MORE THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH by Constance Cochran ccochran@barnard.columbia.edu ---------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: The Gargoyles and Gargoyles characters are property of Buena Vista Television/ Disney. The Ghostbusters and related paraphernalia are owned by Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc., copyright 1984 and 1989 for the movies "Ghostbusters" and "Ghostbusters II." The animated TV show "The Real Ghostbusters" is owned by Columbia Pictures Television, based on characters created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. Keep in mind that the ghostbusters in this fan fiction cross-over piece are derived from both the movies and the animated TV series. If you've seen only one or the other, this should make sense; if you've seen both, it will make even more sense. For the purposes of this story, I have conveniently omitted the characters of Dana Barrett, Lewis Tully, and Slimer. (Although I love to picture what would happen if Slimer met Bronx -- then Frank Welker could talk to himself and give Jeff Bennett and Kath Soucie a break). Please note that I came up with the idea for this story months ago, and that the bulk of it was written before "Vendettas" aired. However, I decided to post this anyway, and am going to pretend I didn't see "Vendettas." Just think of this as another way events COULD have happened. A few minor changes were made to allow for "The Gathering," and one small change, sort of forshadowing after-the-fact, for character developments in "Hunter's Moon." Time frame: between "Turf" and "The Reckoning." A tip of the wing to Merlin Missy, who planted the idea of doing a cross-over piece in my head (although this is no where near the scale of All Through the Night.) Many thanks to Batya Levin for her editorial insight and encouragement -- and for listening. Okay, enough preliminaries. Here it is -- hope you enjoy it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Janine (to Winston Zeddemore, during his interview): "Do you believe in UFO's, Astro-projection, Mental Telepathy, ESP, Clairvoyance, Spirit Photography, Telekinetic Movement, Full-Trance Mediums, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Theory of Atlantis?" Winston: "Uh...if there's a steady paycheck in it, I'll believe anything you say." -- from _Ghostbusters_ "...you need to know something about me. I don't care about UFO's, Loch Ness, or Secret Societies. Believe me, the world's strange enough as it is." -- Elisa Maza -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ****************** The forces were gathering. _Don't leave me here alone...not without anyone to hate..._ He would be able to free himself soon -- he could feel it. A trace of the Archmage's power was still left in the stones, and he had finally discovered how to absorb it, how to use it to escape from the cavern where he was a prisoner. A laugh echoed through the cave, as the rubble of the fallen temple and the very walls of the cavern began to glow with a hollow, sickly, luminous green light. The light intensified. He could feel himself melting up out of the slab that was his prison, until he floated freely in mid-air, the rocky wall of the cave visible right through him. For a moment the transparent figure of Hakon flickered and sparked with the same green light that suffused the walls. Then the light faded, leaving only a washed-out, transparent version of himself, looking as he had on the day of his death a thousand years ago, wearing a red tunic, a dark cloak, and a sword, his blond hair falling over his shoulders. The first attempt to steal Goliath's life-force had failed. That idiot captain had betrayed him, and the temple was destroyed. But there were other ways to steal a soul's life. Hakon smiled to himself, his eyes narrowing. His image faded, leaving a faint wisp of green light in the air that soon dissipated. In the empty cavern, a voice reverberated softly: "And now, Goliath, it begins...and ends." ******************* It had been a quiet couple of days -- which was a relief after the craziness of that past fall and early winter. In addition to the usual work load, there had been the reports from New Jersey about a brilliant light shooting out from the top of the Twin Towers. Which, for once, had absolutely nothing to do with them or the containment unit. Why no one in New York City had bothered to report it, was also a complete mystery. Then came the complaints about that bizarre telecast -- the NYPD's 23rd precinct had actually broken down and condescended to ask for their advice about it. But the weird part was that he couldn't remember a darn thing about that night -- none of them could. A few days later some lady had turned up at the fire station claiming that everyone had turned to stone. She had seemed normal enough -- not the crackpot type at all, just a young, professional woman. They still hadn't figured out what it was all about. Other strange things had been happening as well -- like the night hundreds of New Yorkers fell asleep at the wheels of their cars, or while simply walking down the street. He and his date for the evening had awakened with one hundred other bewildered New Yorkers in a dark movie theater the next morning. A white square of light had flickered eerily on the movie screen because the projectionist had also fallen asleep and hand't removed the finished reel. No one had any recollection of why they hadn't just gone home when the film was over. And then there had been at least six more sightings of those unidentified winged creatures. Winston shook his head. Well, that was nothing new around here. He turned his attention back to the case report he was working on, chewing on the end of his pen. How in the world could he find the words to describe that...that thing at the Seaport? "Full-torsoed, free-floating apparition, transparent, approximately eight feet in height. Greenish, scaly skin, six arms, barnacles and salvage attached to its torso. Bagged at 9:46 PM on the night of..." Across the table, which was littered with papers and empty Chinese food cartons, Ray picked up a stack of completed reports and went over to the filing cabinet. Since Janine had started going to the university for her M.S., the guys had pitched in with the paperwork. Sooner or later they'd have to get around to hiring a new receptionist. It just wasn't fair to let Janine do a double job. On the other side of the big, high-ceilinged room, Egon was showing Janine how to use one of his new inventions. Janine had her own room upstairs now, but she still kept her apartment. "We can't _all_ live above the spooks year round," she'd said. "Someone around here as to keep sane." "No! You hit the MPC button after the image is fixed. You see, the way the electromagnetic field receptors function correlates to the..." "Egon, you're lecturing," Janine protested, in her distinctive New York accent. A small grin crossed Egon's long, thin face. "Sorry, habit." It had taken Egon long enough to admit how he felt about Janine, Winston thought. But she seemed to be good for him. Lately, he actually appeared to be developing a sense of humor. "Is it just me," Ray said, pulling open a file drawer, "or have things been a bit dull around here lately?" The tinny sound of canned laughter came from upstairs, where Peter was watching a sitcom. Because the air conditioner was on the fritz and no one had gotten around to fixing it yet, a big fan hummed in one corner on a chair. The door at the front of the station was open to the summer night, showing the glow of a streetlight and a patch of quiet pavement. Before Winston could answer Ray, the phone on Janine's desk bleeped twice in succession. Ray reached to answer it, but Janine, who had leapt from Egon's side after the first bleep, got there first. "Our first call in weeks!" She said exultantly, lifting the handset. "This one's mine. Ghostbusters," she said into the phone. "Really? Transparent, you say? Where? Got it. He had a what? A sword? And your name?" Janine jotted something on a piece of paper. "Hang on, we'll be right there." She hung up the phone and punched the call button. "Come on guys, get a move on!" She yelled over the rasp of the alarm, dashing for the lockers. Janine had her jumpsuit on before the other three even got there. Peter came sliding down the fireman's pole, looking a shade disheveled and disoriented. Egon glanced at Janine, his eyebrows raised in amusement and just a touch of admiration. She was already buckling on her accelerator pack. Smaller than any of them, Janine seemed to shoulder the heavy pack with a surprising, wiry energy. She had only been going out on calls regularly for the last few years, and each one was still a novelty to her. "I've created a monster," dead-panned Egon, as Janine hustled him into his pack. ****************** He hadn't expected it to be so much fun. Hakon materialized suddenly on a busy midtown street, right in the path of a couple who walked briskly along the sidewalk. The woman, a blond who wore her hair pulled back with a broad piece of green fabric, let out a scream, while her sandy-haired companion made some kind of gurgling noise, his eyes wide with horror. Another pedestrian, a capable-looking, middle-aged woman in a business suit, fainted on the spot. "That's it, Brendan!" The blond woman shrieked, as the couple fled around the corner. "That's the last straw! We are moving to Connecticut!" The look of terror on their faces had been a delight for him to behold. He'd had to go invisible, though, before anyone else could notice him. How unfortunate. Perhaps he could terrify these modern fools later. But he had important business to attend to first. ****************** "Well, _something_ definitely was here," Egon said, crouching on the sidewalk and sweeping the PKE meter back and forth. "Looks like a class three." The last trickle of office workers had gone home, leaving the midtown avenue eerily empty under the street lights. Taxis and cars rushed by, jolting over a pot hole. It was a warm night, and Winston, not the first time, wondered why none of them ever just refused to wear the grey coverall uniforms. Peter shifted uneasily under the weight of his nuclear accelerator pack, his eyes on the sky. "Is he still around?" Egon got to his feet, his eyes still on the PKE. "With the new modifications I added, we should be able to track him." He began walking away from the rest of them, down the street. "We can't follow the readings precisely enough in a moving vehicle," Egon called back. "I'm afraid we'll have to walk." "Sure. Walk. Just what I needed. A ten-mile hike carrying a forty-pound pack on my back." Holding his thrower, Peter began to march after Egon. Elisa yawned as she unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The lights from the city sent a soft glow through the panes of the skylight, making it unnecessary to even turn on a light. Didn't matter, she'd be asleep in a minute anyway. Carefully, Elisa slid off her gun harness and put the automatic in its strongbox as Cagney purred around her ankles. "Hungry, kitty?" Going up the two steps into the kitchen, she poured some dry cat food into Cagney's bowl, bending to run her finger along Cagney's back as the cat crouched appreciatively before her dinner. "Sorry, Cagney. Gourmet tuna tomorrow, I promise." The apartment was still and quiet, a few muffled street sounds, honks, whistles, the roar of a motorcycle, drifting up from the street below. She switched on the air-conditioner, and it started up with a familiar, cozy hum. On the rug the shadows from the skylight panes made a rectangular pattern. She'd been on duty the day before yesterday, and then up all night with the guys last night. Sunset came late and sunrise all too early in the summer. Elisa had gone to the clock tower after her shift as usual, but Goliath had taken one look at her and told her to go home and get some sleep. She'd resisted, at first, feeling he was trying to give her an order. "Please," he'd added, taking her hand, and that decided it. Besides, Elisa knew she really did need a good eight hours. In the shadows by the bookshelf, something moved, and Elisa started; Cagney was still in the kitchen, crunching away on dry cat food. "So now I'm started to see things. I really do need to sleep," Elisa said to herself. In her room, she peeled off her jeans and t-shirt, pulled on the extra long Giants jersey she usually slept in, and fell onto the bed. She fell asleep without even bothering to pull on the covers. Instinct woke her, rather than a sound. Elisa stared into the darkness, her nerves tingling. Gradually her vision adjusted and she could make out the shapes of the furniture and the open closet door. That door had been closed when she went to sleep, hadn't it? Come on, Maza. Get it together. You're just nervous from being so tired. A deep, nasty laugh sounded in the darkness of her room. Elisa sat up and switched on the light. At the foot of her bed, Cagney had awakened and sat in a tense crouch, a low rumble sounding in her chest. "Who's there!" Elisa demanded in her best menacing cop shout. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, which seemed to be empty. Elisa put her hand to her face, then ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. "Man, this is ridiculous." Maybe a small midnight snack would settle her. As she started for the bedroom doorway, the door to the closet slowly began to open wider, its shadow moving across the rug. Cagney arched her back and hissed. Automatically crouching, ready with her fists clenched, Elisa turned to the closet. The light from the bedside lamp revealed nothing on the floor except a few pairs of shoes and a box of correspondence. Bracing herself, Elisa pushed aside her clothes and saw only the blank wall beyond. "Monsters in my closet there Elisa's coming, so beware!" Feeling silly, she softly repeated the rhyme her mother had taught her when Elisa had become convinced, at the age of four, that a monster lived in her closet. Elisa let out a short, relieved breath of laughter. Behind her, Cagney screeched and streaked from the room in a black blur. Turning, Elisa saw a pale green wisp of light hovering in the air of her room. She blinked and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, but the light expanded, becoming a sort of cloud, growing larger. Finally it resolved into the figure of a man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a blond beard and longish hair, and he wore medieval-style clothes. There was a sword in his right hand, held out towards Elisa. She could see the shape of her dresser right through him. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't place it. "This is not happening," she said, backing up a step. The blond figure let out a short, derisive laugh. "Oh, but it is." He stepped forward until the tip of his sword rested against Elisa's throat. Although the sword, like the rest of him, was transparent, she could feel the sharp, cold point pressing against her skin. As she gathered herself to roll backwards, over the bed and out of the sword's reach, the figure gave a tiny nudge with the sword, forcing Elisa to back up against he wall. "Look, buddy, I don't know who you are, but I'm a cop and --" "Stupid girl. I am not subject to your petty laws. I am here to deliver a message. Tell Goliath that this is only the beginning. Tell him none of the pathetic little remnants of his clan are safe until he faces me, once and for all. I will have my vengeance." The figure lowered the sword, and Elisa stifled a sigh of relief. "Who are you?" She asked. The figure was already fading, growing paler and paler, until it was gone altogether. Faintly in the empty room she heard his voice say, "Tell him. He will know who I am." The five ghostbusters stood together in the gutted, cavernous space that had once been the first floor of a storage company building. Janine unhooked the flashlight from her belt and flicked it on, aiming the powerful beam into the musty darkness. Something scratched in a distant corner, probably a rat. "Are you sure it's here?" Ray whispered to Egon. "Positive," Egon answered. The PKE display cast a faint glow onto his thin face and reflected off his glasses. "It's somewhere above us. We should probably split up, take different stairwells. Peter, Ray, check the other end of the first floor. Winston, Janine, and I will take the east stairs. Keep in contact everybody." "Don't worry," Peter replied, flicking on his own flashlight. "You'll definitely hear the screaming even through the concrete." He and Ray walked away across the gutted room, the beam of the flashlight bobbing in front of them. Winston followed Janine and Egon up the concrete fire stairs. The beam from Janine's flashlight looked weak against the shadows in the stairwell above them. Bits of plaster crunched under Winston's boots. An unusual way to make a living. Holding his thrower in both of his gloved hands, Winston noted the familiar feeling of...well, something close to excitement, far within. He wasn't fool enough to ever tell himself he wasn't scared as well, but only an idiot wouldn't be scared in their line of work. "Come in, Egon." Peter's voice came in clearly over the small communicators they wore at their belts. A few years ago Egon had decided the walkie-talkies were too cumbersome, and had designed a small communication device about the size of a pager. "Right here, Peter," Egon said, touching a button on the communicator. "We're at the first floor landing," Peter said. "I say we nail this bogey from both sides." Winston, Egon, and Janine reached the first floor. "On go," Egon answered Peter. Janine flicked off the flashlight, plunging the landing into almost total darkness. The three of them switched on their throwers, which started up with a powerful hum. Egon put his hand on the bar of the door. "GO!" The door banged open, followed by a distant bang from the door on the opposite end of the gutted second floor. Through the musty windows of the long room the lights of the city provided some illumination. But it wasn't necessary -- hovering near a window, glowing faintly, was their spirit. They hadn't seen many like this one. Although transparent, it still resembled its form in life, and it seemed completely wrong for the usual New York City ghost, with a dark tunic, red cloak, long blond hair, and a sword sheathed at its side. Muscular arms folded, it hovered a few inches off the stripped floor, staring out the window as if listening for...something. When the doors banged open, it turned, startled and angry, first towards one door, then the other. Janine fired first, but the spirit flicked aside. The stream of multi-colored light hit the opposite wall and tore out a large chunk of plaster. "Spread out and surround it," Egon called. "Don't let it get past you." Slowly, throwers at the ready, the five ghostbusters fanned out until they formed a rough circle around the spirit. It was turning, watching them, with a cold look of calculation that made Winston's blood run cold. This was no screeching, simple-minded bug-eyed spook. This was the worst kind -- and they had run into that type before -- the kind who could think, and plan. As Ray and Winston fired, the red-cloaked figure vanished, leaving behind a delicate wraith of green light than soon dissipated. "Hey, where'd he go?" Janine demanded, turning as she clutched her thrower. Winston felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. When a spook just vanished like that, it was never good news. "What manner of sorcerers are you?" A deep voice said behind him. Winston whirled and saw the spirit, with its feet touching the floor in an approximation of standing, a few feet away. It was staring at Winston's thrower. Instinctively, with a reflex born of long practice, Winston fired, and caught the spirit in a sparking, rope-like stream of light. The spirit let out a yell of outrage and fury and pain. Ray threw the trap forward, but before he could even open it, the ghost vanished again. Winston let out a low curse under his breath. "What happened?" "He dematerialized," Egon said seriously. "That type is very hard to catch." He pulled out the PKE meter and turned it on. "Uh-huh. "He's gone. Probably popped up somewhere else in the city." As they powered down their throwers, Ray bent to pick up the unused trap. "So what do we do now?" "Actually," said Egon, "we go back to the fire station and get a few hours sleep. We're going to need it." "What do you mean?" "Well, by the spirit's costume, I would estimate it to be a Norseman, a Viking, of the late tenth century. As far as recorded history knows, Vikings were not common to the Manhattan area, although there have been some findings in New England, indications of..." "Egon," Janine reminded him gently. "Sorry, yes. Our spirit seems to be quite old, and a long way from home. It must have taken some effort to leave the place he was bonded to -- I'm sure he must have had some sort of help, maybe magic. And for him to go to all that trouble...to come so far..." "Before next Halloween, Egon," Peter said rudely. Egon turned and looked out the musty windows. The towers of Manhattan were visible, the lights glimmering in the distance. Across the street was a humble but pleasant residential brick building, a skylight glowing on the roof. "Whoever -- whatever -- it wants revenge against is out there, somewhere -- and is no doubt as old as he is. I have a feeling that it _won't_ be a quiet night." "Yeah?" Janine said, her eyes narrowing. "Well, I hope someone does call us. I wanna nail this one." Elisa pushed open the main door of the police station and hurried down the hallway past the night desk sergeant. Her gun was in its harness, slung snugly over her black T-shirt, and she had two extra cartridges of bullets. There had been one occasion during her journeys with Goliath and Angela and Bronx when she had been deeply grateful that her gun cartridge had turned out to be empty. But there had been other times when coming up short had been a serious hindrance. And she couldn't afford to be caught unprepared tonight. A small, niggling voice at the back of her mind reminded her that in the past, bullets had been little use against certain kinds of threats, but she ignored it. "Hey, Maza," Morgan called after her, as she ran up a flight of stairs. "I thought this was your night off." "Sorry, Morgan," Elisa called back down breathlessly, without stopping. "Can't talk now." Morgan adjusted his policeman's cap and shook his head. Maza definitely needed a vacation -- and vanishing mysteriously for months didn't count. Goliath was in the clock tower with Hudson and Bronx when she reached the top of the wooden access ladder. Startled, Hudson looked up from his book, Bronx lumbered to his feet. Goliath, who had been standing next to Hudson's chair as if on his way out, turned. Seeing that Elisa was out of breath and wearing her gun, he stepped towards her in concern. "Elisa, what is it?" Elisa pushed back her hair and caught her breath. "We've got trouble," she said, looking up into Goliath's face. "...And then he was gone," Elisa finished, sitting in the worn armchair across from Hudson. She had left out the part about the sword at her throat. No sense in upsetting Goliath further. It hadn't done any good though. Standing near her with arms folded, expression ominous, Goliath absorbed her story with seeming calm. Elisa knew better. He clenched his fists and let out a low, quiet, growl of frustration. "It is not enough that he destroyed my clan and tormented me with visions in the Archmage's cave. Now he threatens those close to me." Goliath calmed down slightly, and looked at Elisa searchingly. "Are you sure he did not hurt you?" "I think he just wanted to frighten me more than anything. But I don't scare that easily." "No, you do not," Goliath said, with a small, admiring, half-grin. "But you were right to come here, where you will be protected." "Actually, it's you I'm worried about," Elisa objected gently. "I came here to warn you." "And the others, they are still out there," Goliath said, turning anxiously to look up at the door leading out to the ledge. "I should go out and find them." Hudson had been listening quietly, running a talon along his beard. "No, lad. That is exactly what he wants. To lure you out alone." Hudson got to his feet and put his paw on the pommel of his sword. "Let me go." "No, Hudson." Goliath held out a paw as if he would keep Hudson there by force. "You would be one of his targets as well." "But it is you he wants. No, with the rest of us, he will just play his games to get to you. I can handle him," Hudson added with a quiet, dangerous determination. He started up the stairs before Goliath could object further. "Bronx, look after Goliath and Elisa," he called down. Bronx let out a deep-throated rumble of a bark and thumped his stub of a tail on the stone floor. It had been a peaceful night, until they spotted the trouble in the alley. Brooklyn glanced over at Angela in mid-flight. "Let's go," Brooklyn said. In a swift, almost synchronous movement, the two gargoyles dropped to the pavement and folded their wings. There were four of them, scruffy-looking men in jeans and black leather jackets. One of them had a jagged, poorly healed scar down his cheek, and they all had a strip of blue cloth tied around their foreheads. Two more humans, a young couple, were huddled together with their backs against the alley wall. "Okay, kids." The one with the scar grinned, expertly twirling his switchblade in his fingers. "Hand over the wallets." The young man hesitated, pushing the young woman behind him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Perhaps you didn't understand me correctly," the one with the scar added. His three companions stepped in closer, two brandishing short lead pipes, the fourth also holding a switchblade. "I meant NOW!" Brooklyn tapped on the first thug's shoulder. Startled, the man turned. "That's not very polite," Brooklyn said, his eyes glowing. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to say 'please'?" The leader let out a curse and stumbled back a few paces, knocking into Angela. Almost effortlessly, she grabbed the man by the scruff of his leather jacket and lifted him off the pavement. "Monsters! Get 'em!" The other thugs yelled. As the two with the lead pipes advanced, Brooklyn leapt aside, then flattened one with a blow of his fist. This was something new. Most of the time when he or the other gargoyles dropped down out of nowhere, the criminal element simply fled in terror. These guys looked terrified, but seemed willing to put up a fight. The second thug with the switchblade slashed at Angela. Eyes blazing, she tossed the leader aside and grabbed the thug's wrist tightly in her talons. She tightened her grip, and the thug winced in pain as his fingers opened. The switchblade clattered to the pavement. And then came the distant cry, from somewhere on the other side of the building on the left side of the alley. A choking call for help. "Oh, no. Not _now_," Brooklyn muttered. Angela had heard it too, her head cocked to one side, listening. "Go," she said to Brooklyn. "I can take care of this." With a sweep of her tail, Angela knocked two of the muggers off their feet. Brooklyn hesitated, but two of the muggers were already out cold, and Angela would make short work of the ones remaining. He climbed the side of the five-story building, hearing a grunt as Angela dispatched a third mugger. _Three down, and one to go,_ Brooklyn thought, with in inner grin. Angela didn't have the same sheer strength as her father, but her fighting techniques were devastatingly effective. Brooklyn loped across the roof top, and unfurling his wings, glided down feet-first into the next alley. It ended in a sheer brick wall, unbroken by windows. A single light hung over the edge of the roof top above, casting an illumination so pale Brooklyn could barely see his own shadow. The air there smelled stale, like cement and old garbage. There were a few darkened windows high up on the two side walls. But nothing stirred behind any of them. "Hello?" Brooklyn called. "Someone need help?" The only answer was the faint twirping of a car-alarm, many blocks away. Then, against the brick wall, Brooklyn thought he saw a faint flicker of green light. He blinked, and suddenly a figure stood where no one had been before. Brooklyn knew, with a sick, furious shock of recognition, who the figure was. The blond hair and beard, the rugged, leering face, the tunic and cloak, all horribly familiar. He could see the brick wall right through Hakon the Viking -- but that point just didn't seem important. "You!" Brooklyn bellowed, feeling a surge of anger course through him like an electric current. He went into an attack crouch, his eyes burning brightly in the dim light of the alley. "You destroyed our clan!" Without thinking, Brooklyn leapt at Hakon. The ghostly figure let out a rolling laugh -- and vanished. Brooklyn could still hear that laughter as he struck the wall hard, unable to stop in mid-leap. In the other alley, Angela stood with arms folded, looking down contemptuously at the four unconscious would-be muggers. Their potential victims stood hand in hand, shaken, staring wide-eyed at Angela. But they didn't run. She heard Brooklyn's battle-cry from somewhere beyond the intervening walls -- then silence. Angela took a few, hesitant steps towards the street. "Brooklyn?" She called. Standing just outside the entrance to the alley, her winged shadow cast onto the sidewalk by a streetlight, Angela strained to hear a sound from the next alley. She could see its dark entrance, gaping on the other side of the brownstone building. As Angela took another step, she heard a voice behind her. "Wait. Please." Angela turned, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. The young man and the young woman stood in the middle of the alley, looking at her. The young man put his arm about the young woman's shoulders. "Thank you." Soon after her arrival in New York, Angela had gotten used to the cries of "monsters," the looks of terror they received even from the humans they protected. It had been hard to take, at first, after the Magus and Katherine and the Guardian and Elisa. "You're welcome," Angela said simply, her face softening. Then with a flick of tail and wing, she was gone, leaving two humans who would never look at the world in quite the same way again. Angela stepped into the shadows of the alley, wings folded over her shoulders like a cloak. "Brooklyn!" He was half-lying on the ground against the dead-end wall, trying to pull himself up with one arm, his other paw held to his head. There was no one else in the alley. "What happened?" Angela hurried over and knelt beside him, helping him to his feet. Brooklyn shook his head dizzily, then looked around the empty alley. "Where is he?" Angela's delicate face creased in bewilderment. "Who?" "Hakon! He was...here." Brooklyn's shoulders slumped. "Great. Maybe I'm losing my mind." Unsure of what else to do, Angela rested her paw on Brooklyn's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go back to the Clock Tower." Brooklyn started to nod. And then his face swiftly changed to a look of startled horror, his eyes on something over her shoulder. "Angela, behind you!" He yelled. Angela turned swiftly, just in time to see a transparent figure in a red tunic, sword raised, advancing towards her. As the sword swished in a downward blow, Angela dodged. Although the sword, like the figure, was transparent, it struck the pavement with a metallic ring. His eyes blazing, Brooklyn flung himself at Hakon, and passed right through the Viking ghost. Brooklyn hit the pavement and rolled, regaining his feet. With a snarl, Angela faced Hakon, trying to calculate his next move. "What are you going to do, little girl?" Hakon held his sword at an angle, waiting for Angela to spring. Over Hakon's shoulder, Angela caught Brooklyn's eye, and he nodded slightly. Angela swiped at Hakon with her tail, then jumped back to avoid the sword. As Hakon finished the sweep, the sword raised above his shoulder, Brooklyn reached out with both paws and closed his talons over the hilt, above Hakon's hands. Realizing Brooklyn had a grip on the sword, Hakon turned his head, so that his face and the gargoyle's were inches apart. "Very clever. But you forget who you are up against." With a flicker, Hakon vanished, leaving Brooklyn clutching at the empty air. Warily, back-to-back, the two gargoyles turned in a circle, looking at each angle of the alley. "Where did he go?" Angela asked quietly. "Right here. Or, was it here?" Hakon materialized at the entrance of the alley, then just as swiftly vanished and reappeared next to the dumpster. Hakon sheathed his sword, and folded his arms, hate in his eyes as he looked at them. "The next time the sun rises, I would sleep with one eye open if I were you. Oh, that's right. I forgot. Gargoyles turn to _stone_ during the day." "You murdering scum..." As Brooklyn prepared to leap at Hakon again, the Viking ghost flickered and vanished. Brooklyn and Angela stood very still in the dark alley for a long time, watching and waiting tensely. But for the moment, the Viking spirit seemed to be gone. Without a word, his eagle-like face grim, Brooklyn turned and started to climb the side of the brownstone once again. "Brooklyn, wait." Angela dug her claws into the wall and followed. Elisa stood next to Goliath on the Clock Face ledge, her elbows resting on the balustrade, her eyes, like his, on the skyline. The stars in the black sky were like a reflection of the points of light glimmering on the city's towers. She could almost feel the tension in Goliath as he strained not to unfurl his wings and fly off alone into the night, desperate to protect his clan. Beside them, Bronx stood on his hind legs with is fore paws propped on the balustrade. "It'll be okay, Goliath," Elisa said, resting her fingers on his arm. The muscles under the marble-like skin were taut as he gripped the balustrade with his talons. "Hudson will find them and bring them back safely. You know he will." Goliath's grip on the balustrade loosened, and he turned to look down at her. "I do not think I could endure this vigil if you were not here, Elisa." "I will always be here." Against the dark sky, three darker shapes appeared, coming closer until they were identifiable as three winged forms. "Goliath, look!" Elisa pointed, and Bronx let out a series of deep-throated barks, like a signal: hurry up! land! trouble! Hudson, Lexington, and Broadway landed on the balcony and folded their wings. "Thank goodness you are all safe," Goliath said. His eyes went to the sky, then back to Hudson and the others. "Angela. Where is Angela? And Brooklyn?" "They aren't back?" Lexington also turned to look at the sky in concern. "I'll go back out after them," Hudson said, hopping back up on the ledge. "No," Goliath said, and this time Hudson didn't argue. "We'll go out and look for them together. All of us. Did you see Hakon?" Broadway shook his head. "Not a trace." Elisa strained to see into the darkness above the Manhattan skyline. Yes, there, against the brilliantly lit arcs of the Chrysler Building, were two more winged shapes. "There they are," Elisa said, her face brightening with relief. As Brooklyn and Angela drew closer and landed on the ledge, it became apparent from their faces that something had happened to them. They both looked shaken. "Angela? Brooklyn? What is it?" Goliath asked. "Hakon." Brooklyn spit the word out, his voice low and bitter. "What happened? Are you hurt?" Goliath rested his hands on his daughter's shoulders and peered at her carefully as if looking for a wound or a scratch. "I'm all right, father," Angela said. "He didn't seem to want to...hurt us. It was like he was...taunting us." "Yeah, and then he vanished, like the sniveling coward that he is." Brooklyn glowered, and clenched his fists. "I say we go out there and find him, now. Make him pay for what he did." Goliath looked sharply at his second in command. "That will not change the past, Brooklyn. After everything that has happened since we awoke from the Magus' spell, you should know that revenge just breeds more hatred." Brooklyn lowered his head, his long, beaked face glum. "You're right," he sighed. "But seeing him just one yard in front me, after all these years...I just wanted to get him. And I fought stupidly. If Angela hadn't been there to help me..." He glanced over at the young female gargoyle, and their eyes met. Elisa thought she heard Broadway make a sound, something like "humph," but couldn't be sure. Lexington, crouched next to Bronx, came to stand next to Brooklyn. "Hey, any of us would have felt the same way." "I agree with you about one thing. We should leave the Clock Tower. If it comes to a battle, I do not want it close to home. And I will not hide here like a pigeon in its roost, waiting for him to find me." "Ay, ye're right there. But -- you wouldna be planning something