In Darkness Cometh, Chapter the Second: Ashes, Ashes...
By Amy K. Cyrway 
(Eddie, Black Blade, Luach, and whatever you know my by...)
blkblade@mailexcite.com; rayapam@mint.net

***DISCLAIMER: It has been proven that if one more fanfic of mine is 
posted, I could be considered a threat to Disney and Buena 
Vista...however, I will point out that Disney and Buena Vista own 
Gargoyles, and no infringement is intended...imitation is flattery and 
Gargoyles rock! Luach, Caligo, the Devourer, Sierra MacDuff, Arin 
MacDuff, Nathaniel Lovecraft, RC Spiker, Tristan Lé Fey, and any others 
you don't recognise are mine, however, and Chimura belongs to Mercedes.  
It is recommended that you read at least "...Love and War" before 
continuing, or you would be confused by some of the characters...although 
the sexual innuendoes are pretty blatant...Xtra thanx go out to my rookery 
sis and bro, Mercedes and Sombrero, for without them, I would have 
never found Station Eight or Gargoyles Fans, and Whitbourne, whose 
fanfic brought out the creativity in me...("Immortal Beloved" was the first 
and best fanfic I've read to date!  Oh, that brings out a possibility of a 
crossover...Cat fight between Arin and Carbonear!  Fun!)  Also, 
DemonSpawn, Stormy, Kellie, and the rest of the gang at Station 
Eight!***

SEVARIUS: Goliath is your biological father.  You are his very own flesh 
and stone.  (Show Sevarius leering over Angela chained in "Monsters")

KAT: Previously, on Gargoyles...

CHAZ: You're Brook's dad?! (Show Caligo holding Chaz by the collar in 
"Waiting for Darkness")

ANGELA: I hate you. (Show Angela chained to the wall of the funhouse, 
facing Demona, in "The Reckoning")

LUNA: You are needed to defeat the Devourer.
NATE: I don't understand...
SELENE: There are four gargoyles of the same blood.  Four gargoyles 
marked by Fate. (Show Nate conversing with the Weird Sisters, “Revenge 
of the Black Sword”)

DEVOURER: The boy is powerful, yes.  More powerful than I realised.  
Oh, well, lesson learned.  But do not get too cocky, Luach of Wyvern.  
You will never be so much to destroy me. (Show the Devourer feeding off 
of Nate, then being purged by Luach, in "Revenge of the Black Sword")

LUACH: What do we do now?
NATE: We wait until the Devourer rears its ugly head again.  In the mean 
time, we'll lay low.  (Show Luach "guising" in "Revenge of the Black 
Sword")

***

CHRONOS: LATE 20th CENTURY EARTH, MANHATTAN
KIROS: EPOCH OF BROOKLYN

***

    	"Elisa!"
	 Elisa Maza looked up from her paperwork.  For some reason, 
there had been more and more of it as the years progressed.
	"Yeah, Captain?" She stood as Captain Maria Chavez of the 23rd 
Precinct strode up to the detective's desk.
	"I've got a transfer here from 19th Bronx precinct," Maria flipped 
her thumb toward her office.
	"Oh, no, Captain," Elisa held her hands up in defense.  "Remember 
the Canmore incident?"
	"We doublechecked his records.  He's for real. Meet me in my 
office when you're finished."  Without waiting for an answer, she turned 
on her heel and left.
	"Great," The black-haired woman groaned, signing the last form.  
"I can't believe this."

	She finally dragged herself to the captain's office about fifteen 
minutes later.  Maria and the man who sat across from her stood.
	"Elisa Maza, this is Nathaniel Lovecraft," She introduced with a 
wave of her hand.  "Show him the ropes until we can find him a 
permanent partner."
	"What about Matt?" Elisa questioned.
	"Detective Bluestone has been reinstated by the FBI for a couple of 
weeks."
	Elisa bit her lip.  That was certainly unexpected.
	“In the meantime, you're with Detective Lovecraft until Matt 
returns."
	Elisa gave the man a once over.  He was tall, about six feet tall, 
and lank, with a longish shock of black hair perpetually falling in front of 
his odd eyes, one a brilliant green, the other a deep blue.  He wore a nicely 
fitting pair of dark blue Levi's 501 and a somewhat ratty Marilyn Manson 
tee-shirt under an equally worn bomber jacket.
	He stuck his hand out, and Elisa noticed the digits only numbered 
four as she shook it.
	"Nate Lovecraft, detective, third class," he smiled brilliantly.
	"Elisa Maza, detective, second class," she introduced formally.  
There was something unsettling about this guy.  Something about his eyes.  
"What shift are you assigned to?"
	"Nate will be joining you on night shift," Maria interjected.  "Now, 
if there's no other questions..."
	"Not a one, Captain."
	"I hope this works out." Nate flashed another perfect 
tooth-paste-commercial smile.  "I just love Manhattan, and what I 
understand, there's a lot of action down here."
	"More than you realise," she cracked a grin.

	"1956 Ford Fairline.  Nice condition, too." Nate whistled as the 
two exited the precinct house.
	“Thanks," Elisa smiled, somewhat nervously, as she unlocked the 
driver's side of her car.  "So, we're taking your car or mine?"
	"Well, I know a lot of Manhattan.  Spent most of my adult life here 
before moving to the Bronx.  Let's take mine."
	Elisa shrugged, locking the Fairline back up and trailing the lank 
man to a sleek black musclecar parked nearby.
	"1967 Pontiac GTO," Elisa commented.
	"So you do know your cars," Nate grinned.  "Yep, this is Artemis.  
She's my pride and joy."
	"You named your car?"
	"Doesn't everyone?  Naming them gives them somewhat of 
a...personality..."
	Elisa could have sworn she heard someone snort just then, turning 
just as Nate gave the fender a kick.
	Nate opened the passenger side door, bowing.  "After you, m'lady."
	The woman could not help but grin at his chivalry.
	However, her face fell as she remembered another chivalrous cop 
who turned out to be none other than one of the Hunters.
	She got in and fastened her seatbelt without another word save 
somewhat of a cold "thank you", one that she did not mean to use that tone 
of voice.
	However, Nate did not seem to notice, or, if he did, he seemed to 
ignore it as he got in on his side.
	"One thing you must know about Artemis; she doesn't like it when 
other people drive her.  It messes up her clutch.  My...cousin...  Luc drove 
her a couple of days ago, and let's just leave it at the fact he isn't the 
world's most skilled drivers.  She'll be a little rough when she starts."  He 
pumped the gas, put a foot on the clutch and the other on the brake, turned 
the key, and, revving a little, took the parking brake off and eased her into 
first.  The car jerked somewhat, but instantly smoothed out as they headed 
down 2nd Avenue.
	As Elisa explained the boundaries of their patrol area, Nate 
somewhat half-listened.
	His mind was elsewhere.

***
NYU Library

	"Um, sir?"
	The brown haired young man looked up from the book of Scottish 
history to the librarian aide, an average-built woman with curly black hair 
tied back into a simple ponytail and piercing grey eyes wearing a Project 
A-Ko tee-shirt and jeans.
	"Sir, the library will be closed to the public in fifteen minutes."
	He nodded, and RC could not help but see some sort of pain in his 
eyes.
	"Are you all right?" She then asked.
	"I'm fine..." he nodded.  "I'm just getting over a cold."
	“Ah..." the Grecian woman replied, though she had a feeling it 
wasn't a cold.  She returned to her desk and continued typing at her 
terminal.
	The man closed the book, put it on top of the stack next to him, 
shrugging into the heavy army jacket draped over his chair, and picked up 
the books.  He walked funny, RC noted, to the circulation desk.
	"Is there a procedure to take these out if you're not a student?" He 
questioned softly.
	RC glanced up into his emerald green eyes.
	Why did he look so familiar?
	"If you have a driver's license or state ID."
	The man shook his head.
	“I'm visiting family for a while, ma'am." He whispered.  "And I left 
my wallet at home."
	She nodded in understanding, grinning a half-smile.
	"Let me have your name and address on this," she passed him an 
index card and a pen.  "I can take care of the rest."
	The man smiled as well, a genuine smile, as he wrote down his 
name and a Bleeker Street Apartment address.
	Handing it back to RC, he waited patiently as she stamped the 
books, scanned them into the computer, typed some information into a 
database, and ran them through a demagnetiser.  Handing them back to 
him, she then asked, "You aren't, by any chance, related to Arin MacDuff, 
are you?"
	She noticed a nanosecond of panic in his eyes, but it quickly was 
replaced by a blank look.
	“No," Luc shook his head.  "And thank you, ma'am."
	"Call me RC," she grinned as he left the building.
	Her grin faded as she closed out of the cataloug program and 
booted up her IRC program.  Sending a ping to another computer across 
town to a friend named Lexington, she sighed somewhat.  The first 
thought was that he was probably on patrol.  She was a little relieved 
when the ping came back with the other user.
	HI, RC, the Green Lion blinked onto the screen.  WHAT'S UP?
	LEX>DOES ARIN HAVE A BROTHER OR A COUSIN?
	RC>BRB.
	She waited a couple of minutes, fishing a Coke out of the back 
room.  When she came back to her desk, there was another icon, this one 
the little Windows symbol indicating a newbie.
	RC>NO BROTHERS, it replied. NO COUSINS.  DA'S AN ONLY 
CHILD, AND I HOPE TO GOD MY MOTHER JUST HAD ME AND 
FOX.
	It was Arin.
	RC>WHY DO YOU ASK?
	RC bit her lip, and typed slowly, ARIN>I JUST SAW A GUY 
COME IN HERE AND CHECK OUT BOOKS WHO LOOKED A 
LITTLE LIKE YOU WHEN...WELL, ANYWAY, IF THAT WASN'T 
ANY MORE COINCIDENTAL, HIS NAME JUST HAPPENS TO BE 
MACDUFF.  LUC MACDUFF.  WHEN I MENTIONED YOUR NAME, 
HE PANICKED SOMEWHAT.  APPARENTALLY, HE KNOWS YOU.
	There was cybersilence, then: RC>I HAD A BROTHER NAMED 
LUACH.
	ARIN>COULD THIS BE HIM?
	RC>HE DIED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO, KILLED BY A 
CANMORE.
	RC blinked, surprised.  Arin had told her her father's story, though 
this was the first time she had ever heard about a brother.  
	She had, however, heard of the Hunters.
	Shaking her head, she chewed on her lip.
	ARIN>I WAS GOING DOWN TO THE LABRYNITH TONIGHT, 
BUT MAYBE WE SHOULD TALK ABOUT THIS IN PERSON.  I 
HAVE AN ADDRESS, TOO.  IT'S AGAINST POLICY, BUT THIS I 
THINK CLASSIFIES AS AN ACCEPTIBLE SITUATION.
	RC>DEAL.  MEET YOU AT...?
	ARIN>HOW ABOUT MY PLACE, NINE O'CLOCK?
	RC>NO PROBLEM.  OVER AND OUT.
	The Windows icon disappeared, replaced by the Green Lion one.
	RC>WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT? Lex demanded.
	LEX>I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS.  TALK TO YOU 
LATER, AMIGO.  I'VE GOTTA GET BACK TO WORK.
	RC> CYL.
	LEX>CYL. *******GONE*******
	She closed out of her IRC server and returned to the cataloug 
program.  Glancing at the card Luc had filled out earlier, she took a sip of 
her Coke and drummed her fingers on the hard wood.
	She had sensed some sort of pain from him, somewhat like she did 
when she was around Brooklyn.
	Snapping her fingers, she minimised the window and pulled up a 
Manhattan online directory.  Typing in the address into the search menu 
and hitting the enter button, she waited a couple of seconds before a name 
popped up.
	Lovecraft, Nathaniel P. Temporary tenant.
	Even had a phone number.
	She jotted the number down on the card and placed it into her 
jacket pocket.
	A little investigating harmed no one.
	Now, all she had to do was wait until eight o'clock....

***
Avenue of the Americas

	"I really hate this time of year," Brooklyn muttered, zipping up the 
leather jacket he had borrowed from Arin.
	"Wuss," Broadway smirked, wearing nothing but his traditional 
loincloth, and seeming proud of it too.  "What you need is some meat on 
them there bones..."
	"Easy for you to say when you're as insulated as yourself," the 
smaller gargoyle quipped as they landed on the roof of a residential 
apartment, jabbing a finger at Broadway's stomach.  
	"At least there's one thing to look forward to: Christmas!"
	A smile flashed across Brooklyn's face in realisation.
	"Two more weeks!" He exclaimed in childlike joy.  "Are you 
getting anything for Angela?"
	"Ummm..." Broadway scratched his bald head in thought.  "I've 
been thinking about it...but Elisa said she has some jewelry she never 
wore, and that I was welcome to take a necklace or two with her 
okay...Angela wouldn't wear rings, I don't think.  How about you?  What're 
you getting for Arin?"
	Brooklyn shrugged.
	"I don't know," he whispered simply.  "I mean, what do you get 
someone who has everything she could possibly want?"
	Broadway gave his brother a sympathetic smile.
	"Well, you had to fall for a rich girl," he joked, instinctively 
holding his hands up in defense.
	To his surprise, Brooklyn did not threaten to hit him in the playful 
manner he was accustomed to.  Instead, the red gargoyle slouched, staring 
at the passing traffic.
	"Yeah..." he muttered.
	Broadway blinked.
	"Brook, what's bothering you?" he questioned, putting a hand on 
Brooklyn's shoulder. He shrugged.
	"I love Arin...but I can't help but to feel that it's because of her I 
feel like my head's ready to explode..." he shook his head.  "I wonder if it's 
really worth it."
	"Do you truly love her?"
	"With all my heart." He sighed.  "I can't imagine not loving her.  
But being constantly in pain...is it worth it?"
	"RC could help you...I mean, she's psychic..."
	Broadway had to fall back as his older rookery brother 
unexpectedly lunged at him.
	"I don't want her help!" He growled, his eyes taking a glowing light 
to them.  "I don't need her help!"
	"She also knows a great deal about these kinds of things.  Far more 
than you."
	"Not after what happened with Lexington," Brooklyn rocked back 
to his former position, watching traffic.
	Broadway blinked.
	"What about Lexington?"
	"You've never noticed?"  He held up his right hand in 
demonstration.  "The Mark of the Black Sword?  RC also has one, on her 
left shoulder.  So did the gargoyle who busted into RC's apartment last 
May.  If he had never met RC, he wouldn't be marked."
	"How would you know that?"
	"I do," Brooklyn whispered cryptically, watching an older, black 
Porsche 911 speed down below.

