Shadowplay (Part Four)
A "Gargoyles" Fan Fiction Story by Dylan P. Blacquiere (pblacqui@cycor.ca)

Part IV                                And In The Darkness Bind Them

AUTHOR'S NOTE : With some exceptions, none of the characters used in the
story are mine.  "Gargoyles" characters belong to Walt Disney/Buena Vista
Television.  This is an unofficial story, not sanctioned in any way by
Disney.  Also, this story incorporates, and sets up later events, which
will conflict with future episodes of "Gargoyles".  In other words, it'll
fly in the face of everything canon come September 7.  But, that's life. 
Enjoy.

HISTORIAN'S NOTE:  This story takes place after "Hunter's Moon, Parts One
to Three" and "Shadowplay, Parts One to Three".  BEFORE YOU READ THIS
FANFIC, READ PARTS ONE, TWO AND THREE OF THE STORY, "THE COMING OF
SHADOWS", "AND THEN THERE WERE SIX" AND "ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL".

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BROOKLYN:  "I'll wait for you."
"One Ring To Rule Them All"

LEXINGTON: (voiceover)  "Previously, on Gargoyles"

BROOKLYN:  "I don't think I love you.  I know I do."
"One Ring To Rule Them All"

FATHER DUPONT: "Love can be a very fragile thing.  But it can also be a
sanctuary... a safe haven for two hearts to grow up and to grow old
together."
(Show Broadway and Angela kissing from "One Ring To Rule Them All")
(Show Brooklyn and Hawthorne talking from "One Ring To Rule Them All")
(Show Lexington and Ophelia dancing from "One Ring To Rule Them All")
"Sanctuary"

BROADWAY:  "If I have to use my power again, I might go overboard, and I
might not be able to come back."
"And Then There Were Six"

BROOKLYN:  "I was a fool to trust you!"
(Show Brooklyn collapsing after being drugged, "One Ring To Rule Them All")
"Temptation"

BROOKLYN:   "When I see Silhouette again, I'm not going to see the threat
that menaces the world, I'm going to see the face of the thing who killed
me."
(Show Brooklyn being strangled, from "The Coming Of Shadows")
BROOKLYN: (voiceover) "And I'll be paralyzed with fear, because I'll know
she'll try again."
"The Coming Of Shadows"

SILHOUETTE: "I don't care what you do with them, as long as they're dead
when you finish."
(Show Travis Marshall and Fox Xanatos being subverted, from "The Coming Of
Shadows")
"And Then There Were Six"

OPHELIA:  "I don't like you like that."
(Show Ophelia slapping Lexington, "One Ring To Rule Them All")
OPHELIA:  "We're good friends.  Nothing more."
"One Ring To Rule Them All"

CARBONEAR: "I thinks I'm in love with him."
(Show Carbonear staring sadly at Brooklyn, from "One Ring To Rule Them
All")
CARBONEAR: "I feels something about him, that the two of us were destined
to be together."
"One Ring To Rule Them All"

OPHELIA:  "Lexington!  Cast the spell!  Atlanta!"
(Show the ball of flame reappearing, and Lexington screaming, "One Ring To
Rule Them All")
"One Ring To Rule Them All"

