems as an assistant to one of the doctors here.  His
              name is Anton Sevarius, and he's been very kind to me.
              I haven't had time to go to any auditions, but as soon
              as I save up some money, I want to take a little time
              off and go for it.  I don't plan on working here forever,
              you know.  I have to go now.  Dr. Sevarius says we're
              going to start Phase Two of the experiment tomorrow, and
              that means work work work tonight.  Take care, Mom, and
              tell Dad I said hi.  And don't worry.
                                                 Love,
                                                 Maggie

       Elisa remained staring at the letter after she finished, trying
to decide what to do next.  She noticed the date on the letter, and
was positive it had been written after Maggie's transformation had
begun.  The handwriting, just unsteady enough to be conspicuous,
reinforced her opinion.  But she hadn't mentioned anything out of
the ordinary, which meant she had probably still been hoping for a
cure.  Maybe Sevarius had told her it would only be temporary.  Then
Sevarius had faked his own death, and Maggie had lost hope with the
rest of the Mutates.
       She glanced up to meet their faces.  "And you've had no further
word from her?"
       "None."  The man's voice was a death knell.
       "Why did she come to New York originally?"
       Her mother spoke again, her eyes wide, "She wanted to be an
actress.  She was very good in her high school plays, and she
majored in drama at the community college."
       Mr. Reed interrupted, "Maggie was never what you'd call
grounded in reality.  When she wasn't in a play, she was writing
poetry, or mooning over some boy."  He snorted.  "I'll bet that's
where she is now, shacked up with a man, either with a kid or one on
the way, and too ashamed to come home."
       "Don't say that, Jimmy," Mrs. Reed whispered.
       "It wouldn't surprise me," he said.  "Not one bit."
       Elisa said hurriedly, "Before the letter, how long had it been
since you'd heard from her?"
       Her father responded, "Three months.  She called right after
she got here to tell us she'd found a place to live."
       "May I have the address?"  She took out a pad of paper.
       Mrs. Reed looked at her husband again, and then said, "She
didn't tell us the address.  That's why we put our home address on
the report."
       Now *that* was odd.  Why wouldn't Maggie have told her parents
where she was?  She knew Maggie had been on the street a while
before Sevarius had approached her with the job.  She didn't speak
of that time at all, and Elisa had never asked.  She saw people from
the street every day, and knew what they were forced to do sometimes
to stay alive.  That was the reason the Labyrinth had been founded:
to give other people a better chance than Maggie and Claw (and Fang,
when he'd been sane) had.
       "Did she ever mention any friends or associates, maybe a
coworker?"
       "No," said her father.  "Just the doctor at Gen-U-Tech."
       "All right, that should be enough for now.  I'm going to check
some things out tonight, and I'll let you know tomorrow what I've
found.  In the meantime, I'd suggest you go back to your hotel and
try to get some rest.  We'll handle this from here."
       Mr. Reed stood.  "We'll be here first thing in the morning."
He set the magazine down and headed towards the door.  Mrs. Reed
gave Elisa a quick, tight smile, and said, "Thank you, Detective.
I hope you can find our girl."
       "We'll find her, ma'am," she said, meaning it.  Maggie's mother
nodded, and scurried after her husband.
       She watched them go, knowing exactly where she was going next.
Her heart felt light; she was going to reunite a family.  It didn't
happen often.  Usually, missing people stayed missing.  This
particular missing person, though, would be easy to locate.

***

       "'Maybe you do not understand.  You see, turning pages will
bring us to the end of the book, and there is a *Monster* at the end
of this book ... '"  Delilah's voice, so much like Elisa's to be
almost painful, echoed in the room.  She paused between each word,
and the reflected sounds filled the spaces, making the story even
scarier.
       Maggie glanced over at Hollywood, who had drawn his knees
against his chest and was staring over them with wide, frightened
eyes.  Brentwood sat on his heels beside him, webbed arms wrapped
around his little body.  Malibu was trying not to look scared, but
she was willing to bet that he would jump the highest if she said,
"Boo!"
       Burbank was sitting a little bit away from the other boys, and
wasn't really paying attention to the story.  He was watching one of
the candles in the room with the fascination of a moth.  She had
worried about that in the beginning, but after he'd given himself a
nasty burn when he'd tried to play with a flame, he'd been very good
about touching with his eyes only.
       She put a comforting hand on Brent's shoulder.  He snuggled
against the touch, and she couldn't resist a fond smile.  When she'd
first met the clones, she'd been taken aback by their appearances.
They were like bad color negatives of the gargoyles, and they had
significantly less charm.  She was certain they'd never fit in with
life down here, even after Derek explained where they had come from
and why.  Only reluctantly had she taken on the task of teaching
them to read.  To her surprise, she had discovered what she had on
her hands was not a group of dangerous clones who would kill her
given half a chance, but five very young and inquisitive children.
       From what they could gather, the kids were just now turning
three months old.  What they had seen in those three months could
only be imagined.  Thailog had created them to obey him, and to
fight.  He hadn't bothered with teaching them how to speak more than
a few words, or how to feed themselves by any other means than
shoving food into their mouths as fast as possible.  They had adult
bodies, but their minds were sorely lacking in anything but basic
sentience.  He'd sent the mental equivalents of two-year-olds into
battle with their alternate selves.  What kind of creator would do
that to his own children?
       Delilah turned the page in the book, and read to the others how
Grover was building a brick wall to keep her from finishing the
book.
       There was no doubt in anyone's mind as to why *she'd* been
created.  She had Elisa's face, Demona's body, and was utterly
obedient to anything Thailog told her to do.  Maggie had been
getting close to her, but hadn't yet reached the level of trust she
needed to find out what that had entailed.  What she did know was
that Delilah hid whenever Goliath came below, but remained nearby,
watching him.  In many ways, it was the same kind of fascination
Burbank had with the candles.  Too close brought pain, but it was
impossible to stay away.  The boys had also been wary of Goliath at
first, but they'd quickly come to accept him as yet another one of
the people who came to visit.
       As if her thoughts could shape reality, she turned to the door
as Elisa poked her head in to see.  Maggie raised her finger to her
lips, and Elisa slipped quietly inside.  Delilah noticed her and
stopped.
       "Hi, Elisa," she said, a shy smile on her face.
       Elisa shrugged at Maggie as if to say, I tried.  "Hi, Delilah.
What are you reading?"
       Hollywood piped up, "Monster story!"
       "Monster at the end of book," added Malibu.
       Maggie sighed.  "Malibu, say that again."
       The clone, who could have been Brooklyn's technicolor twin,
scrunched up his beak in thought.  "Monster *is* at the end of
book?"
       She smiled.  "Close enough."  She made a mental note to tell
Derek they needed to work on their articles.
       Brent pulled at Elisa's jacket.  "Come listen!  'Lilah's almost
done."  Elisa sat down between her and Brent and put on her most
attentive face.
       Delilah turned the last page.  Burbank moved away from his
candle to sit a little closer to the group.  Hollywood bit his lip,
obviously very frightened of the monster.
       Delilah giggled and turned the book so they could see.  "It's
Grover!  Grover is the monster!"  The boys breathed a sigh of
relief.  Delilah continued reading: "'And *you* were so scared!  I
told you and I told you there was nothing to be afraid of.  The
End.'"
       "That was good story," said Burbank."
       "Scary," said Hollywood.
       "I ... wasn't ... scared," stated Brent, and looked proudly at
her.
       "Very good."  He beamed.  "I was getting a little scared near
the end," she said, and Hollywood looked appreciatively at her.
       Malibu looked at Elisa.  "Why you come visit us?"
       "Actually, I came to see Maggie."  Her eyes added, Alone.
       "I'm flattered," she replied.  "Kids, that should be enough for
today.  'Lilah, that was very good."  Delilah grinned.  "Why don't
you and your brothers go find Talon and tell him Aunt Elisa's come?"
       "'Kay," said Delilah.  "Come on, guys.  Bye, Elisa."  The boys
scrambled to their feet and followed her out, mumbling good-byes.
       Elisa watched them go out, a mixture of fondness and some
trepidation on her face.  She was still a little uncomfortable
around them.  It would take time for her to get used to seeing
herself as a gargoyle.
       "She's gotten better," she said.
       "Better than you think.  That book was a little below her
reading level, but I thought the kids might like it.  I may get her
to _Charlotte's Web_ by next month."  Elisa looked skeptical.
"Well, maybe the month after, but soon."
       "I can't wait to see it.  While I'm here, is there anything you
need?  I forgot to ask last time."
       "That's okay.  I forgot, too, so we're even."  She thought.
"Yes, come to think of it.  We're going to need a decent First Aid
kit with these five around.  They're worse than kids, because
they're bigger and can get into more trouble.  And if you could
figure out a way to get some oranges down here, we'd be forever in
your debt."  As far as she was concerned, Vitamin C was the world's
best cure for anything but cancer and genetic mutation.  A few of
the human children had caught colds from the damp atmosphere, and
she'd noticed Claw acting sluggish lately, too.  Her thoughts
drifted to the kids again.  Delilah hadn't been eating much since
her arrival, less than half that of her brothers.  She *had* enjoyed
the one orange she'd had; maybe she'd eat more if they were
available.
       "I can do that.  What's the smile for?"
       "It's just that there are times I feel like a den mother.  Or
*their* mother."
       "If you are, you're better than Demona ever was to them."
       "Maybe.  You didn't come here to ask about supplies."
       "No."  She looked at the abandoned book.  "When I got to work
tonight, Carl handed me a Missing Persons file and put me on the
case."
       "Let me guess: it's for someone down here."
       "You could say that.  It's for you."
       "Me?"  She tried to think of who in the world would possibly
think she'd disappeared.  "My parents."
       Elisa nodded.  "I met them this evening.  I didn't tell them
anything.  I thought you should decide how you want to do this."
       "Do what?"
       "Tell them what happened, show them you're all right, maybe
even introduce them to the family."
       Maggie stood up and spread her wings.  "Show them this?  Are
you crazy?  My mother would have a stroke."  Her heart hammered in
her chest.  There was no way she could tell them.  And there was
certainly no chance of her ever introducing them to Derek.  "No
way," she said.
       "Maggie, I know what you're going through right now."  As a hot
response came to her lips, she knew Elisa was right, but she didn't
understand the whole thing.  "I think it would do your parents a lot
of good to know you're okay.  It was hard on Mom and Dad before
Derek finally told them."
       "I know."  But my parents aren't your parents, she thought.
"Trust me, Elisa, telling them would be a very bad idea."
       "Why?  What's the worst that could happen?"
       "You really don't want to know the answer to that."  She
sighed.  Elisa was only trying to be helpful, and probably thought
that it would be the best thing for everyone.  How in the world
could she explain what she *knew* would happen when her parents
met Derek, or worse, the rest of the family?
       "You can tell me, if you want."
       "No, I can't.  Elisa, I appreciate what you're trying to do,
but you have to believe me.  They wouldn't understand."
       "Maggie ... "
       "Hi sis!" came Derek's cheerful greeting from the door.  He saw
her face and asked immediately, "What happened?"
       "Nothing," she said, knowing Elisa would probably tell him.
       "Girl stuff," Elisa said quickly.
       Derek rolled his eyes dramatically.  "I could leave."  Elisa
grinned impishly at him.
       Maggie watched them with more sadness than she showed.  Not for
the first time, she wished her own family had been as close as Derek's. 
Since he'd introduced her to his parents, they'd treated her like another
daughter.  Of course, this meant Diane felt perfectly within her rights to
tell her she wasn't eating enough and so on, but it was worth it just to
feel that kind of affection.  She'd found herself wishing that her mother
was like this powerful, kind woman, or that her father was as
good-hearted as Peter.  Then again, if they had been, she probably
would never have left home, never have met Derek or his family. 
Kismet, she thought.
       "My parents have come to town," she said.  Derek's ears perked
up, something she normally considered adorable.  Right now, though,
seeing the action as her father surely would, she trembled.
       "So when do I get to meet them?"
       "Never, if I can help it."
       He crossed his arms.  "What, you don't think they'd approve of
a boyfriend who can shoot lightning bolts from his hands?"
       "It's not that!"  She turned away and began wringing her hands,
then stared at them.  Her mother did that, she remembered.  She put
her arms to her sides.
       She felt Derek's hands at her elbows, touching her lightly, as
if asking permission to hold her.  "Maggie, tell me."
       She thought of her parents, what they would say, what they
would do, if they saw her as she was right then, in the strong arms
of the man she loved.  She thought of the look on her father's face
the last time she'd brought someone home to meet them.  Then, she'd
told him just exactly what she thought of him, and then she'd
stomped out.  She'd been in New York three days later.
       "You know," she said, "I honestly think that the wings and the
lightning bolts will be the least of their objections."
       "Will they have a problem with *me*?"
       She didn't want to say it, wanted her parents to leave New York
and stay out of her life for good, and then she could go back to their life
here, teaching the kids to read by night and slumbering in Derek's
embrace by day.  Would he understand if she told him?  Would he
understand if she didn't?
       "No.  They're going to have a problem with your mother."  She
turned to him, watched as recognition filled his eyes, to be
replaced with bitterness.
       "I see."  She saw Elisa close her own eyes for a moment, as if
trying to ward it off a little longer.
       She took his hands and held them against her, willing him to
trust her.  "I stopped caring what they said or thought a long time
ago.  I don't really care what they say now about what we've become.
But if I saw them again, I'd want them to meet you, and know how
wonderful you are, and that I'm not alone.  And if they met your
parents, I don't know what they'd do."
       Derek let out a deep breath, then twitched his lips in what
passed for his smile.  "You know, a few nights ago, I was wishing
that we'd just once have a 'normal' crisis, one that didn't involve
mad scientists or clones or power-mad ex-bus drivers.  Now you're
telling me that my in-laws are going to hate my guts."  He squeezed
her hands.  "Guess I should watch out what I wish for, hm?"
       "Guess so."
       "So," said Elisa, "should I set up a meeting?"
       "Can I think about it?  Please?"
       Elisa hesitated, then assented.  "I think I can keep them in
town a few days while I 'look.'"
       "Thanks."
       Derek's sister wasn't the touchy-feely type, so when she touched her
shoulders, placed her head lightly against her cheek before letting go, it
meant a great deal.  So did the simple "We'll get through this" she said,
pausing briefly at the door before she left.
       Maggie watched her leave, her heart still twisting.  There was no
way she could allow it, of course.  Her parents would simply have to go
back home without seeing her, without finding out about what had
happened, and certainly without finding out ...
       Derek's hands began massaging the back of her neck.  She tensed
every muscle in her body, then leaned back against his touch.  "That
feels nice."
       "You have a knot right," he prodded at a painful spot just
below her left wing, "here."  He kneaded it gently until she felt
the tightness relax.  If he kept that up, she was going to start
purring.  "You're going to have to tell them eventually, you know."
       She tensed again.  "Why?  Way can't I just let them go back
into their own narrow world and live my own life?"
       "Because they're your family."
       "You're my family, and Claw and the kids.  And if that's not
enough, Elisa and the gargoyles seem to come with the deal, too.  If
he did anything to hurt you or one of the others, I don't know what
I'd do."
       He moved his hands lower, and she arched to help him work out
the tension in her lower back.  "Like Elisa said, we'll deal with
whatever happens."
       "No matter what?"  Maybe now would be a good time.
       "No matter what."  She felt his breath hot against her mane as
his hands shifted a fraction.  She lost all interest in further
conversation.
       After a while, she really did start purring.

