Road Movie to Milan Chapter the Fourth of In Darkness Cometh Saga by Amy K. Cyrway blkblade@mailexcite.com rayapam@mint.net DISCLAIMER: GARGOYLES AREN'T MINE!!! THEY BELONG TO DISNEY AND BEUNA VISTA!!! I HAVE NO CLAIM TO THEM!!! *breathes heavily.* Okay, now with that out of the system... Nate Lovecraft legally belongs to me, and Arin, Luc, Caligo, Sierra, the Devourer and anyone you don't recognise are mine. There is, of course, MATURE CONTENT, usually in the form of violence and swearing. Very rarely will I introduce sex in my fic, unless the couple are going to get killed by a hockey-mask wearing maniac wielding a chainsaw. *Grinz evilly.* Anyhow, on with the Show! *** (Show Demona being chased by the Hunter, 1492, in "Hunter's Moon, part 1") SIERRA: Previously, on Gargoyles... CALIGO: I heard my son was one of the survivors. DEMONA: Your son is lost to us. (Show Caligo and Demona conversing, "Waiting For Darkness") (Show Sierra getting out of the Starbreaker, "Martian Sunrise") NATE: She's the Third. (Show Malibu transforming into the Devourer, same ep.) (Show Brooklyn hitting Artemis' roof running, same ep.) SIERRA: This is getting too damn weird. I'm being pulled around by a group of friggin' crackpots. LUC: Hate to differ, we are a far cry from crackpots. ARIN: Total loonies, now that's more like it. (Same ep.) CHRONOS: 15TH CENTURY MILAN, ITALY KIRO: THE EPOCH OF CALIGO *** The hustle and bustle of the marketplace did not distract Angus Canmore as he walked through the shouting venders and gossiping ladies. In fact, on first glance, he appeared just a visiting Scotsman, which wasn't highly unusual, though he did get a couple of strange looks from the Italians because of his family tartan. He was used to travelling, therefore he was used to the sneers of the natives. But he wasn't here on pleasure. He was Hunting. The demon got away a few weeks ago, he thought sourly. Destroyed the flying machine he "borrowed" from a "friend" in Venice. Dunked him in a canal. Now he had tracked her to Milan. And Milan was where she would die. *** Above the hustle and bustle of the marketplace the cathedral rose high, its gargoyles watched over the town. Though all grotesque, one stood out. This one seemed out of place, a work of art amongst cruder-crafted brethren. It was large with a sort of an aristrocratic air to it, something that belonged in the d'Medici private collections rather than the public service of the cathedral. Darkness seemed to surround it, always remaining in the shadows. Its noble beaked face seemed saddened, as if it had lost a loved one. Next to its feet, a bottle of Asti vino. *** Away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, past the vineyards and out in the fields of fallow grass about as tall as a man, she hid from the sight of prying and curious eyes. She was long, black and sleek, roaring when she purred. Her name was Artemis, and she was a work of art, even with the cracked windshield. She watched over the four gargoyles sharing her hiding place as well as the sleeping man in the driver's seat, a cowboy hat pulled over his face. It would be sunset soon, she told herself as her internal clock clicked away. *** Nate awoke to the roars of the gargoyles shedding their stone exteriors. He pulled his hat from his face and smirked Sierra flew off the handle, demanding what the hell just happened. Keeping the hat on, Nate pushed open the door and stepped out, yawning, stretching, then scratching. Going around to the trunk, he manually popped it open and, fishing out of the cooler a six-pack of beer, he tossed one to each of them. "Breakfast of champions," he mumbled, cracking his open and taking a deep swig. Brooklyn set his back into the trunk cooler, then pulled out a Coke. His hair was still tied back, though because of the stone hibernation, the jeans and tee-shirt were pretty much destroyed, though he wasn't that much different than the average Slayer concert-goer. Grabbing his loincloth from the pile of laundry, he slipped into the car to change. "No one has answered my question yet," Sierra reminded, popping her tab, though tasting the liquid cautiously. "What the hell just happened to me?" "That," Luc pointed out between gulps, "was what I meant by 'turning to stone'. We're back on Earth, so we have to follow the rules." "No light, no water, no feeding after midnight..." Arin muttered, finishing the entire contents of the beer in three swallows. Brooklyn snorted, getting out through the driver's side. "Gargoyles, gremlins, what's the difference?" Artemis added. "Wings and Broadway," Brooklyn retorted. Arin cracked up. Sierra muttered something intangible, then demanded, "What now?" "We search out Caligo," Luc revealed before Nate could open his mouth. "We know he's the Fourth." The copper red gargoyle groaned, shaking his head. "So we've got to leave Arty behind," Arin pointed out. "That's about the size of it," Nate nodded. "Don't call me Arty," Artemis snarled. "Caligo told me himself that he met us in 15th century Milan," Nate retorted. "Now, I don't know about you, Brook, but I can usually sense a large crowd within a ten mile radius, and there's a huge one that way," he flicked his thumb to the west. "I say we head that way and search." Arin tossed the empty can into the trash bag in the trunk and took the taze gun from the floor. "Sounds good to me," she agreed, tucking the weapon into her belt. "Then it's agreed," Brooklyn suddenly took charge. "Once we get near civilisation, Luc and Nate, infiltrate the streets. Arin, Sierra, and I will take to the skies. We need to pick a landmark where we can meet-" "There was an old cathedral last time