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Prologue

                A Change In Strategy

Avalon

        They stood before her, nervously.  As they well should.
        Silhouette, looking remarkably patient, regarded Maria Chavez with
a faint smile.  Travis Marshall and Fox Xanatos stood nearby, their arms
crossed, looking bored.
        Silhouette saw this, and smiled.  "Be a little more patient.  I'll
try to call him again, and if he doesn't answer, he'll be dealt with."
        She turned, and closed her eyes.  [BRENDAN LAPORTE,] she thought,
sending the projection through the mind of every Servant of Twilight, [I
WANT YOU ON AVALON RIGHT NOW.]
        A column of shadow appeared in front of the throne, and Brendan
Laporte appeared, looking very upset.
        "I had them!"  he cried, throwing his hands in the air.  "I was
just looking for them now!"
        "Cry me a river."  Silhouette stated patiently.  "You let them slip
through your fingers.  And don't try to blame it on the two gargoyles you
used, either.  Your plan was flawed, as was Captain Chavez's.  You both
failed, and by all rights, I should punish you."
        Maria and Brendan looked at each other, fear reflected in their
eyes.
        Silhouette laughed.  "But,"  she continued, "I won't.  I'm very
patient.  First of all, you put effort into it.  Your methods were
imperfect, that was the only problem.  Your approach to the problem was
wrong."
        Titania's Mirror, relocated from the former queen's chambers to the
throne room, suddenly swirled, and showed the eight gargoyles...the six
important ones, plus the two from Newfoundland who had inadvertently become
tied up in the whole affair.
        "I see now that simple tricks and betrayals won't work against
them."  Silhouette explained.  "In Las Vegas, we just tried to kill them. 
Too simple, easy to fail.  St. John's was better, more devious, but, in the
end, not good enough.  So what we need to do is rethink the strategy."
        She turned back to Brendan.  "The Truthfinder was one of the
drugged gargoyles, right?"
        Brendan nodded.  "Out like a light."
        "So, she's out of commission for a while.  We can twist that to our
advantage."
        Travis perked up.  "It's my plan that has to go next, isn't it."
        Silhouette nodded.  "The fourth piece is in Atlanta."
        Travis thought for a minute.  "So, if we used an illusion...try to
make it so that they see something other than a plan to kill them, couldn't
that work?  Especially if we make sure the Truthfinder can't interfere."
        Silhouette raised an eyebrow.  "Go on."
        Travis was on a roll.  "I've got it.  Where in Atlanta is the ring,
first of all?"
        The image in the mirror shifted again, to show a park.  The ring
was sitting at the bottom of a pond.
        "That's Piedmont Park."  Maria pointed out.  "My husband and I went
there on our vacation to Atlanta ten years ago."
        "Piedmont Park."  Travis sighed.  "I think I've got a plan.  I'll
need Maria's help...and I'll need a gargoyle.  Subverted."
        Curious, Maria stepped forward.  "What do you need me for?"
        "It's a long story.  But, my lady, I'll need one of the strongest,
most...intimidating gargoyles you have."
        Almost on cue, Tybalt solidified in the throne room.
        "My Lady, I..." he began, but Silhouette cut him off.
        "Tybalt, how would you like to help out with something important?"
        "The gargoyles?"  Tybalt asked.  "Why not?"
        Travis smiled.  "It'll have to be a powerful illusion.  Tybalt
won't have to be changed, but Maria and I will.  It'll take a bit of
effort, too."
        "Not a problem."  Silhouette smirked.  "Explain this plan of
yours."
        "It involves Maria and I going...incognito.  Undercover."
        "I'm listening."  Silhouette sat back.
        Travis explained his plan.  Throughout it all, Silhouette's smile
kept growing.

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Lafayette's Meat Shop, Atlanta, Georgia
November 3, 1996