***

	Goliath could not help but notice Elisa's car was still at the station 
as he and Hudson glided overhead.
	"Have ye seen the clock tower, lad?" Hudson was saying somewhat 
excitedly.  "Before he left Matt said the force might be able to move back 
in about a month."
	Goliath nodded somewhat, not really listening.
	Hudson glanced down and also noted Elisa's car.
	"They might have assigned her a temporary partner until Matt 
comes back.  They probably took his car," he reassured.
	"I just have a bad feeling," Goliath rumbled.  "Something in the air 
is not right."
	"I smell it too, lad," the elder nodded.  "Maybe a storm 
brewing...another...what did the lass Eddie call them...? Nor'easters?"
	"Maybe," the lavender gargoyle nodded as they continued their 
patrol.
	About five minutes later, over Chinatown, Goliath recoiled 
somewhat, his eyes open wide in shock.
	“Goliath, what is it?" Hudson demanded as the leader reclaimed 
his equilibrium.
	"A ghost, Hudson," he whispered.  "It couldn't have been more than 
a shadow...for a minute, I thought I saw the adopted clansman."
	Hudson raised an eye ridge, trying to recall what Goliath was 
talking about.
	"My first second-in-command," He finally stated.
	Goliath said nothing; only nodded.
	Hudson paled somewhat.
	"He died long ago, even before the massacre, lad.  All ye saw were 
shadows.  It must be the storm.  Come on, lad, ye haven't had a night off 
from patrol for two weeks.  I think it's time to take a rest.  I'll finish up 
here.  Go home."
	Out of character, Goliath agreed, gliding toward the castle with 
only a nod.
	When out of earshot, Hudson growled somewhat, drawing his 
sword.
	Landing on a rooftop, he watched the shadows very carefully.
	"I know yer here, lad," he growled.  "Why've ye returned?"
	“Rumours, Leader," the shadows hissed.  "Rumours that tell of my 
son being alive."
	Hudson's eye ridges shot up, then narrowed, eyes glowing.
	"Ye've tried to take the lad from his clan before, and it got you 
banished!" He snarled.
	The shadows took this to be a challenge, and solidified, becoming 
more and more defined.
	"I only wished to see him again, as an adult," the grey gargoyle, 
standing a foot taller than the old warrior, growled.
	"When I accepted ye into the clan, ye promised to abide to the laws 
of the clan.  That included no favoritism to the hatchlings and not betray 
yer brothers."
	The new gargoyle hissed, pouncing, knocking Hudson off-balance.  
The veteran stepped sideways, swinging his tail out and catching the 
other's foot and tripping him.
	"I did not betray anyone!" he protested, rolling to avoid Hudson's 
blade.  "I only did what I had to do!"
	"Did that include the deaths of seven of yer clansmen?  Ye may be 
immortal, Caligo, but most of us aren't.  Ye led those gargoyles without a 
plan, and the Vikings ambushed ye."
	Caligo's eyes glowed angrily, though he stood, defeated.
	Hudson sheathed his sword, though stayed on his guard.
	"Now, let us talk about this like civilised gargoyles," the grey 
gargoyle suggested.  "All I wanted to do was to see my son.  Talk to him. 
Just to know him.  Peaceful confrontation.  Nothing else."
	"How did ye get word we were still alive?"
	"I have my ways, Leader," Caligo whispered.
	“My name is Hudson now, lad.  Ye've come a long way from 
Europe, though.  Just to see"
	"Brooklyn?  Yes, I have."  The larger gargoyle sat on the edge of 
the roof.  "I've lived a thousand years feeling guilty about abandoning the 
clan in its time of need.  What I've heard, Hudson, you told the clan I died 
in that attack.  Why?"
	Hudson sighed, scratching at his beard.
	"I wasn't that cold to tell yer mate ye left the clan," he retorted 
simply.
	An interesting expression crossed Caligo's face, one Hudson had 
never known the immortal to ever express.
	Humility.
	As Caligo began to retreat to the shadows once more, Hudson 
quickly grabbed his arm.
	"Wait, lad," he whispered. "I cannot forbid you to see Brooklyn, 
though I don't know how he'd react..."
	"Thank you, Hudson," the shadows whispered, then vanished.
	Hudson scratched his balding head.
	"Damn," he hissed.  "This is turning out to be an interesting year 
for the lad."

***
Eyrie Building

	"`Santa baby, fill my stocking with a duplex, and cheques, sign 
your X on the line, Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight!  
Come on over and trim my tree, with decorations ordered from Tiffany's, I 
really do believe in you.  Let's see if you believe in me, ba-dooby-doo!  
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing: a ring, and I don't mean on 
the phone...'" Arin lost it, cracking up before finishing her song.  She fell 
into a nest of garland and sat there until Angela, giggling, pulled her back 
up to her feet.
	"It really never snowed on Avalon?" she then asked, picking up 
one of the strands and threading it around the great hall.  "How could it be 
Christmas without snow?"
	"We managed," Angela shrugged, untangling the lights.  "Princess 
Katherine told us all about it, but it was always summer there."
	"Then again, it's summer right now down in the southern 
hemisphere," Arin remarked, admiring her handiwork, then noticing 
someone was watching them.
	She beckoned Chimura, the shy gargoyle who joined their clan just 
a week ago, to come in.  The young woman nodded somewhat, gazing in 
amazed puzzlement at the wonderland the two other women had created.
	"What is this for?" she asked slowly, finding her words.
	"Christmas," Arin answered simply.
	"A festival where humans celebrate peace on earth, like our 
Midwinter's Eve," Angela added.
	Chimura nodded again, somewhat understanding.  Her English 
wasn't the best yet, but she was catching on rather quickly.
	"Would you like to help decorate?" Arin asked.
	"Decorate..." Chimura pondered the word.
	"Putting up this stuff all over the place to make it look good," Arin 
retorted excitedly, grabbing a string of lights and wrapping it around a suit 
of armour.  She plugged it in, and they all lit up.  Suddenly, they all began 
blinking.   Arin's mouth dropped.
	"Why the hell are they blinking?!" she shouted.
	Angela laughed hysterically as the tan gargoyle searched 
frantically for that red-tipped blinker causing the disturbance.  Chimura 
chuckled with a little confusion.  When the other two started talking 
rapidly, forget it.  She lost translation.
	"So, when are you going to meet RC?" Angela questioned.
	“Found the nasty little bastard," Arin cackled, pulling the light out.  
The string went dead.  "Oh, I should get going soon.  What time is it?"
	Angela glanced at the clock.
	"Eight-thirty."
	“Half-hour.  Could you pass me a blue one?"
	Chimura watched carefully as the lavender woman fished through 
a jar of little bulbs.
	"Why does it have to be blue?"
	“Because I said so.  Fork it over!"
	Angela giggled handing her friend a blue bulb.
	"So, did your father find out who kept putting the blinker on his 
house lights?" Angela then asked.  She knew about Arin and Macbeth's 
hatred for blinking lights.
	“No, but when he does...god damn pranksters..." Arin snarled, 
replacing the bulb.  The string came back to life.
	"`Blinker?'" Chimura questioned.
	"This little bastard," Arin stood up, holding the tiny bulb, white 
with a red tip.  "They cause the entire string to blink.  I hate blinking 
lights."
	"Sorcery," the Grecian gargoyle whispered, taking the bulb and 
examining it.
	"Technology," Arin muttered.  "And that there you have in your 
hand is the downfall of it."
	"Downfall...oh."
	Arin nodded, dusting off her hands.
	"I've gotta find out about the tree," she then stated, exiting to the 
den.
	"Why do you need a tree?" Chimura asked.
	"It's a human tradition," Angela explained.  "They decorate it with 
ornaments and lights.'
	Chimura nodded.
	"They put gifts under the tree and on Christmas Day, they open 
them." She smirked.  "Though we tend to open them Christmas Eve, 
mostly because no one can wait that long, and, what I understand from 
Arin, it isn't the same waiting until Christmas Night...or something like 
that...we've always exchanged gifts around midnight."
	Chimura muttered something in Greek, and walked off.
	Angela sighed, wishing there was some way for her to understand 
them.  None of them knew Greek, and she was only beginning to know 
English.  It was going to take time.

	"David?"  Arin stuck her head into the den.  "You in here?"
	"Arin!" Alexander greeted her, running over and attaching himself 
to her leg.
	David Xanatos, sitting in one of the armchairs, looked up from his 
book, a dusty-looking tome with a gold stamped image of a cup on the 
cover.
	“Yes, Arin?" he smiled, closing the book and setting it on the table.
	"Just wondering the situation of the tree," she grinned, picking up 
the child.  "We've got the main hall all ready for it."
	"Owen went upstate to pick one up a couple of hours ago," he 
retorted, standing.  "He should be back any minute."
	"I can't wait.  I just love Christmas.  How about you, kiddo?"
	"Kris'mas!" Alex clapped, grinning broadly.  "I love Kris'mas!"
	Arin laughed, hugging the boy.
	"We're going to trim the tree, and sing carols, and have loads of 
fun, right, kiddo?"
	"Yeah!" The toddler hugged her, then squirmed out of her arms 
and climbed into his father's lap.  "I wanna trim the tree!"
	"Of course, Alexander," David gave his son a hug.  "We just have 
to wait for Owen."
	Alexander pouted, but then clapped again.
	"Owen's here!" he exclaimed, jumping from David's lap and, 
taking his hand and Arin's on the way out, the little boy towed the human 
and the gargoyle out to the snowy heliport, where copter touched down 
about five minutes ago.  Owen, Angela, Fox, and Lexington were already 
out helping drag out a beautiful fifteen-foot balsam fir.  Chimura watched 
from the doorway, curious.
	Arin smiled, running to help out with the tree.
	Alexander supervised the grownups drag the tree into the main 
hall, following at a safe distance with Chimura, explaining in very simple 
words to her about the tree.
	"We put it up and trim it...put lights and balls and pretty stuff on 
it...then we put a star on top of it."
	"A star?  Why?"
	"Means the Star of Beth'ham, the on the Three Kings followed to 
find the baby Jesus...at least, that's what Gran'pa says." He shrugged, 
laughing as Lexington and Angela struggled to keep the tree balanced as 
Owen placed the stand on the base.  "Hudson says the gargles have a same 
story, meaning the North Star."
	“I see," she nodded.  As much as the girls tried to explain to her, 
she could not understand them as much as she could the intelligent 
eighteen-month-old.
	He smiled, took her hand, and urged her to help out with the boxes 
of ornaments.     "These are the pretty things we put on the tree," he 
exclaimed, pulling out different balls, bells, and icicles.
	"Oops..." Arin checked the clock on the wall.  "I've gotta meet RC 
in a few minutes.  Don't start decorating without me!"  She picked up 
Alexander, planted a kiss on his forehead, then set him down and jogged 
to the courtyard.
	"Leaving us with all the dirty work," Angela scoffed humourfully 
as they uprighted the tree.
	"It's a beauty, all right," Fox whistled, staring at the thick branches.  
"Where on earth did you manage to find it, Owen?"
	"Talent," the stoic man nodded, tightening the eyescrews at the 
base.

***
NYU Apartment Complex

	Arin touched down on the skylight sill and rapped on the window.  
RC unlatched it, allowing the gargoyle in.
	"What's this all about, anyway?" Arin demanded, taking a mug of 
proffered apple cider.
	RC sipped her mug, wondering where to begin.
	“There was a guy in the library tonight.  A guy with your eyes.  He 
checked out some books on Scottish history, and left.  It just seemed too 
weird to be coincidental. MacDuff, the eyes, I don't know."
	"Were you able to read him?"
	"I don't do that without a person's consent, Arin.  It's unethical."
	Arin sat, drinking the warm cider.
	"Also, I did a background check on the guy at the address he gave 
me.  A Nathaniel Lovecraft.  I really did some undercover.  There was two 
Nathaniel Philip Lovecrafts in the New York Metropolitan area, one here 
in Manhattan, the other in Brooklyn Heights.  However, the one here has 
no birth certificate on file.  Everything else: Work records, previous 
addresses, all falsified. Everything is linked, though, so that anyone who 
checks in on him is convinced.  However, under looking closer, mostly at 
the sources, I get the same IP, none of them totally true.  all the IP's 
contain the same word: Artemis."  She picked up a notepad with a list of 
IP numbers: artemis59.fed.gov, artemis74.state.ny.us, among others.  "I 
also checked on this Luc MacDuff.  No record of him period.  He does not 
exist."
	"So what are we dealing with?" Arin whispered.
	"Either two clever con-artists who picked names out of a hat, or..."
	"...or?
	"...or I don't know what to think," RC muttered.  "They may or not 
know about you and the clan.  I don't know, Arin.  It worries me though."
	"What's the address?"
	RC handed her the index card.
	"This almost looks like Brooklyn's writing," she mumbled.  "It's in 
the same complex as Matt's.  Apartment 7D."  Handing the card back to 
her friend, the tan gargoyle nodded, set her mug down on the table, and 
headed back to the window.
	"What are you planning?"
	Arin turned her head to face the human.
	“Doing a little observing, that's all," she shrugged.  "If you see any 
of the guys, tell them I'll be home shortly."  And, pushing the skylight 
open, she opened her wings and glided off to the southwest.
	RC finished her cider, sighed, and looked at her work.
	"What exactly is going on here?" she whispered.