***

       Elisa had intended to go directly back to the station, and call
the Reeds from there.  Instead, she found the Fairlane on a course
towards the Eyrie Building, seemingly without any intervention from
her.  What was that about the subconscious having control?
       It wouldn't hurt to put in an appearance.  The guys were awake.
She might not be able to spend much time with Goliath, but seeing
him would definitely put her in a better mood.  She could deal with
the Reeds after she saw him.  Yes, that was an excellent idea, and
she praised herself for thinking of it.
       She pulled the car down into the small parking garage below the
east side of the building.  She flashed her pass to the guard on
duty, feeling strange for doing so.  Xanatos had handed it to her as
she'd left that morning.  It meant free parking, easy access to the
castle via the express elevator, and more.  It meant he wanted her
to trust him to not do anything to her car while it sat, to her as
she spent time in the castle proper.  With the pass and the
elevator, she had free run of the place whenever she chose, and
considering their past, that was a huge level of faith on his part.
       She wasn't sure she could offer that kind of trust, but the
pass did make it easier to see the guys.
       She got out, and locked the door before she closed it.
       The elevator deposited her on the roof, no doubt informing the
castle's inhabitants that she was on the way as it did.  In fact, as
she stepped out into the evening air, she heard padded steps on the
stairway, and turned to see Goliath, his wings draped gracefully
around him.
       "I'd hoped you would come tonight," he said, opening his arms
enough for her to place herself comfortably within them.
       "I can't stay, but I wanted to drop by for a minute anyway."
Oh, but she felt safe now.  There was nothing in the world that
compared to being in the arms of someone who loved her.  It brought
security from her earliest memories, of her parents' loving hugs,
sprinkled like rain among the three of them.
       Three.
       Uh oh.
       She pulled back, remembering something that had completely
slipped her mind in the excitement of the past few days.
       "Elisa?"
       "Beth's coming home tonight.  Her plane landed at six.  I was
supposed to drop by."
       "Is she finished with her school?"  She had to admit, Goliath
looked very sweet when he was confused.
       "No, she's home for a few days on Fall Break, and she brought
a friend from school."  Translation: you can't come with me, and
she's going to have a hell of a time explaining why her friend
wasn't going to be meeting Derek.  She loved her kid sister very
much, but there were many times she was sure she and Derek had been
the only ones who'd inherited their parents' common sense.
       "Then perhaps you should spend time with her.  You have
tomorrow evening off."
       She weighed spending the time with her little sister against
spending it with Goliath.  Years of "I'm gonna tell"'s rattled
reminders in her brain.  "I was going to ask you over tomorrow
night."
       His shoulders fell; had it not been for months of enforced
confinement in the skiff, during which she'd become hyper-attuned to
shifts in his mood and behavior, she might not have noticed.
Seeing it now, and recognizing it for what it was, made her warm
inside.
       "There will be other nights," he said, simply.  His words were
underlaid with meaning.
       "Yeah, I guess there will."  She smiled at him again, letting
him know she understood.
       "I love you.  You know that."
       Electricity jerked her.  He'd said it.  She'd tried to say it
the night before, had said it the only way she knew.  Tonight she
saw eagerness, a little fear, and the knowledge on his face that he
knew what he'd just done, hoped she would return it.
       She prayed Xanatos didn't have a camera recording all this.
       "I ... "  Fear won.  "I gotta go."  She turned from the
quickly-masked hurt on his face, unable to deal with it.  She thrust
her hands in her pockets, stepped into the elevator.
       When the door closed, she rested her head against the wall.
       Damn.  Damn.  Damn.

***

       Angela yawned and put the book down carefully.  Father had been
right; the books in the castle library were even better than the
ones in the public library had been.  Xanatos was a connoisseur of
fine and rare books.  The literature collection alone was just as
large and eclectic as the one in the building next door to the
clocktower, and the nonfiction sections, on history, science,
philosophy and more, were virtually a cornucopia of information.
Angela was hungry to learn.
       They were staying in the castle for a while, to allow public
fervor to cool to the level of a forest fire rather than a
thermonuclear aftermath.  Lex had spent the early part of the
evening playing with Alexander, and afterwards had disappeared to do
*something* on the Internet.  Brooklyn and Hudson were in front of
the big screen television, watching the news.  Father had gone to
the roof when one of the castle's sensors informed him someone was
using the express elevator, probably Elisa.  Right now, Broadway was
puttering around in the kitchen, but she knew as soon as he was
done, he'd be in the library with her.
       That started her down a train of thought she really didn't want to
follow, and she banished it by picking up the book and stroking the
cover of her latest find lovingly.  "Sidereus Nuncius."  Thankfully,
Xanatos had a copy in Latin.  Her English was improving, with
Broadway's help, but she felt much more comfortable reading in the
first written language she'd learned.
       She was only now beginning to realize how lacking her education
had been.  She could read and write, of course, and do mathematics
past even what her father could, and she knew a bit of history.  In
the past year, she'd picked up geography.
       *Lots* of geography.
       She was quickly realizing what she didn't yet know could fill
these shelves, and did.  This particular book told her volumes about
the workings of the solar system, in simple enough terms that it
blew her senses.
       The Earth not the center of things?  The planets and stars not
on shells around it?  The Magus had built a model for her and her
rookery siblings to show them, and now this new scientist Galilei
says he was wrong?  Oddly enough, she didn't think he'd mind, if
he'd been able to learn it with her.  He would have taken the book
with him and disappeared for a few nights, maybe even a week.  He
would have come back, half-delirious for not having remembered to
eat or drink, his eyes lit with knowledge, and he would have tried
to explain it to the rest of them, sketching the idea out in the air
with long, graceful fingers.  Princess Katharine would probably have
fussed at him for not taking better care of himself, and then he
would get a different light in his eyes, and he'd fall silent.
       She put the book back on the shelf unfinished.  Thoughts of
home had been nagging at her since the loss of the clocktower.  She
wasn't homesick, and maybe that was the entire problem.  She felt
guilty for not wanting to go back as soon as possible.  She missed
everyone and she did want to see them all again but the differences
between the two timestreams could very well make that impossible.
She had the feeling she wouldn't be welcome in Oberon's presence
until he cooled off over the battle for Alexander.  That could take
years in the World, years that she wouldn't spend with her family
there, with Gabriel.
       Yet another thought she didn't want to face right now.
       "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"  She bolted
upright.  There was nothing like a crying baby, of whatever species, to
replace unpleasant thoughts with more practical ones.
       She tapped the baby monitor, knowing it would broadcast to the
rest of the castle.  "I'll get him."
       She hadn't spent much time with Alex since moving in; from what
she'd observed, the nanny had primary baby duty, with Owen filling
in on her rare evenings off.  Her few experiences watching them in
action had led her to have even deeper respect for her three foster
parents.
       There went her train of thought again.
       The nursery was darkened.  Her night-vision kicked in before
she needed to bother with the light.  It probably would have upset
the baby worse anyway.
       She stood by his crib for a moment, watching him.  Human babies
were very strange-looking.  She picked him up and held him at her
shoulder.  Strange-looking and smelly.  She patted his bottom
experimentally.  So that's why he was crying.
       She'd watched Lex change a diaper earlier that evening.  It
couldn't be that hard.  A few tries later, she had him back in his
one-piece, clean and dry but still cranky.  She left him on the
changing table while she tried to unravel the mysteries of the
Diaper Genie.
       Amazing things in this modern world, she mused, from
communication devices that broadcast her words over miles, to
disposable nappies and near-magical diaper pails.  Her foster
parents would have killed for one, or twelve, of these things.
       Of course, for every incredible new invention from this
scientific age, there came something equally fearsome: nuclear
bombs, laser rifles, Tickle-Me-Elmo's.  She spared a glance to Alex's
crib, where the red monster he slept with lurked.  Alex loved it.  The
rest of the castle's denizens could agree on little, but had come to a
mutual understanding that this toy was evil incarnate and must be
destroyed.
       After the baby learned to sleep through the night without it,
that was.
       Alex waved his chubby fists unhappily.  According to Lex, he
was starting to cut teeth.  For a human, three months was a little
early, but not unheard of, and Avalon only knew what was normal for
quarter-fay babies anyway.  She picked him up again, this time with
a rag at her shoulder before she set him there.  No use getting her
wings messy.  She started walking back and forth in the room,
patting his back.  He cried harder, and tried to pull away.
       "Stop that," she scolded lightly.  "You're going to fall, and
then you'll really start crying."  For no reason, she touched him on
the nose.  His head was too big, and the reddish tuft of fuzz he had
for hair was too fine, and he was way too pale and pink.  She
wondered if he was considered cute for a human.
       Her thoughts went back to Avalon.  Whatever trouble she and the
others had caused their parents during the night, at least they'd
slept all day without waking up.  Sometimes they'd even take naps
after dark.  Now she could understand why the humans had been so
happy, or at least relieved, when it was time for them to go to sleep.
       A memory, not entirely formed, came to her, a song she recalled
from when she was hardly bigger than this one.  If there had been
words she'd long forgotten them but the melody had stayed with her,
sometimes peeping out as a nonsense song she sang to herself while
her mind was occupied on other things.  It was a lullaby, she
thought.  Maybe it would work on human children as well as it had on
hatchlings.
       Uncertain of the complete song, she simply hummed as much as
she could remember, stroking Alex's head in time with the rhythm.
There was something almost exotic about it, not keeping with the
other songs she'd learned as a child.  It was calm, hypnotic in a way,
lulling her along with Alexander into a dreaming state.
       She sat down on the rocking chair, began rocking back and forth
with the music.  Alex's eyelids lowered.  His head slipped down her
arm to rest in what surely was an uncomfortable position, and she
noted that he was drooling.  She kept rocking and humming, until she
was certain she was about to doze herself.  As she finally stopped,
she heard an intake of breath.
       Her head spun around, and she grabbed a protective hold onto
Alex.  She felt her eyes glow for a split second.
       Owen stood in the doorway.
       She relaxed, until she saw the barely-held fury on his face.
       "What?" she asked in a low voice, careful not to disturb the
baby.  "I said I'd get him."
       "Where did you hear that song."  It was not a request.  It was
a demand for information.  Her skin prickled.
       "I learned it when I was little."
       "On Avalon."  Crazily, she thought he'd do terribly on "Jeopardy."
       "Yes.  Why?"  His gaze left hers and went to Alex.
       "Never mind."
       "Is it a magical song?"
       "No," he said too quickly, then frowned in confusion.  "Why do
you ask?"
       Why *had* she asked?  Part of her memory kicked in.  "The Magus
sang it to us.  I can't remember his singing anything else, either.
He usually just listened when Princess Katharine taught us to sing."
       His eyes grew wide behind his glasses, and his face went as white
as the sheets in Alex's crib.  "I see," he said in a hurried voice very
much unlike either of his personalities.  "I'm sorry for disturbing you.  I
see you have things well taken care of.   If you'll excuse me."
       Angela watched the doorway after he was gone, trying to make
heads or tails of the man, and failing that, turned her attention
towards the baby sleeping in her arms.
       Carefully, she got up and placed him back in his crib.  He
stirred.  His impossibly blue eyes fluttered open, and she caught
her breath before he settled them shut again.
       "Sleep tight," she whispered.  She left the door open a crack,
then padded back towards the library.  The mysteries of the universe
awaited her.

***

       "Maybe I should go check on him," Fox said distractedly,
slipping out of the covers before David could stop her.
       He let out a noise that in anyone else would have been a
grumble.  "I'm sure he's fine.  Angela said she'd take care of him,
and if she can't, you know Owen or Mrs. Ong will."
       She pulled on her robe anyway.  "Mrs. Ong is off tonight, and
we can't always rely on Owen to take care of our baby."
       He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.  They'd had this
conversation before.  "No, we can't.  That's why we hired the nurse."
       She glanced back at him, sensed his frustration, mostly with
her.  "David ... "
       "I know why you're worried."
       She laughed weakly.  "You should be, too.  I somehow doubt
Angela's ever changed a diaper before."
       "That's not what I meant."  He opened his eyes again.  "If you
get pregnant, there's a good chance we'll have to face your
stepfather all over again."
       "And we can't do that."
       "If we have to, we will.  We fought him once."
       "And lost.  The only way we're keeping Alex now is by a
technicality."
       "I've bought out multi-national corporations on technicalities."
       She glared at him.  "Don't joke about this.  It scares the hell
out of me."
       He sat up, let the covers gather around his waist, and reached
to take her hand.  Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her to a
sitting position beside him.
       He enfolded her hands in his own.  "We'll be careful."
       "We were careful before.  Your son is cutting teeth now."
       "Then I'll have Owen make up a memo: the next time you're
released from prison, we'll be sure to have the limo well stocked
with condoms."
       The sincerity in his eyes, matched by the utter innocence on
his face as he said it, struck her speechless for a few moments,
then filled her with peals of laughter.  "You're serious."
       "Absolutely.  Of course, now that the Pack is out of prison,
we'll have to think of a different way to get you out, but ... "
       " ... but I'm sure we can think of something."  She let herself
fall into his warm chocolate eyes as his hands moved the robe from
her shoulders.  His lips found her jaw.  "I could always seduce the
Warden," she said.
       He pressed her shoulders into the comforter, moved their hands
above her head until she could grasp one of the posters.  "And how
would you go about that?"
       "'Warden, I know I've been an awfully bad girl.'"
       David pulled away, and in that way of his that he had, of
falling instantly into character, he said, "Yes, you have.  That
last escape attempt of yours sent five of my best guards to the
hospital.  You need to learn respect for authority, young woman."
       He leaned back and pulled open his bottom dresser drawer, and
she shivered deliciously.  It had been a while.  A little harmless
playacting might be just the ticket.  Then she saw the box, and
frowned.
       Right.  Safe.  Careful.  Hell, she supposed she could go back
on the Pill, though she dreaded the mood swings.  The violent
tendencies had worked *really* well during that stint in Panama, but
they were counterbalanced with miserable crying jags.
       That wasn't the problem, though, was it?
       The problem was Alex.  If she could have wrapped an entire
universe of infinite possibilities into one fragile bundle, she knew
she could never find anything more wonderful than the small
squirming mass of baby she'd carried within her own body.  When she
held him, she was aware of holding a series of miracles.  Every
burble was a song from an angel, every intelligent look a benevolent
glance from a god.  As she fed him, she felt the closing of a
billion cycles of birth and death with every pull.
       She was scared to death of him.
       No, she could be honest.  She was scared of what she could do
to him.  Never mind the ever-present fear of somehow "breaking" him
every time she touched him, of dropping him each time he was in her
arms.  Those were anxieties she had learned, mostly, to ignore in
favor of a more practical truth: babies were made from rubber.  She
was far more worried about what she would do to his, for lack of a
better word, soul.
       Fox had never put much stock into organized religion, or any
other belief system beyond what she could see and feel and
understand.  Her father had his own moral code, to which he adhered
without outside intrusion.  Her mother had always viewed most faiths
with the detached amusement Fox tended to associate with atheist
intellectuals, although Anastasia Renard had managed to avoid the
oft-accompanying attitude of superiority.  She saved *that* for
scientific debates.
       Looking back, her mother's stance made perfect sense; it was
probably difficult, if not impossible, to have firm religious
beliefs when at any point in time several gods could show up on her
doorstep to take her out for pizza and a movie.  With such a
background, Fox was a bit less concerned about Alex's, or her own,
eventual damnation.  She was more worried about what would happen
while they were still breathing.
       She and David had by accident managed to create something
wonderful, magical, perfect, and she was utterly terrified of
destroying it.  Since the baby's birth, Mrs. Ong and Owen had
provided the vast majority of his care, feeding him, bathing him,
reading to him, being with him.  Fox had spent some time with him,
certainly, but never without one or the other within easy reach.
Like they didn't trust her to take care of her own baby properly,
and could she blame them?  She was more comfortable with grenade
pins than safety pins, and she certainly didn't know a damn thing
about magic.  She could teach him about munitions, about deadly
pressure points on a human body, but she didn't have a clue of how
to handle him when he cried.  Unsure of what to do, she'd mentioned
to David her dissatisfaction with the idea of Owen's raising their
child, and in archetypal David-fashion, he'd told her earlier that
evening of his plans to get Owen back into the office.
       This was good, she thought.  It meant she could spend more time
with her baby, teaching him everything she wished she'd learned
young.  She could play with him, and wash him, and give him all his
feedings rather than the dwindling few for which she had to make
personal appearances.  It would be fun, something mothers had done
since the beginning of the human species.
       So why was she certain she'd never be able to do it?