        The ball of flame reappeared in a vacant lot, behind a meat shop. 
Nobody seemed to notice, partially because no one was outside.  As the
gargoyles materialized, they realized they had just appeared in the worst
torrential downpour any of them had ever seen.
        Lexington screamed, and his body twisted in agony.  He collapsed
again, and was still.
        Carbonear held her head, and stumbled back.  "What a ride."  she
muttered.
        She spun around, and saw Lexington lying on the ground, completely
still.
        "Lexington?"  she called.  He didn't answer.
        "What happened?"  Whitbourne asked, shaking his soaked hair out of
his eyes.
        Ophelia stepped over to the unconscious gargoyle.  "Lexington?" 
she asked, pulling him out from the tangle of the others.  Brooklyn,
Broadway, Hawthorne and Angela were still unconscious, and looked like they
would be for some time yet.
        She knelt down, and noticed Lexington's chest wasn't rising. 
Curious, she put her cheek next to his mouth and nose.  No air brushed up
against it.
        "Oh, no."  she whispered.  "He's not breathing!"
        Carbonear ran over.  "What?"
        "He's not breathing!"
        Carbonear knelt down.  She felt his neck.  "He's got a pulse. 
Here, move out of the way.  I thinks I remembers first aid."
        She knelt over him, and tilted his head back.  She pinched his
nose, and began mouth to mouth respiration.  After three breaths, Lexington
coughed, and began to breathe on his own.
        Ophelia gave an audible sigh of relief.  "Thank God."  she
muttered.  "I thought he was dead..."
        "He almost was."  Whitbourne crouched down.  "I could hear that
scream when he did...whatever.  What exactly happened, and where are we to,
anyway?"
        "Let's get out of the rain, first."  Ophelia suggested.  "There's
an awning over there."
        Whitbourne and Carbonear nodded, and began dragging the five
unconscious gargoyles over to the awning.  It was dry there, and
Whitbourne, Carbonear and Ophelia began to shake themselves off, trying to
find some semblance of dry.
        "I think we're in Atlanta."  Ophelia began, looking around. 
        "Atlanta, GEORGIA?"  Carbonear exclaimed.
        "How should I know?  I just remember the name from Hawthorne saying
it.  I don't even know what Georgia is."
        Whitbourne frowned.  "Buddy says three words, and we're whisked
away three thousand miles.  Blood of a bitch."
        "They should be waking up soon."  Ophelia changed the subject,
indicating the five unconscious gargoyles.  Almost in response, Lexington's
eyes fluttered open.  He cried out, and sat up quickly.
        "Wha...where are we?"  he asked.
        "Atlanta."  Carbonear responded.  "We think."
        "You're pretty lucky, Lex."  Ophelia told him.  "You weren't
breathing.  Carbonear saved your life."
        Lexington looked first at Ophelia, looking confused and sad for a
second.  Then, he turned to Carbonear. 
        "Thanks...I guess."  he muttered, putting a hand to his head.  "My
head..."
        "What happened?"
        "It was the two of you!  When you were caught up in the spell, it
felt like my head exploded.  There were too many people...too many...are
the others all right?"  he asked.
        "They're fine.  Still unconscious, though.  The drug must have hit
them harder than it hit you."  Ophelia smiled.  "I'm glad you're all
right."
        Lexington looked at her.  "You're sure?"
        "Why wouldn't I be?"
        Lexington rolled his eyes.  "Considering the fight we had, and
considering that you slapped me when I was...you know, drunk, I thought you
hated me."
        "I don't hate you."  Ophelia closed her eyes.  "First of all, I was
surprised when you started coming on to me, and then you started yelling at
me for trying to help you.  I just want you to understand that I don't like
you like that."
        "It wasn...wait.  What's that sound?"
        "It's the rain, you dolt."  Carbonear exclaimed.
        "Besides that.  Listen."
        The gargoyles ears perked up.  Besides the street noise, none of
them could hear anything, save the pouring of the rain.
        Then Ophelia heard it.  A battle cry.  A gargoyle's battle cry. 
Coming towards them.
        "It's a gargoyle."  she frowned.  "And he doesn't sound happy."
        The second she finished saying it, a shadow bolt flew through the
air.  It hit the awning, and the canvas covering collapsed onto the
gargoyles.  Struggling to get free, they tore through, searching the skies
for their attacker.
        They didn't have to search long.  He landed in the vacant lot,
about thirty feet away.
        Ophelia's eyes widened.  "It's Tybalt!"  she hissed.
        Lexington's eyes flared.  Carbonear and Whitbourrne stared at each
other.
        Tybalt stepped forward.  "You don't know how long it's taken me to
track you down."  he yelled.  Two minutes, he thought to himself.  All he
had to do was find them with Titania's Mirror, step through, and presto,
but they didn't need to know that.
        He laughed, and sent another shadow bolt screaming at the
gargoyles.  It hit the awning, and tore through it.  Shreds of canvas went
flying everywhere.
        "We're going to have to fight him."  Ophelia stated.
        "I can't."  Lexington muttered.  "That drug's still leaving me
woozy."
        Ophelia looked to the Newfoundlanders.  "Guess that leaves the
three of us."
        Carbonear and Whitbourne looked at her incredulously. 
        "Us?"  Carbonear asked.