foolish now, would you?" Hudson folded his arms and looked at Goliath with one raised eyebrow. "Not at all, old friend," Goliath said. Elisa rode snugly in Goliath's arms as they glided with the others over the dark rooftops, heading nowhere in particular. Hudson and Bronx were coming along as well, and they made an odd pair, the white-bearded gargoyle warrior holding the bulky, mastiff-like Bronx with his short legs dangling. Elisa thought that Hudson simply couldn't bear to sit still in an armchair while the clan was threatened; but Goliath had said that they were safer if they were all together: "All Hakon needs is another opening, a chance to find any of you alone." It was a balmy (for New York) clear summer night, but the lack of impending rain did little to dispel the heat that made the night seem to fold over the city like an ebony blanket. But up here, riding the wind with the clan, there was a soft, cooling breeze. Under normal circumstances Elisa would have loved this flight in Goliath's arms with the stars above them and the glimmering, geometric outlines of the half-sleeping city below. Her hair blew up and tickled Goliath's chin, but he didn't seem to mind. But she was too troubled to feel truly contented. She didn't like Hudson's suspicion that Goliath might have some noble idea of his own in mind; she suspected it herself. With her palm resting on Goliath's shoulder, Elisa leaned her head back slightly to look up at him, trying to read his stolid expression. Noticing, he gave her only a brief, reassuring look, then turned his eyes back to the skyline. Elisa suddenly became poignantly aware of the feel of Goliath's arms holding her, and remembered the torment in his eyes and in his voice in the Archmage's caverns. Why couldn't Hakon just leave Goliath alone? Wasn't a thousand years long enough to put old angers to rest? But for some, it wasn't long enough -- no amount of time was ever long enough. They glided over the pointed, turret-crested roof of a prewar building, the stonework standing out sharply in the stark glow of a roof light. To the north spread the dark, wooded canopy of Central Park, its meres and lakes shining like black glass. And then, where there had been only open sky a moment before, a figure suddenly appeared, hovering in Goliath's flight path. It was Hakon, his dark cloak billowing out behind him, his sword drawn. "Goliath!" Elisa shouted the warning, even though she could feel him tense and knew he had already seen the spirit. Goliath's arms tightened around her, and he veered off to the right. Hakon turned in mid-air and followed them. Broadway dove at Hakon. "Broadway, no!" Brooklyn yelled after him. "Watch out for his sword!" "You'll just pass right through him!" Angela called out, almost at the same time. Surprised, Broadway pulled up, and instead tried to put himself between Hakon and Goliath. while the others moved in to flank him. But the Viking ghost flickered and vanished -- Elisa thought she saw a hint of sickly green mist against the night sky. As the six gargoyles hesitated, momentarily confused, Hakon reappeared two yards from Goliath, his sword raised, ready for a down-sweep. Goliath dodged again, and the sword came down so close Elisa felt the brush of air it created. Lexington lunged for Hakon, talons outstretched, eyes blazing, letting out his own unique battle cry, like the roar of a young lion -- and passed right through the Viking's form. The small green gargoyle emerged on the other side, the light in his eyes fading as he slowed, bewildered. "Listen to me, everyone," Brooklyn called. "You can't hurt him. He's not solid. But his sword is." Angela hovered above Hakon, watching him with her fists clenched as she restrained herself, working out a strategy. Hakon began a new tactic, vanishing and reappearing rapidly, each time in a different place, always within a few yards of Goliath. The gargoyle twisted and swooped, avoiding Hakon's rushes. Elisa could feel the tension in his arms as he tried to retain his hold on her and maneuver in the battle, and she knew she was hindering him. She started scanning below for an easily accessible roof top. "Goliath, I think you should put me do --" Hakon plunged towards them again. Elisa felt Goliath jerk aside, and saw that he wasn't ready this time, that the sword would make contact. Enough! Elisa thought fiercely. Both her hands had been clasped about Goliath's neck, but now she let go with her right hand, and pulled her gun. Elisa could see Hakon looming closer with the skyline visible through his body. When she was sure none of the gargoyles would be in her sights, Elisa fired. The bang of the shots echoed into the night. And the bullets went right through him. Half-stunned but almost not surprised, Elisa found herself transfixed as the sword flashed towards them. Goliath moved, and the blade grazed against his upper arm. A thin line of blood sprang up along the narrow cut. Goliath flinched -- and Elisa, the gun still clenched in her right hand, felt a sickening lurch as she began to drop. Instinctively, the fingers of her left hand tangled into Goliath's hair as he reached out desperately and regained his grasp on her, gathering her tightly against him, holding her closely against his chest. She could hear his heart thudding rapidly. Then she heard the clashing ring of sword meeting sword, and turned her head to see that Hudson had let Bronx down on the broad, flat roof of a six-story building, and with his own sword drawn had intercepted Hakon. "You want a piece of me?" Hudson bellowed in challenge. "Come on, then!" Goliath dove low, away from the battle, towards the flat roof top. "We have to get you down there," Goliath said, low. In a gesture that seemed almost habitual, or as if he didn't realize he was doing it, he cupped his paw around Elisa's head, protectively. The flat roof rose up to meet them, and Bronx ran along the line of the roof wall, barking up at them frantically. Goliath settled with a thump to the gravely surface of the roof top, and Elisa slid down to her feet. Her legs felt like they might shake if she tried to walk, but she calmly replaced her gun back into its holster and pushed the hair back from her face. Goliath was hesitating, watching her, as if wanting to speak. "Go! I'm fine!" Elisa reached out and pushed his shoulder, turning him towards the wall at the edge of the roof. He reached out and touched her hair, then stepped up onto the wall. "Bronx," he ordered. "Guard Elisa." She had never felt so hopeless as she stood on that roof with Bronx tense beside her, and watched Goliath glide up to rejoin the battle without her. Bronx let out his frustration by running under Hakon and barking. Elisa resisted the urge to gnaw on her knuckles and instead began to inspect the roof top, looking for anything that could help. But whoever maintained that particular building was irritatingly efficient; only the roof-access door structure and a few ventilation fans broke the smooth surface. The glowing red digital numbers of the clock on the bedside table told him it was the middle of the night, but he was having trouble sleeping. It was still and quiet in the bedroom, the silence broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and his wife's steady, peaceful breathing. Carefully, so as not to jostle the bed and disturb her, he stood up and padded softly across the thick carpeting, wearing boxer shorts, undershirt, and his favorite ratty old bathrobe. As he opened the bedroom door, a shaft of light from the hall hit the carpet. In their big living room, the air conditioner was off. A few muffled street sounds came from outside the big windows. With only the hall light burning, there was little reflection, and he could see the slumbering city spreading into the distance, the occasional light still burning into the night. He reached down, removed the "I Love New York" baseball cap from his favorite armchair, and tossed the cap onto the coffee table. Then he slumped into the chair, staring moodily out the window. He felt oddly restless this night. He was just contemplating a trip to the kitchen for a snack when something caught his eye beyond the dark window panes. Idly curious, he got up and went to stand before the window, yawning. The yawn stuck. He stood there, mouth open, until he remembered to close it. I'm sleepwalking, he thought to himself. That has to be it. Between the pointed roofs of two buildings, he saw what looked like a...a man ... hovering in the air, surrounded by some sort of large flying creatures with vast wingspans. He blinked. In the light of the other buildings, one of the flying creatures looked vaguely familiar...in fact very much like a statue he had seen once in the park. Just look away, he told himself. Just look away and go back to bed and go to sleep. But he couldn't look away. He watched the surreal battle for a minute more. Then a determined, almost indignant look crossed his face. He'd seen a lot of disturbing, inexplicable things in New York City lately. It was time to do something about it. He found the cordless phone and the newspaper where he had seen that nutty ad, for some organization calling themselves "The Ghostbusters." "We're Ready To Believe You," they claimed. Well, he would see about that. A grumpy, sleepy-sounding male voice answered the ring. "Yeah?" Feeling a bit like a fool, he asked, "Is this 'The Ghosbusters?'" Sounding a bit sharper now, the voice said, "Yes. Go ahead." "There's something going on outside my building I think you might be interested in..." Ecto I pulled up to the curb, siren blaring and lights flashing on the roof. Sitting in the back seat with Janine and Egon, Winston noted that for Manhattan, the street looked pretty deserted. All the better -- they wouldn't have to worry about any pedestrians getting caught in a crossfire. "Up there," Ray said, opening the passenger door and scrambling out. Winston followed Janine and Egon out onto the street and looked up. "Great," Peter said, coming to stand beside him. "This could take a while." The Viking ghost was hovering above the office building, swiping with his sword at five -- no, six winged creatures. In the glow of the city lights, Winston saw that they were of varying sizes, similar in their physical construction, but each with different colored skin. One appeared to be female. The wing span of the largest one, which was of a deep, purple color, had to be close to ten feet. Whatever strange battle was going on up there, it seemed to be at an impasse. The flying creatures circled the ghost, but didn't attack. They seemed to be trying to grab the ghost's sword. Winston found himself silently rooting for the winged beasts, as one of them, smaller than the rest, yanked his larger companion, a heavyset blue creature, out of reach of the flashing sword. With an echoing laugh, the Viking ghost held out his hand, and a strange greenish light began to emanate from it, then streaked across the night sky towards the largest, purple-colored creature. Ray opened the back hatch of Ecto, pulled on his accelerator pack, and picked up his thrower. The others did the same, watching the sky. "Okay, spread out," Egon ordered, moving a few yards down the block. "Ray, get the traps ready. Fire on my command." Ray removed three traps from the back of Ecto. He hurled each one forward, and they rolled across the sidewalk and stopped, each about ten feet from the next. Aiming his thrower, he poised his foot above the trap switch. "Now!" Egon yelled. Elisa fumed helplessly on the gravel roof-top while Goliath and the others battled Hakon not twenty feet above her head. Bronx was on his hind legs with his fore paws propped on the wall as he continued to bark, as if he could frighten Hakon away by intimidation. There had to be something she could do -- but it wasn't as if they were fighting Demona or The Pack. Her gun was useless. Maybe she could distract the ghost. Elisa knelt and gathered up a handful of gravel, weighing it. Then she tossed it away in frustration, hearing it patter on the roof. What good would it do? A wind ruffled her hair, and Broadway passed close over her head. He had an angry, bewildered look on his face. From the street below came the sound of a siren, and the flash of red lights. "No, not now..." That was all they needed, plenty of cops. Elisa ran to the edge of the roof and looked over. The