***
Bleeker Street Apartments

	Luc unlocked the door to the apartment, scooted in, then locked it 
again.  Turning the lights, he sat in the used armchair in the corner near 
the window and, opening  "The True Life Story of Macbeth", began 
reading. Something bothered him, though.
	He stared out the window, seeing nothi--
	--wait.
	Setting the book down, he stood, squinting to the building next 
door.
	Gargoyles of all shapes and sizes, half illuminated by the stars 
above, stared from the sills down at the streets.
	Save one, bearing green eyes like his own upon him.
	"Shit!" he whispered, an uneasy feeling washing over him.  
Shutting off the light, he unlocked the door and slipped out again.  
Breaking into a run, he ran down the stairs and out the door.
	The gargoyle stood from its perch, spread its wings, and glided 
after him.
	The chase went on for a few minutes, Luc dodging into an 
alleyway to catch his breath.
	He needed to drop the guise.  He couldn't stay like this for much 
longer.
	Putting his hands to his face, he drew energy from the earth, 
whispering "Drop."

	Arin swore.  She had lost him.
	“Damn!" she repeated, banking somewhat.
	Landing on a rooftop, she collected her thoughts.
	What now?

	Luc held his head as the pain dulled.
	At least the weakness he was suffering with the human guise was 
gone, though his head still hurt somewhat.
	Sinking his talons into the masonry, he climbed the building and 
launched off, heading toward Central Park.
	
	As she was ready to return, she saw Brooklyn off in the distance.
	Grinning somewhat, she unmantled her wings and took off, 
following him.
	As she closed the gap between her and him, she realised she wasn't 
trailed Brooklyn.
	In fact, it wasn't any of the Trio, or any other gargoyle she had 
known.
	Pitching upward, she pulled her wings together and dived at the 
bogie, tackling him and bringing him down hard on the snow-covered park 
ground.
	"Who are you?" she demanded, rolling him to face her.
	He groaned, holding his head, then opened his eyes and stared up 
at her.
	She gasped, both her eyes and his widened in surprise.
	He was wearing the same outfit as the human she was trailing.
	But that was impossible, unless he was a fae....
	"Who are you?" she demanded a little more forcefully.
	"A figment of your imagination," he hissed, pushing her off him 
and, jumping to his feet, broke into a run.
	Arin bolted after him, tackling his legs and slamming him down 
again.  With a forceful punch across the side of his head, she knocked him 
out.
	Standing, she brushed away a lock of hair from her face.
	Similarities were disturbing...a little too disturbing for her tastes....
	Picking him up gently, she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled 
out a cell phone.  She dialed a number and put the phone to her ear.
	"`Allo, Da?" she greeted.  "I've got a problem...can you pick me up 
at the south end of Central Park...?  Well, I just brought down 
someone...the problem is, he's not your typical joe...I'll explain when you 
get here.  Thanks, Da.  Love you too."  She stuffed the phone back into her 
pocket and waited patiently in the shadows.

***
Labyrinth

	"I don't get it; you have problems reading `Cat in the Hat', yet you 
can program Java Script," Malibu shook his head at his mentally younger 
brother.  Brentwood nodded vigorously, returning to the computer.  The 
programming itself was flawless; it was the spelling of the rest of the text 
that gave away Brent's weakness.  "Boy, and I thought I was seriously 
fucked up."
	"I'm gonna tell Talon you swore!" the dark purple gargoyle gasped, 
his eyes wide.
	"Oh, like he doesn't," Mal snapped back, wading through Wired 
and Highlights magazines to his side of the room.  Digging around his 
belongings, he finally found his book on biology and, sinking into the 
worn armchair that was technically Burbank's, picked up where he left off 
on zygotes and mutations.
	The rhythmic tapping at Brent's computer stopped suddenly, and 
Mal looked up to see his brother staring at him with huge red and black 
eyes.
	"Whatcha reading?" he asked innocently.
	"None of your concern," the blue gargoyle retorted, closing the 
book and slipping it behind his back.
	"I want to know whatcha reading!"
	"It's nothing you would understand!"
	Brent's face fell, then, deftly, he snatched the book from the chair 
and looked at the cover.
	"This is one of the Master's books," he whispered, recognising the 
GenUTech mark on the spine.
	"Don't call him that," Malibu snarled.  "He isn't our master."
	"He was," Brent whimpered, frightened.
	"HE NEVER WAS!" Mal shouted, grabbing the book from Brent 
and, storming past Hollywood at the doorway, exited the room.
	"What was that all about?" the magenta gargoyle questioned.
	"He just blew up at me," Brent shrugged, sitting back at his 
computer.

	Taking the envelope from the back of the book, Mal growled 
somewhat.
	He had found GenUTech reference books stashed all over the 
place, and, out of curiousity, gathered them up before anyone could throw 
them.  That included documentation of Sevarius's projects.
	That included the one in his hand, one that presented in red ink, his 
name.
	He sat in the rafters, his back against an iron Ibeam, the book in 
his lap, his left hand shaking slightly as he took the papers out of the 
packet.
	Halfway though the document, a drop of water hit the paper, 
smudging some of the handwritten notes and bleeding through to the next 
sheet.  Another fell.  Mal wiped at his cheek and felt dampness.
	Tears of rage, of desolation, of abandonment, he thought, deciding 
whether to destroy the file in his hand or not.
	"Why are you sad?"
	Malibu jumped somewhat at the voice of who he considered his 
best friend in the Labyrinth.  Tristan was only five years old, though 
highly intelligent, he seemed able to find Malibu anywhere he tried to 
hide.
	And, oddly, enough, Tris would pop up when he needed a friend 
the most.
	"I'm not sad," Mal finally whispered.  "I'm frustrated."
	"You hurt inside."
	Malibu nodded slowly.
	Tris took the papers in his longfingered hands and skimmed the 
document.  His greygreen eyes darkened.
	“This Sevarius hurt you," Tris stated as he continued reading.  
"He's hurt you more than Brent, Holl, or Burbank."
	"Technically, he's my father," The gargoyle whispered.  "And he's 
abandoned me."
	"He hasn't abandoned you, Mal," the boy interjected.  "He cannot 
abandon something he cannot love."
	Mal folded his arms over his knees and laid his head on them.
	"I don't know love," he hissed.
	Tris sighed, inching forward on the beam.
	"It's almost Christmas, Malibu," he took on of Mal's hands and 
squeezed it.  "Christmas is all about love.  Maggie and Talon and everyone 
down here loves you."
	"Tristan..."Mal took the boy's hands. "You've got to promise me 
you won't tell anyone about these papers.  Do you know what would 
happen if Talon found out...?"
	Tristan nodded.
	“In the meantime," the boy suggested, "Will you try to be your old 
self?  I miss Weird Mal."  As of emphasis, the young boy threw his arms 
around the clone's neck.  Mal returned the hug.
	"I can try," he laughed somewhat, picking up the boy and leapt 
down from the rafters, leaving the book but stuffing the papers into his 
sweatshirt's pocket.
	"So, what now?" Tris asked with a wide grin.
	Out of the other pocket, Mal pulled out some stray Christmas 
lights, white with red tips.
	"Let's go drive Arin and her dad crazy," Mal suggested with a evil 
smile. 

	Delilah, dressed in a simple white teeshirt and jeans, watched 
from the kitchen Mal carry the little homeless boy on his shoulders 
outside.
	"What's the goofball up to?" Fang demanded, coming up behind 
her with a sixpack of Sam Adams.
	The ivoryhaired woman shrugged, mantling her wings.
	"I don't know," she replied in her soft but strong voice.
	"Do you mind following him?" the mutate asked.  "You 
know...against my parole...even though I am responsible for him, 
TweedleDum, TweedleDumber, and TweedleBraindead."
	Delilah shrugged again, grabbing her jacket from the kitchen chair.
	"I guess I could use some fresh air," she remarked, following Mal 
at a safe distance.

***
Central Park

	"Arin!"
	She glanced up and noticed two familiar gargoyles gliding from 
the west.
	Brooklyn and Broadway touched down about fifty feet from her, 
padding through the packed snow.
	She jumped to her feet and ran to meet the red gargoyle with a 
hug.
	"Who's that?" Broadway nodded toward the unconscious form.  He 
trudged over to get a better look.  "Brooklyn, I think you should come see 
this..."
	Arin informed them of the entire story as he stared down at the 
knockedout gargoyle, unsure of what to think.
	"Who is he?" He finally demanded, his voice somewhat flat.
	"Damned if I know, love," Arin knelt next to the darker tan 
gargoyle and tapped his beak. "He was human the first minute, gargoyle 
the next..." she shrugged.
	Broadway said nothing, only glanced from Brooklyn to Arin to the 
unconscious gargoyle and back at his rookery brother.
	"Too weird," he muttered, shaking his head.  "If I didn't know any 
better, I would say this guy was related to the two of you."
	"Oh, shut up, bloke," Arin snarled as a BMW pulled up by the 
sidewalk.
	The three young gargoyles were soon joined by tall, regal man with 
piercing grey eyes.
	"And this is the problem, I take it?" Macbeth nodded toward the 
form in the shadows.
	His daughter nodded, noting that they weren't the only one to see 
disturbing resemblance.  Broadway was glancing from Arin and Brooklyn 
to the newcomer, and Macbeth was doing the same.
	"He does look like you, Brook," The largest gargoyle muttered.
	“Shut up, Broadway," the copper red man ordered, a little less 
forcefully than he would normally do.  "But who is he...?"
	"As RC said, the resemblance were too disturbing to be 
coincidental."  Arin knelt beside the unconscious lad.  "You don't think 
he's not from this time?  Maybe he got a hold of the Phoenix Gate..."
	"Or quite possibly...Macbeth, did Sevarius take off with Nightstone 
Unlimited?" Brooklyn questioned, joining Arin on the snowencrusted 
ground.  He watched her check the fellow's pulse.
	"Probably...what're you driving at, lad?"
	"You're not thinking this guy's..." Broadway trailed off.
	"...A clone?" Brooklyn finished for his brother.  "I don't know...it's 
only speculation..."
	Suddenly, the dark tan male bolted up want tackled Brooklyn onto 
his back, his eyes blazing white.
	"I am NOT one of Sevarius' monstrosities!" He growled in 
Brooklyn's voice.  "Clones killed my" He stopped abruptly, his eyes 
fading to an emerald green.  "Oh...damn...." he rocked back off the red 
gargoyle, holding his head.  Feeling the lump near his temple, he groaned 
again.  "What the hell happened?"
	"That's a good question," Arin snapped back.  "Here's another: who 
are you?"
	The tan gargoyle stared up at the four, three gargoyles and one 
human, confused recognition lining his face.  He sighed, pushing against 
an elm tree, and inched up to his feet.
	"My name is Luc," he whispered.
	"Then you were the human I was trailing!" Arin exclaimed.
	"How did you" the newcomer stopped short again.  "The 
librarian...RC...you know her..."
	"We're friends, yes," Broadway nodded, then turned to Arin.  
"What are you talking about?"
	Arin quickly reviewed her night to the three, with Luc nodding, 
groaning, or sighing in disgust.
	"Why would you go by the last name MacDuff, anyway?" 
Brooklyn questioned, feeling more and more like Arin's hypothesis was 
more accurate than his.  Well, at least the second Malibu theory was gone, 
thank god....
	"I've said too much already," Luc shook his head.  "I should have 
heeded to the warning, but I didn't...."
	"Do you or do you not have the Phoenix Gate?" Arin demanded 
forcefully.
	"The what?"
	"He doesn't know what you're talking about, Arin," Brooklyn 
touched her shoulder.
	Macbeth stroked his beard, bearing deep into Luc's eyes.  He had 
known about the Phoenix Gate--probably encountered it in his past, he 
couldn't remember--and knew by the tone of voice this lad had no clue 
what Arin had asked about.
	"Where are you from, lad?" He questioned, kindly but calculating.
	"Here." Luc retorted.  "Manhattan."
	All right, how about when?" There was a small quirk to his mouth.  
Although he had personally never time-travelled before, he was aware the 
possibility existed.
	The tan male sighed, seemingly defeated.
	"The future," he whispered.  "A friend and I crossed 
something...evil...and we got caught in a wormhole created by this 
monster."
	"There are two of you here, then, as well as this creature?" 
Brooklyn interrogated.
	Luc nodded.
	"This creature...the Devourer, as Nate called it...it eats at living 
objects...creatures, planets, stars, anything..."  Luc's eyes widened in fear.  
"It escaped here...and Nate and I followed it...it must be destroyed, Caligo 
said, we can't run from it.  It'll devour everything if it isn't stopped..."
	"Who's Caligo?" Broadway whispered, though Arin nudged him 
somewhat.
	She instead looked at Brooklyn, who had a quizzical look to his 
face upon the name.
	"You're with friends, kiddo," Brooklyn reassured; though he knew 
Luc was about the same age as him and Broadway, there was 
some...innocence...in those green eyes, innocence edged with pure dread.  
This was too frightening for Luc to lie about.
	"Let's take this up with Goliath," Brooklyn finally suggested.  
"And, with that proposition, Owen, too.  Maybe the Devourer is a 
renegade Child of Oberon..."
	"It isn't,' Luc hissed, shaking his head.  "It isn't anything anyone has 
encountered and survived.  Except Nate, that I'm aware of."
	"And where, lad, is this Nate?" Macbeth questioned. 
	Luc sighed an upteenth time, a feeling of 
whatthehellI'vealreadyscrewedupthespace/time continuumasitis 
washing over him.
	"He's a cop.  I don't know where he is right now."
	"Let's go back to the castle," Brooklyn ordered.  "We can collect 
our thoughts there, and get Hudson's and Goliath's opinions as well."
	"I still want to know how he" Arin protested, though her love 
held up a finger to silence.
	"Now isn't the time, Arin," he whispered.  "Let's just get back home 
first.  Then we'll talk over some cider.  Okay?"
	She nodded, defeated, shoving her hands into her pockets.
	"Da," she muttered.  "Could we bum a ride off you?  It's kind of too 
cold to glide back."