        "It's not like you haven't done it before.  You saved us in
Newfoundland."  Lexington pointed out.
        "That was different.  We was just playing along with her lead." 
Whitbourne explained.
        Another shadow blast flew through the air.  Pebbles from shattered
brick began to rain on the four gargoyles.
        "Well, you'll have to go for it now.  Follow my lead.  Again." 
Ophelia ordered.  She ran out of the hiding place, with Carbonear and
Whitbourne nervously following.
        Tybalt smiled, and looked up.  They were moving right under a group
of several electrical power lines. 
        Idiots, he thought.  They walked right into it. 
        He raised his hand and blasted a shadow bolt at one of the power
lines above them.  With a hiss of sparks, the line fell directly on top of
the three gargoyles.  The electricity arked through them.  They cried out,
and fell to the ground, unconscious.
        Tybalt smiled.  He grabbed a nearby wooden stick, and pushed the
downed power line away from them. 
        "And that's that."  he smiled, brushing his hands off on his
loincloth.  He beckoned to the shadows, and Augustine stepped out.  The
plan required that several of the gargoyles be separated from the others,
so Tybalt had requested someone else to help him carry them.  Strong as he
was, Tybalt knew he couldn't carry three or more gargoyles away.
        "Take the Illusionist, too.  She might be able to see through the
illusion.  We won't take the chance."  Tybalt ordered.  He strode over to
the others.
        Augustine picked up Ophelia, and began walking over towards the
four still unconscious gargoyles.
        "Why don't we just finish them off now, while they're unconscious?" 
he asked.
        Tybalt frowned.  "We could...but no.  Silhouette doesn't think
it'll work, since they tried it in Newfoundland and it failed.  Besides,
won't it be a little more fun to kill them when they know who's doing it?"
        He began walking to where Brooklyn, Hawthorne, Angela and Broadway
were lying.
        "Make sure one of them is the Truthfinder."  Tybalt called over. 
"We...hello...."
        Tybalt suddenly spotted the still form of Broadway.  He laughed,
and knelt down.
        "So, not even that trick with your eyes could save you this time,
could it, Protector."  Tybalt sneered.  He picked up Broadway, and stepped
back to Augustine.
        "Let's go back to the gatehouse.  The humans will be here for their
phase of the plan in a few minutes."  Augustine warned.  He carried Angela
on his other shoulder.
        "Fine."  Tybalt sighed.  He desolidified...and Broadway faded to
shadow along with him.  Augustine, Ophelia and Angela did the same.
        Lexington, still crouched under the torn awning, stared in shock. 
He looked over to where Brooklyn and Hawthorne still lay.   They were
unconscious, still, showing no signs of waking.
        He turned, and saw Whitbourne and Carbonear, crumpled in a heap on
the ground.  They'd been electrocuted, Lexington remembered.  He crawled
through the mud over to them, and felt for a pulse and breathing.  They
were both fine.  In time, they'd snap out of it.
        Suddenly, a station wagon turned into the vacant lot.  Gasping,
Lexington dove for cover.  There was no way he could move the others, weak
as he was, before the people in the car found them.  He crossed his talons,
hoping they were very unobservant.
        They weren't.  The car pulled right up to where Whitbourne and
Carbonear lay, and stopped.  The doors opened, and two middle aged people
stepped out.
        "Here's two of them."  the man reported, nudging Carbonear with his
foot.  "Out cold."
        The female took out a flashlight.  She searched the lot for a
second, finally coming upon the still forms of Brooklyn and Hawthorne.
        "Two more here."  she reported.  "Tybalt and Augustine were
planning on taking the Truthfinder and Illusionist.  That leaves two more."
        Lexington scurried beneath a pile of old crates, hoping he wouldn't
be discovered.  The two humans searched the parking lot for 10 minutes,
finding nothing.
        "They're gone."  the woman reported. 
        The man sighed.  "That's okay.  They aren't important.  We've got
the Leader and the Ringbearer.  The only one that we should be on a lookout
for is the Protector, and Tybalt might have taken him with him."
        "We'd better hope so.  What about the Traveller?"
        "He doesn't worry me.  Let's go.  I think the rain is starting to
fill me up."  the man sniffed.  "I'm glad the house's previous residents
'agreed' to let us use it.  Have the windows and doors been taken care of?"
        "Yes."  the woman informed him.  "They won't be able to escape. 
Let's get these four in the car."
        The two people began to drag Carbonear, Brooklyn, Hawthorne and
Whitbourne into the back of the station wagon.  With some effort, they
loaded them in.  The two humans closed the door, and got in the car.  With
a roar of the engine, they backed out, and drove off into the night.
        Lexington looked up, and realized that he was totally alone in the
lot.
        He sighed, and sat in the crate, taking advantage of it's meagre
shelter from the rain.
        Where have I heard those voices before?  he thought.  Those two
sound so familiar...
        He shook his head.  That didn't matter.  What did matter was that
he had to figure out some way to save the others.  But how?
        Feeling the hopelessness well up inside of him, he sat back. 
        What am I going to do?  he asked himself, coming up with no answer.