***

       Making breakfast with one hand really wasn't that difficult
once one was accustomed to it.  Mothers of small babies had been
managing for millennia and if they could do it, certainly His
Majesty's formerly most favored servant and chief fool could do it
as well.  So he had told himself, and so he had taught himself.
       Get bag of coffee beans from freezer, open carefully with right
fingertips.  Measure cup of beans.  Sit down.  Put grinder between
knees and open lid.  Dump in beans.  Grind until ready.  Put coffee
into filter, filter into coffee maker, then turn on.  Set pan on stove, then
turn on burner.  Hold package with left fist, pull out requisite strips of
bacon, toss on pan to cook.  Use fork to turn bacon.  Hold paper towel
dispenser still with fist, tear off towels. Fold towels with fingers and, if
necessary, nose.  When bacon is crispy, use fork to get bacon to towels
to drain.  Swear as fingers burn.  Swear more at bits of bacon that stick
to pan.  Threaten to turn pan into Brillo pad for baby's next lesson. 
Remember pan is cast iron.  Curse more.  Put another towel over bacon
to keep it warm.  Open grease jar with EZ-grip rubber whatchamacallit,
gripping jar firmly with left armpit.  Narrowly avoid spilling grease on
two hundred dollar shoes.  Pour out most of grease into jar, leaving
enough to fry eggs.  Open breadbox, get out bread.  Rip open bread
bag with teeth, take out slices.  Put in toaster.  Crack eggs on edge of
counter, put into pan.  Toss in a few drops of water for steam.  Add salt,
pepper and dill.  Put lid on eggs for precisely two minutes.  Get
imported china plates from cabinet, balancing them carefully on stone
fist.  Get toast from toaster.  Repeat Butter Maneuver to butter toast. 
Check eggs.  Turn off burner.  Carefully scoop eggs out of pan with
spatula and place on plates.  Put bacon on plates.  Set one plate on fist,
grab other plate.  Walk out to dining room slowly.  Give Mrs. Xanatos
first plate.  Give Mr. Xanatos second plate.  Go back to kitchen.  Pour
coffee into silver pot.  Bring silver coffeepot into dining room.  Watch
as Mr. Xanatos notices eggs, then asks for scrambled.  Go back to
kitchen.  Start over.
       No, it wasn't that difficult at all.
       In fact, it was so bloody simple, maybe he wouldn't mind doing it
every morning for the rest of his life.
       He set the second plate of eggs, this time scrambled, in front of Mr.
Xanatos, more roughly than he ought.  The silverware rattled, causing
both his employers to look at him in curiosity.
       "Owen, is there a problem?"
       "No, Sir.  If there will be nothing else, I'll be in my office going
over the day's agenda."  It being Saturday, that would be an easy task,
but one to get his mind on *something*.
       "Excellent idea."  He returned to the oblivious consumption of his
eggs, as Fox gave her attention back to the paper.
       He took a deep breath, counted to ten, let it out slowly as he walked
towards the door.  When he'd started this role, he hadn't needed any
kind of calming techniques.  He would have to make an effort to tweak
the character design later this afternoon, before he did something rash. 
Heavens forbid the Puck do something rash.
       "Oh, yes.  Owen."
       He stopped.  "Yes?"
       "While you're in your office, place an advertisement in the Times
for a new cook."  Before he could stop them, hot words came bubbling
to his lips.  Was he to be replaced simply because he hadn't anticipated
a change in the breakfast menu?  As he opened his mouth to speak,
Xanatos continued: "I'm going to need you in the office more over the
next month.  Someone should be in charge of the kitchen during the
day.  Broadway practically runs it at night anyway.  If we put him on
salary, perhaps the clan will feel more like members of the household. 
See to it."
       "Yes, Sir."  He walked out of the room quickly, before either
of them could note the flush upon his cheeks.
       Not replaced, just moved.  This master wasn't like the last one.  He
wouldn't throw him out for petty reasons, or even great reasons.
       His stride brought him to his own office in less than two
minutes.  Leaving the door ajar as normal, he sat down behind his
desk, rested his fist out of the way, and began going over the
agenda.  It took him ten minutes to even notice that he was
rereading the same two lines over and again.
       He stood up and closed the door.  There was no real difference;
Mr. Xanatos would come in when he pleased whether it was open, shut,
or deadlocked (he had the master key).  The illusion of privacy was
enough for the time being.
       More than anything else, he needed rest.  After Alexander
started to cry, after he'd gone to check on him, after he'd heard
Angela singing that terrible song, he had not been able to sleep,
and his mortal body was showing that lack.
       It didn't matter.  Nothing did, but the song, and the meaning
of that song.
       He could remember the first photograph he'd ever seen.  The
subject, a ten-year-old boy, had been made to sit perfectly still
for thirty seconds, a feat he had previously suspected was beyond
the child in question.  When he'd seen the final product, it had
been silver-grey, and small, and had come in a gold framed box with
velvet inside.  He had been utterly amazed, for the boy was inside
that box, or at least his image.  He had "borrowed" the picture,
nearly wore out the fine hinge by closing it, and reopening to see
if the picture was still there.  It was a way of capturing memories,
keeping them bright and purposeful, giving the people inside
immortality of their own.  The boy had grown up, lived briefly, died
at a decent age for a human.  The picture remained, currently in the
possession of one of his many descendants.
       There was another face in his mind, from a time long before
picture boxes had been invented.  He had only his memories, and
being who he was, they were as clear to him as the boy's face had
been inside that golden box.  His memories were likewise given sound
and even touch, so while he might stopper his ears, inside his mind
he still heard crying, felt the hard-packed clay beneath his feet as
he walked quickly away from it.
       Angela had asked him if the song was magical, and he'd answered
truthfully.  Not one bit of magic had gone into its creation, save that
which was *him*.  He'd left part of himself in those notes, the more so
since he had not sung them or played them since that awful day.  The
crying had followed him for years afterwards.  Only by making himself
not think of it had he been able to quiet the sound.
       He sat at his desk, wondering if he would ever again know silence.

***

       She'd chosen to wear simple navy-blue pumps today, but still
her heels made a distinct clicking sound as she walked through the
long row of cells.  The Women's Annex to the Riker's Island Maximum
Security Correctional Facility had all the charm and affability of
a dentist's drill.  Just as she remembered.
       Fox paused outside of what had once been her cell.  How many
months had she spent in here, first alone, and then with Hyena as a
constantly grating companion?  It had been the closest thing she'd
ever known to hell.  She recalled the hours she'd spent, staring out
the tiny window, wishing she could just think herself into a
butterfly and slip out through the bars.  There had been times when
she'd closed her eyes and felt the breeze buffeting her wings as she
fluttered over the water to David's waiting arms.
       Recent events suggested to her that, had she only known how,
she might have actually changed her body into the small one.  As the
song went, it was a little too ironic for her taste.
       The guards looked at her with a mixture of nervousness and
contempt, no doubt wondering why she was pausing *here*.  They
knew who she was, had known her when she'd been the butterfly
trapped in their cage.  But now, she wasn't their prisoner.  She was one
of the wealthiest people in the city, if not the world, and they had to
treat her with respect.  She could see how it nettled them, and she
secretly gloated.
       One of them, the male, was about to say something to her when
she continued her walk.  There were faces in the other cells, some
familiar, some strange, some making vulgar comments or gestures,
some lost in their own private worlds.  This was me, she thought.  A
year and a half ago, this was me.
       When they reached the door at the end of the hall, the guards
took out two keys, inserted them into the matching locks, and turned
them simultaneously.  The door ground open.  They made a sharp turn
towards the innards of the building.  The brick walls were now
hidden behind reinforced steel plating, all painted the same
disgusting yellow as the bricks had been.  The light was a little
dimmer down here, though she wasn't certain it was due to lower
lighting as much as lack of sunlight.  Her heels echoed louder.  She
wished she'd worn slippers, for the clicking was beginning to drive
her nuts.
       Another locked door led them to their destination.  Three armed
guards stood outside the cell.  She made a bet with herself that the
safeties were off on their rifles.  Dangerous, she thought, but
probably smart.  Her escorts took out their own weapons, holding
them at their sides so as to be ready just in case.
       "You have five minutes," said her female escort.  She nodded
and stepped to the bars.  The other guards tensed slightly, and she
hoped they wouldn't open fire if she sneezed.
       "Hey," she said to the occupant of the cell.
       Hyena, who had been inspecting the wall, turned her head
towards her.
       "So you finally decided to pay a visit."  She hopped up from
her bunk, going about a foot higher than necessary.  Fox noticed the
guard nearest to her clutch his gun in reflex.  To be fair, he
showed no other sign of agitation.  Hyena prowled over to the bars,
until their faces were less than six inches apart.
       "I got your message.  It took me a few days to convince my
parole officer I wasn't going to have a relapse by being in the same
room with you."  She turned her mouth to show her opinion of the
parole officer.  Hyena rolled her eyes in response.
       "So didja bring me anything?"  For an instant, she sounded like
a little girl whose mother had just come back from vacation.
       She nodded.  "Your favorite, x-rayed, picked over, metal
detected, and completely read three times to make sure there's
nothing in it."  She handed the "Daily Tattler" through the bars,
under careful scrutiny of the guards.  Hyena grabbed it and looked
longingly at the headlines.
       "Cool!  When did Rush admit he was bonking Jerry Falwell?"
       "Last week. They've got pictures on page 10."
       Hyena looked at the other items on the front page, then set it
down.  "Thanks, Fox."
       "You're welcome.  So how're they treating you?"
       "Just fantastic."  She spread her hands.  "I've got constant
company, the best in prison food, and they even let me keep a pet."
She opened a compartment on her arm.  A cockroach about the size of
Alexander's big toe looked out helplessly from inside before the
compartment slid closed again.  "I call him Spike."  Her face turned
cold.  "How do you *think* I'm doing?"
       She had been expecting this.  She had to tread carefully.  "I didn't
force you to break into the museum, Hyena.  You had a choice."
       "Some choice.  Jackal and I had a job to do, and if those damned
gargoyles hadn't shown up, we could have done it and been living the
good life now."
       "Those 'damned gargoyles' saved Alexander's life.  David and I
are grateful to them."
       Hyena's head shot up.  "Don't tell me you've called a truce."
       "A temporary one, I assure you.  Just enough to get their trust
back to where we need it."  Although, she thought, it might be more
permanent than we thought.  David hadn't once mentioned any
intention of breaking the peace, and she'd chosen not to bring it up
without a cue from him.
       Hyena grinned and slammed her fist into a metal palm.  "I get
it.  Get them to trust you, then 'WHAMMO!'"
       "Something like that."
       The other woman's face turned wistful, and again Fox was put
uncomfortably in mind of a very young child.  A child she had
created, in too many ways.  "What's it like?"
       "What?"
       "To live in the castle, with the man of your dreams and a baby
and the world at your feet.  I've been trying to imagine.  Back a
few months ago, I had this idea that maybe Coyote and I might hook
up, and then we could live with you guys up there."  She looked
away.  "It was stupid.  I mean, he's just a machine, right?  No
feelings, and he had a bad habit of getting blown up, but he was the
closest thing I had to having *someone* in a long time.  You know?"
She looked back to her, some last trace of whatever innocence she
might have once had reflected on her face.
       "I know," said Fox.  This she hadn't been expecting, and she
tried hard to think of the right thing to say.  "It's great, I guess.  I have to
sit in on too many board meetings for my liking, and Alex takes up a lot
of time."  She felt a burning sensation in the back of her thoughts, but
ignored it as she continued: "David and I have only gotten out a few
times in the past couple months." She realized moments later what
she'd said when she saw Hyena's face.
       "Only a few, huh?"
       She found that she couldn't meet her eyes.  "Yeah."
       "It's not fair, Fox."  Her voice was a low whisper; the guards
probably couldn't hear.  "I know what you did."
       "What are you talking about?"
       "How you set the rest of us up, you and your hubby.  He broke
us out of jail to get you out legally.  He probably got Jackal and
me arrested in the first place."
       "What gave you that idea?"  She was floundering and trying not
to show it.  She thought back desperately to their time on the show,
when she'd forget her line now and then.  Ad libbing had worked
wonders.  Of course, it was easier when their dialogue never got
more complicated than: "Wibblefish!"
       "It all adds up.  He gets us to go after him, we get caught and
locked away.  Then he busts us out while you play good, and
suddenly, you get an early parole.  All nice and legal.  Meanwhile,
we're on the run for the rest of our lives.  And after a while," she
flexed her left hand, the metal scraping together with a screech,
"we're ready to do anything to stay out of this place, whether it
means trading in our bodies for spare parts, or selling what's left
of our souls to your waiting husband."  The other woman looked at
her through the bars, daring her to deny it.
       She couldn't.  She *really* hadn't been expecting this.  Hyena had
never been very bright, preferring to use her weapons, muscles, or if all
else failed, the rest of her body to meet her ends.  Fox had never
considered that she might figure out just how much she'd been used in
the past two years, and come to resent it.
       "What are you getting at?"  She put enough impatience in her
voice to hopefully make the guards think she was annoyed rather than
worried.
       "You owe me.  You got me into this, all of it."  She extended her
hearing-sensors out six inches from her head and pulled them back. 
Fox tried not to show her disgust.  "You owe me," she repeated.
       "I'm not breaking you out, Hyena."
       Weirdly enough, she laughed, in the same way she always had, and
Fox's skin crawled.  "I didn't expect you would.  And anyway, that's not
what I'm asking.  Not this time."  Her face turned deadly serious.  "I've
got a little problem."