	Luc was still in a shocked daze.
	He was crammed in the back seat of a BMW, with the Leader of 
the Resistance on one side of him, his blind uncle with bright greenblue 
eyes on the other, the two talking excitedly about gifts and decorations, 
and his mother, whom he remembered to be quiet and withdrawn, 
chattering away happily about the Christmas tree someone named David 
had and strings of lightbulbs that blinked annoyingly while the immortal 
King of the Scots nodded away with a smile on his face as bright 
Christmas carols played from the stereo.
	He didn't blame her.  Blinking Christmas lights were annoying.
	The four seemed to ignore him somewhat, probably out of 
discomfort.  Aunt Angela had told him he had a lot of similarities from 
both his parents.  He looked somewhat like his father, yes, but he was 
more his mother's disposition.  Then there was that nose thing, a 
characteristic of his maternal grandfather, the one who was driving at 
present.
	This was just too frigging weird.
	Of course, there was that sense of the time/space flux going all 
helterskelter...
	...then again, who said this didn't happen?  Who said that he 
couldn't tell them the entirety of the Clone Wars and warn the copper 
gargoyle next to him that he was going to get killed...it would be so easy...
	...save that something was stopping him.
	Looking out the windshield, he watched big, fluffy flakes of snow 
drift lazily down everywhere.  It was hypnotising.
	And suddenly, on Fourth Avenue, the base of the ominous Eyrie 
Building loomed in the darkened night, though it seemed...merry...with the 
Christmas spirit.
	Macbeth pulled into the parking garage and rolled down the 
window as Arin fished a security access card from her jacket pocket and 
handed it to her father.  Swiping it into the gate access, the red and white 
gate lifted up, granting them entrance.
	Luc watched in curiousity, as they parked the Beamer near a 
private elevator shaft.  Arin got out, took back the card from Macbeth, and 
went to the control panel.  She swiped it in the scanner, then typed out the 
fivedigit code to override security.  The doors opened with a hiss, and the 
two other gargoyles with Luc in the middle piled out, bolted for the 
elevator car, followed by the human.  With five of them squished into the 
elevator, and a crack from Brooklyn about the possibility of death by the 
cable snapping from overload--a quip directed mostly to Broadway--it 
lurched upward at an alarming rate to the Castle at the top of the building.
	Finally, the lessthanenjoying ride ended, and they piled out into 
the main corridor.
	"I was sure we were all goners," Brooklyn jested, sinking to his 
knees and kissing the carpet.
	"Oh, shut up," Broadway smirked, though glad that the old 
Brooklyn was still poking around inside his head.
	They were met by a barking as Bronx skidded out of the main hall, 
slamming into the stone wall, whimpered, then started back up again as he 
happily galloped toward the five.  He jumped up on Macbeth exclusively, 
his paws on the human's chest, demanding attention.
	"Down, you lummox," he laughed, coaxing the dogoyle down to all 
fours.   "Aye, I'm glad to see you too."
	Bronx wagged his tail happily, then sniffed.  Turning to Luc, he 
sniffed a little more at the worn army jacket, then glanced quizzically at 
the newcomer.
	The rest of the decorating crew followed Bronx out to the hallway, 
all noticing Luc in a matter of seconds.  Questions of his identity rose 
instantly, though Macbeth answered them all by one statement.
	"He's a clanless wanderer we found in Central Park," he stated 
bluntly, though not entirely untrue, the tone of his voice somewhat 
satisfying the group.
	Luc nodded, and added, "I heard rumours of other gargoyles in 
Manhattan, and travelled in search of them."  He smiled slightly.  "Looks 
like I found them."
	Lexington raised an eye ridge, pondering the new gargoyle over.  
By the reactions of Angela, Fox, and David, they too were somewhat 
curious.
	It was Chimura from behind that whispered, "Looks like 
Brooklyn," in simple broken English.
	Brooklyn only shrugged, then asked, "Has Goliath and Hudson 
returned yet?"
	"Father returned a while ago," Angela replied softly.  "He's in the 
library, reading."
	“Then I'll be back," Brooklyn nodded, tapping Arin on her 
shoulder for her to come with him.

	As Goliath read enthralled at Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, 
he did not hear the large oak doors slowly creak open.
	"Goliath?"
	The seven foot lavender gargoyle glanced up from the hardbound 
book at his secondincommand, his rich brown eyes studying Brooklyn's 
stance and expression.
	Something was up.
	"We may have a problem," Brooklyn sighed.  Arin nodded 
somewhat in agreement.
	Closing the book, Goliath stood from the armchair.
	"What is it?" he questioned.
	"It ranks up there on the weirdometer with that incident with 
Titania's Mirror," Brooklyn quipped, then sobered up.  "We, or rather, 
Arin, came across a strange gargoyle tonight.  The way he reacted when I 
mentioned Sevarius suggests he's definitely not a clone, and...well, he 
claims he's from the future, though doesn't know anything about the 
Phoenix Gate."  Brooklyn's hazel eyes shone with concern.  "Frankly, I 
don't know what to make of it."
	"Where is he now?"  Goliath set his book on the table next to the 
antique lamp.
	"Playing with Bronx," Arin mumbled, chewing on her lip.  
Brooklyn groaned inwardly, recognising that to be a sign that her 
imagination was in hyperspeed.
	"He's out in the main hall," Brooklyn nodded in the direction of the 
doors.  "This was a little too strange for my tastes.  I had to bring him 
here."
	“I still want to know how he pulled that trick off!" Arin snapped, 
storming out the door.
	"What is she talking about?" Goliath asked as he and Brooklyn 
followed the young woman out to the hallway.
	"She claims when she was trailing him, he was human, then when 
she caught up with him again, he was gargoyle," Brooklyn shrugged.  "I 
have a tendency to believe her, though there's nothing about him that 
suggests he's fae."
	Goliath raised an eye ridge and glanced at the copper gargoyle out 
of the corner of his eye.
	Brooklyn shrugged again.  "Owen, Alex, even Fox and Arin, they 
have somewhat of a...taint, or presence...of fae...I don't know if I can 

explain it any better... sort of a residual air after magic is used, I guess.  
This guy has a different...sense would probably be a good word for 
it...about him."
	“I see," Goliath nodded slowly, clearly confused.
	No, you don't, Brooklyn thought.  You can't see what I do.
	"Just a warning," Brooklyn cautioned.  "He's going to 
seem...familiar..."
	Even with Brooklyn's warning, Goliath's brow shot up considerably 
when he saw Luc.
	Luc also gawked in wonder, though it was clear his surprise was 
more hero worship.
	"You're Goliath," he whispered, his emerald eyes bright and wide.
	"Goliath, this is Luc," Arin introduced a little forcefully.  "Now, if 
you'll excuse me, Mr. Burnett and I are going to have a little talk."
	If she did not know better, she would have sworn Owen and Spock 
were brothers the way he looked at her.
	Grabbing his stone arm, she dragged him into the library and 
demanded, "Okay, what the hell is going on?  Start with the Devourer, 
then work your way on how he" she flicked her thumb back out to the 
hall where the curious crowd gathered "got here."
	"He mentioned the Devourer?" Owen paled somewhat.  There was 
a bright flash of light, and where the stiff aidedecamp stood floated a 
very concerned Puck.  "This is bad.  The Devourer to my understanding 
wasn't to show up for another eighty years...unless..."
	"Don't do this to me.  I don't like it when people trail off," Arin 
snarled.
	"I can see who inherited Macbeth's temper," he mumbled.  "Okay, 
it'll take me some time, and I can chalk it up as protecting Alex, 
considering the Devourer is a highly dangerous being"
	"What is this Devourer...all I could get out of Luc was it was evil."
	"And indeed it is..." Puck sighed.  "Listen, Arin, I'll need your help 
in this.  I can't look into the future like I could before the Gathering.  
You've got to have Brooklyn reach out to find out more about the 
Devourer.  I only know what I was told, since its time was before mine.  
As for the new kid on the block," he smirked.  "I'd say he's more of your 
better persona, definitely does not have the inherit that nasty Scottish 
temper..."
	"What the hell are you babbling about now?"
	"Hey!  No swearing around the toddler, young lady," Alex 
suddenly appeared in Puck's arms.  "Just as I said.  Luc's obviously 
Brooklyn and your son, in the somewhat near future.  And he's here for a 
reason." Puck lifted a finger.  "The story of the Devourer goes that four 
gargoyles of Darkness brought the Cure of the World's Pain to the 
Beginning of Time, where it would destroy the Devourer and create Life." 
Puck shrugged.  "Then again, I had a crazy history teacher on Avalon."
	"`Cure for the World's Pain,'" Arin nodded, crossing her hands over 
her chest.  "You haven't been into my Moorcock novels again, have you?"
	"Strange," Puck grinned.  "That was his name.  Oh well."
	"Scared," Alex whispered, reaching out for his aunt.  Arin took the 
baby and hugged him close.
	"Who are these four gargoyles of Darkness?" she questioned, her 
voice soft.
	"All I know was that they were all born of Darkness, yet had good 
in their hearts.  How did that old coot explain it?  One was born of rape, 
one almost died, one born at the close of a massive war, and one...how did 
he say it?...one was...trained a killer, I think...it's been so long."
	"Is that all you know, Puck?" she asked.
	Puck scratched his head, closed one eye, and stuck out his tongue.  
Finally, he nodded vigorously.
	"That helps a little," Arin finally replied.  "Thanks.  And I'm sorry I 
snapped.  This is just a little weird."  She turned, only to run into 
Brooklyn.  Alex gasped, taking a hold of a lock of his snowwhite hair to 
regain his balance on Arin's arm.
	"Ow!" the red gargoyle pried the boy's fingers from his hair.  "No, 
Alex, that's bad."
	"Sorry, Brook," he whispered, leaning against Arin's shoulder and 
began sucking his thumb.
	He regarded the fae with a cool look, then returned his gaze to 
Arin.
	"Where's Luc?" she questioned.
	"Goliath's interrogating him some more.  The rest of the gang went 
back to the great hall to finish decorating."
	"So what now, handsome?" she asked.
	Brooklyn shrugged.
	"I don't know," he whispered.  "If what Puck says is true, then we 
couldn't possibly have that sort of power to stop something at that 
magnitude."
	Arin walked forward for a hug.  Brooklyn gave it to her, tightly 
wrapping his strong arms around her shoulders.  Alex sighed comfortably, 
drifting to sleep.  All three failed to notice Puckor rather, Owenslip 
back out to the main hall.
	"I'm afraid, Brooklyn," she whimpered.  "If this thing can destroy 
stars, what good can we do?"
	"Resist," he retorted.

	"Then the Clone Wars really did take place," Goliath rumbled, 
staring down at the young man. Luc nodded somewhat.
	"It was before I was hatched, though," the tan male commented, 
shoving his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans.  "I only know 

what was told to me, which isn't much.  Please don't think me trying to 
hide information, sir, but believe me when I say I'm afraid for messing up 
history."
	"Every action has a reaction," The larger gargoyle stated, moving 
to the large bay window. 
	"Exactly," he retorted.  "I don't want to take the chance that may 
condemn the future any further."
	"Understood," the leader agreed.  "Could you tell me why you've 
come here at least?"
	"That I can," Luc whispered, his eyes growing wide.  "A friend and 
I were caught in a temporal flux created by an evil creature we've come to 
know as the Devourer...." As Luc retold the events he and Nate had been 
through the past couple of nights, Goliath only listened intensely, nodding 
occasionally.
	When Luc was finished, Goliath stared down that the strange 
gargoyle.
	"Where is this `Nate'?" he demanded.
	"Anywhere right now," Luc replied.  "He's quoteunquote 
`undercover' as a cop here.  That was what he was before we came here.  I 
think it was 23rd precinct he's right now in."
	Recognition in Goliath's face told Luc he had said something he 
should have taken into further consideration.

***
Outside Dunk'n Donuts
Second Avenue
Midnight

	Nate sipped the black coffee as he returned to the driver's seat.
	“Is it always this slow?" he whined mockingly.
	"Not normally," Elisa commented.  "Usually it's pretty active."
	"Those gargoyles must really protect pretty well, then."
	Elisa perked up somewhat at the mention of gargoyles.
	Nate sensed her anticipation and continued.
	"Personally, they should be allowed into the Force.  Think of the 
drop in crime.  In fact, I was talking to one last night who wanted to be a 
doct" He stopped suddenly.
	"How much do you know about gargoyles?" she demanded.
	"Enough to deem me a sympathiser," he muttered.
	Elisa was a little wary still.
	"Let's get back to base," she suggested.  "The shift's just about 
over."
	"Good idea," Nate agreed.  "Gotta make sure the apartment is in 
one piece.  My cousin's somewhat of a party animal."
	“I know what you mean," she smiled, though fear crept into her 
throat.  Could this guy be another Hunter, or one of these new NeoNazi 
wannabes, the Quarrymen, who where becoming more and more popular 
throughout the city?
	Somehow, Nate knew what she was feeling.
	“Elisa," he sighed, turning over the ignition.  "I am a friend.  If you 
know the gargoyles, you don't have to tell me.  Just let me say this: I don't 
have any qualms against them.  One saved me when I was younger."
	"There were no gargoyles here until about three years ago"
	"Until David Xanatos finished the reconstruction of Castle 
Wyvern on top of his Eyrie PyraBuilding."  Nate mentally winced.  He 
would have to watch his words better.
	Elisa remained stoic as they returned to the precinct house.
	She did not even say goodnight to him as she walked rather 
hurriedly to her Fairline.
	"If you do know them," Nate hissed, leaping out of the GTO and 
catching her arm, "please tell them they are in trouble, and to watch their 
backs.  There's an evil in the air, something that is beyond human 
comprehension."
	Elisa stared into the strange eyes of different colour.  A slight wave 
of trust flowed over her.
	"I will let them know," she retorted coldly, getting into her car and, 
not even allowing it time to warm up, drove away.
	"Shit," Nate growled, storming back to his car, slamming the door 
closed behind him.  "I fucked up big time, didn't I, girl?"
	"Hell, yeah," the digitalised voice of Artemis snorted.  "I don't 
know how I could have a mute switch..."
	"Quiet before I reengage it, Artemis," he put his head on the 
steering wheel.  "I don't know what came over me.  I feel the Devourer 
near, but it's dormant for now."
	"It won't for long," she whispered.
	"I know." Nate pulled back out into traffic, dropping his telepathic 
guise.  In the darkened street, no one outside the car could see his true 
reptilian appearance.  "That's why I've got to get back.  I need a clue, 
Artemis.  There are four gargoyles, that's all I know.  We have Luc.  I 
know what they look like, too, but I don't know which one would be in 
this time line...wait."  He snapped his fingers.  "One of them was 
Brooklyn, but he was younger...maybe he's here!"
	"You don't suppose...?" the car grumbled sarcastically.
	"Hold on, Arty"
	"Don't call me"
	"we're going to pay a little visit to the Eyrie Building," he ignored 
her, navigating onto Fourth Avenue.
	“You're really messed up, you know that, Nate?"
	"I wouldn't be a cop if I was sane, that's for sure."