most bizarre excuse for a law-enforcement vehicle she had ever seen pulled up in front of the building. It appeared to have once been a hearse, but was now painted white with red stripes running horizontally along the sides. On the roof was an array of what looked like an antenna surrounded by small power generators. Painted on the front door was a red circle with a line through it imprisoning a cartoon ghost. As she watched, the vehicle's doors opened, and four men and a woman dressed in grey coveralls got out. One of them opened the back of the vehicle and they began pulling out some heavy looking scientific equipment. Elisa groaned. She'd heard about these guys. They called themselves "The Ghostbusters," and were highly unpopular with the NYPD. Granted, they had been given the key to the city a few years ago...and Elisa had seen too much in the past year and a half to totally discredit some of the stories she had heard about them. But wherever they went they made plenty of noise, required extensive crowd control, and usually left a huge mess behind. That and plenty of news camera crews. Well, it was three in the morning; maybe no one would think to call the press. Above her, she heard Angela give a startled cry. Elisa looked up, away from the Ghostbusters, and saw that a strange green light ran between Goliath and Hakon, linking them. Goliath, the green light surrounding him like an aura, had his fists clenched. His shoulder muscles strained upward, as he struggled against...something. "Goliath!" Elisa yelled. Angela flew in and tried to pull Goliath out of the light. But as soon as she touched him, she tumbled over in the air as if struck. Even as he fought against the pull of Hakon's light, Goliath watched the stunned Angela falter in mid-air, and agonized concern leapt to his face. Elisa saw him try to wrench away, but he still couldn't. Brooklyn flew towards Angela, but with a twitch of her wings, she righted herself. Together, they turned back towards Hakon. From the street below, Elisa heard a strange, faint hum like some huge machine warming up, then a sound like a toaster exploding. With a blinding, sparking light and a crackling sound, a narrow stream of multi-colored light shot up past the edge of the roof, into the sky, and caught Hakon in a twisting, curling rope of light. The green glow connecting Hakon and Goliath faded, as Hakon struggled to free himself from the stream. A second stream shot up next to the first. Goliath, caught off guard after finding himself free of Hakon, moved just a hair too slowly. The sparking stream grazed his left shoulder and the bridge of his wing. Goliath let out a howl that made Elisa clench her teeth so hard it hurt. He started to fall, unable to keep his wings spread because of the pain. Elisa ran to the edge of the roof and reached out her arms, wishing for a wild moment that Puck could be there to change her into a gargoyle again, so she could glide down and catch him. As Goliath plummeted towards the street, Brooklyn and Angela streaked down after him and caught him together, carrying him under the shoulders towards the roof. As they landed, Goliath grimaced in pain and sank down on one knee, his paw holding his shoulder, his head down. Brooklyn and Angela crouched over him in concern, while Elisa knelt in front of him. "Goliath?" He looked up, and saw their worried faces. "I am all right," he said, slowly getting to his feet. Elisa had to stand on her toes to inspect his wing. There was a burn-like scorch mark running across his shoulder and part of the bridge of his wing. Elisa put her hand to her mouth in shock and concern. "Nothing a day's sleep will not heal," Goliath said calmly. Elisa looked up into the set, strong lines of his face and saw pain far back in his eyes. "Still," she said gently, "we should put something on that burn." There was a crackling, sizzling sound in the air. One of the streams of colored light narrowly missed Broadway as he, Hudson, and Lexington glided down towards the roof top, and Elisa felt the surge of anger return. She hated to leave Goliath, but someone had to go down and have a little talk with those gadget-happy maniacs. "Stay here," she said, hurrying for the fire escape on the alley side of the roof. She scrambled down the metal rungs of the ladders and dropped to the alley. Running for the street, Elisa drew her gun, then halted a few yards away from the five figures in the grey jump suits. With her arms straight out in front of her, she held the gun held in both hands. "NYPD! Put down your weapons!" Elisa let go of the gun with her left hand and pulled her badge from the pocket of her jeans, her eyes never leaving the five figures in grey coveralls. Hakon was still trapped in the stream from the weapon aimed by the tall, thin, ghosbuster with glasses. The name patch on his uniform read "Spengler." He barely glanced at Elisa before returning his eyes to the sky, narrow face tense with concentration. "Put our weapons down?" His voice was faint under the crackling, electrical noise. I think that would be extremely unwise at this point. Winston, help me hold him!" A quiet looking, dark skinned man with a name patch reading "Zeddemore" looked more worried about Elisa's gun, but fired his weapon up at Hakon so both streams were holding him. "Ray, the trap!" Spengler called out. An earnest looking, slightly overweight man who somehow reminded Elisa of Broadway, stepped on a switch lying on the ground that was connected to one of the strange little boxes. The little box on the sidewalk popped open, letting out a white glow. Up in the sky, Hakon vanished with a green flicker. "He's not in the trap." The red headed woman, "Melnitz," lightly kicked at the little box with the side of her boot. "The indicator light's not on." The ghostbusters switched off their humming weapons. As the contraptions powered down, the silence left in their wake seemed to thrum. "He did it again!" The earnest one, whose name patch read "Stanz," exclaimed furiously. The one named "Venkman," who had dark hair and a cocky manner, stepped towards Elisa. He let go of his weapon with one hand and extended the other one out to her. "Officer, I believe we have a small misunderstanding here..." "Detective," Elisa snarled, without lowering her gun. "Sorry, Detective." Venkman corrected himself smoothly. "My name is Dr. Peter Venkman...I'm sort of the P.R. of the group. We have a permit for this equipment in our vehicle. I can show it to you..." "Never mind the permit," Elisa said. She could feel her temper getting away from her, her voice rising. "You shot him!" "Him?" Melnitz stood protectively next to the tall, bespectacled, ghostbuster, her light voice, thick with a New York accent, raised in bewilderment. "Detective, we were only attempting to trap and contain all seven apparitions," Venkman continued. "It's our job to shoot them." "Okay, Dr. Venkman. Get this straight. Six of them are NOT apparitions. You just shot your stupid little toy at _living beings_ and injured a very good friend of mine." "You -- you know those flying creatures?" Stanz, the earnest-looking one, looked up at the winged figures silhouetted on the rooftop, his eyes going wide. Not with fear, Elisa was surprised to see, but with the inner light of wondering discovery. "Yes," Elisa said, sighing. His words had such a tiredly familiar sound to them. "I know them. And I would appreciate it if you would leave them alone. Hurt any one of them again, and I promise you I can arrange to have your licenses revoked, your business shut down, and your lives ruined." Elisa slipped her gun back into its holster and turned away. "Wait." Venkman reached out and touched her arm, stopping her. "That other one...he _is_ a ghost. And extremely dangerous from the looks of him." Elisa folded her arms and glared at him. "If I need your help, I know who to call," she said ironically, remembering their corny TV ads. "Listen, the least we can do is help you." "Besides," Spengler, the tall thin one with the glasses added, "We'd like to find out more about these...friends of yours." "Yeah, I bet you would," Elisa muttered. Louder, she added bitterly, "Like to run a few experiments, maybe?" Brooklyn had told Elisa what had almost happened to Lexington while they were gone [see "Hurt Hawks" at castle.net]. For the first time, Elisa began to feel disgust towards her own race. "No. I just want to make a few notes for our computer database." "We have a first aid kit in Ecto," Melnitz offered. "If your...friend...is injured, we'd like to help. Please." Motioning at Spengler, she leaned close to Elisa and whispered, "He feels really bad about this. I know it doesn't show, but he does." Elisa didn't much like the way they paused before saying the word "friend." "Fine. But you leave those contraptions in the ghostmobile, got it?" ****************** Hakon remained invisible for a long time, hovering among the skylights and chimneys of a row of brick buildings. Twice now, the thin streams of light had wrapped around him, with a terrifyingly powerful grip that seemed to want to rip him apart. It promised many things, helplessness, failure -- and a second imprisonment. Hakon decided that the men who controlled the light streams were powerful sorcerers, more powerful than the Archmage. One of them had injured Goliath. Perhaps there was a way he could ally with them. ****************** Elisa was surprised to discover, as Venkman conducted proper introductions, that three of the ghostbusters held multiple PH.D's in various fields. She led them up the fire escape of the opposite building and was the first to emerge on the rooftop. The seven gargoyles spotted the ghostbusters, who came to a hesitant stop near the edge of the roof. Lexington took a step forward, his eyes igniting. "That's the one who shot Goliath!" he said indignantly. "I saw it." "Easy, Lex," said Elisa. "He didn't realize. They're here to help us now, at any rate." The angry glow of Lexington's eyes subsided, but he still looked suspicious. Bronx, who had been crouched next to Hudson, leapt to his feet at the sight of the strangers. With a low, rumbling growl in his throat, he approached the ghostbusters, stiff-legged. A strange, strangled sound came from Stanz. Venkman went pale. Melnitz reached up and rested her hand on Spengler's shoulder, steadying him as he groped for a weapon that wasn't there. In the dim illumination of the exterior light hooked above the roof-access doorway, Elisa saw sweat break out on Zeddemore's forehead. Almost as one unit, the ghostbusters stepped backwards. When they hit the roof wall, a kind of panic leapt to their faces. "It can't be," Stanz muttered, his eyes fixed on Bronx. Bronx stopped in front of Venkman and began to sniff at his boots. Venkman squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. "That's it," he said, looking down incredulously at the creature snuffling around his ankles. "I'm having a bad dream, aren't I? Ray, please tell me I'm having a bad dream." Elisa quickly stepped over and knelt next to Bronx, holding him back. Bronx licked her face and whined, giving approval. Her hand on the gargoyle watch-dog's head, she looked up at the ghosbusters' scared faces. What was it? Sure, people usually reacted quite strongly to their first sight of Bronx, but she'd never seen anyone act so utterly terrified. And if the stories were true, these guys had already seen it all. "What is it?" Elisa asked gently. Spengler let out a long breath, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his grey coverall. "Just...a reminder of an old case. It's a long story." Elisa pulled Bronx back to the other gargoyles, and the ghostubsters relaxed visibly. Spengler turned a curious eye on Lexington. After some hesitation, wondering how to put this introduction, Elisa said, "Dr. Egon Spengler, Dr. Ray Stantz, Dr. Peter Venkman, Winston Zeddemore, and Janine Melnitz, these are the gargoyles. Guys, meet the ghostbusters." Venkman raised an eyebrow as if he found something ludicrous about the whole situation. Spengler let out a gasp of realization. "How stupid of me! Of course. The second race. Gargoyles. Peter, perhaps you should dress the burn on that one's shoulder." "Actually, it's 'The first race. Gargoyles.'" Elisa heard Lexington mutter under his breath. Venkman, who was holding a small first-aid kit, took a few steps towards Goliath