***

       "Did she say who the father was?"
       "No.  *She* might not even know."
       David made a noncommittal sound.  He had seemed only
peripherally interested in the conversation anyway, his attention more
focused on counting Alex's toes than on listening to her.  She shifted
the baby's position as he nursed, allowing a slightly different view of
the scenery and found his eyes back on her again, albeit lower than she
wanted right now.
       David, finally noticing her less than amused expression at being
ignored, made eye contact and had the good sense to look apologetic. 
"I'm sorry, my dear.  What does she want us to do about it?  I can
probably arrange an abortion.  I don't see the prison officials raising
more than a token objection, and moral considerations aside, even they
have to see that she can't possibly carry a baby to term."
       "I'm not so sure about that."  She stood swiftly, holding Alex
with one arm and digging through her briefcase for papers with the
other.  She found what she was looking for, and sat down again.
"Here are the specs behind her design.  I had them sent up this
afternoon."  After spending half an hour on the phone with two of
our now ex-employees who couldn't understand why on earth I'd want
to see them.
       David took the plans from her and looked them over.  She
continued, "Not a lot of her is still organic, but the right parts
are there.  She'll have some difficulty around month eight, if she
carries anything like I did."  She reached over and pointed out
positions where Hyena's implants would get in the way of an
expanding abdomen.  "However, if we have this one removed, *that*
one can be adjusted to where it won't hurt her as much, or damage
the baby."
       Alex squirmed, his own positioning getting offset by her
movements.  She settled back into place and winced as he grasped
hold of her with tiny, sharp fingernails.
       David continued perusing the diagrams.  "It's possible, I
suppose.  So does she *want* to have the baby?"
       She shrugged, then regretted it as Alex squeezed again.  She
gently pried his fingers open as she said, "I think she knows this
is it, if she wants kids at all.  And she does, but ... "
       "But?"
       "Prison is no place for a baby.  You know that.  So does
Hyena."
       She had his full attention.  "Fox."
       "She said we owed her.  We arranged everything that got her
arrested, that made her what she is."
       "You knew her record when we hired her, dear.  If Hyena and
Jackal hadn't been working for us, they would have found their own
route to jail all by themselves."
       "Maybe.  And maybe we paved the way."
       He took her hands.  "Don't tell me you've discovered guilt for the
first time.  Maybe we opened the door for her, but remember she was
the one who walked through."
       "It'll only be for a little while, possibly only a few days.  I'll ask
Owen to start looking for family members in the morning."
       "Can it wait until Monday?  I've got him working on something
for me this weekend."
       "It can wait.  We've got until at least January.  Then we'll
have a nice, normal human baby around the castle for less than a
week, and ship him off again.  No muss, no fuss."
       "Are you sure about that?"
       "About the 'normal' or the 'human?'  I don't really know, if
you want the truth.  I mean, there weren't that many men she was
around, and unless Coyote 3.0 had an added feature you neglected to
mention, he certainly wasn't the father."  She'd been going over a
mental list of potential daddies, and had found herself *hoping* it
was Vogel.  It wasn't that she could possibly picture him ever
getting cozy with Hyena, but more along the lines that she found the
rest of the list quite short.  And disturbing.  "Normal enough,
anyway."
       "I meant about the staying only a few days part.  If we get
many more residents, we're going to have to declare ourselves an
independent nation."
       "He's *not* staying."  Which wasn't quite what Hyena was
expecting, admittedly.  She would be signing papers soon enough to
give custody of her little mistake to Fox and David, who would then
grant it to whichever non-clinically-insane relative of the woman
they could track down first.  "I don't want another baby, David."
       Alex moved in her arms, bright blue eyes looking up at her
inquisitively.  If it weren't for the fact that Owen had *sworn* he
wasn't telepathic, yet, she would have been convinced her son was
asking what was wrong with having another baby.
       She added quickly, "Besides, who knows what this kid will be
like?  Do you want a little copy of Hyena, or gods help us *Jackal*,
running around underfoot?"
       "Of course not."  He was watching her face.  She knew what *he*
was thinking, how he was assessing her behavior in regards to her
words.  He was judging how much to trust what she said, and how
much to disregard, and while he did so, he toed a very thin line between
understanding and patronizing.  She hated when he did that, and
glowered at him.
       And the truth was ... ?  She tightened her hold on Alex a tiny
bit more.  She'd been with him for two hours and hadn't broken him
or gotten him arrested.  David had been nearby, and Owen had been in
calling distance, and damn, but she'd been grateful for them both,
hadn't she?
       The truth was, she was a failure at this.  She could admit that
to herself.  Some people were excellent parents, and some just
weren't cut out for the task.  If Alex were a puppy, she would
return him to the breeder.  So sorry, not what we expected, find
another good home, please.  But he wasn't a puppy, and she couldn't
send him back where he came from, because she'd been the damned
broodmare.  She frowned even deeper at David.  This had been for
*his* personal little dynasty, and now Alex had to suffer because
she wasn't a good mother.
       She felt tears welling inside her, and pushed them down hard.
She wasn't about to cry.  Crying was stupid, especially over
something as trivial as the fact that she had no hope of raising her
baby right, and David thought she wanted *another* one?
       No, she would find a home for the other kid, as far from her as
she could take him, and then maybe she could make up for all the
mistakes she was about to make with her own child.
       David said nothing.

***

       It had been a very long day for Beth.  Her parents were early
risers, something none of their children could understand, and while
they had let her sleep in because she *was* on vacation, they'd made
enough noise to make certain she was up by eight-thirty.
       Sarah, who was also a morning person, had worn a smile to
breakfast.  It really wasn't fair that she could get by on two or
three hours of sleep a night, when Beth needed at least six just to
be able to move the following day.
       If it hadn't been for an afternoon art class the previous Spring,
through which they'd only barely kept one another awake in, she
doubted they would have even met, much less become best friends.
Since Sarah couldn't exactly fly back to Malaysia for a four-day
holiday, and since she otherwise might not have the opportunity to
see New York at all during her time in the States, it made perfect
sense for her to come home with Beth.  That was what she'd told her
mother on the phone when she'd mentioned Sarah was coming with her
for the Break, and that was the story she'd stuck to when Elisa had
come early in the afternoon to pick them up for a tour of the city.
       They'd parked the car at Elisa's apartment and walked through
the downtown district.  They'd spent a long time walking around FAO
Schwartz, where Elisa had dropped a surprisingly large amount of
money in the Sesame Street section.  Back outside, Sarah had taken
two rolls' worth of photos, while Beth had questioned her sister as
best she could on the status of things with Goliath, without giving
too much away.  She hadn't been able to tell Sarah about him, or
Derek, or a lot of other things, and phrasing her inquiries had been
as challenging a task as she'd ever undertaken, especially when
Elisa's mood clouded over the moment they caught sight of the Eyrie
Building.
       So the gargoyles were living there again.
       She wasn't happy at the thought.  Beth had hated Xanatos since
she'd discovered what had become of her brother.  Having her and
their father arrested while he'd been in the process of desecrating
tribal property really hadn't improved her attitude.  She could only
imagine Elisa felt the same, and probably wasn't keen on letting him
have his clutches on her friends while she was stuck driving her
sister and some stranger around.
       When Elisa had asked if she was seeing someone, she'd only been
able to answer, "Yeah.  Kind of."  She'd kept her eyes forward, felt
an expectant watch from the back seat, and had dodged the question
when Elisa had asked her what his name was.
       They'd all been in bad moods by the time the Fairlane brought
them back to the house.  She'd hugged her sister good-bye, but
hadn't watched her drive off.  She'd made a reminder to call her in
the morning and explain everything, maybe find out more about why
the gargoyles were there rather than anywhere else in the city.
       Yes, tomorrow.
       "Mom, Dad," she said, unlocking the door.  "We're back."
       Her mother's musical voice came from the kitchen.  "Your father
went to the store.  Is Elisa with you?"
       "No.  She had to go see Maggie about something."  More like,
she needed to blow off some steam.  For whatever reason, she'd been
edgy all night, even before they'd seen the castle, and saying she
needed to talk to Maggie was probably her way of not worrying their
parents.
       "Who's Maggie, anyway?" asked Sarah, not loud enough for her
mother to hear.
       She shrugged casually, she hoped.  "Friend of the family."
       Even lower, "Is she cute?"
       "My brother thinks so."
       Sarah's eyes glittered as she said, "Then maybe I can meet her
when I meet Derek."
       Oh.  Great.  "Well ...  Maybe."
       Her eyes lost the sparkle.  "Yeah, maybe."  Perfect.  Now Sarah
would think Beth didn't want her brother to meet her, and she
couldn't explain that wasn't the case at all without spilling
everything.  Yet another reason to hate Xanatos.
       Her mother appeared in the doorway.  "Did Elisa feed you?  If
not, we're having smothered burritos."
       Beth's stomach rumbled appreciatively.  "Sounds great."
       "I'm still full from those pretzels," Sarah said, "but thank
you."
       Oops.  Guess what else she'd forgotten to tell her parents.
"We've got bread, cheese, pasta, all sorts of things for salad."
       Mom looked confused.  Sarah explained, "I'm a vegetarian."
       "Beth, why didn't you tell me?  I could have made something
else.  I still can."
       "No, really," said Sarah.  "Like I said, I'm full.  Elisa
bought us huge pretzels with cheese on them about an hour ago.  But
thanks."
       The door opened, and Dad came in with a small brown bag.
"You're home just in time," he said, pulling out a pint of sour cream
with a flourish and setting it on the table.  "Where's Elisa?"
       "Gone to see Maggie," said Mom, ending the conversation before
it started.
       "If you don't mind, I'll go back to your room so you can spend
some time with your parents."
       "Sarah ... "
       "You can talk to them," she said, and waved as she went down the
hall into Beth's room and closed the door most of the way.
       "What was that about?"  Dad was still a few steps behind.
       "A lot of things," she said, and before they could ask, she went into
the kitchen to wash her hands for supper, and try to figure out what to
say next.

***

       Brooklyn flared his wings and dove nearly to street level, before
gliding off again.  He sighed in pure joy as the tendons in his shoulders
and back stretched taut and relaxed.  He'd been pining for this kind of
exercise; staying inside, while prudent considering the city's attitude
towards gargoyles right now, was wearing on muscles best moved
nightly.  It felt good to be allowed out.
       Feeling better, he gained altitude, choosing a higher vantage
point for his patrol than he might normally.  Being outside did not
necessarily equate to being stupid.  They had gathered around the
t.v. shortly after waking, to see a news broadcast about some
vigilante group called the Quarrymen.  The spokesman for the group
declared them "part Guardian Angels, all concerned citizens,
protecting the rights of humans in the city to exist without fear of
winged monsters."  The leader, whose name he'd forgotten anyway,
couldn't be reached for comment.
       Just the way he'd wanted to start his night.
       Hell with it.  He wasn't going to let slow-witted ramblings of
a few scared humans ruin the night.  He snorted.  There were plenty
of other things waiting to do *that*.
       Angela was avoiding him, had been since before they'd gone back
to Wyvern.  The only thing making him feel remotely better was the
knowledge she was also avoiding Broadway and Lex, though it seemed
not nearly to the extent she stayed away from him.  He could accept
and respect her decision to stay "just friends" with all of them; if
he didn't, he was sure she'd rip him a new nostril, and that was
even before Goliath did anything.  He would stay away while she got
whatever together in her own head.
       But ...
       His mind returned to the problem it had been whispering to him
since the moment she'd arrived.  What if, when she made her choice,
she chose someone else?  Could he live with the thought of her smile
being for one of his rookery brothers?  With the knowledge that,
once she chose, he would never have another chance with her, or
possibly anyone?  When he slept, he dreamed of her bright face,
seeing something new for the very first time.  When she was in the
room, it was empty to him save for her.  When she hugged him, as she
had all of three times, his heart ached to enfold her in his wings
and never let go.  If he were to lose her, it would be the single
worst blow to his soul he'd ever experienced, save only the loss of
his entire clan.
       Love wasn't all he'd thought it would be.

***

       "I don't want to talk about this," Maggie said, turning her
face from Elisa's.  That brought her eyes back to the kids, who
really shouldn't have been watching this, playing quietly in a
corner of the room.  She closed them.
       "Maggie, please."  Derek had hit a state of calmness she'd
almost never seen in him, a perfect counterpoint to the disarray in
her own emotions.
       "Don't you get it?  I don't want to see them.  Not tonight, not
tomorrow night, not ever again.  They made it clear when I left that
I wasn't welcome back.  They can live with that."
       Elisa sat back in her chair.  She looked ready to give in,
which filled Maggie with relief and also a little unhappiness she
wouldn't acknowledge.
       Derek wasn't going to be as easily swayed.
       "Love," he said, splaying his fingers on the table, an inch
away from her own, "you've only got one set of parents.  Maybe
they'll get upset, and maybe they will say or do something we don't
like.  But either way, you've got to tell them you're alive and all
right.  You don't owe them anything else, but you do owe them that."
       She felt tears hitching in her chest, pushed them down so the
kids wouldn't see.  Oh god, something else her mother had taught
her.  She took a deep shuddering breath.  "I can't.  I can't face
them.  Please don't make me."
       "All right," said Elisa.  "Then we're going to have to think of
a story to get them out of town."
       "Can't you just tell them you couldn't find anything?"
       She shook her head.  "If they'd stayed in Ohio, yes.  If I don't locate
something on you, the Captain will give the case to someone better at
MP than I am.  It might take a while, but whoever it is will get to you
eventually, and they're going to ask questions we'd like to keep
unanswered."
       "Why?" asked Derek.  "If they trace her back to Xanatos, then
maybe he'll get what's his."
       Elisa looked away.  "Yeah, maybe."  That would mean exposing
the gargoyles to the world.  They *might* be able to cover up what
had already been broadcast, but anything else would be deadly.  If
for some reason anyone dug into Sevarius' files, they'd find a hell
of a lot more than just four mutated humans.  They would find
records on gargoyles, and on gargoyle clones.
       She looked at the kids again.  Elisa had brought a few toys
with her, mostly stuffed animals that she said she'd been keeping in
the back of her closet, probably for her own children.
       Elisa must have finally realized the truth, that Delilah and
Angela were the closest she would ever come to having kids of her
own.  Angela was too old for stuffed animals, and while Delilah
might genetically be her daughter, the emotional ties were still too
odd for anyone's liking.  As she watched, 'Lilah cuddled a stuffed
Grover affectionately.  It was one of the sweetest things she'd ever
seen, but one utterly unexplainable to someone like her father.
He'd see Delilah as a monster, some genetic freak made by the
unnatural fusion of DNA from two women of different species.
Knowing her father as well as she did, he'd make a comment about it
not being surprising, since Elisa was after all one of Them.
       "This is a bad idea," she said.  "My father ... "
       Derek said gently, "You already told us.  He'll learn to deal
with it.  Mom's family wasn't too fond of Dad when they started
seeing each other.  They came around to the ol' Maza charm."
       Elisa chuckled.  "Yeah, right after I was born.  They'd only
been married what, three years?"
       "That settles it," said Derek.  "We'll have a baby.  Then your
dad will adore me."
       "That's not quite how it works," reminded his sister.
       "Sure it is," Maggie piped up, trying to keep her voice from
cracking.  "Tell them to come back about six months from now."
       "Exactly," said Derek.  "We'll order up one directly."  His
eyes widened.  "For.  Them."  He tilted his head slowly, turning
towards her like some animatronic imitation of her lover.  "Huh?"
       Elisa's eyes lit like candles, though she said nothing.
       Maggie took Derek's hand.  "I've been trying to figure out how
to tell you for a few days.  Guess this is as good a time as any."
       Derek was caught a few steps back.  "Six?"
       He was awfully sweet when he was confused.  "Six.  As in nine
minus three.  As in Marchish, I think."
       Elisa licked her lips.  "How do you feel about it?"
       "I don't know," she said.  "Scared?"  She smiled.  "Happy?"
She asked Derek, whose head was still tilted, "How do you feel,
Love?"
       He said nothing.  Elisa snapped her fingers in front of his
face.  "Ground Control to Major Tom."
       "Huh?"
       "You're going to be a daddy.  Your girlfriend has just asked
you how you feel about it."
       "Oh yeah."  His lips curled, showing the tips of his pointed
teeth.  His bottom lip pulled down, showing a wide grin.  "Baby."
       Malibu looked up from the toys.  "Baby?"
       "Yes," said Maggie.  "Baby.  A little one like Talon and me.
Short and fuzzy with wings and a tail."  She set her elbows on the
table.  "Oh god."
       Derek finally snapped back to reality.  "Love, it'll be okay.
Maybe the kid'll be perfectly normal."  He held her hand, shining
hope in his voice.
       "And maybe it'll be worse.  Who knows what Sevarius did to our
DNA while he was messing with it?"  The sleep of reason, she thought
madly.  The sleep of reason.  She trembled.
       He pulled her hand against his chest and rubbed it.  "We'll
figure it out.  We'll figure it all out.  I love you," he whispered.
He placed his forehead against hers, and repeated, "I love you."
       "I love you, too," she said automatically.  "I'm just so scared."  She
broke off.  She felt his arms surrounding her again, snuggled into the
safety of them, ignoring the fact this was what had caused the problem
in the first place.  Another hand, Elisa's, stroked her shoulder.
       "Maggie," she said gently, "what do you want to do?"
       She knew instantly what Elisa was asking.  There was a huge
chance of something, anything going wrong.  Her mother'd had
enough pregnancy troubles with Maggie's being a different blood
type.  Technically, she and Derek weren't even the same species.  It
would be impossible to say what kind of effect that would have on
her, on the child.  If there was a cure, ever, she still had some
hope of a healthy human baby, and currently, she had other children
to raise, and if she cursed someone else to the kind of life she
faced, was she any better than Sevarius himself?
       "I'm not sure.  Of anything."
       She was going to have to face it eventually.  She would have to
face *everything* eventually.  Now that she'd finally told, she
wouldn't face it alone.  And maybe that was the important thing.
Elisa had been right; her parents wouldn't give up looking for her
unless they were certain she was dead.  Her mother would do it out
of love, her father from his loathing of the idea of having lost
something he possessed.  She was terrified of facing them as she
was, especially now that she had something real and important to
protect, not just this potential child, but the kids in the corner,
who had stopped playing, concerned at why she was upset.  Facing her
parents might be enough to bring down the card-castle life they'd
built here.  But she wouldn't have to face them by herself, either.
She'd have Derek and Elisa with her, and with them came their
parents and the clan.  Her army.  Met with that kind of strength,
surely even her father would back down.
       She didn't dare.  But more, she didn't dare not to face him again.
       "So," she said to Elisa, "when do you want to set up the meeting?"