I was in Milan," Arin stated. "I think it was built in the 14th century, so why not there?" "What if it's not the only cathedral?" Sierra pointed out. "Milan would be too small to have more than one church at this time," Nate interjected. "Then we'll meet there. Any other change of plans, Nate and I will keep close tabs on one another," Brooklyn retorted. Arin seemed the most surprised at his order, but did not protest. "If there isn't anything else..." Brooklyn concluded. "Nope," Luc shook his head. "Nada," Arin did the same. "Not on my end," Nate remarked. "Not much of a choice," Sierra grumbled. "What about me?" Artemis whined mockingly. "You are going to stay here until we get Caligo, then we'll go search out the Devourer," Nate explained, giving the hood a loving thump. "Figures," she mumbled. "You'll probably leave me-" "I'd never do a thing like that," Nate cooed. To the rest of the gang, he remarked, "Well? What are we waiting for?" *** Canmore stared out the window of his room at the inn, donning his black Hunting outfit, though the mask lay on the bed, untouched. Yet. The demon was nigh. He could sense it. The wind suddenly picked up, rustling his brown hair through the open window. "Soon, Angus," he muttered to himself, picking up his quiver of bolts and crossbow. "Soon, you will have your family's revenge." Clipping the crossbow and quiver to his belt, he finally pulled the mask over his head, the black hood with three diagonal red marks in the design of clawmarks over the face. To top off the outfit, he threw his light cloak over his shoulders and head, the deep hood shadowing his masked face. He exited the room, head down, avoiding any conversation and eye contact with any of the patrons of the inn in the common room. As he walked though the slowing traffic of pedestrians and carts, he glanced up, seeing three figures gliding high above, silhouetted momentarily against the full moon. He grinned smugly, following them toward the cathedral. *** "'Take this pink ribbon off my eyes, I'm exposed, and it's no big surprise! Don't you think I know just where I stand? This world is forcing me to hold your hand!'" Arin sang, gliding gracefully above him. In the seven months she had been a gargoyle, she had become an excellent glider, dancing on the winds with the ease of any true gargoyle. Brooklyn could not help but watch her twist, turn, dive, and catch an updraft up again. She was pleasant to watch, irresistible to covet, and mesmeric to hear. Sierra rolled her eyes. Damn lover boy. She banked sharp, the cathedral in sight. Arin and Brooklyn followed, a little less methodically. Pulling up somewhat, then closing her wings somewhat, she landed perfectly on the ledge, waiting for the other two. She could still hear Arin singing above her. Expertly, Sierra began scaling the stone wall up to the bell tower, witnessing with a shock as Brooklyn hit the facade with a loud smack, not unlike a bird running into a window. Both Sierra and Arin burst out laughing as the latter of the two dove down and caught her disorientated beau. "I can't believe I did that," Brooklyn whimpered, his beak and pride both wounded. "I can't believe you did that either, bloke," Arin giggled, kissing the top of his beak lightly. He smirked somewhat sheepishly. "Cut the bullshit," Sierra scoffed. "We've got work to do." Adding under her breath, "As nonsense as it is." The three climbed into the bell tower, glancing around at the crude stone statues decorating the area. Arin noticed a bottle of wine perched on the ground. Picking it up, she inspected the handblown glass for a label. There was none, though it had a manufacturer's stamp on the bottom. The cork was still waxed, the seal unbroken. For all she knew, the owner was trying to age it without anyone finding it. She glanced up at the sky, noting the clear night and full moon. "Isn't it beautiful?" She breathed. "There's a third person here," Sierra reminded. "Someone lives here, by the way its set up." She pointed to the books in the corner, and the writing utensils and paper on the small table next to a sturdy chair. Sierra and Brooklyn stayed to the shadows as Arin curiously advanced the table, picking up a handmade leather-bound book from it. "'Scriptae Caligorum,'" she muttered. "Writings of Darkness." "Or 'Caligo,'" Brooklyn pointed out in realisation. "This could be his lair, for all we know." "Then maybe this is his journal," the tan gargoyle whispered, opening the cover. "' Impeditum invernimus plus et plus in annales referream historiam mei namque posterum quam minuvimus cognatium'...um..." she did some quick translating. "'As our kind...dwindles, I find it more and more important that I chronicle my history for my descendants.'" She looked up at Brooklyn, then Sierra, then back at the book. "It is a journal, of Caligo's life. This beginning paragraph is basically his wishes for family to carry on his name." Brooklyn raised an eye ridge, padding silently to the table. "He's immortal, love, but not invulnerable. He's as afraid to die as the next bloke." "So he's writing a personal memoir of his life for us to remember him by," Brooklyn retorted, a little cynical. "Wouldn't you?" Arin retaliated. "If you felt you would never know your son, wouldn't you do the same?" "A little low below the belt, Arin," Sierra mumbled. "Maybe I am," Arin shrugged. "All I'm saying, Brook, is to keep an open mind about Caligo. If I remember correctly, the Eye of Odin usually brings out the worst of people. And that's what you say you saw. For that matter, have you noticed we've seen Nate before, during your confrontation with your Caligo?" "You've lost me," Sierra