and stopped, eyeing him warily. "Okay, big guy. You're not going to rip my arms out of their sockets or anything now, are you?" "Don't tempt us," Brooklyn said in a low voice. "It's all right, Peter. I don't think they'll hurt us." Spengler walked up to Goliath, and Elisa saw a flicker of compassion on his thin features as he eyed the singed wing. "It's our line of work to trap beings of a supernatural nature. Detective Maza has explained the situation," he said, looking up into Goliath's face. "I'm sorry." "A misunderstanding. Apology accepted." Goliath nodded at Spengler. Venkman opened the first aid kit and stepped over to Goliath. "Uh...I think you're going to have to kneel down," he said, looking up at the wing. While Venkman applied salve to the singed area on Goliath's shoulder, Stanz asked, "What did that ghost want with you?" "It is a long story," Goliath said, wincing at Venkman dabbed salve on the scorched area. Elisa was surprised to see how gently the ghostbuster's hands moved as he tended to the burn. "It's been a quiet week," Stanz said. "We have time." "Hang on, don't start yet," said Spengler. He pulled a small notepad out of the pocket of his coverall and clicked his pen. Spengler knelt on the surface of the roof and scribbled notes furiously as Goliath told the story, how his clan was betrayed a thousand years ago, the Magus' spell, their re-awakening in New York, their journey to Avalon, and their encounter with the spirits of Hakon and the captain of the guard in the Archmage's cave. Elisa noticed that Goliath's telling was brief and deliberately underplayed, as if he was reciting a history lesson. Despite this, she saw the faces of the five ghostbusters react with sympathy, anger, and wonder. When Goliath was done, Spengler stood up and flipped over the pages of his notebook, shaking his head as if stunned at the contents of his notes. "Astounding," he muttered repeatedly. "So the Viking, Hakon, wants revenge on you for his death at the cliffs. And now he's doubly angry because of his imprisonment in the caverns under Castle Wyvern?" "Not good," said Stanz, his round face grim. "A ghost that old is bad enough, but a ghost that ticked off..." "But what was he trying to do to Goliath?" Elisa asked, remembering the green light. "He cannot be after my life-force again," Goliath said thoughtfully, fingering the bandage on his shoulder. "It was the structure in the Archmage's cavern that allowed him to attempt that." Spengler flipped over a page of notes. "True. But you did say he has been imprisoned within the very stones of the cavern. It is possible he absorbed some of the Archmage's power, which would suffuse the whole cave. He couldn't do everything he could do there, but some of his abilities may have remained with him when he escaped." "So what does he want, then?" Hudson asked, fixing the ghostbusters with a sharp stare. Stanz and Spengler exchanged a look, and Spengler nodded. "We've seen this kind of thing before," Stanz said. "If Hakon can't steal your life force, bringing him back to the land of the living, he's probably trying to do the opposite. Bring Goliath into the realm of the dead." "You mean _kill_ him?" Angela sounded shocked, and more than a little afraid. "Not exactly," Spengler added. "At least, not in the permanent sense. Goliath could, theoretically, be brought back." Elisa shook her head. "But what could he hope to accomplish by making Goliath another ghost?" "Because he'd be stronger on that plane. He's been a spirit for a millennia. Ghosts tend to pick up a few tricks over the years." On the eastern horizon, beyond the low-lying buildings across the river, the sky began to lighten. Slowly, the street below them was coming to life. Alarmed, Elisa wondered how she could hustle the ghostbusters off the roof before the gargoyles turned to stone. Goliath looked out towards the horizon. "It will be dawn soon. I will have to stay here." "But you can't," Angela objected. The wraith of a smile touched Goliath's face as he looked down at his daughter. "There isn't time to get...home," he said, with a glance at the ghostbusters. "Besides, where else would I go? Hakon is determined to track me down no matter what." "Ay, he's right, lass. We canna run. We have to face him." Hudson shook his head. "What happens at dawn?" Zeddemore asked Elisa. Elisa sighed. There seemed to be no way of getting them off the roof without being painfully obvious about it and raising suspicion. She would just have to trust them. And something told her that she could. "I guess you'll find out." Fifteen minutes later, Elisa stood with the five ghostbusters on the rooftop, looking at seven statues in the pale morning light. The gargoyles were posed in battle-like stances, talons curled and upraised. They often chose such poses, when they had time to think about it. Elisa knew that it wasn't because they thought it would literally stop an enemy in its tracks -- the poses were a warning, a symbol of what they would be once they awoke. It was a kind of defense while they were helpless. Spengler's mouth was hanging open, while Stanz cautiously walked over and touched Lexington's statue with his finger. Elisa glanced over at Zeddemore, who had a dazed expression on his face. "I guess this must seem a little strange to you." Zeddemore blinked, and seemed to come out of it. He turned to Elisa with a lopsided, wry grin. "Strange? Let me tell you something. After you've done battle with a hundred-foot man made of marshmallows, nothing seems strange any more." Elisa laughed, looking at the statues of the gargoyles. "I know the feeling." ****************** He would have to wait now. Unless he actually smashed Goliath's statue, there was no way to alter the gargoyle's state while he was asleep in stone. Hakon lurked in the shadows of the side streets below Herald Square as the sun rose higher and the summer day grew warmer, and thought about crushing Goliath to rubble. About crushing all of them with a mace, until there was nothing left but a scattered heap of stones, fragments of barely recognizable features. But what if the sorcerers were still about? Hakon glided over the city, where the slanting bright rays of sunrise caught the dark places, and returned to the roof of the building where the clan slept. No! The sorcerers were still there, conversing with the girl. She was no doubt forming an alliance with them. Hakon decided to wait. All five of them could not possible stay there all day. The hours passed. The sun reached its zenith above Manhattan and began to sink. Occasionally one or the other of the sorcerers left the roof, and a few times the girl as well, but there were always at least three guarding the statues of the gargoyles. Remaining invisible as he watched from a taller building across the street, Hakon considered his situation. He would need some sort of aid, a diversion to distract the sorcerers so he could carry out his work. He needed a new kind of legion at his back. With the knowledge that came of a thousand restless years as a spirit, and the surge of the Archmage's magic within him, Hakon moved to another part of the city, then another, summoning them. They came from abandoned mansions with their windows boarded up and grass growing between the bricks, from apartment buildings that had been the site of horrendous crimes, from fissures deep within the city's underground tunnels where the unspeakable lurked. Hakon felt a familiar rush in his blood, the thrill he used to feel before going into battle, a feeling he had not had in a long time. The day sank into dusk, and Hakon gathered his army. ****************** At about ten o'clock in the morning, Stanz and Zeddemore left the roof and returned with take-out ham and egg sandwiches for breakfast and plenty of coffee and bottled water. Elisa lifted the hair up off the back of her neck, looking out over the city. She wondered if she should call Matt. A year ago, she wouldn't have. This was a gargoyle problem -- and her problem, not detective business. But he knew the secret now. He was practically a member of the clan himself. Remembering his anger -- his hurt -- when he had found out Elisa had kept a secret of that magnitude from him, Elisa decided he had a right to know what was going on this time. She hesitated, not wanting to leave the gargoyles alone with the ghostbusters. The sun was already blazing out of the clear blue sky, glinting off the plate-glass windows of the office buildings. It was going to get hot on the roof. Elisa glanced at the five ghostbusters in their heavy grey coveralls. They seemed so determined to help. "You don't have to stay all day," she said, leaning her back against Goliath's statue. "And what if you're here alone when that creepy Viking comes back?" Venkman said, handing her a sandwich. "I can take care of myself," Elisa said smoothly. "Yes, but can you protect them?" Spengler adjusted his glasses and looked thoughtfully at the seven statues. "I assume they are at their most vulnerable during the day. The Viking ghost may decide that is the best time to strike." "I've always protected them," Elisa said softly, looking up at Goliath's stone face. "But Hakon... Nothing can hurt him. Okay," she added, her voice hardening with the admission as she looked right at Spengler. "I admit it. I don't know the first thing about how to fend off a ghost. Industrial task forces, dueling immortals, werewolves, gangsters, even aliens -- that I can handle. But ghosts? How do you fight a ghost?" "We have our methods," Spengler said, adjusting his glasses. "Although," he added cautiously, "it might be helpful if you allowed us to bring up our equipment. We can't do much without it." Elisa remembered the media blitz that had surrounded those guys, more than ten years ago. At the time, she'd scoffed along with everyone else. She certainly never thought she'd ever be involved in anything as unbelievable as that incident on Central Park West. Until she had stood on the street one night almost two years ago, looking up at a skyscraper whose roof was lost in a broiling cloud of explosions and falling rubble, and she'd found a slab on the sidewalk scored with claw marks. All things considered, she thought she'd better give them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, did she have a choice? "Okay," she said finally. "But if one of you gets trigger happy, you'll be looking at the inside of a holding cell." There was a pay phone one block away from the building. Elisa put in her quarter and dialed Matt's home number. As usual, she got his answering machine. _What does he do on his days off, anyway?