***

	"Who was that, really?" Angela demanded Broadway as they 
together unraveled a skein of tinsel from the package.  Broadway 
shrugged.
	"I really don't know what to think about him, Angela," he shook his 
head.  "Though you know that stupid British comedy Arin's always 
watching, Red Dwarf?  Kind of reminds me of that."
	"Red Dwarf? The one where there seems to be a lot of time 
travelling...you don't suppose he has the Phoenix Gate?"
	"No, he doesn't know a thing about it...I don't know," the turquoise 
gargoyle shook his head again.
	"Does Macbeth know?" She whispered, nodding toward the 
Scotsman leaning against the doorway, waiting for his daughter, with a 
glass of champagne in his hand that Fox had handed him earlier.  His grey 
eyes were brooding, contemplating, something deep.
	Broadway shrugged as Hudson entered the main hall, greeting 
Macbeth with a nod.
	"How was patrol tonight, Hudson?"  Lexington asked, curious.
	"Rather interesting," the elder retorted absently.  "Rather 
interesting indeed."
	"You and me both, old friend," Macbeth laughed shortly, taking a 
sip of his drink.
	"Ye caught that little prankster who keeps playing with yer lights?"
	The human laughed again.
	"No, unfortunately," Macbeth smirked.  "But when I do, I'll make 
sure they'll never want to see another Christmas light for as long as they 
live."

***
Brooklyn Heights

	Delilah squinted, watching the dark figures from the shadows of 
the apartment roof across the street from Macbeth Manor.
	She groaned in realisation on what those two were up to.
	"Mal, one of these days, you're gonna get caught," she whispered, 
spreading her wings and gliding over to the other side of the busy street, 
obscured by the streetlights underneath her.  She landed in the backyard 
and silently crept toward Malibu and Tristan, who were haunched over a 
string of lights around the fence.  It was the kind of strands that did not all 
go out if one was missing; rather, only those on the same wire blinked out 
as the other three strands remained lit.  Delilah crouched behind the 
house, surpressing a giggle as the light blue gargoyle fumbled a couple of 
bulbs, landing in the snow beside him.  the little boy searched for them as 
the gargoyle peered through the fence, keeping guard.
	Delilah moved in closer, her foot catching a small drift of snow.
	The crunching alerted Mal, who pivoted on his knee and, using the 
other leg to push off, he leapt at her, covering the fifteenfoot gap between 
them with one jump, his taloned hand clasping her throat just as her elbow 
came upward, the spike pressing against his trachea.
	Any more pressure on either of their parts...
	Tristan ran, wedging himself between the two just before Mal 
recognised who found them out.
	"Um...sorry..." he whispered, releasing her.  Sheepishly, he stared 
at his feet.
	"I shouldn't have sneaked up on you," she shrugged nonchalantly.  
"Clearly we haven't lost our battle skills the Master programmed us with, 
though"
	"I did not hear you say that, Delilah," Malibu hissed, his eyes 
darkening.  "You of all of us know Thailog abandoned you just like 
Sevarius abandoned me."
	"What?" She whispered as Mal vaulted over the backyard fence 
and fled through the shadowy alley to the next building over.
	"He's hurt," Tristan whimpered.  "He needs not to be reminded of 
what he used to be."
	"We cannot change what we are," Delilah retorted.  "We were bred 
to be warriors, soldiers."
	"And yet you've already proven that you can change," Tristan 
pointed out.   "Let's let Malibu think for a while.  Meanwhile, let's go 
home.  He'll return soon."
	Delilah cocked her head and stared down at the little boy.
	“You're strange for a human," she muttered, picking him up as she 
scaled over the fence and headed after Mal, though changing direction 
over the Brooklyn Bridge.
	Tristan only gave her an omniscient smirk.

***
Fourth Avenue Parking Garage

	"Artemis, pop trunk."
	"May I remind you you're got less sense than a threedollar bill."
	"'I've got the understanding of a fouryearold,'" Nate began singing 
as he rummaged through the deep trunk.  "'I've got the piece of mind of a 
killer's soul.  I've got the rationale of a New York cop'"
	"I beg to differ..."
	"'I've got the patience of a chopping block!'"
	"Now that I can agree on..."
	Nate pulled out an air cartridgerepelled grapple hook and 
flywheel, hooking it to his belt.  Black gloves with ashiko climbing claws 
situated on the palms followed,  shuko-equipted boots, also for climbing, a 

length of rope, a black hood, a tranq gun, his extensive collection of 
throwing knives, some tipped with a tranq drug, and finally, a Coke.  That, 
he drank right off.
	Placing the tranq gun and knives into sheathes inside his bomber 
jacket, slipping the rope around his shoulders just before replacing his 
jacket, he put on the gloves and boots and rolled he hold up to look like a 
ski hat.  Hazing his face to look human once more, he slammed down the 
trunk door and tapped Artemis' roof.
	"You behave, girl," he ordered.  "I don't want to come back seeing 
you screwing a Japanese import."
	"Now why would I do that?" she snarled.  "I'm much more 
interested with that cherry red Chevy Suburban I saw a few minutes ago..."
	“Very funny," he smirked.  "If I'm not back in a couple of 
hours...wait longer."
	"Your wit kills me," she remarked deadpan.
	"Give my regards to the Suburban."  And, with that, he climbed the 
stairs to the roof of the garage.

	With the hood rolled down, he almost seemed like a classical ninja 
from the old Brated movies he was fond of.  
	Loading the CO2 cartridge into the grapple, he pointed, aimed, and 
shot.  There was a loud pop as the grapple whisked through the crisp air, 
embedding into the mason work of the building across the street seventy 
feet away, which just happened to be one of the most difficult skyscrapers 
to penetrate from the outside.
	The Eyrie Building.
	Tying his end of the rope to the Ibeam nearest to him, he twanged 
the rope to test it, then placed the flywheel with handles onto the rope.  
Taking a deep breath, gripping the handles tightly, he planted his feet 
firmly on the concrete edge and pushed off, using his legs in a swinging 
action for momentum.  The glare of the streetlights below obscured his 
form from the crowd below.  
	Making it to the other side, he stood solidly on the ledge, 
telekinetically undoing the rope from the other side.  Winding it up 
quickly, he placed back around his shoulders and hooked the grapple back 
to his belt.
	He stared up at the building, seeing the castle about five to 
sixhundred feet up.
	"Better start climbing," he whispered, carefully clawing the brick 
work.
	"Isn't that kind of dangerous, Nathaniel?"
	Nate started, quickly regaining his balance on the ledge.  Next to 
him perched a large, stone grey gargoyle, his jet black hair whipping in the 
chilly wind.  He seemed unaffected by the cold, even if he only wore a 
loincloth and shoulder guard.
	"Caligo," he hissed.  "Unless you have the ability to bend time as 
well, I'd like to know how you got here."
	"Time means nothing to me,"  Caligo smirked somewhat stoically.  
"But you mistaken me for your time's Caligo, myself in your present, my 
future.  I know who you are because I met you in your future but my past."
	"You've lost me," Nate shook his head.
	"You do not need to be lost," the grey gargoyle shook his head.  
"Just try thinking beyond the boundaries of length, width, and height.  
Time is also a dimension, boy.  I don't know how you meet me, though 
you knew me when we met in Milan.  Time is an interesting concept, isn't 
it?"
	"I suppose," Nate muttered.
	Caligo sighed.
	"We both appear to be heading in the same direction," he finally 
observed.  "I will assist you up if you would conceal us from Xanatos' 
security cameras.
	“Deal," Nate nodded.  Caligo picked the mutate under his armpits 
and, spreading great wings the colour of shadows, the gargoyle leapt, 
catching an updraft.
	Nate activated his TK to affect television signals, something he 
learned at a young age.  It distorted video reception from a slight 
blurriness which was when he was just in the general vicinity of 
electronics to total video blackout, when his telekinesis was fully 
activated.  Handy when sneaking around, he smiled grimly as he and 
Caligo touched ground in the snowy courtyard.
	"So what brings you here?" Nate questioned, readying a throwing 
knife, just in case, as he scanned the area.
	"I've come to see my son," Caligo retorted bluntly.
	"And I've come to warn the clan about the approach of the 
Devourer."
	"So it is nigh, then?" the grey gargoyle mumbled.
	"I'm afraid so."
	"How close?"
	"It's dormant right now, but it won't stay that way for long."
	Caligo only nodded, melting into the shadows quite literally.
	"I will find my son first," he concluded.  "I recommend you to stay 
out of sight until I can give him the word.  He is part of this, was well as 
the boy Luach."

***

	With Alex finally put to bed, David and Fox turning in for the 
night, Owen “returning to his duties”, and Macbeth leaving for home, the 
rest of the denizens of Wyvern continued with almost perfect normality, 
save that there was an extra body floating around in their midst.
	Goliath watched Hudson, the Trio and the Lassies--a collective pet 
name given to Arin, Angela, and Chimura by Hudson--put up the finishing 
touches on the great hall.  Lights, tinsel, and garland along with the 
occasional "Why the hell are they blinking?!" cluttered the large room.
	Then there was the newest arrival, the dark tan male separated 
from the rest of the others, playing with the gargbeast by wrapping a string 
of garland around Bronx's neck and laughing with childlike joy as the 
beast tried feverishly to get the blasted bow off.
	Though Goliath's thoughts were far from being joyous.
	Puck's words still rang in his head.
	Was it a dream...or a prophecy...?
	Of course, things should be different, now that he and Elisa, Bronx 
and Angela had returned from their world tour.  But he could not help but 
to think of what might come to be in the near future.  Xanatos might not 
be a threat any longer, but Sevarius and Demona were still at large. not to 
mention the possibility of new enemies that could spring up at any 
moment--hence fore, these Quarrymen no one really thought about for a 
quite sometime, though just recently began holding public assemblies.  
The possibilities were too frightening to contemplate.
	Goliath shook his head and tried to think happy thoughts as Arin's 
and Angela's laughter broke though his rather grim thoughts,
	It seemed Chimura and Lexington had inadvertently been caught 
beneath the mistletoe together.
	Lexington looked up and groaned as Brooklyn and Broadway took 
notice.
	Chimura just looked totally puzzled as she stared up at the 
whiteberried plant hanging above then in the archway.
	"What are you waiting for, Lex?" Arin taunted between giggles.  
"You know the drill!"
	“What is that?" Chimura questioned, still staring at the plant.
	"Mistletoe," Angela took over for the other woman, now in 
hysterics.  "Tradition says that if two people are underneath it, they have 
to kiss."
	"Kiss?" Chimura raised an eyeridge as Lex attempted to sneak 
away, only to be blocked off by Brooklyn.
	“You know," Broadway grasped Angela around the waist, tilted 
her back, and kissed her on the lips.  He uprighted her and did a quick 
tada.  "Kiss."
	Angela giggled, pointing nondiscretely over to her father, whose 
deep brown eyes were almost bulging out of his head in mock surprise.  
Broadway gulped and ran out of the room.
	“And now I dare you to do that in front of your father," she dared 
Arin, who shook her head vigorously.
	"Oh, sure, and risk his wrath?  He should be glad I'm seeing a nice 
Scottish boy"
	Chimura glanced around, looked at Lexington, shrugged, then 
imitated Broadway to a T, taking the small olive green gargoyle by the 
waist, dipping him, and kissed him.  As she uprighted him, she asked, 
"Kiss?"
	Arin doubled over in laughter as Brooklyn nodded.  Chimura 
smiled and began rummaging though a box of lights.
	"Yeah," he cracked a very wide grin.  "That's it."  He punched his 
younger brother lightly in the arm.  "Good job, bro.  I bet you were 
planning that for a weekLex?  Lexington?"
	Lexington just stood there, a shocked glaze over his wider than 
usual eyes, his mouth practically dragging on the floor.
	"I think she killed him," the red gargoyle snapped his fingers in 
front of Lex's face, getting no response,
	“No," Hudson disagreed under his breath.  "Merely in love."
	"The shock of the First Kiss," Arin retorted.  "Gets everyone every 
time."
	Broadway came back in, carrying in a tray of mulled cider fresh 
from the kitchen.  As he passed the mugs aroundgiving an extra one to 
Angela to give to Goliath, he didn't want to risk losing any part of his 
bodyhe held the last two mugs, watching Bronx shake the garland in his 
mouth ferociously, then jumped onto Luc, wagging his tail happily.
	Broadway smiled somewhat.  Bronx was probably the best expert 
when judging character; he rarely was wrong.  Coaxing the beast off the 
newcomer, the large turquoise gargoyle handed one of the cider mugs to 
Luc.
	The dark tan male accepted the mug with a thanks, then frowned 
somewhat when Broadway turned his back from him.
	Something was wrong in here.  Something that wasn't supposed to 
belong.
	Bronx bristled, growling, as he sniffed at the nearest corner, 
hidden in shadows.
	"Found another mouse, boy?" Arin padded over to the dogoyle and 
patted his back.
	Bronx woofed angrily, scratching at the shadows.
	"What's up?" Brooklyn joined the tan woman, followed by the rest 
of the clan and, finally, Luc bringing up the rear.
	"I  think he's just seeing things," Arin muttered.  "I used to have a 
cat who would jump at the slightest movement."
	"Bronx has ne'er done such a thing before," Hudson exclaimed. 
	"Phantasma?" Chimura whispered.
	"What?" Most everyone questioned her.
	"Phantasm," Luc retorted in a small voice.
	"Maybe," Hudson rubbed his beard.  "Or maybe the shadows just 
spooked the old boy, eh, you dumb beast?"  The old warrior went to rub 
Bronx's head, but pulled away fast when Bronx snapped a warning.
	The clan backed off, surprised.
	Brooklyn narrowed his eyes.
	"Somehow I think it's something more than just shadows," he 
whispered.
	"The lad's right," Hudson growled, his eyes blazing white as he 
drew his sword.  "Blast it!  Caligo, yer more of a coward than ye claim, 
hiding in the shadows ye call home! Spying on us like we were yer 
enemies!"
	Luc groaned, as Brooklyn backed up, his eyes glowing.
	"It can't be..." he whispered, so low only Arin nearest him heard.  
She looked at his curiously, silently demanding what was wrong.
	"The Warlord," he hissed.
	Arin raised an eyeridge.
	"He's dead, Brook," she retorted.  "When you destroyed the Eye of 
Odin, he died."
	"He told me his name," he muttered.  "Caligo."
	"Think, handsome," she smiled, though worry edged her voice.  
"The Warlord was one-hundred thousand years into the future.  It was 
clearly a different Caligo."
	"Caligo is immortal," Luc whispered behind them.
	"You know of the bloke?" Arin demanded.
	The dark tan male nodded ruefully.
	"Everyone, back!" Hudson broke their conversation.  Two orbs of 
white light floated in the shadows, illuminating grey skin around them, 
though it still appeared two-dimensional.
	"Fascinating," a deep baritone of a voice rumbled from the 
darkness.  "The clan survives.  Wonderful.  I truly feared Clan Wyvern 
was destroyed."
	"Yer sense of the dramatics is impeccable," Hudson growled. "Ye 
chose a hell of a time to visit."
	"No time like the present," the baritone remarked, almost 
comically.
	This time, Goliath recoginised the voice.
	"You?!" he snarled, bolting to the shadow and making a grab for 
where the creatures neck would be.  Surprised was he when his hands 
passed through, into the wall itself, then lifted off the ground, suspended.
	"Caligo, stop!" Luc ordered, wedging between Broadway and 
Lexington.  "How did you follow Nate and me through the wormhole?"
	"I didn't," the shadow released its hold on the lavender leader of 
the clan.  "I encountered Nathaniel earlier and he asked the same question.  
I can only say that the Caligo you met was probably in your time; I am the 
Caligo of the present."
	"Then how do you know of us?"  Luc demanded, seemingly 
undisturbed by the multi-temporal jargon the shadow was spewing.
	"I met you in Milan, five hundred years ago," Caligo retorted.  
"From there--from there, four went to face the Devourer at the End of 
Time."
	"I'm out!" Arin threw up her hands and walked out, followed by a 
rather disturbed Brooklyn.
	However, Caligo and Luc continued without noticing.
	"I see," Luc nodded.  "And who were these four?"
	"Four of the Darkness," the shadow replied.  "Four of my blood."
	And, as suddenly as it surfaced, the eyes blinked out.
	"Coward," Hudson snarled, thrusting his sword into it's scabbard.  
"Blast!  Where's Brooklyn?"
	"He and Arin left," Chimura pointed to the door.  "She said, 'I'm 
out'.  Left.  Brooklyn followed."
	Hudson nodded and retreated out to chase down the two gargoyles, 
just as Elisa walked in, puzzled at the curt greeting Hudson gave her.
	"What's going on?" she demanded.
	"We're not sure ourselves," Broadway retorted.
	"Some Christmas this is turning out to be," Angela muttered.
	"You seem to know quite a bit about him," Goliath growled to Luc.
	"I've only known him for a couple of nights," Luc shrugged.  
	"He was an adopted clansman back when I was young," Goliath 
then revealed.  "He was there since I could remember.  When Hudson 
became leader, he had chosen him for second, but after the Trio and their 
rookery siblings hatched, he and some others were hunting and were 
ambushed by Vikings.  All were killed, so Hudson said, and named me the 
adopted one's replacement."  The leader's eye ridge shot up.  "Was he a 
ghost?"
	Luc shook his head.
	"He's immortal," he replied simply.  "I don't know much more."