held her hands up. "A few months ago, Arin and I were involved with a...conflict...though we both met Caligo on two completely different occasions, we have different opinions on him," Brooklyn explained simply. The lavender gargoyle only nodded, though she was, no surprise, still confused. Arin replaced the book back on the wooden surface. "So we know this is Caligo's lair," Arin retorted. "What now, Brook?" "Inform Nate of our situation," He answered with a shrug. "Maybe get out of here before Caligo returns. He probably feels the same way about trespassers as we do to the castle." Amongst the thinning crowd of market-goers, two men stood somewhat out. One wore total black, a heavy black leather short coat with black pants, his unruly black hair fluttering in the night breeze. The other seemed slightly sick, wearing a longer coat, multicoloured with forest hues, and a similar pair of pants to the first, though his were a faded blue, torn at the knees, and neatly-kept rich brown hair. Nonchalantly, they made their way to the cathedral, the latter brushing up on a cloaked man in a kilt exiting the building. Though he shouldn't have given much thought on it, he caught a glimpse of the mask underneath the hood. A deep growl ushered from his throat, his eyes beginning to take the glow of anger. "What is it, Luc?" Nate hissed, stopping on the step above the angered young man. "Hunter," he snarled simply, before Nate caught his arm. "Why would a Hunter be here, of all places?" "Gargoyles nigh," he whispered. "Gargoyles besides us, or else he wouldn't be here this quickly." "Then we're in the right place," Nate nodded, pushing open the heavy wooden door. Upon entering the cathedral, he bowed his head, dipped his four-fingered hand into the holy water, then made the sign of the Cross. Luc stared at him curiously, but said nothing. "Yes, I'm Catholic," Nate answered as they presumed their course to the back of the facade, where the stairwells were. "You can drop your guise, Luc. I'll screen us from view if we encounter anyone on our way up." "Thank you." With his Word, the gargoyle Dropped his human appearance, returning to his normally beaked face. They ascended the stairs, quietly, staying to the shadows. No one seemed to be in the cathedral. Though Luc could swear he smelled something...familiar...he couldn't place it.... Nate suddenly paused, his head cocked to one side. "It's Brook," he retorted. "Caligo's been living up in the bell tower, though no one's home yet. We'll meet them up here, though, and leave from there." "Sounds good," Luc shrugged, continuing up the narrowing wooden stairs. They were met at the top by Arin. "How was the trip here?" She asked whimsically. "There's a Hunter here," Luc retorted. Arin's smile dropped fast as she shot a look at Brooklyn, whose facial expression was equally pissed. "A Hunter?" Sierra questioned. "The Canmores have been hunting our kind since the early 11th century," the red gargoyle remarked. "It's their heritage, their vengeance against us for some deed we did to one of them long ago." Sierra gave her patented "I see...NOT!" glance, but shook it off. "It's not possible..." The five suddenly became aware of another voice in the conversation, a deep baritone voice of thunder. "Other gargoyles...? Alive...?" The newcomer landed just outside the room, then deftly climbed through the open window. And, obviously, it was Caligo. No mistaking the characteristic beak passed on from him to Brooklyn to Luc, nor the shoulder guard and dai-katana strapped to his back, nor the eyes as dark as storm clouds. Though now, he carried a sense of pleased surprise. "Welcome to my palace!" He smiled broadly, shocking the group with his kindness. "I'd admit, it is rather humble accommodations, but it is better than hiding in the forest during the day. I was hoping this would be an obvious place for our kind to roost. Anyway, who would suspect gargoyles living in the cathedral's bell tower!" His smile never faded as he glanced upon the four gargoyles in the shadows-he seemed to ignore Nate-and even intensified when his dark eyes settled onto the tan female. "You! The one who saved my son's life! Are you immortal too? Or perhaps a Child of Oberon...?" His smile fell suddenly, never skipping a beat nevertheless. "Oh, but Wyvern was sacked, child. All the clan is dead. How they could have used your dragon friend on that day of need." "Caligo," she whispered, astonishing him with the knowledge of his true name. "I am Arin. Yes, my mother was Titania. My father, however, was Macbeth, King of the Scots. And yes, I know Wyvern was sacked. But there were survivors, Caligo. Brooklyn, please, stand by me." On her plea, the red gargoyle obeyed reluctantly, his hard hazel eyes locked onto his father's face. "Caligo, this is Brooklyn. Your son." "What sorcery...?" The grey gargoyle reached out to touch Brooklyn's cheek, who instinctually shied away, shooting Arin a pained look. She in turn returned it with a "Deal with it; we need him" expression. "But you're so much older...an adult!" "The Magus turned the survivors to stone on the conditions that they would remain that way until the castle rose into the sky," Brooklyn retorted. "We awoke three-and-a-half years ago, after a thousand year sleep." "That's impossible," Caligo remarked. "The final Viking raid was only five-hundred years ago. And to raise a castle...!" "Nate, maybe you should brief him," Brooklyn suggested. The mutate shrugged, nodded, then stepped out of the shadows. "There is a demon," he explained. "A demon which devours planets and stars, and savours the life-forces of souls. Only the Family of Darkness