***

       Sarah looked up over the magazine she was reading.  Beth
couldn't see the title, but there was a picture of Emma Thompson on
the cover, wearing a wide, innocent smile.  Sarah wasn't smiling,
but her eyes were like Emma's: alive, filled with darting light.
       "Did you tell them?"
       She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again.
       "Beth."  Sarah's voice was tired.  "You're going to have to
tell them eventually.  Believe me, sooner is better than later."
       Beth sat down on the edge of her bed.  Instead of looking at
Sarah, she looked at the two shelves above her.  When she'd been
little, they'd held stuffed animals.  As she'd grown older, the
animals had migrated to her bed, and then to the closet, to be
replaced by books.  She could even remember the progression of the
books.  Dr. Seuss had bowed early to Nancy Drew and the Brothers
Grimm.  Nancy had been replaced by Judy Blume, but the Brothers had
stayed, and were joined by Homer, Hugo, Raglan and Radin.  Judy had
eventually followed Nancy, and Alice Walker and Toni Morrison had
taken her place.  The last collection of books had followed her to
Flagstaff, where they now graced her room.  In her absence, Mom had
taken the stuffed animals out of the closet to let them reclaim
their rightful territory.
       "It's not that easy."
       Sarah sat up and placed her hands around Beth's.  "It's not
*going* to be easy."
       She sighed.  "Sarah, you don't understand.  Now's really not a
good time for my folks."
       "Elisa or Derek?"
       She slumped.  "Would you believe both?"
       Sarah nodded.  "I'd believe it.  But you're not Elisa, and
you're certainly not Derek."  She smiled playfully.  "I would have
noticed by now."
       Beth knew exactly what she meant, but entertained a very brief
mental image of Derek walking in, and Sarah's subsequent reaction.
       ~Oh yes, you would have noticed all right.~  "I guess it's the
'Grandparent Thing.'  Like I told you, Derek's girlfriend can't have
kids, and the guy Elisa's dating already has a family."  ~Boy, does
he have a family.~
       "So what?  You can have kids if you want.  And if you don't
want to, you don't have to.  You're not a baby machine, dear."
       "It's not like that."
       "Then what is it like?!"  Sarah's voice had risen in volume, and
Beth worried suddenly that someone might hear.  She motioned for
Sarah to speak quieter.  "You're not shutting me up, Beth.  We need
to talk, and it sounds like we need to talk right now."
       "We *can* talk.  Quietly."
       A flicker crossed Sarah's eyes.  "You're ashamed of me."
       "What?"
       "Either that, or you don't trust me.  It has to be one or the other.  I
can read your eyes.  You've got a secret inside that's eating you alive.  If
it's me, you're afraid to tell your parents about us, and in my book, that's
tied up with a hell of a lot of guilt.  If it's not me, then there's something
else you're holding inside, and you don't trust me enough to tell me
what it is."
       "I trust you," she whispered.  Sarah nodded slightly, her face open,
ready to accept whatever she had to say.  Beth felt her own heart
breaking as she added, "But I can't tell you.  It's not my secret to share."
       Sarah looked down, and gently pulled her hands away.  "Fine."
She grabbed her jacket from where it was draped over the desk chair.
       "Where are you going?"
       "Out for a walk."
       "But it's dark!"
       "So?  I can take care of myself."  She pulled the door firmly shut
behind her.  It wasn't a slam, but it had as much force as one.
       Beth remained sitting for two seconds, then followed her.  She
made it as far as the living room, and was treated to the sight of
another closing door.
       Mom looked at the door.  "Where on earth is Sarah going?  She
didn't say a word."
       "Out.  She'll be okay."
       "Are you sure?  She's never been to New York before."  That was
something she'd come to both treasure and dread about her mother;
once she'd made acquaintance with one of her children's friends, that
friend had another parent.  She could just imagine her mothering
Goliath.
       "I'm sure.  When she comes back, tell her I'm in my room."
       The sound of a running drain came from the kitchen.  Dad came
out, drying his hands on a dishtowel.  "Maybe we should have a talk
about your friend."
       Her heart stopped.  His tone was casual, but ...  "What do you
mean?"
       "I'd hate to think she feels unwelcome here."
       "She doesn't.  She likes having her own space."  ~Maybe too much
space,~ she thought.  "She's about as free a spirit as they come."
~That's why we became friends,~ she thought.  ~Sarah was so different
from everyone else I knew, so alive, so independent, so *real*.  So
perfect.~
       She decided in an instant.  She opened her mouth, intending to
tell them everything.  "I ... "  The phone rang.  "I'll get it." She grabbed
the receiver.  "Hello?"
       Elisa's voice was on the other end.  "Hi Beth.  Are Mom and Dad
home?"
       "Hi sis.  Yeah.  Which one do you want?"
       "Both.  Can you put it on speaker?"
       "Hold on."  She pressed the button.  "There you go."  Her
parents joined her by the speaker.
       "What are you doing tomorrow night?"
       "Nothing we can't change," said Mom.  "Why?"
       "Derek's going to meet Maggie's parents.  I think it would be
good for them if we were all there at the same time."
       "Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Mom, the question
reflected on Dad's face.
       "Yes.  We're sure."  Then, in a completely different tone: "By
the way, can you be there early?  We'd like to have a meeting before
they arrive."
       "What time do you want us there?" asked Dad.
       "Six-thirty.  My place.  The Reeds won't be there until eight.
That ought to be plenty of time."
       Plenty of time for what?  Meeting?  Beth wasn't sure she wanted
to know, and moments after saying their I-love-you-good-bye's, she
wasn't even sure she was invited.  Was Elisa going to prepare the
Reeds for this?  How?  She recalled her first sight of Derek after
his transformation, how awful and frightening he'd looked, but it
had been her big brother inside the looming monster.  Surely
Maggie's parents would understand.  After all, no matter what she
had become, she was still their daughter.
       Right?

***

       Brooklyn soared upwards, narrowly avoiding a collision with an
office building.  It was smaller than many of the mid-town
buildings, and with a start, he realized his "vigilant" patrolling
techniques hadn't clued him into the fact that he was heading out
into the 'burbs.  Come to think of it, if he went out much further,
he'd be near the Mazas' place.
       Something Elisa had mentioned came back to him.  Her sister was
home on a four-day weekend, and had brought a friend along.
       Damn, that meant no popping in for a quick hello.
       He veered off just as the house came into view, then circled
back over it again.  Someone was coming outside.  Beth?  He'd met
Elisa's sister briefly when she'd come home for a week in the
summer.  Somehow, she'd avoided inheriting the temper Elisa and
Talon demonstrated, while keeping much of the same awed wonder at
the world.  He had speculated aloud how such different people could
be in the same family, regretting it an instant later as he saw
Angela's flinch.  No wonder she hated him.
       As he flew a little closer, he could see it wasn't Beth, but
another human female.  Oh well.  She headed out along the sidewalk,
hands shoved in her jacket pockets, and concentrated on the ground.
Not bright, he thought.  Even out here, people didn't generally walk
outside alone, especially females.  It just wasn't done.
       Still, it wasn't his problem.  Whoever it was had the right to
throw away her life as she pleased.
       Which didn't explain why he turned back again and started
following her.  She had an easy gait he found difficult to maintain;
gliding slowly was more difficult than going fast.  He flew past her
twice before pulling up higher.  He could watch from safety up here,
and still have plenty of time to move in should anything bad happen.
       As he watched, his thoughts drifted to Angela again.  The night
before, he'd seen her reading in the library, and had almost gone
over to strike up a conversation.  Something about the play of the
light from the fast-waning moon about her face and hair struck him
dumb in holy terror.  In that moment, she was divine, and he a poor
wretch who believed himself worthy of the attentions of a goddess.
Unable to leave the castle, he'd run to the topmost tower, his
breath sobbing in his chest, trying to reconcile too many thoughts
and feelings into a manageable form.  He'd spent most of the night
up there.
       His reveries nearly threw him into a tree.  He pulled back and
made an awkward landing several feet behind the woman.  He ducked
into shadow.
       She pulled up straight and looked back.  "Who's there?  Beth,
is that you?"
       As if she wasn't moving at all, she pulled her body around to
a warning stance, scanning the area.  He hid himself deeper in the
darkness, wishing he was anywhere else.
       She walked closer to his hiding place.  "Come on," she said,
her body still tensed, but less so than before.  "Let me see you."
       He debated quickly.  He couldn't allow her to see him; all they
needed PR-wise was to be seen as suburban stalkers as well as
threats to the city proper.
       "Don't come any closer," he said in a gruff voice.
       She stopped.  "All right."
       There was silence for several minutes.  Maybe she went away,
he hoped.  He allowed himself a peek.  She stood in the same
position, not even seeming to breathe.  He pulled back quickly,
heart racing.  He had to get out of here, but the house he was
hiding beside had aluminum siding.  Not good for climbing.
       "Are you going to stand there all night?" she asked.  There was
something off in her pronunciation, but he couldn't place it.
       "If you are."
       "Why don't you come out here into the light?  I promise not to
hurt you."  She wasn't going to hurt *him*?  That was a new ...  She
hadn't seen him.  She still didn't know what he was.
       "I'd rather not," he said.
       "You really shouldn't be lurking in dark places," she replied.
"It isn't safe to be out here by yourself at night."
       Wasn't this what he had just been telling himself about the
human?  "You're out here."
       "I can take care of myself."
       "So can I."
       "All right then."
       "All right then," he repeated.  Again they descended into
silence.  This time he didn't look to see if she was still waiting
for him.  He knew she was.  "Look, I should probably get going."
       "Then go."
       "You're still standing there."
       "I'm not moving, either."
       "Then could you close your eyes?"
       "Would *you* close your eyes if our situations were reversed?"
       He tried a different tack.  "I know Beth."
       "You heard me say her name.  You could have gotten it from
there."
       "Would I also know that she has a brother named Derek and a
sister named Elisa?"
       "Maybe."
       He sighed.  This was going to be more difficult than he
thought.  "Listen, Elisa and I are pretty good friends.  She's a
cop, she works for the 23rd Precinct like their dad used to before
he transferred, and Derek did before he went to work for Xanatos.
Derek's girlfriend is named Maggie, but I doubt you've met either
of them yet."
       Another long silence.  "Okay.  I can buy you know Elisa.  So
why are you lurking in shadows?"
       "I don't like to be seen."
       "Why not?"  She took on a teasing tone, "You got a big nose or
something?"
       He crossed his eyes and stared at his beak.  "Something like
that.  So can you please close your eyes or turn around so I can
leave?"
       "You still shouldn't be walking around these streets by
yourself."
       He swallowed his "I don't intend to be walking," substituted
it with, "Neither should you."
       "Then let's walk together."
       "Ummmm.  I really don't think that's a good idea."
       "I'll turn around, if it will make you feel better."
       "That would help."  He waited another few seconds, then chanced
another peek.  Sure enough, she'd turned her back and was facing the
darkened street.  Cautiously, he stepped from the shadows and looked
for a good placed to climb.
       "What's your name, by the way?"  She kept her back to him.
       "Call me ... Brook."  That would work.
       "Sarah."
       "Nice to meet you," he muttered inanely, not seeing a hand-hold
near.  Not good.
       "Brook, have you ever been in love?"
       He stopped looking, saw instead the moonlight streaming into
the library.  "Yeah."
       "Did it work out?"
       The Mazas would probably let him climb to the roof at their
place, assuming he could get there and talk to them without this
person seeing him.  Why did he let himself get into these
situations?  "What?"
       "Did it work out?  Are the two of you still together?"
       "No."  He might be able to make do with a fence.
       "What happened?"
       He was about to snap at her, tell her he had more important
things to do than worry about relationships.  Then he remembered how
he'd gotten out here in the first place.  A bitter smile touched his
beak and was gone.
       "The first time I fell in love, she didn't love me back.  I
didn't want to see it at first.  She fell in love with someone else
after a while.  Nothing I could do."
       "What about the next time?"
       "She still hasn't made up her mind."
       She made an assenting sound.  "Neither has mine."  She made to
almost turn around, then remembering, stayed as she was.  "What do
you do when you think you've found the most wonderful person in all
the world, someone warm and funny, and passionate about everything,
someone beautiful inside and out, someone talented, someone special?
What do you do when your heart breaks every time you hear one voice
on the phone, when your mind is on fire when you see one face?"
       "You fall in love," he said simply.  That was it, exactly.
       She looked down.  "And what do you do when you don't think that
person loves you back?  When you think you would die without her,
but you know she would be fine without you, maybe even better off if
you left her life completely?"  He heard tears in her voice, held
firmly back but present.
       What *could* he do?  Did he put himself through the hell of
watching her the same way every day, wrapping up his existence as
simply an extension of hers?  Dying with every word she spoke to
Broadway or Lex, the way he had died in part when he'd first seen
Maggie with Talon?
       There was only one thing *to* do.
       "You let her go," he said to himself.  "If she decides she
loves you, she'll come back.  If she doesn't ... "  Pain, physical
for all its having stemmed from his emotions, burned him.  "If she
doesn't come back, then at least you know for sure."
       "Yeah," she said, reminding him he wasn't alone.  "I should
probably get back to the house.  And you should be getting wherever
you're going, too."
       "I'll walk you home."
       "All right."
       They said nothing else as they walked.  She kept her back to
him during the short distance.  When they reached the lit front
stoop, she said, "Thanks, Brook."
       "Thank *you*," he said.
       "Now can I look at you?"
       "I'd rather you didn't."
       She shrugged.  "Don't take this the wrong way, but Elisa has
some very strange friends."  She knocked on the door, and he slipped
around the side.
       He watched as Peter Maza answered the door and let her back in
the house.  He waited a few moments, then jumped onto the railing
to the deck around back.  Another leap took him to the roof, and
from there, he had just enough altitude to get aloft.