_ she wondered. "Matt, it's Elisa. There's some...trouble with our friends in the clock tower." She gave him the address of the building. After she hung up, she realized it wasn't just to ease her own conscience that she had called Matt Bluestone. He would have been a good ally to have in a crisis like this one. Winston Zeddemore stood up and stretched, having a sudden longing for hot dogs and lemonade and softball. Slowly, the summer sun had begun to sink, spreading a line of burning pink beyond the skyline. The evening took on a lazier, quiet feel. Across the street a small breeze rustled the leaves of a small green tree. Winston looked over at the seven statues. Their shadows had marked the passage of time during the long day, and now stretched across the surface of the rooftop, in the shape of talons and wings and well-defined, unique facial profiles. "It'll be sunset soon," Maza said, sitting with her back up against the big gargoyle's statue as she shaded her eyes to look out over the city. "Okay. I'll say it this time." Peter grinned. "What happens at sunset?" The detective didn't answer, but pushed back her long, dark hair and reached out to pick up a half-finished bottle of water. Winston saw Peter watching her with a familiar look on his face. _Oh no,_ Winston thought with an inward sigh. _Here we go again._ The sky overhead began to deepen into purple and the first star blinked at the horizon. In the west a faint pink horizontal streak lingered, and the air grew a shade cooler. Maza raised her head, as if scenting something on the wind. Then a small smile touched her lips. "Okay. Get ready guys." Janine, who had been dozing with her head on Egon's shoulder, woke up with a start. "Get ready? For what?" Ray turned his attention away from his inspection of the accelerator packs, which were leaned against the structure containing the roof-access door. Winston saw Maza stand expectantly facing the seven statues There was a low cracking sound, as if the stones of an old bridge were breaking apart. Winston realized the sound came from the statues. As still as monuments in a museum only a moment ago, now they were moving. The gargoyles awoke, the dog-like one growling, the others stretching their arms and flexing their wings as they each let out a roar in what Winston realized were six distinctive voices. Small pieces of grey stone shards scattered in the air, and the ghostbusters stepped back. And then all seven gargoyles were awake to the night, the six upright, winged ones staring at the ghostbusters as if surprised to find them still there. Egon bent and picked up a shard of stone, turning it over in his hands. "Fascinating." He looked up at the biggest gargoyle, the one called Goliath. "Do you mind if I keep this as a sample, have it analyzed back at the fire station lab?" "I suppose," the big gargoyle said, wariness in his deep voice. Winston had seen a lot of mind-boggling stuff since he had walked into the ghostbuster's headquarters twelve years ago, desperate for a job. Since then he'd battled an ancient Sumerian god, nearly gotten sucked down into the tenth level of Hell, and crossed paths with everything from a giant praying mantis to time running backwards. But somehow, this was different. With their weird, wild beauty, the gargoyles seemed like they should be something supernatural. But they weren't. They were as mortal and solid as he was. Peter swallowed hard, then got a bored expression on his face that didn't fool Winston a bit. "Yeah, yeah. So, we just saw five stone statues come to life before our very eyes. Does anyone happen to actually have a _plan_ for the next time Mr. Congeniality shows?" Ray was staring at the gargoyles in wonder. "Wow. That was amazing." His eyes went to Goliath's wing, then to his arm. "Hold on a second." Ray stepped closer to Goliath and hesitantly reached his fingers towards the bridge of the wing, not actually touching it. The burn was gone, as was the cut that had been on the gargoyle's upper arm. "How..." "Our stone sleep heals us," the gargoyle said briefly. Ray turned to the other ghostbusters, his face lit up like a kid who had just gotten his first bike. "This is so incredible. Do you realize what this means?" Egon pulled out his PKE meter and held it out at the nearest gargoyle, a lanky one with burgundy-colored skin and a shock of white hair. The gargoyle drew back instinctively as Egon studied the readings. "Hey, what are you doing with that thing?" The gargoyle demanded. "Measuring your PKE valances," Egon explained calmly, his eyes fixed on the meter reading. "Fascinating." "Wow!" The smallest one, the greenish-yellow gargoyle with the huge eyes, scampered over and stared up at the instrument Egon held. "What is that?" Egon launched into a long, technical explanation, the type that usually gave Winston nose-bleeds. But the small gargoyle seemed to follow at least half of it, nodding occasionally. "Can I hold it?" The gargoyle asked eagerly. "This is not a toy," Egon said crossly, adjusting a dial. "I _know_ that," the small gargoyle retorted. "I want to see how it works." "Don't worry," Detective Maza told Egon wryly. "Lexington knows more about computers than I do." Reluctantly, Egon handed the gargoyle the PKE meter. Lexington immediately began aiming it at his companions, completely absorbed. "Lexington? Is that his name?" Ray asked. Maza grimaced, and Winston saw her shoot an apologetic look at the big violet-colored gargoyle. "Sorry." "It is all right," the gargoyle said, his grim face lightening slightly. "I think they can be trusted. We have been introduced, but not completely. That is Hudson, Lexington, Broadway, Brooklyn, Angela, Bronx, and I am Goliath." He turned to Maza. "Did they stay and help you watch over us all day?" The detective nodded. The big gargoyle titled his head, looking at them as if surprised. "Thank you, then," Goliath said, extending a paw. Startled, Ray glanced down at it, then took it. They shook, Ray's hand swallowed up for a moment in the gargoyle's big paw. Peter cocked an eyebrow. "Hudson, Lexington, Broadway, Brooklyn, Bronx. What, no Staten Island? No Park Avenue?" Lexington stepped towards Peter, fists clenched. "Hey, are you making fun of our names?" Peter stepped back, palms spread in a gesture of denial. "No, of course not. They're great names. Er...very appropriate." "Their PKE reading was extremely interesting," Egon informed Ray. "They registered higher than humans, but not high enough to indicate any ectoplasmic activity. And much lower than the third race." Lexington had been standing next to Broadway, showing him the PKE. "Hey!" He said suddenly, startled. "The indicator's going all haywire!" Egon hurried over. "Let me see," he said shortly. Lexington handed Egon the PKE meter and Egon adjusted a dial, studying the small screen. The lights on the two attenae were blinking furiously. Egon looked away from it up at the sky as if looking for something. "Egon?" Janine turned and looked with him. "What is it?" The faint summer night breeze gusted up more strongly and the city seemed to grow ominously still. "The PKE readings just went off the scale," Egon explained grimly. "So, it's just ghoul-face coming back." Peter shrugged. Egon stepped closer to the edge of the roof-top, his eyes fixed on the night sky. Winston wasn't sure, but he thought he could see a cluster of shadowy forms flitting near the horizon. The gargoyles and Maza stood clustered together, also watching the sky. "Yes," Egon said. "But he's not enough to create these kind of readings by himself." He glanced down at the PKE indicator. "This is bad. This is very bad." "I _hate_ it when he says that," Peter muttered, as Winston, Janine, and Ray ran for their accelerator packs. Elisa stood next to Goliath, unable to look away from the shapes that drew closer in the night sky. The glimmering lights of a tower revealed the outline of two or three of them, and Elisa blinked. They were unreal, horrible. The tower showed through their bodies, which seemed to trail off into nothingness from deformed heads and limbs. Behind her she heard a series of clicks and roaring hums as the ghostbusters switched on their weapons. As the shapes grew closer, Elisa could hear them screeching and whooping like a flock of blackbirds. In washed-out shades of black and purple or decaying green they looped and circled against the city lights. At their center, his sword unsheathed, came Hakon, like the commander of some ghastly legion of other-worldly soldiers. "Traps ready," she heard Spengler say behind her, and for some reason his calm, clinical, deep voice was comforting this time. "Check," Stanz answered over the hum of power from the packs. The legion grew closer, and then they stopped, hovering about ten blocks away. Hakon came forward without them until he was overhead, alone. "Goliath!" Hakon called down. "I wish to speak before we commence our final battle." Spengler raised his thrower, but Goliath put out a paw in a gesture of restraint. Then Goliath stepped forward, his wings folded around him like a cloak as he boldly glared back up at his enemy. "What do you want, Hakon?" "I want you to make a choice." Hakon, floating in mid-air, folded his arms and smiled nastily. His cloak billowed out behind him. "Will you willingly join me alone on the nether plane, or do I unleash my army of the dead on your clan?" "Ghosts can't kill the living," Spengler yelled up in challenge. Hakon laughed. "Not directly, Sorcerer. But we can cause things to happen. You know what I did to the lovely young female and your second in command last night, Goliath. Perhaps this time one of these spirits could prod your human friend into leaping from this rooftop. Or terrify that large blue one until he flies in front of one of those speeding horseless wagons. Or they could simply drive you all insane with fear. It is your decision, Goliath. Agree to my terms, and I will send all of them away," he gestured at the wispy forms circling behind him in the night sky. "But if I succeed in bringing you to my plane of existence by force -- and I can assure you I will -- your clan will most certainly be destroyed a second time, and once again you will not be there to protect them." Elisa heard a growl rumbling up from Goliath's chest, and his eyes lit up. "Very well," Goliath said, his voice thick with reluctance and anger. "I agree to your terms." Elisa and the gargoyles raised their voices all at once in protest. "Have ye gone daft, lad?" Hudson all but bellowed. Zeddemore put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Silence fell. Goliath turned to Spengler. "You said earlier that you had the technology to...bring me back. Is this true?" "In a sense." Spengler shook his head. "But as I said, only theoretically. If you cross over to the netherworld, become a ghost like him, I cannot guarantee that we can bring you back." "But there is a chance?" "Goliath..." Elisa stepped in front of him pleadingly. "It is the only way I can prevent him from harming any of you further. I will not let him hurt my clan a second time." She felt how remote he was at that moment, his face locked in a warrior's quiet determination. She might as well try to move the Empire State Building by putting her shoulder to the outside wall. Spengler stepped forward and cleared his throat as if in a gesture of respect. "Goliath, I understand how you feel. But there is another way. We can capture Hakon, and put him where he'll never bother you or your clan again." He stood holding his thrower in both hands, looking small before Goliath. "Well?" Hakon demanded. "What will it be, Goliath? Are you going to let these sorcerers do your fighting for you?" Something flickered in Goliath's face, and Elisa knew that had gotten to him. He turned to answer Hakon, but Elisa reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders, staring hard up into his face. "Goliath, listen to me. We need you here. Hakon wins either way if you can't come back, even if you do defeat him on the other side. If there is an alternative, why give him what he wants?" Elisa could see that he was wavering. She turned sharply to the ghosbusters. "Hakon can't escape from your traps, can he?" "Not likely," Spengler said. "And after the trap, he will be placed in our containment unit." "No ghost has _ever_ escaped from our containment unit," said Venkman. Elisa saw Stanz open his mouth to say something, but Venkman elbowed him in the ribs. Stanz grunted and fell silent. Goliath looked around at his clan, who were watching him tensely. Angela's delicate face had a determined set that made her resemble her father. After a long pause, Goliath turned back to Hakon. "_We_ will fight you. But in this world. As for these...sorcerers," Goliath gestured at the ghostbusters, "You have summoned up your army, which far outnumbers my clan. You must allow me to summon mine. A fair fight." Hakon's mouth hardened. "Very well. A fair fight." Elisa watched as Goliath hopped up to perch on the wall, the other gargoyles joining him, poised to take flight. She knew what it had cost him to be accused of cowardice, to have the chance to sacrifice himself to keep his clan safe and yet choose to stand with them instead. But the five taking flight with Goliath needed that more than they needed guaranteed safety. It was an odd sort of battle. The filmy, transparent apparitions didn't appear to be able to physically harm the gargoyles, but the gargoyles couldn't touch them, either. Four or five of the small ghosts swarmed around Hudson, who swatted at them like insects. A sinuous, coal-black wispy thing swirled itself around Broadway. Elisa saw the battle-brightness fade from his eyes, and he watched it uneasily. Then his face seemed to go strangely still. Elisa's stomach lurched with fear as his wings went limp, crumpling, and the heavy gargoyle started to fall. She could hear Hakon laughing, somewhere up in the sky. Lexington reached Broadway first, grabbing the much larger gargoyle's wrist in both paws, grimacing as the muscles of his arms strained. But he only managed to slow Broadway's fall. Then Goliath and Brooklyn were there, taking