can stop it. So prophecy states. But each of the Four were from different epochs of time." Caligo suddenly growled. "The Devourer," he mumbled with a nod. "I am familiar with the tale." He sat in his chair regally, as if it was a throne, and opened his journal. Taking the quill from the inkwell, he posed as if to write. "My love is writing history," he explained, beginning to scrawl across the fresh parchment. "And this would be a tale to tell the hatchlings. Arin," he beckoned with his free hand, his left, "please introduce me to the rest of your friends." "Sierra MacDuff, captain of the Martian Defense Force, Furies Squadron Leader," the lavender female retorted formally. "Indeed, we spread across the epochs," Caligo whistled. "What time, may I ask, you are from, my dear? Certainly thousands of years-" "AD 2143, last I checked." "Or sooner." The grey male jotted some more characters down. "What about you, eh, Brooklyn?" There was a hint of fatherly pride in his voice. "Tell me a little about yourself, please." Surprised at Caligo's friendly exterior, Brooklyn retorted, "There isn't much to be said about me. And it was 1997 when we-Arin and I-left Manhattan." He nodded. "And you lad-" he paused, staring at Luc, then moving his gaze toward Arin, switching back to the young man. "My name is Luach, sir. And I am your grandson," he whispered shyly. "You are-" the elder indicated toward the tan female. "-probably mine and Brook's son," Arin finished with a nod. "This is incredible!" Caligo beamed. "I seriously thought the Family of Darkness had to be of the same time, but this...! You!" He pointed to Nate. "What is your role in this adventure?" "I was Chosen by the Weird Sisters to follow the Devourer and collect the Four," Nate answered nonchalantly, getting used to his position now as if it was no big deal. "And you, Arin, daughter of Titania?" "I sort of tagged along for the ride," she shrugged sheepishly. "Couldn't let Brooklyn have all the fun." "Oh, I've having a ball," Brooklyn rolled his eyes. Caligo only smiled as he feverishly wrote. Then he closed the book and stood. "Now, to more pressing matters," he remarked, his gaze locking onto Nate's. "Do you know where the Devourer is?" "It doesn't like to make itself present when it's not ready," the mutate explained, unsure of why Caligo was taking this so well. He couldn't read the large gargoyle very well, as though Caligo was actually clouding his thoughts against him. "If you don't mind me asking, Caligo, why do you seem to have some knowledge about this predicament?" Caligo only laughed. "I have been on this earth longer than anyone could remember. I was here to witness the Fae emerge from Elswher. And with the Fae came their soothsayers, the Fates. I was very young, only a few millennia old-ah, where are my manners? May I offer something to drink and eat? I have mostly bread, cheese, and wine, though I would be honoured to share it with you." "Actually, that isn't a bad idea," Brooklyn stated, noting the gnawing sensation of his stomach demanding food. Arin, Luc, and Sierra nodded in agreement. "What? 'Breakfast of Champions' didn't fulfill your needs?" Nate smirked. Caligo picked up a large basket with three large loaves of bread, a couple of cheese wheels, and vino similar to the bottle against the wall. Once he had served his guests-Arin could not help to think he was more of an aristocratic human than a gargoyle, the way he talked and acted around them-he sat back down in his chair and continued his story. "I was very young when the Battle ended, sending the demons and angels scattering across the multiverse. I remember the Devourer, then a nameless demon of lowly stature, and his banishment to the far reaches of time. My kind were left to fend for ourselves on the warscarred earth, unable to reproduce with one another, doomed to die out, if it wasn't for the Fae." He studied his pewter mug. "They came from Elswher, a plane of magic. Titania was only a child then; her mother was Queen at the time. Those who took pity on us created mortal versions of us, and gave the rest of the earth life." He sighed, finishing off his mug and helping himself to seconds. "Unfortunately, there was a serious disorder with the original gargoyles." "Insanity," Luc whispered. Caligo nodded. "Insanity. We were prone to fits of them. I was fortunate to not develop it, but my sister and most of my kin were struck down by its symptoms. When my sister was lost to me-" "Zanthé," Luc murmured. "Correct again, though her name was Lucia, before her insanity overwhelmed her, forcing her to become the gargoyle named Zanthé. Back to the story, I was hurt terribly, and plotted to take my own life, before the Fates came to me and told me of the Devourer returning with terrifying power, and that I must join the Four and the Chosen to destroy it." Caligo shrugged. "That, my friends, is the short version of my history, and why I know about the Devourer." Arin, Brooklyn, and Luc were enthralled with his words. Sierra clearly was holding a "Do you think I actually believe this horseshit?" back, and Nate was only nodding as he sipped his wine. "Wow," Arin finally whispered. "And you've been alive how long?" "Longer than your father, I know that for sure, Macbeth's daughter," he retorted, standing up once more. "Well, I've enjoyed this conversation, but I truly think we should be on our journey, eh, Chosen?" "We've got to locate the Devourer first," Nate corrected. "It lies dormant inside the body of another gargoyle, but when it awakens, it will try to escape from this time and place." "How had is it to locate?" "Pretty difficult when he sacrificed his