	"I don't think I can take much more of all this crap, bloke," Arin 
grumbled, sinking into the ratty armchair in the back of the library.  "Sure, 
I love the adventure, but this is going a little too out of hand."
	"I couldn't agree with you more," Brooklyn nodded, tossing her a 
Coke.  "What I wouldn't do for the days before--"
	He stopped, catching himself.
	But Arin caught the drift.
	"Before you met me?" she whispered, her green eyes hurt.
	"No," he shook his head.  "After I met you, but before the incident 
with Oberon and Titania."
	"Same here," she whimpered, slouching, her elbows on her knees, 
her chin resting on her hands.
	"You miss the sun," he added, taking a hold of her hands.
	"Yes."
	Brooklyn only nodded.
	"I miss normality," he muttered, closing his eyes.
	"Normality is a luxury we can't have, can we?" Arin whispered, 
taking a book from the shelf.  It was the omnibus version of Corum: the 
Coming of Chaos by Michael Moorcock.  "We are gargoyles, love.  
There's nothing we can do about that."
	"No, there isn't," he smiled, though it was pained.
	Arin brushed a stray lock of hair from his face and kissed the tip of 
his beak.
	"I love you," she whispered.
	"I love you too," his smile became more genuine, and the two 
embraced.
	And suddenly, Brooklyn stood, his eyes narrowing.
	"He's back," he whispered.  Pivoting on his foot, he blindly shot a 
quick but fierce punch toward the midsection of the interloper.  However, 
his fist passed through the shadow and smacked into the bookshelf behind, 
dumping its contents.  Arin cringed, shielding her face.
	Shaking his hand in pain, Brooklyn growled, lashing out with his 
other hand.
	His rake was blocked easily, the shadows solidifying into grey 
talons wrapped tightly around his wrist.  The creature then picked up the 
young gargoyle, its body taking the shape of a large gargoyle.
	Arin, perched in the chair, preparing to jump at Caligo.
	"I remember you," he rumbled, his piercing dark grey eyes locking 
onto her.  "You saved the life of my son."
	She stared in horror, unable to speak.
	Slowly, she nodded.
	"And now, you are his lover," Caligo smirked, his gaze returning to 
the squirming young male swinging his hurt hand at his head.  He blocked 
with his free hand.
	Brooklyn struggled some more, then as the words sunk into his 
head, his hazel eyes widened in realisation.
	"No," his voice was inaudible.  "You cannot be...."
	"But I am," Caligo released him, dropping him a foot.  Brooklyn 
lost his balance, fell back, and leaned against the base of the end table.   
Caligo's face was now visible; a face both Arin and Brooklyn knew from 
the night of July Fourth.  Though Arin had seen a proud and loving father, 
Brooklyn had witnessed a cruel tyrant possessed by the Eye of Odin.  
Though, oddly, the two aspects were one in the same, only one was from 
the past, and the other, the far distant future.
	Unfortunately, that far distant future was only five months ago for 
Arin and Brooklyn.
	"You cannot be," Brooklyn repeated, his tone rising. "You should 
be dead...and Luc shouldn't even be born yet...dammit, what is going on?!"
	Arin snaked her arm around his shoulders, trying to calm him.
	"The creature is known as the Devourer," Caligo suddenly shifted 
the subject.  "And only the four of Darkness can stop it."
	"Cute.  'Caligo' in Latin means darkness," Arin snapped.  "You, 
Brook, and Luc...who's the fourth, then?"
	"Clever," Caligo nodded.  "A shapeshifting fae, perhaps...though 
fae tend to copy human ingenuity..."
	"Cursed human," she snapped.
	"Ah," the grey gargoyle nodded. "I see."
	"Leave," Brooklyn snarled.
	"Brooklyn," Arin whispered, holding him closer.
	"Leave!" he ordered, picking himself up and standing up to the 
much larger gargoyle.  "You've done more harm than good to this clan."
	Caligo blinked, as if physically struck.
	"You have no right accusing me of crimes I did not commit--GET 
OUT OF MY HEAD!" The older gargoyle snarled suddenly, striking 
Brooklyn square in the face, with the force to send his son reeling against 
another shelf.  Arin yelped, then growled, her eyes flaring red.  She 
pounced with a battle screech. He caught her with a backhand slap, the 
momentum causing her to crash into the recovering Brooklyn.
	This attracted the attention of another.
	Sword flashing, Hudson slashed at Caligo's back.  The larger 
gargoyle snarled in pain as what seemed to be black smoke billowed from 
the wound, though the vapor itself seemed to bind the wound as well, like 
blood clotting.
	"You dare attack me?!" Caligo bellowed, reaching into the 
shadows in the wall, pulling out a slim, long, scabbarded blade.  Taking it 
by the hilt, he flicked the sheathe off, exposing a katana, longer than most.
	"You struck my clan's children," Hudson growled.  "It was you 
who attacked us."
	"Damn you," Caligo slashed out, the blade whizzing at Hudson's 
head.  The old man however defied his age as he dodged the dai-katana, 
parrying it with his curved Viking short sword.
	The clanking of steel brought Brooklyn out of his dazed state.  
Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he struggled up to his feet, checking 
to make sure Arin was all right.  She was, and mad as hell.
	"Ohh...a sword fight..."she moaned, touching her forehead.  "And 
my father's nowhere to be found...."
	"Hudson!" Brooklyn beckoned.
	"Stay back, lad!" the elder ordered, blocking a thrust.
	"Feeling threatened?" he muttered with a sardonic smile to Arin.  
She raised an eye ridge.
	"Don't tempt me," she snorted, picking up the Corum novel.  
Weighing it carefully, she wound up and pitched it toward the attacker.  It 
struck Caligo in the back of the neck, disorientating him long enough for 
Hudson to gain the advantage.  By then, Goliath, Broadway, Bronx, and 
Elisa had bursted into the library, Elisa with her piece at the ready.
	"Victory comes again to the Prince of the Scarlet Robe," Arin 
jested, using Brooklyn's arm to steady herself up.  "The Mabden won't 
stand a chance."
	"Oh, ha ha," Brooklyn rolled his eyes, then locking them on the 
interloper.
	"Now that wasn't a very peaceful confrontation, was it, Caligo?" 
Hudson snarled, his eyes blazing, striking the daikatana from Caligo’s 
hand, his sword edge pressed against the grey male's neck.
	"I was accused of crimes I did not commit, by my own son!" 
Caligo spat.  "And if they were true, he would have been too young or not 
even hatched to know of them!"
	"Son?" Elisa raised an eyebrow, then studied Caligo's face, moved 
her line of sight to Brooklyn, then finally to Luc, who as usual was 
bringing up the rear following Angela, Lexington, and Chimura.  "Goliath, what exactly is going on here?"
	"I wish I knew," he shook his head.
	Hudson was the only one who wasn't surprised at Caligo's remark.
	Keeping his stare on the grey gargoyle, the old warrior called out 
to Brooklyn.
	"What crimes has he committed, lad, that ye know of?"
	Brooklyn advanced toward the gargoyle claiming to be his father.
	"Directly responsible for the deaths of seven clansmen," he 
whispered in a monotone, like his voice was not his own, but something of 
a far greater power, "conspiring with Demona and the Captain of the 
Guard against Castle Wyvern, the destruction of the Valkryie in 
Scandinavia, conspiring with the Hunters" his hazel eyes flared white 
"against a clan in France who were affiliated with..." there was a pause 
"...the Black Sword..."
	Chimura's eyes widened and rattled something off excitedly in 
Greek.
	"Then he is an enemy of the Black Sword," Lexington whimpered.
	"The boy has no idea what he's talking about!" Caligo protested at 
the same time, then turned his head quickly to face Lexington.
	"You know of the Black Sword," he snarled at the smallest 
gargoyle.
	"Unfortunately," Lexington retorted.
	Caligo turned his gaze to Goliath.
	"Friend or foe with Zanthé, Goliath," he demanded.
	"Zanthé is no friend of this clan," Goliath answered truthfully.  
"Though the Second Matriarch a trusted ally."
	"The Black Sword cannot be trusted," Caligo retorted.  "Especially 
the Matriarch."
	Chimura demanded something, as Caligo listened to the woman 
with a new expression to his dark features. He answered her in fluent 
Homeric Greek.
	"Finally," he smiled almost with sardonic glee.  "Someone with 
sense to see my point."
	"Zanthé is the only one corrupting the Black Sword," Lex burst 
out.
	"And the corruption must be destroyed," Caligo snapped.
	"We aren't getting anywhere with all this bickering," Goliath 
remarked. 
	“That much is clear,” Hudson grumbled, sheathing his own sword.  
“Yer done with your business, Caligo.  Leave.”
	A deep growl rumbled in Caligo’s throat as the grey gargoyle 
literally melted back into the shadows.
	Elisa cursed.
	“It seems,” Goliath sighed edged with a snarl, “that we might have 
a problem.”
	“Problem?” Brooklyn raised an eyeridge.  “’We’ have a problem?  
A guy who should have been dead a millennium ago just appeared literally 
out of the shadows and claimed that he was my father, and you think we 
have a problem?”
	“’I don’t have a problem.  I have fucking problems, plural,’” Arin 
muttered under her breath, low enough for Broadway and Angela to heard.  
Broadway snorted, Angela giggled.  Four Rooms was one of the younger 
gargoyles’ favourite movies.
	“Listen, bloke, take it in stride,” Arin then retorted out loud.  “So 
what?  He’s your old man.  Ignore the deadbeat.”
	“Easy for you to say,”  Brooklyn smirked.  “Your father doesn’t 
literally pop out of the woodwork whenever he wants to.”
	“Who was that?”  Elisa demanded.
	“Just who he claimed to be, lass,” Hudson remarked.  “Caligo is 
rare to lie.”
	“Then you know him?”
	“Aye, and what a rocky past it was,” the old man sighed.  “Now, if 
ye’ll excuse me, I need to rest my old bones.  Anyway, Letterman’s on.”
	“South Park!” Broadway, Angela, Arin, and Lexington shouted, 
racing out of the library past Hudson.  Chimura followed reluctantly, as 
did Luc, only in curiosity.
	Hudson scratched his balding head, then snorted.
	“Silly me,” he mumbled.  “It’s Wednesday.”  And, with that, he 
exited.
	“Christmas special,” Brooklyn muttered,  trudging out.
	Elisa glanced up at Goliath, taking his hand.
	“I’m seriously beginning to worry about him,” she whispered.
	“I know,” Goliath nodded, pulling her into a hug.  “But he chooses 
to face his demons alone, and so be it. When the time comes, he will 
involve the clan.  We cannot force him.”
	“In the meantime,” Elisa whispered, brushing away a rich brown 
lock from Goliath’s face.  “Tell me more of this Caligo character, and why 
he’s shown up all of a sudden.”
	He sat in a regal manner in one of the newer armchairs closer to 
the front of the library, with Elisa sitting perpendicular, her legs over the 
side of the chair, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head on his 
shoulder.  Goliath told her all he knew about the adopted clansmen, right 
up to his apparent death.  Then he repeated Hudson’s story.  Finally, he 
added Brooklyn’s accusations, and Luc’s story.
	Elisa perked up at the mention of Nate.
	“Nate?” She whispered.  “Nate Lovecraft?  There’s three Nates in 
the 23rd, and two of them have been there for over five years.” She sat up.  
“In fact, I wouldn’t doubt it.  He’s got an uneasiness about him.”  She hit 
her leg.  “I knew it!  Why do I get partnered up with all the weirdoes?”
	“It has been a weird time for all of us,” Goliath retorted, stroking 
her black hair.  She settled back on his shoulder.  “A weird time indeed.”