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423 Junction Street
Two Hours Later

        With a groan, he awoke.  Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other. 
He didn't recognize where he was.  It wasn't the church, that was for sure. 
It almost resembled a bedroom.
        With a start, he sat up in the bed, and sank back down.  His head
protested, and told him to stay put and keep as still as possible.  He
wasn't in the mood to argue.
        Instead, he slowly tilted his head to one side.  He WAS in a
bedroom...one filled with pictures of a happy family, of children, and with
a radio in the corner, playing some oldie music.  The room was comfortable,
wherever it was.
        He settled down, nestled into the blankets, deciding to go back to
sleep.  If someone was going to go to the trouble of putting him into a
soft,  comfortable bed, he might as well appreciate it.
        Where were the others?
        The thought came to him suddenly, and he sat up again, a little
more slowly.  No one else was in the room. 
        "Hawthorne?  Lexington?  Broadway?"  he called out, only vaguely
surprised when they didn't answer.
        With a frown, Brooklyn threw the covers away, and tried to get out
of the bed.
        He made it, barely, and slowly trudged over to the window. 
Outside, visible through the splattering of rain on the windowpane, was a
street filled with human houses, and, in the distance, the lights of a
city.
        "Where am I?"  Brooklyn asked himself.
        "Atlanta."  came a voice from behind him.
        He spun around.  Standing there was a middle aged woman, looking
concerned to see him out of bed.
        "You're all right, anyway."  the woman told him.  "That's good to
see.  How do you feel?"
        "All right, I guess."  Brooklyn answered.  He looked down at
himself.  He still looked like a gargoyle, so the woman wasn't seeing him
as human.  "Who are you?"
        "Oh.  I'm Gloria Cromwell.  You're in my house."
        That voice sounds so familiar, Brooklyn thought.
        "Can I ask what I'm doing here?"
        Gloria smiled.  "Recuperating, one would hope.  My husband and I
found you lying in a vacant lot in the pouring rain.  You might have caught
pneumonia if you'd been there much longer."
        "Was there anybody else with me?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "Three others."
        "Three?  Nobody else?"  Brooklyn frowned.  Gloria shook her head.
        "The thing that puzzles me was that there were signs of a...fight,
or something.  Two of your friends were lying near a downed power line, and
one was unconscious right next to you."
        "Where are the three that were with me?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "Downstairs, in the living room.  Would you like to go see them?"
        Brooklyn didn't answer.  He began to walk, slowly, towards the
stairs, leading down to the living room.
        This is really wierd, Brooklyn thought.  Why isn't this person
screaming in fear when she sees me, instead of tucking me into her bed and
looking out for me?  And why does her voice sound so damned familiar?
        He walked in the living room, to find Hawthorne, Whitbourne and
Carbonear sitting on the couch, absently watching television.  A middle
aged man, probably the woman's husband, was sitting in an armchair, reading
a magazine.
        "What in the..."  Brooklyn asked, seeing the unusual sight.
        Hawthorne looked up.  "You're awake!"  she cried out, hoarsely. 
The drug had left her under the weather as well..  She pushed over,
offering Brooklyn a seat next to her.
        Hesitantly, he sat down.  The others were watching "Picket Fences",
but not paying attention.
        "Will someone explain what's going on?"  Brooklyn asked.  "Why are
Whitbourne and Carbonear here?  Where are we, and what happened to the
others?"
        Carbonear set down the remote.  "When you was drugged in
Newfoundland, you went out.  A Servant of Twilight was about to kill you,
but Whitbourne, Ophelia and I managed to save you.  We got Lexington to
cast the spell, and he accidently brought the two of us along."
        "So, anyways, here we was, not knowing what's going on, when a
gargoyle attacked us.  Lexington and Ophelia recognized him...called him
'Tybalt', or something...but that didn't go so well.  Something happened to
a power line, and it fell on top of me and Carb and Ophelia.  When we woke
up, we was here.  Ophelia, Lexington, Broadway and Angela were gone." 
Whitbourne finished.
        The man looked up.  "I've explained this to them already, but my
wife and I found the four of you, and took you home, two hours ago.  Your
friends have been awake for half an hour.  You could have died out there,
and you don't seem quite rested up...you and your friend there especially. 
When you're back to health, you can go look for your friends, but it might
be best for you to stay here for awhile and rest up.  I'm Justin Cromwell,
by the way.  You've already met my wife, Gloria."
        His voice, too, Brooklyn wondered.  What the hell...
        "Um...well, thanks very much."  he told the couple. 
        "Don't mention it.  What kind of people would we be if we turned
away from others in need?  Be they human or...gargoyle."  Gloria smiled. 
Justin nodded in agreement.
        "Gloria, perhaps we should go to the kitchen.  Our guests probably
want to talk, and they must be hungry."  he stated, getting up from the
armchair.
        The couple walked away, into the kitchen.  Brooklyn turned and
watched them go.
        "Something about them gives me the creeps."
        It was Hawthorne who said it.  She had turned to Brooklyn, and was
staring at him, concerned.
        "You too?  I mean, I knows lots of humans who don't have a problem
with gargoyles, but this pair seems too...nice...to be true.  The whole
thing stinks."  Whitbourne frowned. Carbonear shot him an appraising look,
but neither Brooklyn or Hawthorne noticed.
        Brooklyn scowled.  "There's something about them...I don't think
they're telling us everything.  And their voices sound too familiar...like
I've met them before."
        He looked towards the picture window.  "Whatever's going on, we
have to find Lex and the others somehow."