psychic abilities to possess Malibu." "I can find him," Brooklyn interjected, somewhat reluctantly. Arin placed a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. "I just need some time...." "Time isn't quite on our side, Brook," Nate reminded. "Could you do better? Anyway, once the Devourer becomes dominant, you could trace him, right?" "Theoretically." "Good enough," The red gargoyle nodded, padded over to one of the open windows. Staring out at the sleeping village, he closed his eyes and concentrated on Malibu, searching for the tortured and lacerated mind, of a mind both innocent and intelligent. (brooklyn...) The weak mind-speech of the clone echoed in Brooklyn's mind, pleading. (help me...) (i'm here, bro,) he retorted. (where are you?) (i don't know,) came the reply. (i'm hurting, though. I feel a war was going on in my mind...) (in a way, mal, there was,) he answered truthfully. Without breaking concentration, he spoke aloud, "Nate, I need help pinpointing him." "Not a problem, amigo," Nate came up behind him and "piggybacked" on Brooklyn's psionic probe. "Got it. Three miles north-west of here, close to the edge of town." (mal, i'm going to leave now, but we'll be there shortly to help. okay?) There was a lengthy pause, then (please hurry. i don't know how much longer i can keep it from taking over again.) Severing the link, Brooklyn turned back to the group with a somewhat triumphant smile. Luc sniffed, his eye ridge arching. He knew he smelled that odor before...way back when he was much younger, visiting Clan Winslow...C-4 was showing him something...the two of them catching holy hell from Eddie when they lit a rhodendon bush on fire with- "-Lamp oil!" he shouted. Caligo looked at him curiously, then sniffed the air. "The acolytes might have spilled some when they were filling the lamps for mass tomorrow," he remarked. "Somehow, I seriously doubt that," Luc panicked. "Nate and I bumped into a Hunter earlier coming out of the cathedral when we were going in." Arin, Brooklyn, and Caligo each showed signs of worry. Quietly, Sierra advanced down the stairwell, staying to the shadows. The only light was the soft glow of the candles on the altar, and the moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows of the lower facades. There was one patron tonight, a cloaked man in a kilt surveying the beautiful work of the cathedral. She silently padded back up to the bell tower and revealed to the rest of what she saw. Arin, now curious, descended down the stairs, draping her wings around her shoulders as she sneaked to take a peep. She held back a gasp as the man picked up a candle from the altar and walked toward the stairs, his boots stepping in what looked like water but seemed too thick as he picked up his leg to take another step. She was joined by the rest of the gargoyles and mutate. Although she had no direct contact with any Hunter, she knew of the Canmores, and what they did to her family, their cousins. Though her hatred for the masked man was for different causes than the others, the hatred was still strong and bitter. "What now?" Luc mouthed to Brooklyn, whose hazel eyes were on the verge of glowing. Caligo's already flared white-hot. "He dares commit this beautiful cathedral sacrilege?" the grey male snarled softly. "My home?" "He won't light off the oil if he doesn't find us," Brooklyn hissed. "Let's go back to the belltower. We'll glide off, and return later when he leaves." "Sounds like a plan," Nate nodded, heading back upstairs, followed by the rest of the irked gargoyles, with Luc taking up the tail. Unfortunately, the boy slipped, hitting the wooden stairs, jarring his chin. The noise of the fall and the curse of pain and rage alerted Canmore, who pulled out his crossbow from under his cloak, the candle still in his other hand. "Who's there?" He demanded, bolting up the stairs. He smiled evilly through the mask as his brown eyes locked onto the green pools of fear and hatred belonging to the injured young male. Luc swore again, climbing the stairs on all fours, with the Hunter in hot pursuit. Sierra drew her pistol and ran back down, halting momentarily when she heard a twang, a screech, a thud. "Luc!" she screamed, sliding the jacket of her nine-mm ready as she faced off with Canmore, who aimed the crosshairs of his crossbow onto her as well. "Mexican standoff," she snarled, eyes glowing red. Canmore chortled, not understanding, but not showing any fear. "No matter what you do to me, demon," he snapped. "My son will take up the Hunt." "I don't give a flying fuck about your son," she retorted, firing her pistol, catching him between the eyes. As he fell, she realised her blunder, watching horrified as though in slow motion the candle flew from the dead man's hand and onto the floor, lighting up the puddle of lamp oil. "Shit!" She carefully picked up her wounded comrade and stormed back up to the tower, where the rest of the group stared in shock at Luc, whose eyes were wide in pain, horror, and fear, his hand on the shaft of the arrow buried in his left shoulder. "We've gotta leave pronto! The bastard lit the oil after he shot Luc!" "Let's go! Arin, Sierra, Caligo, take Luc back to Artemis!" Brooklyn barked. "Nate, you and I'll find Mal! We'll rendezvous at Artemis in two hours!" Caligo quickly took a sack, throwing a couple of books, his journal, and the aging wine into it. Slinging it to his back, he took Luc into his arms. "Lead the way to this 'Artemis', miladies," he remarked, his eyes saddened somewhat for loosing his home. "Father..." Luc stirred somewhat, his eyes wildly scanning the room as the sound of tapestries catching flame echoed