***

       The city was almost preternaturally quiet tonight.  There was,
as usual, the low muttering of automobiles along the streets, the
sounds of humans bustling along the sidewalks and in their homes,
the unexplainable but always present hum of electricity beneath it
all.  No screams called for attention, no glass shattered in the
darkness, no footsteps dashed away from the scene of a crime.  At
the same time, there were also no noises of robbers being stopped
in their tracks, muggers in the park brought down amid the near-
silent flapping of dark wings.  The other winged protectors of the
city were as silent as the town itself tonight.  Angela wasn't sure
whether to be grateful or concerned.
       It was time to head back towards the castle, check in with
everyone, maybe catch a snack in front of the So Late It's Early
Movie on Channel 13.  With the boys.
       She veered off her path.
       Goliath had given the okay to go out into the city again.  His
reasoning was unspoken, but known to the rest of the clan as if he'd
made an announcement.  Sure, they needed to protect the city.  Of
course they needed to show the citizens how useful they could be.
Yes, the crime rate had risen a bit in the short time since their
sudden relocation to the Eyrie Building.  Those were all valid
excuses.  The real reason he was letting them out to patrol so soon
was that if they remained cooped up inside, cabin fever was going to
become the Black Death of the 1990's.
       The clocktower loomed before her.  Carefully, she touched down,
then took a long look at the place she had called home since her
arrival in Manhattan.
       Little had been cleared away; the ruins of their lives remained
in charred piles of ash and soot at her feet.  Was this what her
parents had felt upon returning to the castle that awful night?  All
the gargoyles she knew were still alive and well; they had found
only rubble bearing the grim faces of fallen friends.  No wonder
none of the others had come back here yet.  This had been their home
for two years, and to lose it so utterly, so quickly, and so much
like the way the first devastating loss had come had to be a numbing
blow.
       It almost broke her heart to think of what the others were
going through, had already survived.  But they *had* survived,
despite every chance they would not.  They'd lived and thrived
because there had been no other options.  Now they deserved a little
happiness.  Her father had Elisa, and it was about time, too.
Hudson was content to relax when he could, fight when he needed to,
and otherwise get down to the delightful business of spoiling
Alexander, for lack of a better surrogate.
       The Trio presented a different problem.  She did care for the
three of them.  She enjoyed the time she spent with them, all
together and teaming up for patrols or games.  However, and this was
a big however, she had no intention of becoming the prize in
whatever invisible rivalry they'd set.  After she'd yelled at them
a few months back during that incident with Brod, they had behaved
themselves.  The forced isolation of the past nights had brought
much of the competition back, unfortunately, though on a subtler
scale than before.  Instead of openly vying for time with her, they
were spending time doing things she might like to do, so that if she
chose to, say, be reading in the library, she'd already find
Broadway there poring over a book.
       The difference wasn't entirely on their behalf, either.  She
saw through their new game as easily as she'd seen through the old
one.  This time she was playing it, too.
       For no reason, she'd say something out of the blue that she
*knew* would get a reaction from whichever of the young males she
was near, then act as if she didn't know what she'd said.  She
couldn't say why she was doing it.  Something inside of her pushed
her insistently towards something she was not entirely certain she
wanted, but was drawn to nonetheless.
       It was nearing the time to take a mate.
       She'd been avoiding the thought for so long, to hear it stated
so clearly in her own mind shook her.  She perched on the ruin of
the stairway and pondered what to do about it.
       Each of the three was wonderful in his own way.  Lex was
brilliant, and had an air of wonder always about him that she found
endearing.  On the other hand, although she had no doubts that he
liked her, she was certain he was far more in love with his laptop
than he would ever be with another living being.
       Brooklyn, she knew, would always put her first, should she so ask
him.  He was smart, in a different way, brave as anyone she'd ever
known, and steadied his impulsive nature with a level head.  In other
words, he was a perfect second in command.  But he had also been in
love with Maggie, and still might be, considering the way he tried not
to look at her when they visited the Labyrinth.  He was in love with
being in love.
       Then there was Broadway.  He had the same kind of innocence Lex
did, matched with the courage and steadiness that made Brooklyn a
leader.  He was more thoughtful than the others, but more joyful as
well.  Just before the craziness of the Hunter's Moon, there had
been a lunar eclipse, and he'd watched it with all the enchantment
of a hatchling.  He wasn't what she'd considered handsome when she'd
been on Avalon; his body was too round, his face too plain.  Nothing
at all like Gabriel, except in the ways that mattered most of all.
       She loved Gabriel.  She had always loved Gabriel, since they'd
been children, maybe since they'd hatched.  He had been there for
her every night of her life, ever by her side, ready to take her
hand while they glided, or dive head first into the sea to come up
spraying salt water and laughing, always laughing.  Yet he would
never leave Avalon, and she could never really go back.  Not after
having tasted what the World offered.  To do so would be to condemn
herself to a slow death.
       For a moment, she understood Puck.
       She needed to go back home, but this *was* home, wasn't it?
       There was a noise behind her.  She spun, damning herself for
not having paid closer attention to the here and now rather than the
past.  She snarled!  She would not be caught ...
       "Whoa!" said Bluestone, tripping backwards in surprise.
"Whatever I did, I apologize!"
       Adrenaline still pushing her system to maximum, she clenched
her fists, slowly gathering herself together.
       "Sorry, Matt.  You startled me."
       "What are you doing here?  It's not safe for you to stay around
the old haunts right now."
       "This isn't my old haunt!" she snapped.  He folded his arms and
raised an eyebrow.  Shame hit her once more.  "Sorry.  Again."
       "You're in a mood tonight.  Care to talk about it?"
       "No."  How could she make him understand what was wrong, when
she was having such trouble defining it for herself?  "But thanks.
I think I just needed a little time alone."
       "Alone, or away from the Trio?"
       "It's that obvious?"
       He shrugged.  "I'm a detective.  It's my job to notice things."
       "Mmm.  So what are you noticing right now?"
       He put on an investigative expression, looked her from head to toe
and back again.  "You're debating to yourself whether you'd like a
computer geek, a cook, or your father's second in command as a
boyfriend, and the cook is an early favorite."
       She stared at him.  "How did you know that?"
       "Which part?  Angela, you're the only non-psychotic female
gargoyle in the city.  If you're spending your nights away from the
rest of the clan, it's probably because you're trying to figure out
which one you want to spend all your nights with.  Broadway fed you
waffles this evening.  Elisa told me once that you love waffles.  If you
let him make your favorite meal without objecting, he's got to be pretty
high on the list."
       She hesitated.  "All right.  But how did you know about the
waffles?"
       "You have a small spot of syrup on ... ummmm ... "  He gestured.
She looked down at her clothing.
       "Oh."  She brushed at it, realized it wasn't going to come off
easily.  She'd been around the Trio half the night; why hadn't one
of them pointed it out?
       "So am I right?"
       She nodded.  "I wish I knew how to handle this.  Things were
different on Avalon."
       "You're not in Kansas anymore," he intoned.  She stared at him
blankly.  "Never mind."
       She looked at him, trying to see him again for the first time.
"You're male."
       "The last time I checked, yeah."
       "How do you think I should handle the situation?  I can't keep
putting them off forever."
       "Um .. Angela, I'm probably the wrong person to ask.  I'm not
even your species."
       "I was raised by humans.  My father is in love with a human."
       "But the guys weren't and aren't.  They have different ideas
about what ... things mean."
       She pleaded with him.  "Who else do I have to ask?  I can't talk
with the three of them, not yet.  Father gets flustered every time the
subject comes up."  She half-smiled.  "Sometimes I wonder how my
egg was ever laid."  He said nothing but smiled in return.  "Elisa has
helped a lot, but she's just learning, too.  I can't imagine asking Hudson,
and that leaves who?  Bronx?  Xanatos?  Owen?"
       He sighed.  "I wish I could help."
       Her lingering half-smile faded.  He was right.  She was going
to have to deal with this herself.  "I understand."  She changed the
subject.  "What are you doing up here, anyway?  You didn't come up
to listen to my love life."  She thought about it, and added, "And
aren't you and Elisa off tonight anyway?"
       "Yep.  I came in to get these."  She noticed the manila folder
in his hand for the first time.  "Then I wanted to come up here for
a few.  Just because.  If anyone asked, I came up to look for clues
in the bombing."
       "But the Hunters confessed to everything."
       "Yeah but we still don't know where Jon Canmore went.  The
Captain has ordered us to find him, whatever it takes."
       "Is that what you're working on?"
       "Not tonight."  He patted the file.  "I have most of these at home,
but I wanted to look at this one.  It's a personal investigation."
       "On what?"  Her curiosity was piqued.  Besides, she would do
almost anything to keep from having to go back to the castle yet.
       "Well ...  "  He looked uncomfortable.
       "I won't laugh," she promised solemnly.
       "Last year, before I met the clan, I worked on a homicide
investigation.  Unofficially.  The guy had been ripped apart.  It was
grisly, but it reminded me of another case I'd come across in the back
files.  I did a little digging, and found a pattern of serial murders
stemming from the 1970's.  I didn't know what to make of it, so I put
together the pieces I did have."
       "You thought it was the clan."
       He nodded.  "I thought it was the clan, working for the Illuminati.  I
even brought in an old friend of mine from the Bureau to help, but he
and his partner dropped the case a few days later.  He never gave me a
reason why.  Then I met the clan, and I knew it wasn't them.  I shelved
the investigation, but sometimes I bring it back out when something
new turns up."
       "So what ... ?  The Hunters.  And my mother."
       He shrugged again.  "Not to put too fine a point on it, but
Demona's more than psycho enough to do it, and she's been around a
lot longer than the rest of the clan."
       "How many murders have there been?"
       "Fifty-four.  I reopened my files in July when we found another
body."
       July.  Two months.  "My mother was imprisoned two months ago.
We had her locked up so she couldn't hurt anyone."
       "You're certain?"
       "Positive."  Part of her still ached at the memory of her mother's
betrayal.
       "Damn.  There goes that theory."
       "What else do you have?  Maybe I could help find your killer."
       "Thanks.  Don't take this the wrong way, but I doubt it.
Whoever he is, he's eluded us this long."
       "Please?"
       He sighed.  "All right.  Let me show you this file."
       He pulled out his flashlight, illuminating the ruins of the
clocktower.  He spread the file on the remains of what had once been
the television set, and pulled out a black and white photograph.
       "Meet Eric Schnelton.  Or what's left of him, anyway."  She
swallowed deeply and listened.  "Don't feel too sorry for him.  We
have him linked to two murders of his own, both teenaged girls.  The
investigating officers wrote this one off.  Hell, vigilante justice may be
ten shades of illegal, but when it hits scum like this, most of us aren't
going to go out of our way to hunt down the killer.  We have too many
other people preying on innocent citizens to spend resources on
catching people who are helping us."
       "Too bad that doesn't extend to gargoyles.  Especially since we
haven't killed any of your kind."
       "Elisa and I are working on that."
       "I know.  Go on."
       He turned back to the picture.  "See the facial wounds?"  She
nodded.  "That suggests it was personal.  Typically, murders
involving facial wounds have female victims.  The murderer punishes
them by stealing their beauty.  Since the victim was male, it could
mean his attacker was trying to make him suffer for killing those girls. 
The rest of his wounds," he pointed to a particularly gruesome area on
what had probably been the man's torso, "look like they were made by
parallel knives, maybe even claws.  Which was why I thought Goliath
might have done it.  Long before I met him," he added quickly.
       "If it was done by a knife or knives, it was *very* personal.
Shooting him would have been easier.  To use a knife, you have to
be right there, in intimate contact with the victim.  If the killer
didn't know Schnelton, he *had* to have known the teenagers."
       "Can't you find him from that?"
       "No.  Their families and friends are clear.  Besides, from what
I can tell, they had no contact with anyone who might have known the
other fifty-three victims.  For a while in the 80's there was a pattern
around someone in the D.A.'s office, but she was murdered, not by this
guy, and her murderer was gunned down in the investigation.  I don't
have a photo with me, but *he* had facial wounds like these.
       "I've been trying to see if I can form some kind of psychological
profile of the killer from the patterns of the various murders.  So far, all
I can tell you is that he's not a typical serial killer.  Normally, a serial
killer has no regard for human life, and doesn't see his victims as
people.  He has no remorse, because he isn't really hurting anyone who
matters in his mind. This guy *does* care.  He only kills criminals who
prey on the weak.  I think he might even have killed the last D.A.."
       He closed the file.
       She thought about it.  "It can't be my mother.  And it's not
Thailog.  It's not the clan."  She sighed.  "I wish I could be more
helpful."
       He smiled.  "But then again, if you were I'd be out of a job."
He yawned.  "I think I'm going to head home.  I want to look over
these a few times, and then I might actually get more than an hour's
sleep."
       "I should get back to the castle anyway.  Do you want a lift
home?"
       "I brought my car, but thanks."  She nodded.  "Be safe."
       "You, too."  She walked back out to the balcony, and with a
wave, jumped off the ledge, catching the breeze in her wings.
       She landed at the top of the highest tower of the castle and
paused, steeling herself to what awaited.  Then, she walked down the
stairs, slowly, wondering which of the boys she would encounter
first, and what she should say.  Should she be friendly?  Coy?
Casual?  Ignore them?  Perhaps she would simply ...
       She nearly plowed into Brooklyn.  He'd been sitting in the
middle of the darkened stairway; she hadn't even seen him until she
was practically stepping on him.
       "Hi, Brooklyn."  His head shot up, brought back to reality from
whatever musing had been entertaining him.
       "Oh, hi Angela."  His voice was friendly, but she couldn't help
noticing something else to it, something sad.
       "Is there something wrong?"
       "No.  Just thinking."
       "About what?"  ~You're doing it again,~ her conscience told her.
~You're playing.  That's not very nice.~
       "Nothing much."  His eyes remained cloudy for a moment longer,
then, like he'd taken off a party mask, or perhaps put one on for
the evening, his entire aspect changed while she watched.  There was
not a hint of flirtatiousness, nor of the longing she associated
with him, as he said, "Pondering the nature of the universe is all.
Would you tell me about Avalon?  You said you had fifteen rookery
sisters."  He smiled a rogue's grin, and for once, it wasn't
directed at her.
       "Yes I did."  She smiled back.  "I think you'd like some of
them, too."  So he'd changed his mind, finally, after months of
being told she wasn't interested in any of them.  Well, that did
make her problem a lot simpler.
       "Let's go downstairs.  I can tell everyone that way."  That would be
the test.  If he was still interested in her, there would be a
disappointment to her suggestion, however slight.  She saw none.  He'd
gotten over her.  She felt nothing but happiness for him.
       "Let's.  Lex won't be around, but I bet Broadway and Hudson
would like to hear."
       She knew her father had mentioned going to Elisa's later
tonight, but Lex was planning on staying in.  "Where's Lexington
gone?"
       Brooklyn snorted.  "According to Hudson, after we went out on
patrol, Xanatos offered Lex and Broadway jobs."
       "You must be joking."
       "Nope.  Broadway's going to be the night cook, when he's not
on patrol.  Lex is down on the forty-seventh floor.  The dragon only
knows what Xanatos wants him to do there."
       "Something with computers, probably.  I don't like it.  I can
accept his allowing us to live here, but offering us jobs?"
       "Yeah.  I know.  I think Lex does, too.  It won't be as big a
deal for Broadway.  He'd be in the kitchen anyway."
       She smiled unintentionally, thinking of her friend surrounded
by his pots and pans, a book sitting on the counter to read while
he waited for something to come to a boil.  The image was charming.
"He probably would."
       They reached the living room, where Hudson was already parked
in his favorite easy chair, his great fingers slowly turning the
delicate pages of a paperback novel.  "Lass, lad," he said amiably,
not looking up from his book.  "Anythin' interesting in the city
tonight?"
       "Quiet as death," she said.  The television was on, set to CNN,
but the volume was muted.  The newsperson moved her lips and cut to
pictures of an older human male.  Oh yes, he was running for
President.  Elisa had tried to explain the process to her: every
four years, her people chose a new leader, a king, who could be
elected again but only once.  It seemed like a short time to Angela,
until she recalled Princess Katharine's tales of the turbulence
surrounding the Scottish throne.  Given that, eight years was a
pretty long reign for a king.
       Brooklyn nudged her.  "Avalon."
       "Right."  They sat on the floor, and she began telling him
about her rookery siblings, especially her sisters.  Broadway came
in a few minutes later, and sat with them, listening.
       She wasn't certain how long she'd been talking, when she felt
rather than saw she was being watched by another.  She didn't stop
her story, this one about getting lost in the great forest with
Ophelia and Hippolyta, but turned her head just so.  Owen was in the
doorway, out of the light cast by Hudson's reading lamp, listening
as raptly as the boys were.
       Stories of home, she thought.  This is one thing that binds us,
the longing for what we once knew.  The place of her childhood had
also been the place of his, presuming he'd had one, and while
Broadway and Brooklyn had been raised within and above these same
walls, they too pined for the familiar, in their case the names of
the good people who'd raised her clutch.
       Something teased at her, a new thought undefined.  Last night,
she'd noticed a very peculiar reaction when she'd been talking about
her parents.  Making sure her audience was still listening well, she
said, "The arrow went high enough to be seen for miles away.  The
Guardian saw it," check, no effect, "and tracked us down.  I don't
know whether he was more angry at us for having gone off, or
relieved at finding us safe."
       "If ye'd tried that at Wyvern, we woulda tanned yer backsides
for it."
       "We know," said Brooklyn and Broadway together.  Angela
laughed; she hadn't heard many of their earlier exploits, but she
had heard enough.
       "We went back to the palace.  Princess Katharine fussed over
the three of us," check, nope, "to make sure we hadn't hurt
ourselves, then scolded us for making them worry so terribly."
       "So how much trouble did you get into?"
       "Not as much as we should have.  The three of us weren't
allowed to go out of the palace grounds for a month.  The Guardian
suggested we also be sent to roost without supper, but the Magus
said we were still growing, and that we'd learned our lessons well
enough."  Check.  Bingo.  Her observation was reinforced by the
sudden emptiness of the place Owen had been standing.
       Angela now had the pieces to a very intriguing puzzle.  She wasn't
sure what the final picture would be, but that's what made it fun.  She
glanced at her friends, wondering whom to trust with it, if either. 
Brooklyn would write it off as yet another reason not to trust the
humans and fays in the castle, and think no more about it.  Lex wouldn't
be interested; if she could define her observations in terms of variables
rather than emotions, maybe, but otherwise, it wasn't his cuppa. 
Broadway, on the other hand, loved mysteries.  Figuring out why
certain things she said made Owen distraught, while not perhaps as
fascinating as cracking a seventy-year-old theft, would still be more up
his alley than his brothers'.  She sent a smile his way, and did not notice
the well-disguised pain flickering across Brooklyn's face, and leaving
like it had never been.
       Goliath came in, saw them sitting on the floor.  "Where's
Lexington?"
       "Here."  Lex slipped neatly under Goliath's wing and parked
himself on the floor near them.  "You're not gonna *believe* this."
       "Xanatos offered you a job," said Angela.
       "What?!" asked her father.
       Lex shot a look at Hudson.  "You told."  Hudson shrugged and
set down his book.
       "A job?" asked Goliath.
       "Yeah.  He wants me to work with a research group down on 47.
Their last programmer moved to Oregon, and Xanatos thinks I can take
his place."
       "It's all on the level, I assure you," said the familiar voice
as Xanatos came to the doorway and rested against it comfortably.
       "We've heard that before."  Brooklyn.
       "Research," said Goliath, sounding displeased with the word.
Angela could sympathize.  It reminded her of her stay with Sevarius
at Loch Ness.  She shuddered.
       "It's okay," said Lex.  "They won't be testing on me.  I'll just be
writing some code for them."
       "Surely ye have other hirelings to do this 'code' for ye."
       "Certainly I do, and frankly, many of them are better at it than
Lexington is."  Lex frowned.  "However, this particular group has never
been chosen entirely on what they know.  Programming languages can
be learned.  Fresh ideas are something else entirely. The people in this
group have been hand-picked from my various companies for their
ability to research creatively.  I already have people who can design
engines based on current models.  I want people who can look at a bat
and design an entirely new kind of airplane.  They make their own
hours, and," he added with a smirk, "they have little enough contact
with the outside world that when I introduced Lexington to some of
them this evening, they thought he was a Vulcan."
       "It looks like a really cool place," said Lex, more than a
little excitement in his voice.  "And the project I'll be working
on sounds like a breeze."
       "He'll of course be paid well for his time.  Owen's already set
up a Social Security number for him.  Think of it this way.  The
public fears gargoyles on a variety of levels.  Perhaps they'll
accept you a little more when you become tax-paying citizens."
       Goliath still looked unsure, while Lex tried to stay calm.  She
could see his eagerness, camouflaged as it was.  Unless Goliath said
a definite no, he'd probably take it.  Goliath didn't look like he was
about to say no.
       Goliath ... was supposed to be at Elisa's tonight.  Maybe he'd go
later, she thought.  It was nearing dawn; he'd have to be going soon if
he was.  She forgot the thought completely as Broadway opened his
mouth and announced his own employment opportunity, and the
discussion turned to other things.