	“’Mister Hankey, the Christmas Poo, he loves me and I love 
you--’”
	“Arin!” Angela giggled uncontrollably, falling off the couch in 
hysterics.
	“I don’t know about that one,” Brooklyn cracked a grin.  “But I 
think I prefer--” he cleared his throat and, in a perfect Cartman 
impression, he sang, “’Kyle’s mom is a big fat bitch, big fat bitch, big fat 
bitch!’”
	“Enough!” Broadway laughed, almost to the point of his girlfriend 
on the floor, clutching her stomach in laughter.
	“I still cannae believe Kenny didnae die!” Hudson chortled, 
slapping his knee.  “That has to be the best show ever!”
	“I still like the ‘Visitors’ one the best,” Arin remarked between 
gasps of breath.  “That and the Halloween special, when Kenny is turned 
into a zombie--”
	“--And Stan chops him up with a chainsaw!”  Lexington roared 
with laughter.  “’Oh my god, I killed Kenny!’”
	Chimura glanced quizzically at everyone.  The only thing she 
could decipher from the badly-constructed cartoon was that these four 
kids swear, do stupid and gross things, and one of them ends up getting 
killed, only to be miraculously brought back to live for the next show.  
Luc, however, was also in hysterics.  She shrugged, staring at the 
commercials.
	As the end credit rolled, the intercom on the wall beeped.
	“Lexington?”  Owen’s no-nonsense voice filtered though the 
system.  “You have a visitor, a Ms. Spiker.  She seems pretty insistent she 
talk to you.”
	Lex stood, trying to regain a calm exterior, but failed miserably.  
“Yeah!  Send her up!”
	“Her name is not on the guest--” He was interrupted by a strong, 
feminine voice.
	“Check again.”
	“Oh...how unlike me to miss that...I’ll show her upstairs.”  The 
intercom snapped off.  Lex giggled a little more, returning to his spot on 
the couch.  Brooklyn, however, did not seem amused.
	“I’m gone,” he suddenly shifted moods and stood up to leave.
	“Brooklyn, sit!” Arin caught his arm and pulled him back down 
next to her.  “It’s unlike you to judge people like you judge her!”
	“Well, I have good reason to.”
	Arin shot a look over at Lexington, then back at Brooklyn.
	“I think I’d better read the paper,” Hudson suggested, leaving the 
room.
	Luc looked at Brooklyn, then Arin, then Lex.  Something was 
heating up.  Chimura also sensed it, as did Angela.  Lexington groaned in 
realisation.
	“You know?” he whispered to his oldest rookery brother.  
Brooklyn turned to face him, Lex’s eyes wide in fear.  “How?”
	“I just do, okay?”  Brooklyn shook Arin’s hand away and stood 
again.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go somewhere where I can 
think in private.”
	The others blinked, confused, as they watched him leave.
	Brooklyn stormed out, head down, heading toward the courtyard.
	He failed to notice the woman coming around the corner and hit 
her head on, both falling onto the carpet.
	“Sorry...” he apologised a little coldly, helping RC up to her feet.
	“Brook, what’s wrong?” she questioned, taking hold of his wrist.  
“You’re pained...”
	“That ain’t the whole of it,” he muttered, trying in vain to break 
out of RC’s wrist lock.
	“It isn’t,” her grey eyes flashed, a little angry.  “It’s about me, and 
what Zanthé did to your brother.”
	“Get out of my head,” he hissed.
	“I’m not in your head,” she snarled.  “You’re broadcasting it.  And 
let me get one thing straight:  if I had the chance, I would gladly chose 
death over having Lex branded.”
	“What?”
	“Zanthé threatened me to rejoin the Matriarch and choose a liaison 
between the fae and the Black Sword or die.  Lexington volunteered.  I 
had no control over that.  If I did, I would have found someone else 
gladly.”  Tears seemed to well up in her eyes.  “Lexington knew the 
consequences.  He couldn’t help being a gargoyle.”
	Brooklyn stared into her eyes, through her eyes...
	...her words rang truth.
	“I came here for two things: one was about the new kid on the 
block--”
	“Luc, right?”  Brooklyn choked a little, feeling a little nauseated.
	“Yeah.  The second was to offer to help you.  After what you just 
did, I shouldn’t, but I can’t stand seeing anyone in pain from an ability 
they can learn to harness.”
	“I don’t want it!” Brooklyn snarled, breaking free and running to 
the door to the courtyard, stopping short as RC’s psychic bolt sent him to 
his knees, gasping for breath.
	“Why the hell did you do that for?” he spat painfully.
	“To get you to think clearly.  Brook, I was the same way.  The 
problem is, Zanthé knows about your abilities, and so does Caligo.”
	“I said--”
	“And again, I’m not in your head.” She sighed, walking over to 
him and placing a warm hand on his shoulder.  “Why don’t we go outside 
and talk some more, privately?”
	He growled, then, reluctantly, nodded, as they exited the warm 
interior of the castle and out to the brisk December night.
	“Zanthé warned all the Black Sword about your father,” RC 
revealed, leaning against a turret.  “It’s a well-known rivalry between the 
two, one that goes back to god-knows-when.  The problem is, when 
Zanthé got word from some of the other telepaths in the group that 
Caligo’s son possessed abilities coveted by the Black Sword.  The thing is, 
Zanthé will ‘require’ an audience with you to ‘discuss’ your alliances, 
with either her or Caligo.  And she will not take ‘neither’ for an answer.  
That’s why I wanted to get to you before she did.  She calls audiences on 
the Equinoxes, so we’ve not a lot of time.”
	Brooklyn blinked, his face otherwise expressionless.  
	“Brook,  please let me help you,”  RC continued.  “I know your 
feelings of the Black Sword.  And that’s why we must hurry.  She knows 
you’re untrained, and she’ll try to manipulate you like she did me when I 
was younger.  If you refuse her, she’ll mark you like she did Lex, or, at 
worse, she’ll kill you for siding with her brother.”
	“Fuck!” a very uncharacteristic swear escaped forcefully out of 
Brooklyn’s mouth. “This has turned out to be a real shitty day for me.  
Now Zanthé’s my aunt!  Y’know, that’s why gargoyles don’t have family 
reunions.”
	(brooklyn, this is dead serious!) she warned telepathically.  Aloud, 
she added, “Zanthé will try to be your best friend up until the Spring 
Equinox.  If she asks you what side you’re on, and you say her’s, she’ll 
mark you.  If you say Caligo’s or neither, she’ll kill you.  There can be no 
avoiding her.  The thing is, she’ll use her Word against you--”
	“’Word’?”
	“Are you familiar with magic?  There are three types of magic 

accessible to mortals: fae, human, and natural.  All three require spells of 
some sort, and the ability to use it.  There is one type, however, limited to 
only supernatural creatures: this is simply called the Willed Word.  All it 
requires is literally a word and will to use it.  Anyway, Zanthé is terribly 
predictable and will use it to her advantage to do whatever.  But she does 
honour a fair fight.”
	“I don’t want your help,” he hissed, just as RC gripped his head 
and forced him to stare into her eyes.
	He felt a snap inside his head, and a long-surpressed flare of 
premonition push though, throwing him backwards onto the snow-covered 
stone walkway, his hand to his chest, gasping for breath.
	“Why the hell did you that for?” He stammered, struggling to stand 
up.
	“Dammit, Brooklyn, don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you?” 
RC took him by the shoulders, her eyes shone with concern.  “I can’t let 
any one suffer Zanthé’s insanity.  Especially someone with a Gift.  All the 
psychics in the Black Sword are warped, including me, yes.  Many of 
them become like Zanthé.  Some, like me, can resist, but I can’t use my 
abilities to heal.  I can only harm or teach.” She shook her head, appearing 
defeated.  “Then again, I could be wasting my time.  The son of Caligo 
doesn’t need anyone’s help.  Of course, if you accept Caligo’s help, you 
might be as bad off as if Zanthé got her hands on you.”
	She stood and went back inside as Brooklyn stayed in a perched 
position next to the turrets.  The snow started up again, big fluffy flakes 
falling all around him.
	And he thought quietly.

	Nate stayed to the shadows, popping a stick of gum in his mouth 
nondiscretely.
	Interesting development this is turning out to be, he thought, as he 
watched a much younger Brooklyn lean against the turret wall, staring up 
at the sky.  The controlled leader of the Resistance was once a troubled 
adolescent battling his own inner demons.
	He chewed thoughtfully, slowly, fingering a throwing dagger in his 
four digit hand.  Twirling it around his nimble fingers absently, he glanced 
around the visible courtyard, then carefully, reached out with his telepathy 
pinpoint who was around.
	He had a sinking suspicion that once he made contact with 
Brooklyn, the Devourer would awaken.
	And this chilled him to the bone.
	He found that woman who was talking to the red gargoyle before, 
and drew back quickly.
	Another telepath...stronger than him!
	“Shit,” he whispered, the dagger whirling around his fingers 
furiously.

	“Wonder what happened to her?” Lex muttered as those remaining 
in the TV room watched Eddie Griffin on Showtime.
	“Maybe she ran into Brooklyn on her way in and gave him a 
mind-full,” Arin grumbled under her breath.  “The bloke hasn’t been all 
right since Caligo showed up.”
	Broadway surpressed a laugh.
	“Arin, that’s mean!” Angela stated.
	“Well, he deserves it!” the tan gargoyle protested.
	“Forget it, amigos,” RC flopped into the armchair that was earlier 
occupied by Hudson.  “He’s about as giving as a brick wall.” Noticing Luc 
in the corner, somewhat obscured by the couch arm, she grinned and 
nonchalantly greeted him.  “Hey, Luc.  How’s the books?”
	He groaned, sinking against the wall and downward, hiding his 
face.
	“Just curious, amigo,” she asked, “how did you manage that?  You 
can’t be fae, because I can sense you.  A shape-changer, as rare as they 
are, or is it a sorcered illusion?”
	“Illusion,” said the guy hiding behind the couch.
	“And how did you pull it off?” Arin demanded, crawling over 
Broadway’s, and Angela’s laps to peer over the side directly into Luc’s 
face.  “Just curious.”
	“Caligo called it the Willed Word,” he whispered.
	“What?”  RC jumped back to her feet and walked around the 
couch, towering over Luc.  “You know Caligo?”
	“You know him?” Luc questioned.
	“It’s a requirement in the Black Sword.  Shoot upon sight.”
	The tan male narrowed his eyes, a sign Arin recoginised as 
Brooklyn’s way of showing confusion.
	“Zanthé doesn’t like him all that much,” RC shrugged.  “But how 
can you have the Willed Word?  Only the Ancient Ones are able to 
harness that Power...that’s why you were in so much pain tonight,” she 
snapped her fingers.  “You don’t know how to control It.”
	“And you do?” he asked, almost hopeful.
	She shook her head.
	“Not me; I can only help with psionics.  However, I have a cousin 
in the area who might help out...” she trailed off, perking up as if hearing 
something in the distance.
	“What is it?” Lex questioned.
	“I think Brook’s trying to listen in...talk about sloppy...I’ll be 
back,” she walked briskly out.
	“Well, I don’t know about you, chums, but I’ve got to find out 
what’s eating my man,” Arin saluted and followed suit, with Luc trailing 
her.
	Angela, Broadway, Lexington, and Chimura just looked at each 
other, that latter confused out of her mind.
	“Now what?” Lexington questioned.
	“How about something to eat?” Broadway yawned.