hauntingly. "Father..." he repeated. "Please...don't leave me again..." Brooklyn, posed to leap into a glide, pulled himself back into the belltower, his eyes soft, brimming with tears. Something in the boy's voice...and what did he mean by "again"? "Don't worry, Luc," he whispered, grasping onto his free hand. "We'll come right back. I swear." To Arin, he ordered, "Get there as fast as you can. And please," the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, though it wasn't intended to be humourous, "please panic." The tan female nodded, leading the two other gargoyles out eastward. Brooklyn, his mind still disturbed about Luc's comment, picked up Nate by his armpits and glided to the north-west, silently praying for Luc's well-being. *** "Shit!" the GTO swore as they touched down in the fallow field. "What the hell happened?" "Luc's been shot! Artemis, pop trunk! Sierra, grab those blankets and lay them on the ground!" "What manner of sorcery is this...?" Caligo stared at the black musclecar in fascination. "A chariot of some sort..." "No time, Cal! If Luc dies, we're in seriously deep shit!" Arin threw open the driver's side door and rummaged into the glove compartment for the first aide kit. Tossing it to Sierra, who was instructing Caligo to lay the boy down on the makeshift gurney, she then ran around to the back of the car and, pushing away the firearms and clothes, searching for anything else they could use. She finally came across a larger med kit, complete with heavy bandages and limited utensils. "I'm going to assume the Army taught you basic medical procedures in dealing with bullet wounds." Sierra nodded as Arin forcefully handed the other medical supplies to her. "Yo, Caligo, aide her if she needs it." "And what are you going to do?" Sierra demanded as she examined the wound. "Do what I can," the tan female whispered, her eyes brimming. Leaping up to the roof of the car, she closed her eyes, mentally picturing the beautiful beaches and cliffs of Avalon. Please work, she whispered, thinking of a rhyme to channel her fae heritage. Strange, she thought to herself as she pictured the cliffs and shores of Avalon. Somehow, they seemed deserted. She half-expected Oberon to find out what she was doing and slap her around like the step-child she was. Content with the power she could access, she jumped off the roof to see what Sierra and Caligo were up to. Sierra at that moment pulled out the end of the shaft from Luc's bloody shoulder. He screamed in pain, his back arching. "Dammit! Caligo, hold him down! Without any sedatives, he's gonna have to live with the pain. Arin, take off the jacket! We're gonna need to get his shirt off, too!" Arin dropped to her knees, Luc's head between them, as she gently removed his right arm from its sleeve, then pulling it from under his back, carefully eased it down the left shoulder. Luc screeched again, eyes screwed shut. "At least we know he's still with us in the land of the living," Sierra muttered, ripping the shirt away from his left shoulder taking a cloth and peroxide to clean and sterilise the wound. Arin folded the jacket and propped his head onto it as a makeshift pillow. Pulling her hair out of her face and tying it back, she chewed her lip in concentration. Reaching for his right hand, she squeezed it lovingly. He returned the squeeze, his breath becoming hard and shallow. "He's going into shock!" Sierra shouted, discarding the cloth and began dressing the wound. "Arin, talk to him! Keep him from passing out!" "Luc, can you hear me?" she whispered, her voice low and rhythmic, her mind entering a semi-trance. "Mother?" he whispered, his eyes unfocused as they rolled up in the general direction of her face. "Mother, the pain..." "I know, Luc, it's going to hurt, but you've got to stay with us. Please, talk to us..." "I'm so tired, Mother...is Father back yet?" his voice suddenly dropped in mid sentence. "No, he's not, sweetheart, but he will be shortly." Tears streamed down her cheeks, realising Luc's words. "Keep talking...stay with us until sunrise...then you can sleep..." "Sunrise is hours away," Caligo whispered sadly, softly. Luc's eyes suddenly shifted to the larger gargoyle. "Caligo...you promised me you'd show me to use my Word..." he hissed. Caligo blinked, staring at Arin. "He possesses the Willed Word?" he demanded. Arin only nodded. "He'll show you, sweetheart, tomorrow night, only if you stay with us," she hissed, feeling Avalon's magical strands weaving around her hands. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the spell. Her eyes suddenly flew open, blazing silver. "'Child of Darkness, whom death is nigh/I heal you now, from where you lie!'" She felt the magic rush from her hands through his body, momentarily sharing his pain as both of the gargoyles screamed in agony. The light in her eyes finally died, replaced by her normal green eyes, as she leaned forward, pushing away his sweaty bangs and kissing his forehead. He stirred with a groan, glancing around. Groaning again, he muttered. "Analgesic...please..." Arin reached over to the first aide kit and handed one to Luc. He took it with a nod of thanks and swallowed it dry. "Still think there is no such thing as magic?" Arin then demanded tiredly to Sierra, whose eyes were about as round as saucers. "It's not possible," she whispered. "I'm so sore," Luc muttered, propping himself on his elbows. "Last thing I remember was getting shot be Canmore..." he probed his left shoulder with the fingers of his right hand. "Still a little sore...thank you, Arin." "No thanks needed," she hugged him gently. "I can't believe what I just saw," Sierra continued. "It's