***

       He wasn't going to come.  Elisa watched the growing light on the
horizon with an ache she could not express.  He had said he would
come, spend the day at her place so he could be there when Derek and
Maggie dropped by.
       It was her own damned fault.
       Why hadn't she been able to say anything?  The moment had come,
the one she'd been dreaming of for ages, truth be told.  And she'd
frozen, then brushed it off like just another line.
       ~I gotta go?  Sheesh.  Brilliant one there, Maza, real smooth.
For your next trick, you can tell him you're going to wash your
hair.~
       He'd scared her, really scared her.  She'd been all safe and
warm and fuzzy with this new relationship, and then he'd changed the
rules.  No one had told her he could do that.  It wasn't fair.  If
he were going to say he loved her, he ought to have given her fair
warning, let her prepare something.
       Prepare something?  Now she was sounding like some high
schooler on the debate team.  ~The opposition has claimed love, Ms.
Maza.  What is your rebuttal?  I'd like to take this opportunity to
say ...  What?~
       She mouthed the words, couldn't put sound to them.
       She'd spent a few hours in the Labyrinth this evening, first talking
with Maggie, convincing her to talk to her parents.  Afterwards, she'd
played with the clones.  They had liked the toys, which made her
happier than she would let on.  Funny, now that the clan was back at
Wyvern, she had no more reason to buy them things, so she would buy
them for their clones instead.  That was different, though.  They were,
as Maggie said, kids in grownup bodies.  It was easy to want to spoil
them.
       Wasn't there a little more, though?  C'mon, Maza, admit it.  You
know you'll have to sooner or later.
       Delilah.  Her ... daughter?  Sister?  Hell, competition?  The
clone wore her face, spoke with her voice, even had her taste in
clothing.  Sorta.  At the same time, she had wings, and a tail, and
was visibly in a thousand ways not human.  Elisa didn't know what to
do about her.  She regretted having pushed Goliath into thinking of
Thailog as his son; did she dare even consider Delilah to be her own
child?  If so, she ought to spend more time with her, maybe teach
her a few things.  But Maggie and Derek had been the primary
care givers for the kids, and her assistance might not be taken the
right way.  So she should stay away.
       And lose the only child she could have.
       She had considered the thought thoroughly, and had come to the
conclusion that she didn't need a baby to feel fulfilled in her life.  She
had her friends, she had her career, she had someone who said he loved
her, and hell, if she wanted to get technical, she had Angela as well. 
She was fully prepared to spoil Derek's and Beth's children, and then
enjoy the ultimate luxury of the childless: giving them back.  Goliath
had said more than once that all the clan's children belonged to the
whole clan, so theoretically, if there were any eggs, they would be hers,
too.  Given all this, she felt no overwhelming need to add to the world's
population.
       At the same time, her DNA had already been pulled from her
body, merged with Demona's, and been given life in the form of a
very confused clone.  The child was already there, even if she
looked like an adult.  The next question became, what to do about
her?  Try to be a mother?  Try to be a friend?  Try to get custody
before Demona got any bright ideas?
       She heard wings.
       He landed on the roof, a few feet away.  He'd cut it close,
almost too close.  The sun would be up in minutes.
       "I was worried about you."
       "I was detained at the castle.  Xanatos has offered Lexington
and Broadway jobs."
       She nodded, not really understanding, but noting it was too
close to sunup to debate the issue.
       "I'm glad you came," she said.  His face lit.  She steeled
herself, opened her mouth, and again, the wrong thing came out: "I
guess you'll stay up here today, huh?"
       "I suppose I will."  Disappointment covered him like a shroud,
making her long to take it away.
       "Goliath, I ... " The sun peeked over the edge of the sky,
freezing him in a less-than frightening pose.  "I'm sorry," she
said, and with a brush of her hand against his solid face, she went
inside to bed.