	Arin lapsed RC to the courtyard, settling next to  Brooklyn leaning 
against the wall.
	“What’s up?” she hissed in his ear.
	“I wish I knew,” he whispered, drawing his knees to his chest and 
resting his head.  “God!  I wish I knew what was happening to me.”
	RC stopped just outside of the doorway.
	(brooklyn,) she beckoned.  (look to your left...by the parapets....)
	He picked up his head and did so, shaking his head.
	“I don’t--”
	“What?” Arin asked.
	(quiet!  you have company.  look harder.)
	Shrugging, he did so, as a nudge from the psychic pushed his mind 
a little further than seeing, as a felt the presence of another telepath.
	Leaping to his feet, he covered the ground between him and the 
intruder on all fours, tackling him with a loud thud.
	“Who are you?” Brooklyn snarled, eyes glowing.
	“None of your damn business!” he pushed the gargoyle off.  
Brooklyn grasped at his ski cap, yanking it off from his head.
	The women stared in horror at the reptilian humanoid.
	“Never mind the who,” Arin snarled.  “What, now that’s the 
question.”
	“Nate Lovecraft,” Luc interjected sullenly.
	The creature nodded, the wad of gum in his mouth already going 
stale.
	“That’s me, all right,” Nate sighed, and, suddenly, he was back on 
his knees holding his head.
	“Dammit!” Luc was instantly at his friend’s side. “It’s returned, 
hasn’t it?”
	“It’s always been here, Luc,” Nate hissed.  “It’s just...awake!”
	“What is it?” RC demanded, glancing around.  She too sensed it.
	“The Devourer,” Nate moaned.
	“I’ll drive,” Luc groaned.  “Where’s Artemis?”
	Nate pointed over to the parking garage across the street.
	Luc glanced over at Brooklyn.
	“You coming?” he whispered.
	The red gargoyle blinked, staring into Luc’s emerald green eyes.
	“You’re not really considering going to points unknown!” Arin 
hissed, catching Brooklyn’s arm.  “Don’t you think we had enough 
adventure?”
	“You don’t have to go, bright sun,” he replied softly, caressing her 
cheek.  “It’s my duty, not yours.”
	“Where is it?” Luc continued.
	“It’s centralised over the Labyrinth!”  Nate stood shakily. “All 
those people....”
	“We don’t have time!  Brooklyn, if you’re coming, meet us at the 
Labyrinth!”  Luc picked up Nate by the armpits and, with a hopping start, 
spread his wings and glided across the street.
	“I love you,” Brooklyn quickly kissed her and followed suit.
	Arin stood with RC, staring out at the skyline.
	“Y’know,” she finally broke the silence, “I can’t let him let him 
alone for five minutes without him getting into trouble.  Wanna lift?”
	RC shook her head.
	“I really can’t.  Self-preservation is my weakness, and I sense this 
Devourer is too powerful for me,” she whispered.
	Arin nodded, clapping the human on the shoulder before heading 
over toward the Labyrinth.

	“Nice for you to join us,” Nate groaned as Luc eased him into the 
passenger side of the car.
	“I’m a gargoyle,” Brooklyn retorted, getting into the back seat.  
“Anyway, I have the same gnawing feeling in my head you do, Lovecraft.”
	“Oh, my poor tranny!  The kid’s driving again!”
	Brooklyn’s eyes widened.
	“Your car just talked,” he muttered.
	“Never mind the details, just drive!” Nate moaned. “Clutch, brake, 
turn the ignition, release parking brake, and put her in reverse!”
	A jerky start, a curse from Artemis, and they were on their way.
	“Shit!” Nate snarled.  “Parking fee!”
	“I’ve got this covered!” Luc muttered.  “Camouflage.”
	“Hey!  My reserves!” Artemis complained.  “Nate!”
	Nate glanced out of the corner of his eye, noticing her electric 
reserves gauge drop to the three-quarters mark.
	“We’ve gotta get out of here, Arty!  I need some source of energy!” 
Luc retorted, his eyes still silver from his magic.

	Vinny read his Spawn comic, yawning occasionally.  His job at the 
dock was a failure.  Maybe parking attendant would suit more of his 
tastes--
	Suddenly, a roar of a very powerful engine alerted his attention, a 
vehicle coming up fast behind him.
	God-damn hot-rodding kids--
	He quickly put down the red-and-white gate--
	--and watched in horror as it shattered, as if impacted by 
something heavy.
	“Shit!” Vinny stared at the busted gate, then groaned.
	There goes another job....

***
Labyrinth

	Arin could never get used to the clones.
	She hated to see how Chimura would react to Brentwood, too, but 
that was a different story.
	“So,” she asked the large magenta gargoyle on her right, “any 
strange activity going on down here?’
	Hollywood shrugged.
	“Mal blew up at Brent a few hours ago,” he answered simply.
	“He had one of the Master’s books,” the purple clone of 
Lexington’s on her left explained.  “And he swore at me.”
	“Who’s the Master?” Arin questioned.
	“Talon says he’s no longer our Master.” Holl scratched his bald 
head.  “Sevarius.”
	Arin sighed.
	“He’s not your master,” she revealed.  “He might have created you, 
but you are your own masters.”
	“How can we be?” Brent questioned.
	“’The fault, dear Cassius, is not in the stars, but in ourselves, for 
we are the underlings.’  Guys, you make your own lives.  Not some 
asshole in a lab coat playing God--” she giggled “--or Frank-N-Furter.”
	The two stared at her quizzically.
	“Never mind,” she shook her head.  “So, where is Mal now?”
	They shrugged.
	“Okay,” she sighed.  “Change of subject is in order.”
	The lights flickered.
	“Subway,” the two clones muttered.
	Somehow Arin thought otherwise as they ventured into the large 
common room.
	The room was in total chaos as the squatters pressed against one 
another in a corner, Maggie trying to keep an orderly line evacuating out 
to the storage area.
	Talon, Claw, and Fang were bristled up, Delilah had her butterfly 
knives at the ready, and even Burbank welded his mighty mace, ready for 
a fight with--
	--with--
	--Arin stared up at the darkened ceiling corner and gasped.
	Some sort of creature, almost gargoyle in shape, leered over the 
panicking squatters.  It was probably larger than Goliath, though its shape 
seemed to constantly shift, and its entire body appeared entirely made of 
shadows.
	Though it wasn’t Caligo, she told herself, finding herself staring up 
at sinister red orbs serving as eyes for the creature.
	In horror, she realised she could not break away from the gaze.
	She panicked somewhat, the back of her mind tingling.
	And then the cavalry arrived.
	Artemis’ engine still rumbling, Brooklyn and Luc exited Dukes of 
Hazzard-fashion, leaving Nate writhing in agony inside.  The shadows 
behind them abruptly moved and melted, forming the large grey gargoyle 
from earlier, welding his dai-katana in a defensive manner.
	(TRY ANYTHING, BROOKLYN, LUACH, AND CALIGO,) the 
Devourer’s mind-voice rang out, his eyes never moving from Arin’s.  
(AND I FEED OFF TITANIA’S DAUGHTER.)
	“Arin!” Brooklyn shouted, his hazel eyes wide in horror as Caligo 
caught his arm.
	“If it feeds off her, it’ll win and all this will be in vain,” he snarled.  
	“And why should I take your advise?” Brooklyn growled.
	“This isn’t the time to fight--” Luc snapped just before a war cry 
echoed in their ears. 
	Malibu, in full battle armor, leapt from the rafters nearby, slashing 
out at the Devourer.
	Caligo’s jaw dropped.
	“No,” his baritone voice rumbled, shocked.
	“Mal!” Delilah screamed as it took the blue gargoyle by the throat.  
Mal let a surprised squawk, lashing out with both feet and talons.  It 
forced the clone to stare in its eyes, a malicious grin spreading along its 
featureless face.
	Brent and Holl suddenly ran forward to aid their brother, though 
were halted by a angered screech from the demon.
	(IMPOSSIBLE!) It shook Mal as if he was a rag doll. (YOU 
FEAR...BUT I CANNOT FEED!!!  BUT NO MATTER,) its grin returned, 
returning its stare into his inverted blue eyes.  (I CAN STILL USE YOU...)
	Caligo’s ridge shot up, desolation filling his eyes.
	“He cannot feed off the Four,” he shook his head, defeated.
	“Then Mal’s the Fourth?” Luc questioned.
	“You don’t have a Third yet, boy,” Caligo retorted.  “And no, the 
clone isn’t one of the Four.”
	“Clone?” Luc snarled, his eyes glowing white hot.
	Arin joined them, her eyes darting from the Talon and his group to 
Mal and the Devourer to Brooklyn, Caligo and Luc.
	Malibu screamed suddenly as the Devourer began to disintegrate, 
its molecules entering the terrified gargoyle through the eyes, ears, nose, 
and mouth.
	And Mal began to change....
	“Kill him!” Caligo shouted.  “He’s lost to us!  Kill him, and 
destroy the Devourer!”
	“No!”  Brooklyn growled.
	But he had already sensed Luc drawing energy from the ground, 
his eyes flaring silver--
	“No!” both him and Arin tackled the young gargoyle, knocking 
him to the ground.
	“He’s a clone!” Luc spat, his nose bleeding, his voice sick with 
unused energy.  “They deserve to die!”
	“Mal is our friend!” Delilah snarled, her knives flashing in a 
defensive pattern.
	(I CAN STILL USE THIS YOUNG BODY...)
	Mal’s form wavered, his scream intensifying.
	“What’s happening?” Arin hissed to Caligo.
	“You better have a reason for this, Tiny,” Fang snarled.
	“It’s possessing him, you imbecile!” Caligo snapped.  “It’s 
merging with him, and will use him!  You must strike now, while it is 
vulnerable!”
	“Too late...” Nate groaned as the new creature formed from the 
convergence of the Devourer and Malibu jumped down from the rafters.  
It looked like Mal, with Caligo’s build, and donned with armour the 
colour of shadows.  Its eyes were the burning red orbs, the wings large.
	But the expression was the Devourer’s.
	“Mal?” a little boy’s voice whispered from the line.
	“Tristan, no!” Maggie caught the boy and held him.
	The new creature cocked his (its?) head to one side.
	“The one known as Malibu has been assimilated,” he (it?) 
rumbled.  “His form will prove useful to my purposes.”
	And, with those as his (its?) final words, he (it?) created a temporal 
vortex behind him (it?).  
	“Shit!”  Nate sat up, his odd eyes wide as he threw out his hand.  
“Luc!  Brook!  Cal!  Get in the fuckin’ car!  Now!”
	Luc did what he said, with Brooklyn reluctantly lagging behind.  
Arin jumped in with her beau.
	“No way I’m leaving you to all the fun!” she snarled at Brooklyn’s 
unasked question.
	“Go!” Caligo ordered.
	Luc nodded as though he understood, shifting Artemis into first.
	With a burst of fuel and a shift into second, they entered the 
vortex, the white light engulfing them.
	Then there was silence.

***

	Nate yawned, pulled out some aspirin, and waited patiently for the 
others to awaken.  Without being asked, he handed the pills to Luc, who 
took them thankfully.  The tan male moaned, rested his head, then turned 
to Brooklyn, his face contorted with anger.
	“Why didn’t you let me kill him?” he snarled, wiping the drying 
blood from his nose and beak.
	“Malibu is our friend, clone or not,” Arin interjected.
	“You heard what Caligo said,” he retaliated.  “He was lost to you.  
We should have killed him and with him the Devourer when we had the 
chance!”
	“You wanted to kill him when you found out he was a clone,” 
Brooklyn growled.  “Well, I got news for you.  In fact,” his volume 
decreased, but his tone did not.  “Technically, he’s your brother.”
	Luc blinked, taken aback.
	“Mal’s my clone,” Brooklyn retorted.  “And he has a soul.  He is 
an individual.  And I’m ashamed I would ever father a creature who would 
kill without thinking of the consequences!”
	“Too many of my clan were killed by Sevarius clones and 
mutates!”
	“Brooklyn!” Arin snapped, her eyes glowing angrily.  “I’ve seen 
the world Luc comes from!  I understand where he comes from!”  She 
sighed, turning to Luc.  “Trust me when I say there are good clones as 
well, capable of change.  Delilah, Mal, Brent, Holl, Burbank, they’re all 
our friends.”
	Luc glanced back to Brooklyn, his anger ebbing.  In its place, 
rejection.
	Brooklyn growled once more, then glanced out the windshield, 
taking in the strange red-and-lavender skyline with its red mountains 
towering around them.
	“Where are we?” he pondered.
	Arin pushed the driver’s seat forward (with Luc still in it, issuing a 
curse) and stretched in a dancer fashion.
	“Air’s kind of thin,” she mumbled.
	“I just checked my navicomputer,” Artemis retorted.
	“Not only does it talk, it also has Han Solo as a pilot,” Brooklyn 
muttered.
	Artemis ignored him and continued.  “We’re not anywhere on 
Earth.  The air is too thin to be Earth’s atmosphere.”
	“That’s impossible,” Arin remarked.
	“Is it?” Nate stepped out of the car.  “Last I checked, NASA was 
terraforming Mars.  We might be witnessing its final product.”
	Brooklyn climbed out and padded on all fours up a rocky hill.
	“Hey, everyone!” he shouted.  “A road!  And there’s a city about a 
mile away!”
	“Then let’s get going,” Nate suggested, reclaiming the driver’s 
seat.  “The Third must be there, then.”
	“And, with that, the Devourer,” Luc snarled, directing it more 
toward Brooklyn.
	As they returned to Artemis’ interior, Arin could not help be show 
signs of distress.
	Caligo had influenced Luc, that was for certain.

***

THUS ENDS CHAPTER THE SECOND.  Hope you enjoyed this ending.  
Even I wasn’t expecting it.  “Martian Sunrise” will be coming out in about 
a month, so keep your shirts on!  The Devourer finds that he doesn’t have 
total control over Malibu, and remember Sierra?  Let’s just say her 
attitude doesn’t come from either Arin’s nor Brooklyn’s...in fact, she’s 
almost Demona-esque....

--Black Blade “My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity”

SONGS:

“Santa Baby” performed by Madonna from “A Very Special Christmas”

“Can You Trip Like I Do” is by Filter and Crystal Method from The 
Spawn Soundtrack.

“Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo” and “Kyle’s Mom is a Big Fat Bitch” 
from South Park Christmas Special.

MOVIE CLIPS:

Ted’s Problems is from Four Rooms directed by Quintin Taratino

Brutus’s Speech to Cassius is from Julius Caesar from Shakespeare