scientifically impossible." "Science has nothing to do with magic," Caligo retorted, kneeling at Luc's side. "You possess the Word, lad?" He nodded weakly. "So far I can fuel it with my own energy, but I get tired, but when I use another source, I get sick," he explained with a yawn. "You're tired, boy," Caligo observed. "Rest, and I will help you when you awaken." Luc smiled, closing his eyes. Arin kissed him one more time, then stood, a little light-headed. "Now all we have to do is wait for Nate and Brook," she whispered. *** Brooklyn had a bad feeling about being so close to town. "Don't blame you," Nate agreed as they touched down on the road a mile from the gates of Milan. "Especially considering that most of the attention is on that poor cathedral...if the townspeople catch a glimpse at us-" "We might as well turn ourselves over to the Canmores," Brooklyn smirked humourlessly, hoping that the humans would be able to salvage the church. "Brooklyn?" a tired voice called out from their right, about fifty meters away. Against an abandoned barn leaned the large clone, his eyes closed as if sleeping. Cautiously, the red gargoyle ran over to Mal, touching his shoulder. "Malibu?" He whispered. "I'm here," he nodded. "And the Devourer's dormant, for now." "What now?" Nate whispered. "Why is everyone asking me that?" Brooklyn suddenly snapped at the mutate. "Last I checked, you knew more than the rest of us." "Well, you've been doing a hell of a job leading us," Nate retorted. "Guys, don't fight," Mal sighed, standing up shakily. "Brook, I'm afraid to be near you guys. I mean, it almost destroyed Arin..." he glanced down sheepishly. "...I can imagine what I would feel, if the bastard tried to do that to Delilah." "We're not going to leave you to it," Brooklyn reassured, taking hold of his friend's arm. "Come on. Let's get back to the car. Luc was wounded by a Hunter, and we don't know if he's going to pull through." Mal noticed the pained look in Brooklyn's eyes. "A Hunter? Here?" he raised an eye ridge. "At least, he was until he burned the cathedral down," Nate retorted. "Brook, what can I do?" Mal whispered. "I can't go with you, or stay here." Brooklyn weighed the possibilities. If they left Mal here, they could loose their ticket out of Milan, five-hundred years away from the nearest gas station. If they didn't, the Devourer could emerge and attack the Four, and quite possibly take a swing at Nate and Arin. He had to take the chance. "You're coming with us, bro." He remarked. "I'm just going to have to trust you to at least try to keep the Devourer at bay." Malibu sighed, nodding. "I may need your help," he finally stated. "Let's go," Nate ordered. "We've gotta get back. Make sure Luc's still okay." *** They returned exactly two hours after the incident at the cathedral to Artemis' hiding spot. Both Luc and Arin were sleeping, Luc on a blanket spread on the ground next to the GTO, Arin leaned against the flank. Sierra was perched on the roof, as Caligo watched over the smallest gargoyle. Silently, Brooklyn sat next to the tan female and snaked his arm around her shoulder, gently waking her up. "Did you find him?" She whispered. "I'm right here, Arin," Malibu hissed, sitting at the edge of the trampled circle, his arms wrapped around his knees, his inverted blue eyes staring at nothing in particular. "Will he-" "-Be okay? I don't know," Brooklyn answered truthfully. "But I think that every time he becomes in control as the Devourer remains dormant, he gets stronger, more able to resist it." "That's great news," Arin smiled, crawling over to Mal. "Hey, there." "Hi," he nodded, not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry for what happened in Los Animus, Arin-" "You didn't have any control, bloke," she shrugged. "And if it wasn't for you, it would have destroyed not only me but Brooklyn too." He did not retort to her comment, only rocked back and forth on his tail. "I hope this gets resolved soon," he muttered. "I miss my brothers and the mutates and Delilah." "Soon, bloke," Arin patted his shoulder, then returned to Brooklyn's side. "We have the Four," she muttered. "and Malibu. So what do we do now to drive the Devourer out of his head?" "Nate!" Brooklyn called, with a mocking smile. "What now, Chosen?" "How the fuck should I know?" Nate snarled. "I was only told to bring the Four of you together, and I did. Not only that, we've got the schizophrenic clone-" "'One in every crowd, a crowd in every one,'" Mal jested weakly. "-and no way to get home, unless the Devourer decides to be nice to us." "Which I doubt heavily," Caligo snorted. "Doubt not, Four-" "-for the journey is not over-" "-not just yet, at least." The three similar voices rang in their ears as the Weird Sisters materialised from the tall grass, gliding toward the six. "The three Fates, I presume," Sierra rolled her eyes. "You are still skeptical," Selene observed. "You have seen the magic worked, and yet you still do mot believe your heritage." "As for your final journey," Pheobe remarked, "You will require an ancient artifact to forever purge the Devourer from our reality." "I knew there was a catch," Arin mumbled. "What is this artifact?" Brooklyn demanded. Luna held her hand out, as an image formed in her palm. "The artifact you now seek has been called many names over the ages," she revealed. "It has been a symbol of purity in all cultures." The illusion cleared, being that of a gold cup of some sort- "The Holy Grail," Arin smirked. "You want us to locate the Holy Frigg'n Grail." "Mortal sister, you did not need to be one on this journey," Selene pointed out. "And no, we wish you not to do