***

       At exactly eight pm, there was a knock at her door.  They were
nothing if not prompt.  Elisa shooed Maggie and Derek into her
bedroom, and motioned for her father to stop pacing.  Then, ignoring
her own nervous pulse, she walked calmly to the door and peeked
through the peephole.  Sure enough, the Reeds waited outside.  She
unlocked the door, took a quick breath, and opened it.
       "I'm glad you could come."
       "It's about our daughter.  Of course we came."  Mr. Reed's face
and voice were stern, but Elisa made herself believe that there was
some hint of worry to it.
       "Please come inside."  When Mrs. Reed caught sight of her
parents waiting in the living room, she shrank a little against her
husband.  "Mr. and Mrs. Reed, I'd like you to meet my family.  These
are my parents, Peter and Diane Maza, and this is my sister, Beth."
Mom and Dad wore careful smiles, Beth a larger one.  "Everyone,
these are James and Elinor Reed."
       "Hello," said Mrs. Reed in a tiny voice.
       "Detective Maza, you said you had information about Maggie." 
Any imagined warmth was gone from his tone.  His eyes were flat,
guarded, and he'd taken an aggressive stance.  Elisa's heart sank.  She
wasn't afraid; she was fairly sure she could take him in a fight, and if
she couldn't, Derek or Goliath, who was sitting quietly outside on the
balcony, certainly could.
       "I do.  I know where she is."
       Mrs. Reed's head shot up, and her face filled with light, hope,
fear.  "Oh my god.  Is she all right?"
       "Where is she?!"
       There was a rustle from the bedroom.  "Close your eyes.
Please."
       "No."  Mrs. Reed's eyes were already shut.  Mr. Reed stared
resolutely at her.
       "It'll be easier if you do."
       "No," he repeated.
       "Jimmy, please."  He looked over at her.  To Elisa, she looked
like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting for the best present to be
opened.  He gave a warning look to Dad, then closed his own eyes.
       Maggie moved like a wraith from the bedroom, Derek a few steps
behind her.  He paused to stand between Mom and Dad, while she came
to the step by the door.
       "Open your eyes slowly," said Elisa.
       "Mom?" said Maggie.  Against orders, both sets of eyes snapped
open.  Mrs. Reed saw her daughter, and her mouth fell wide.  She
began to make gasping noises.  Mr. Reed whirled to Elisa.
       "What is the meaning of this?!"
       "Dad, it's me."
       Mrs. Reed breathed, "Maggie?"  Maggie nodded.  She held her
hands out, and her mother stared down at the sharp claws.  Then she
placed her own in them, feeling around the pads, and finally, she
raised her eyes to her daughter's.  "What happened?"
       "Remember that dream job I had with Gen-U-Tech?  A few things
weren't in the job description."  Mr. Reed stared at her, not speaking.  "I
wasn't the only one changed.  We were all fooled, first into joining,
then into thinking they would change us back."  She gestured over to
Derek.  Hesitantly, he moved to stand beside her.  Mrs. Reed took a
step back, probably in fear; Mr. Reed maintained his silent appraisal.
       "This is Derek Maza, Elisa's brother."  He bowed at the neck,
which unfortunately also gave a superb view of the corded muscles
there.  This did not help Elinor Reed's presence of mind.  "He was
changed shortly after I was.  There are two others like us, but we
figured two would be enough for you to see tonight."  Besides, Elisa
added to herself, one was incarcerated, and the other was clone-
sitting.
       "It's good to finally meet you," said Derek.  He held out a
large paw to Mr. Reed, who looked as if it were diseased.  Maybe he
thought it was.  After a second, Derek pulled the hand reluctantly
back and drummed his fingers nervously against his leg.
       Elisa chimed in, "We don't we all move into the living room and
get acquainted?"
       Maggie sat down on the couch with her mother, while Elisa and
Beth grabbed the stools from the bar.  Derek stayed near enough to
Maggie to make his presence felt, but far enough away to not
intimidate her parents as much.  Maggie's father remained standing
behind the couch.  Mom took the chair, Beth the floor, leaving the
stools for her and Dad.  She perched on the edge of her seat,
angling just enough to glance out the window now and then.
       She remembered suddenly that this was *her* apartment, and that
she, by rights, was the hostess.  "Would anyone like something to
drink?  I've got lemonade, soda, and I can put on the kettle for tea
or coffee."  Beth sprang up to help her in the kitchen, leaving the
parents and the couple to their own devices for a few minutes.
       Maggie began telling her mother an edited version of what had
happened, not mentioning that she'd been homeless when Sevarius had
approached her, and keeping all references to the gargoyles out of
it.  She must have been planning this for a while, because the story
was flawless.  Elisa remembered Elinor Reed mentioning that her
daughter wanted to be an actress.
       She and Beth silently handed out the drinks to everyone as
Maggie related how they'd finally discovered it had been Xanatos who
had tricked them, and not Elisa.  There was a large amount of
bitterness towards the man expressed in her few words.  Elisa had
felt the same way, but was now in the uncomfortable position of
having to be grateful to him.  She sipped her coffee, and smiled as
Cagney jumped into her mother's lap.
       "Since then," Maggie said, "we've been living in some abandoned
tunnels beneath the city.  They're warm, and they're safe for the
people who come down there to live.  It's not paradise.  We've had
a few problems.  Fang got power-hungry and tried to take over, and
if it hadn't been for our friends, he would have succeeded.  But
now, things have settled down to a dull roar.  Derek and I have been
teaching some children how to read, and that's been a full-time
job."  Derek rested his hand against her shoulder and squeezed,
eliciting a smile from her.
       "They're a handful," he said, "but they're good kids.  They
just need a little guidance now and then."
       "That reminds me," she replied.  "We need to have another talk
with Brent about not taking things apart that he can't put back
together."
       Derek sighed.  "The radio?"
       "Good guess."
       Mr. Reed, whose only word in the past ten minutes had been
"No," cleared his throat.  "How do we change you back?"
       "I really don't know," said Maggie.  "Sevarius is more slippery
than soap on oil, and I refuse to trust Xanatos ever again."  She
looked at Elisa, who could only watch back.
       He muttered, "There's no way we're going to get you on a plane
like this.  We're going to have to rent a car."
       "What do you mean?" asked Maggie.
       "When we take you home."
       She looked at him, disbelief in her eyes.  "Dad, this is my home." 
She placed a hand atop Derek's, which made Mr. Reed's frown deeper.
       "You live in a sewer and you call it home?"
       "It's not a sewer.  It used to be a research facility for one of the big
companies in town."  So it did, Elisa remembered suddenly.  She
wondered if Renard would be interested in cracking this particular
problem.  Then she thought about Preston Vogel, and reconsidered. 
She didn't completely trust Renard, but at least he had principles.  The
same applied to Xanatos and Fox, and even Owen, though to whom
*he* owed ultimate allegiance was anyone's guess. Vogel, on the other
hand, was the closest thing she'd ever met to someone without a soul. 
Oh, he had a conscience, and loyalty when he chose, but without the
inconvenience of any emotional attachment to either.  He would really
be in charge of the project, if there was one, and there was no way she
would let him within a mile of the Mutates.  Not even Fang.
       "That's not the point, and you know it.  You've had your fun
in the city, and look what it cost you.  It's time to come back
home."
       "I'm not going," she said.  "My place is here.  I'm *needed*
here, for the kids and my friends.  Besides, if there's ever going
to be a cure, it'll be found in New York, not Cuyahoga Falls."  She
glanced over.  "And maybe most importantly, I'm not going to go
anywhere without Derek, and I know he's staying.  So I'm staying."
       "I see," said Mr. Reed.  Mrs. Reed settled apprehensively back
into the couch, her eyes now on Derek.  She wasn't the only one;
this was the moment.
       "That's why we're here tonight," said Dad.  "When we found out
about Derek, it was a shock, but it was easier knowing that he
wasn't facing this alone."
       Mom continued.  "Since then, Maggie's been like another daughter
to us.  It's not a perfect arrangement, and won't be until they're cured. 
At least for now, they're happy.  That's what matters."  Mom looked at
Derek and Maggie with affection, and offered a glance to Elisa.  Then
she nodded her head, answering the unspoken question between them. 
Elisa felt a part of herself unclench that she hadn't even realized was
bundled with nerves.  In that one glance, Mom had spoken volumes, not
only about Maggie, but also about Goliath.
       Derek said, "In a funny way, this may have been the best thing
that ever happened to me.  If I hadn't undergone the change, I never
would have met Maggie, and my life would have been unbelievably
poorer."  She smiled up at him.  Mrs. Reed shuddered.
       "That's very sweet," said Mr. Reed with blistering sarcasm.  "I can't
describe how glad I am that my daughter was turned into a freak so you
could be happy."
       The temperature in the room dropped a good fifteen degrees.
       Dad was the first to speak.  "There's no need to treat either of the
kids that way.  They couldn't prevent their transformation, and they're
doing their best to live with it."
       Mr. Reed turned to him slowly, deliberately.  "Forgive me if I
don't share your enthusiasm.  What would you say if *your* daughter
disappeared for months on end, only to show up out of the blue and
announce she was in love with a six-foot tall winged monster?!"
       Beth choked on an ill-timed sip of lemonade, and as Elisa
thwapped her on the back, she thought her father had actually handled it
pretty well; Mom had been the one to throw a fit.  Derek's eyes, shining
with tears of stifled laughter, were on Dad, and when Beth could
breathe again, the two of them also fixed him with expectant gazes. 
Elisa knew Derek wouldn't say a word, but she prayed Beth had enough
sense to keep quiet.
       Their father looked from Mr. Reed to each of his children in
turn, his sight finally resting on Elisa.  "I'm going to be held
later to whatever I say now, aren't I?"  Three nods.  Mom sat back
in her own chair, waiting.  "I would tell her that I was happy for
her, and that I was glad she'd finally found someone special, and
that I will love her no matter whom she loves."
       Elisa made herself *not* look at the window.  Looking at the
window would be bad.  Looking at the window might push her father
just a little too far under the circumstances.  Instead she remained
outwardly very calm, her face not betraying how her heart flew at
his words.
       Beth looked up from her seat, her own eyes alight, letting her
sister know she wasn't the only one who'd been awaiting approval.
Elisa was beginning to understand a great many things.
       The same couldn't be said for Mr. Reed.  He folded his arms.
"Well, isn't that enlightened?"
       Dad was beginning to lose his patience.  Elisa hadn't seen him
really go off since she'd been very young, even before Beth had been
born.  They'd lived in an apartment then.  Most of the people living
in their building had been nice, at least to her small eyes, but
some hadn't.
       She remembered seeing spray paint on the door early one morning.
She hadn't been old enough to read, hadn't any idea what had been on
their door, but she *had* been old enough to remember how angry her
father had been, and she could still recall how dark his face was
when he'd thrown the teenaged boys responsible against a wall of the
building.  He hadn't been a cop then, just a security guard.  It
wasn't until afterwards that he began talking about doing something
more, started studying for the academy.  That day, he had merely
been a man protecting his family, and she'd gotten scared enough to
start crying around him for nearly a year after the incident.
       He hadn't grown that angry since, at least in front of her or
her siblings.  She'd hoped never to see it again.  ~Coyote,~ she
thought to him, ~you are part of Coyote.  He can't touch you as long
as you remember that.~
       She watched him clench and release his fists, saw the tension
pass out of him as he did.
       "Mr. Reed," he said quietly.  "I realize this is hard for you to
accept.  It was equally difficult for us when Derek finally told us, after
having been gone for so long.  But we got past it.  He's our son, and
Maggie is your daughter.  They've decided to make the best of what
they have, and they've decided to do it together.  We don't have to like
what's been done.  Hell, it keeps me awake at night, wondering what's
going to become of them, of the rest of us through them."
       "Then why don't you *do* something about it?  You said this
Xanatos fellow was behind it?  Demand he do something, and if he
doesn't, we'll sue him."
       Uh oh.  Now there was an option she really didn't want Derek
considering.  While it would feel good to finally get Xanatos back
for the past two and a half years, she couldn't afford it.  The
gargoyles had nowhere else to go, and if her family pushed him
enough, she would find herself in a very uncomfortable middle
ground.
       And maybe Dad knew that.  "We can't.  The kids don't trust him
enough to find a cure, and if we bring them into a spotlight, they're
going to get burned badly."
       "So you don't have hope for a cure."  He turned to Maggie.  "Then
you have no reason to stay in New York.  You're coming home."
       "We went over this already, Dad.  I'm staying here."
       "Margaret ... "
       "Maggie, please do as your father says."  Her mother's voice was
pleading.  The peacemaker, thought Elisa.  She's the one to smooth over
things so that they don't have to look at them.  They really should meet
the Xanatos family.  They could compare dysfunctionalities.
       "No, Mom.  I'm staying here.  With Derek."
       "You heard her, Elinor.  She wants to stay here.  She prefers
the company of freaks.  She always has.  Fine."
       He grabbed his wife's arm, more strongly than was necessary,
and pulled her to her feet.  "We're leaving.  Maggie, if you aren't
with us by the time we reach the door, you can forget ever hearing
from us again."  He shook his free hand at her.  "You don't call,
you don't write.  As far as we're concerned, you will have dropped
off the earth.  If you'd rather associate with these *people* ..."
Mr. Reed imbued the word "people" with a kind of distastefulness
Elisa typically reserved for murderers, child molesters and
telemarketers.  " ... you don't need to bother looking us up."
       Maggie stood.  Mr. Reed smiled thinly.  Then she said, "Don't
let the door hit you on your way out."
       He lost his smile.  He turned away from her towards the door.
"Margaret, I'm giving you one last chance.  Come home now."
       "Get out."
       Without another word, he walked out the door.  Mrs. Reed paused
a moment, looking back at her daughter beseechingly.  "Maggie ... "
       "Goodbye, Mom."
       The woman nodded, dropping her eyes from her daughter's, and
followed her husband out the door, closing it gently behind her.
       Maggie watched them go, then carefully sat down on the couch
again, trembling.  Derek slipped his hands to her shoulders, and
when he found no resistance, the rest of the way around her.  For
several long moments, he held her like that.
       "Maggie," said Mom in a quiet voice, "you will always be
welcome in our family.  You are our daughter, too."
       Maggie raised her head, and offered a smile to her, brighter
than Elisa could have thought she'd be able to right now.
       "I know," she said, and she turned to Derek as she repeated,
"I know."
       "Does that extend to *all* the in-laws?"
       "Beth ... " Elisa warned.
       Beth folded her arms expectantly.  Her mother looked at her in
puzzlement.  "Why wouldn't it?"
       "No reason," she said.  "No reason at all."  Before Elisa could
ask, she got up and sat on the couch next to Maggie.

***

       A key turned in the lock.  Sarah remained in her seat on the
couch, but tensed to stand if she needed.  Since the rest of the
family had left, she'd alternated between reading over her
International Studies text and pacing the floor like a caged
panther.
       It was family business.  It involved Derek, whom she still
hadn't met.  She couldn't ask to go with them, with Beth.  There
were secrets here, abounding, and the pieces she had simply didn't
fit together.  Beth didn't trust her with the information she needed
to solve the puzzle, and she wasn't going to tell her parents what
they needed to know about her.
       Love was supposed to be about trust, wasn't it?  Trust and
commitment and letting the other one inside when you were hurting,
that was what she'd thought.
       Maybe Brook had been right about letting go.
       The door opened after a few seconds.  Peter and Diane came
through first, both pairs of eyes searching for then locking onto
her.  Beth came in afterwards, radiating nervous energy.
       She'd told.
       Sarah stood up and prepared for the worst.
       "Hello, Sarah," said Beth's mother.  "Have you eaten yet?"
       "Yeah.  I fixed a salad."
       "Good."  Her tone was strained.  This was not going to be
pretty.
       "Sarah," said Beth's father, "Beth told us about you on the way
home."
       "We were a little surprised," said Beth's mother.  "You're not
quite what we expected."
       "I can imagine," she said quietly.  At least they would be
polite when they kicked her out.
       "This is going to sound odd, but we have a few questions for
you," said Beth's father.
       ~Here it comes.~
       Beth's mother asked, "You don't have a pair of wings hidden
under your sweater, do you?"
       "Ummmm ...  No."  She looked at Beth in horrible confusion.
What the hell?
       "It's all right," said Beth.  "Just answer them truthfully."
       "Right."
       Beth's father asked, "At the full moon, do you get a craving
for red meat and start howling?"
       "I'm a vegetarian and no."
       Beth's mother asked, "We've seen you awake during the day, but
do you have an aversion to sunlight or garlic?"
       "No."
       "Do crosses make you blanch in fear?"
       "I'm a Buddhist.  No."
       "Do you have a secret identity?"
       "No."
       "Can you shoot electricity from your hands?"
       "No."
       "Does the name Sevarius mean anything to you?"
       "No."
       "What about Oberon?"
       "That's the guy from 'Midsummer,' right?"
       "Are you allergic to iron?"
       "Beth ... "  This was getting weird.
       "She's not allergic to iron, or garlic.  She won't transform
into anything.  She doesn't have any extra DNA floating around in
her system.  She's a perfectly normal human being."
       Beth's parents looked at one another.
       "Human," said Beth's mother.
       "We can introduce her to your relatives," said Beth's father.
       "Family reunions!" said Beth's mother, clapping her hands
together.
       "We can introduce the *grandkids* to your relatives," responded
Beth's father.
       As one, they turned to her, wide smiles on both faces.
       "Welcome to the family," said Beth's mother, drawing her into
a hug.  When she finally let go, Beth's father took her hand into
both of his and shook it heartily.
       When the parents released her, Beth gave her a long hug.
       "One of these days, you're going to explain what all that was
about, right?"
       "One of these days."

***

       Elisa and Goliath sat on the roof of her apartment, watching
the sky.  She lived too near the street to see any stars usually,
and even if she could, it was getting cloudy.  Stormy weather, she
thought, inside and out.
       Once Maggie had recovered from her case of the shakes, she'd
been okay.  She wasn't as upset by the idea of her parents' leaving
her as Elisa would have been.  She had already let go.  Elisa felt
horribly guilty at having made her go through the ordeal tonight;
she had pushed her into it, and now Maggie's parents were gone for
good, without finding out they were going to be grandparents in less
than a year.
       Hopefully.
       Her own parents had taken the news the same way she had,
excited on the inside, mindful of Maggie and Derek's feelings
outwardly.  She knew they had become aware lately that the
possibility of grandchildren was getting more remote by the day,
even more so if what she thought she'd seen in Beth's eyes was the
truth.  The notion that perhaps they might beat fate just this once,
with a child who would be special no matter what his or her species
turned out to be, had to be impossibly attractive to them.
       Derek had already come up with a few names, and had shared
them.  Elisa had suggested Charles, as their way of saying "Up
yours, Darwin."  Beth suggested Esmeralda.  Dad liked Lia.  Mom
hadn't said anything, but they knew she'd prefer Darren, after her
own father.  Maggie said they would wait until after the baby was
born, and that ended the discussion.
       A midwife lived in the Labyrinth, Ruth.  Maggie was going to
spend what free time she had with her, seeing what could be done to
make the next several months bearable.  No one suggested what *had*
to be on everyone's mind, that Maggie really needed to be under the
care of the best doctors in the city.  Natural birthing methods were
great for humans, but for the time being, Maggie was not human, and
her child possibly less so.  The more high-tech her care was, the
more likely both would survive.  The only way to even consider that
would be to approach Xanatos, and that Derek would not do as long as
he lived.
       Despite all this, despite the double-edged joy, even despite
the fact that Maggie had just lost her last ties to her life before
her change, Elisa could not remember a time when she'd seen her
brother's girlfriend so happy, and her own family happy with her.
       Their world was moving onwards, with the same inexorable march
that marked the lives of every other family that had ever gathered
in a living room, or around a fire.  Her parents had accepted their
children for who they were, and with them, the ones their children
had come to love.  Elisa felt a sudden pity for the Reeds.  They
would never know what their grandchild would be like, never be able
to take joy from seeing their daughter in love.  By denying Maggie,
they had denied themselves the kind of vicarious happiness that came
from knowing someone beloved to them was herself happy, for better
or worse.
       She turned her head.  Goliath rested his own head on the
brickwork of the wall, his eyes closed.  He wasn't asleep,
naturally, just resting, content to be with her, no matter what he
must think about what surely seemed her refusal of him.  She studied
him in the dim light from her apartment.  There had been times
during their long voyage that she'd considered his countenance as
he'd slept, finding him stately, noble.  When he'd rested during the
day, it had been as a god in quiet contemplation.  He was beautiful,
beyond her capacity for expression.  She had tried to frame the
words once, so that he would understand what he was to her, how even
his imperfections made him more wonderful in her eyes.  She'd
failed, miserably, had stopped before she'd said something dumb,
then wished she'd been able to say it anyway.
       But really, couldn't she wrap everything up into one phrase?
       "I love you, too."
       He stiffened against her, his eyes opening.  Then she saw an
ache in them he'd hidden earlier.  "You do not have to say that.  I
should not have pushed you.  I am sorry."
       She arched her eyebrow at him.  "I don't say things I don't mean. 
Sometimes I have problems saying the things I do."  She moved
herself, so that her shoulder was against the wall, and cricked her
neck up at him.  "I asked you if you knew how I felt about you.  And
you did."  She smiled, her chest tight with emotion.
       "I always will.  You do not have to tell me."
       "Yes.  I do."  She willed him to understand, that she couldn't
say it because she'd known too many people who'd said it without
meaning it, that she was afraid of cheapening the feelings she had
for him by using words that were to often spoken casually and tossed
aside.  She wanted him to know she could only say the words when
they rang true to the center of her soul, as they did now.
       It seemed he understood.  He tilted his head forward, to rest his
head lightly to hers and place his mouth at her cheek.  She turned her
head and met his lips, touching them with her own before pressing into
them, parting her mouth, tasting the sweet tang of his breath.
       The kiss on the castle had been quick, an unfamiliar first
movement into something new and wonderful.  In her dreams, she'd
locked her mouth on his in a passionate intensity electrifying her soul. 
This was neither.  It was soft, tender, fumbling in a way which bespoke
the dearth of kisses he'd given before, but also filled with silver
promises of what could be, would be if only they dared.  When they
finally stopped the touch, it was less a breaking than a motion from
comfort to comfort, as she lay her head against him once more.
       There would be nothing else tonight, though she felt a growing
hunger within her that would only be satisfied with further touches,
further kisses, and embraces lasting not quiet moments, but long
intense hours.  Tonight wasn't for that.  Tonight was for being with
him, near him, listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear, watching
the shapes in the almost-seen stars.
       The time would come for everything else.  Soon.

***