Broadway's limp form from Lexington. The black ghost circled the three, about to claim another victim of its mysterious supernatural powers. Then the ghostbuster's throwers crackled, sending the multi-colored streams up into the night. Stanz and Melnitz caught the black spirit in a twisting prison of light. "Almost forgot, detective," Venkman said, his foot poised above a trap switch. "Don't look directly at an open trap." "Right. Uh...why?" Venkman shrugged. "No idea. Only Ray knows for sure." He stepped on the switch. The trap opened, letting loose a luminous white light. Elisa averted her eyes, but she did see the black ghost suddenly get tugged down, elongating. With a final shriek, the spirit vanished inside the trap. The lid snapped shut, and a red light near the trap's handle began to blink. "He's in there," Venkman said with satisfaction. Elisa bent over to look at the trap, which emitted some sort of foul-smelling vapor. "Are you sure?" "Well," Venkman said laconically. "I could just let it out again if you don't believe me." Elisa backed up a step. "No. That's quite all right. I believe you." Broadway seemed to have recovered, and went with the others towards Hudson, who was growing more and more flustered by the tiny ghosts and flitted around him. "Be off with ye," he growled, as one passed right through him. Zeddemore and Stanz aimed their throwers. "Watch it --" Spengler called out. "Don't hit the gargoyles." Bronx had grown hoarse from barking, and stood stiffly at attention, his head tilted back so he could watch Goliath and the others. A low, constant, whining growl rumbled from his chest. "Easy, boy." Elisa knelt beside him and rested her arm across his neck. "It's being taken care of." There was a good-sized heap of full traps now, smoking and blinking. Sometimes one would jerk as if its occupant were trying to escape. "We're running out of traps, Egon," Stanz said worriedly. Elisa got to her feet. "Is that bad?" "Well, we've caught most of the class fives. The important thing is to get Hakon. But he's powerful -- and clever." Stanz sighed. "Yeah. He keeps vanishing every time I get him in my sights." Suddenly Elisa felt a rush of frigid air at her back, and Bronx growled in a way he never had before. She turned quickly, and faced a pale, slender, transparent spirit that had a face, torso, arms, and legs but was of no recognizable age or gender. But it had eyes -- shadowed and hollow -- that seemed to convey an almost pleading message of despair and torment. Elisa found herself unable to move, unable to look away. The ghost curled around her like a mist, bringing a slow seeping cold that crept under her skin, into her body, her bones, her stomach. It was difficult to breathe. She felt colder than she had ever felt in her life, colder than she'd felt during the blizzard in Norway, but her teeth didn't chatter and her bare arms were free of goosebumps. She wondered if this was what death felt like. Then she felt a tug at her back. Bronx had his jaws clamped over the cotton fabric of her shirt and was pulling her away. Vaguely, she saw Venkman turn and aim the stream of his thrower at the spirit. The cold faded, and the pale ghost vanished into a trap. Her surroundings became clear again, and she realized the back of her shirt and the hair about her forehead were damp with sweat. Elisa stood with her legs resting against Bronx's side. "Thanks," she said to Venkman. "For you, Raven Hair, anything." _If he calls me "sugar" I'm going to deck him, ghost or no ghost_, Elisa thought, turning her eyes to the sky to look for Goliath. The number of Hakon's army had been diminished by about half. But those remaining continued to distract the gargoyles and draw the ghostbuster's fire. Goliath, flying in an irregular flight path to avoid the streams and the ghosts, turned in mid-air and flew straight up. And in the clear space above the fray, he ended up facing Hakon. Elisa saw Goliath stop, hovering on the wind. Hakon reached out with both hands, and the ethereal green light crossed from him to Goliath, encircling the gargoyle. "No!" Elisa yelled, and the ghostbusters looked around, confused. "Hakon," she told them. "Up there..." Another ghost snapped into a trap. Up in the starry sky, Lexington and Broadway had heard her yelling and turned to look for Goliath and the Viking ghost. Flying like an arrow with several ghosts on her tail, Angela looked around for Goliath, and didn't notice the supports of the water tower until it was too late. Elisa caught her breath, Goliath momentarily forgotten as she watched Angela hit the supports. Angela started to fall, but reached out and grabbed a cross-piece. Hudson and Brooklyn flew to help her, but she was already launching herself back into the sky. Elisa's attention snapped back to Broadway and Lexington, who flew up towards Goliath -- and she realized that none of them would get there in time, and that even if they did, the green glow would repel them. Surrounded by the greenish light, Goliath's form began to fade, washing out. Hakon was going to win. He was going to take Goliath away to a place from which he might only "theoretically" be able to return. There wasn't time for instructions or to be polite. Elisa wrenched the humming thrower from Venkman's grasp, despite the fact that the weapon was apparently connected to the pack he wore on his back by a small cable. The thrower was heavier than it looked, and unwieldy. But as a cop she had dealt with a variety of firearms, and somehow managed to get a grip on the barrel with one hand and locate the firing button with the other. The recoil made the action of her own gun seem like a feather-weight. She took a step back to steady herself as the sparking stream went wild. Elisa realized she had done something very stupid -- but luckily the shot went harmlessly into empty air space, the ropes of light vivid against the blackness of the sky. And Hakon was just a few feet away from her shot. Elisa managed to turn the thrower, and caught the Viking ghost. The light connecting him with Goliath faded. "Don't lose him -- don't lose him," Venkman instructed her. Stanz, Melnitz, and Spengler swung their streams around to join hers. The multi-colored light twisted and danced around Hakon, who let out a bellow of pain and rage. Zeddemore stepped on one of the last three traps. The trap light pulled Hakon down. The spirit of Hakon, the destroyer of Goliath's clan, vanished into the trap. Just before he went, Elisa caught the final, furious, astonished expression on his face, and the trap clicked shut. Elisa and the ghostbusters turned the throwers off as the last remaining ghosts flitted off into the night in different directions. Venkman let out a low, one-note whistle. "Fancy shootin', ma'am," he said, as Elisa handed back the thrower. Stanz let out a laugh of triumph. "The first time we shot one of these, we nearly incinerated an entire banqueting room." He looked thoughtful. "If you ever get tired of being a cop..." One by one, the gargoyles glided down and landed on the rooftop. Bronx bounded up to Goliath, who touched the gargoyle watch-dog's head. Angela looked doubtfully at the pile of traps. The one holding Hakon twitched furiously, then stilled. "What's going to happen to him?" Stanz shrugged. "He'll spend the next several millennia, or more, in our specialized containment unit. He won't be lonesome -- plenty of other spooks to keep him company." "Uh..." Elisa began awkwardly. Between the TV, the notebook computer for Lexington, and the tons of food, she wondered how on earth her checking account would handle this one. "About your fee..." "Forget it." Stanz dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. "We occasionally take cases pro bono." With the throwers off and the battle over, the summer night seemed peaceful once again. A soft wind came up with a sigh, and a siren wailed faintly in the distance. While helping Stanz and Melnitz gather the traps, Spengler suddenly turned to Elisa, a curious look on his thin face. He switched the PKE meter on and waved it up and down in front of her. His eyebrows went up. "Hmmm. Fascinating." Broadway looked suspiciously at the ghostbuster. "What?" He demanded, trying to see the meter over Spengler's shoulder. "What's wrong with Elisa?" "There's nothing wrong with her..." Spengler began. Elisa chuckled. "I can assure you, Dr. Spengler, I am definitely just your average, ordinary human." Spengler switched off the device, and the humming attenna retracted. "Oh yes, there's nothing particularly odd about you...but I'd say you are anything but average and ordinary , detective." Bronx approached Venkman again, his tongue lolling out in his ordinary-dog like fashion. Elisa gave up puzzling out Dr. Spengler's comment, and turned to watch Bronx and the ghostbuster, wondering what the outcome would be. After a doubtful moment, Venkman slowly knelt in front of Bronx and gingerly scratched the gargoyle's ears. The large-pawed, broad-chested, mastiff-like gargoyle let out a half bark and licked Venkman's face. Venkman grimaced, then reached out and patted the back of Bronx's neck. "You know," he said, "This fella's not so bad. I mean, he looks a bit similar, but when you think about it, he's a lot cuter than the hounds of Gozer." "I'm not even going to ask who Gozer is," Elisa said. Venkman got to his feet. "Now that this craziness is over," he said in a low voice, "maybe you and I could go to this little cafe I know and I could tell you." Elisa folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. He was smooth, she gave him that. "Now that this -- craziness -- is over, I go back on duty, Dr. Venkman. I'm a cop, remember?" Venkman leaned towards her, ready to say something clever, but then he apparently caught something in the corner of his eye and thought better of it. Clearing his throat, Venkman nodded, suddenly distant and cordial. "Detective." As Venkman walked away, Elisa looked up and saw Goliath watching her. She caught his eye, and he gave her a searching look she couldn't read before he turned quickly away. Dawn came with a clear, early morning coolness. On the street below the Clock Tower, someone washed down the sidewalk in front of a restaurant with a hose, making the concrete shine in the young sunlight. Elisa rested her elbows on the balustrade, edged on either side by the still, fierce, magnificent, sleeping stone gargoyles. And all was right with her world. Before the flight back to the Clock Tower last night, Goliath had thanked the ghostbusters in his solemn way. Lexington had had to be pried away from Stanz, who was explaining to the entranced young gargoyle how protons reacted with ectoplasmic material. Part of her, the part that was a New York City cop, still thought the ghostbusters were something of a stage-show and a nuisance. But the other part, the part that was Elisa Maza, felt quietly glad that they were out there, protecting in their own way. "Elisa? Hey, Elisa!" Matt's voice called from inside the Clock Tower. He stepped out through the door in the clock face and joined her on the ledge. Matt paused, his eyes travelling over the stone statues. He seemed to be mentally counting. "I didn't check my messages until this morning," Matt explained. "I went to the address you left, but no one was there. Is everything all right?" "It is now," Elisa said. "What happened?" "It's a long story. Come on, I'll tell you over a couple of bagels." ****************** This was an odd place. It had no boundaries, no form. Clumps of earth, strange, deformed structures, maze-like rocks hovered in nothingness. There were other spirits, some still ranting and screaming about the vengeance that was rightfully theirs, others merely drifting, as if they had long ago forgotten why they had never passed over. Hakon wandered, trying to find a way out. There was none. Strangely, he didn't care. For the first time in over a thousand years, it didn't seem to matter any more. He vaguely recalled that he hated something called Goliath, but wasn't quite sure what to do about it. A surreal cluster of smooth, dark rock drifted by. One of the formations that jutted from its surface looked like nothing more than a shapeless lump. Then, as the angle changed, Hakon thought the outcropping looked tantalizingly familiar -- like a figure with a fierce, proud face, and wings. ****************** THE END