anything," Luna remarked. "However, it is the Four's obligation to find the Grail, or else the Devourer will be triumphant." "But the Grail is only a legend," Brooklyn muttered. "And legends always have some truth to them," Pheobe retorted. Malibu suddenly grunted, doubling over. "Hate to be a party-pooper," he hissed. "But it's 'Sweating Bullets' time again, if you know what I mean." "Fuck," Sierra groaned, pulling her piece. The Sisters faded away, except Luna, who directed to the clone, "Use its powers, the way it uses your body. Force it to succumb to you." And, with that, she joined her Sisters. "Easy for you to say," He mumbled. "Guys, get in the car...." "Problem," Arin interjected. "Six bodies, five seats, and Luc needs to lie down." Nate hopped onto the trunk, then the roof, drawing his own service pistol. "Who knows how to drive a standard?" He demanded. Only Arin raised her hand. Caligo was clueless and Sierra mumbled something about why have a standard when an automatic was good enough. "Well, in absence of my co-pilot, Arin, you're driving," Nate retorted. "Sierra, Caligo, take Luc into the back seat with you. Lay him across your laps. We should make this as comfortable for him as we can," Brooklyn finished. They all complied, scrambling to their designated seats. "Mal, are you-" Arin whispered as she started the car. He stood, a wide grin spreading across his beak. But it was Malibu's grin, not the Devourer's. "I don't know how long I can hold it," he whispered, reaching his hand out in front of the car. Everyone's eyes widened at the sight of the whirling vortex separating time and space. "Nate, hold it!" The clone barked, collapsing to his knees. The mutate threw his hand out, his odd eyes focused on the gateway between worlds. "Drive!" Arin did so, stalling the first time. "Like mother, like son," Artemis grumbled. "Hey, I'm used to driving a five-speed MGF with a light clutch," Arin retorted, trying again. This time she managed to get it into first, then second- By that time, they were already through the vortex, the white light overloading their senses. Malibu watched with agony as the wormhole collapsed, though his face was full of content. He was alone. At least physically. "See, you bastard," he snarled. "See, I can manipulate you the same way you manipulate me." (IS THAT SO?) The pain abruptly increased, causing the clone to scream out. He felt his clothes melt into shadows, reforming into the evil armour he so dreaded. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" Mal screamed again, as his sharp ears picked up signs of humans coming toward his hiding place. (I LIKE IT HERE.) The Devourer wrapped around his mind, penetrating around his eyes, forcing the clone's psyche back into the recesses of his own brain. "Now," the Devourer stretched, standing upright. "Where did you send the Four?" (like i'd tell you.) *** Automatically, Brooklyn passed out the analgesic, offering it to Caligo first. "Does this always happen?" the large gargoyle muttered, examining the pill. "You swallow it, and yes, it does," Arin groaned, stretching in her seat. "Yo, Nate!" "What?" He moaned from above. "Where are we?" Brooklyn demanded. "Uh...we in a small parking lot, under a railroad bridge. There's a foot bridge about twenty feet away, and across the river, there's a mill of some sorts." "That doesn't help," Brooklyn and Arin got out, helping Sierra and Caligo from the back seat. They left Luc, who was mercifully still sleeping, there, sprawled out, his arm dangled over the edge of the vinyl bench. Sierra cautiously ran over to the footbridge, commando style, and across it. She returned five minutes later. "There was a fire department just beyond the hill," she revealed. "Anyone ever heard of a place called Winslow, Maine?" The twentieth-century gargoyles blinked almost audibly. "I can see it now," Arin groaned, deadpan. "The Outklaws using the Grail as a spittoon." Brooklyn snorted. "Actually, we're in Waterville, then," He scratched his forehead in remembrance. "If this is the Kennebec River, that is." "Wonderful," Nate grumbled, still lying flat on the roof. "We're stuck in redneck country-Where's Cal?" They found him staring out on the sidewalk, watching the one-way traffic whiz by. Oddly, no one seemed to notice the gargoyles. "Amazing..." he whispered, his stormy grey eyes wide with curiosity. "Chariots without horses to pull them...." As they pulled him back to the safety of the railroad bridge, they failed to notice a worn Pontiac Trans Am, a few years newer than Artemis' original manufacture date and what was the same shade of glossy black roll by, then pull into the other entrance to the parking lot further down the street. "We've got company!" Sierra shouted, her hand on her gun, as usual. The Trans Am shuttered to a stop, both doors swung open, and the denizens practically flew out, the driver halting just in front of the Firebird-decorated hood, her hands on her hips. Arin and Brooklyn both groaned. "Right pew, wrong church," Arin grumbled. "Just what the hell are you doing here?" Kade Saeri demanded, her dragon eyes flashing with either anger of mischief, with Chris Highblood at the passenger door with a smirk across his draconian face. *** THUS ENDS PART FOUR OF THE IN DARKNESS COMETH SAGA: Next time, find out why Mal sent them to the "Magic" dimension! Plus the conclusion, where our favourite clone has to make a life-death desision, but is he mentally stable enough to choose? That, and Chris and Kade put Monty Python's Holy Grail to Shame! SOUNDTRACK: "Just a Girl" is by No Doubt, from Tragic Kingdom. --Black Blade "My Cosmic Song Goes On For Eternity!"