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Gatehouse, Piedmont Park

        "Wake up."
        Broadway felt his head being shaken roughly, and his eyes snapped
open.  Instantly, he regretted it.  A bright light was being shone in his
eyes, much too bright, and it seemed to be driving like a needle into his
mind.
        "Turn the light off!"  he yelled hoarsely.  The light went
brighter.
        "What's the matter, Protector?  Can't take the light?  From the way
your eyes lit up when you attacked me, I thought you might appreciate it."
        "Tybalt."  Broadway spat, placing the voice.  "Where are the
others?"
        Tybalt smirked.  "Two of them are here.  In fact, they're the only
ones supposed to be here.  But when I saw you lying there, helpless on the
ground, I saw the perfect opportunity for a little revenge."
        Broadway turned to one side, and saw Angela and Ophelia, in chains,
struggling to break free.  Augustine stood nearby, just standing there. 
Broadway struggled, realizing for the first time that he was chained up
too.
        His eyes flared.  "Let them go."  he warned.
        Tybalt laughed, turning off the flashlight..  "Or what?  You'll do
that little trick?  Bzzzt, wrong.  You have to see them in danger.  Being
restrained doesn't constitute that, I'm afraid.  And besides, who says it's
them we want to do anything to?"
        With a smile, Tybalt punched Broadway in the face.  Broadway was
knocked back, hitting the wall behind with a satisfying thud.
        "All I plan to do to them is keep them here.  In fact, they're
probably the safest ones in your little troupe right now."
        Broadway shook the cobwebs out of his head.  "What?"
        "Well, you certainly aren't safe, because I intend to have a little
fun killing you.  But the others...unfortunately for them, they've fallen
into the care of a sweet husband and wife team.  Let's just say those two
will care for them till it hurts."
        Tybalt began to laugh.  Broadway looked to Angela and Ophelia, and
his mouth tightened.
        I've got to find some way out of this, he thought.

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423 Junction Street

        Justin Cromwell came up from the basement, carrying a bottle.
        Gloria stepped away from the oven, where a bubbling stew was
cooking.
        "Have you got it?"  she asked.
        Justin frowned.  "Maria,"  he sighed, "read what it says."
        Maria Chavez, in the Gloria Cromwell disguise, knelt down and read
the label.  Most of it was so much gibberish, but the symbol of the skull
was all she needed.  "Poison."  she smirked.  "Simple, yet effective."
        Justin Cromwell, a.k.a Travis Marshall, grinned.  "They won't be
able to tell what hit them.  It's not fast acting.  One hour after they eat
it, they'll be dead.  But they won't know what hit them until it starts to
be digested. Very painful."
        Gloria looked up.  "You're sure it'll work?"
        Justin frowned.  "Of course it'll work.  And as long as either the
red one or the light blue female eat it, it's all over.  Bye, bye,
prophecy."
        He peeked out the door, where the four gargoyles were deep in
conversation.  "They don't stand a chance."

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Chapter One

                In The Dark

Holton Apartment Building, Manhattan

        Matt Bluestone opened the bag of chips, and settled down on the
couch.  He flicked on the remote control, and began listlessly flipping
through the channels.  All three major networks...NBC, CBS and ABC were
down, presumably because of the Richmond situation.  Matt frowned, and
began searching through the other channels.  Fox was still on, as was CNN,
but all they were showing was continuous coverage of the Richmond Plague. 
Curious, Matt listened in for a second.
        "Welcome back to CNN Coverage of the Richmond Pandemic - Day Nine. 
As we said earlier, our top story...doctors at the CDC have dismissed all
rumors that the experimental drug Cyantomycin is a preliminary cure for
Richmond, and reiterate the fact that while progress is being made in the
search for a cure..."
        Bull, Matt thought.
        "...are not optimistic that a treatment will be found anytime soon. 
We go now to our correspondant in Atlanta, at the CDC, Gillian Greenspan. 
Gillian, what are....BZZZZZZZ........"
        Matt stared at the remote for a second, not quite understanding
what had just happened.  One minute, a news report, the next...snow.
        Matt began flipping channels.  Every single television station he
was capable of recieving was gone.  Nothing...not even that annoying
Community Arts and Events Channel was there.
        With a groan of disgust, he shut off the TV.  Instead, he looked
out the window.
        From the vantage point of his apartment, he could see the lights of
midtown Manhattan, most of which were out.  The city seemed to be a hulking
dark mass, and only a few of the skyscrapers in the city were lit at all,
showing that there were still some people inside free of subversion.
        The Eyrie Building was, of course, totally dark and silent.  The
fact that David Xanatos was subverted was common knowledge to him, seeing
as he'd been talking with Elisa a day or so before.  He'd been mildly
surprised to hear that Goliath and Hudson were staying in her apartment,
considering the way that the two gargoyles felt about their castle, but he
had to admit it made sense.  A subverted Goliath would probably not be a
pretty picture.
        Matt decided to call in on Elisa, just to see how she was doing.
        He picked up the phone, and was just about to dial her number when
the phone went dead.
        His eyes widening, he pressed the hook again.  Still no
dialtone...just a series of clicks.
        "What the..." he frowned, stunned by the unfairness of life.  No
phone meant he couldn't contact her.  He couldn't use e-mail...the server
had gone down, and besides that, she didn't own a computer.
        Don't worry.  She's probably all right, he thought, not entirely
convinced.
        He walked back over to the window, and started to stare again.

***************************************************************************
***************

Greenwich Apartment Complex

        "Well, there go the phones."  Elisa sighed dejectedly.  She placed
the phone back in the reciever, and ran a hand absently through her hair.
        "Who were you trying to call?"  Maggie asked.  She was sitting at
the kitchen table, absently playing cards with Claw.
        "My sister.  No word from her, either...and I'd be the first one
she'd call if she couldn't get through to Mom or Dad."
        Elisa turned to the window...where Goliath still sat, staring out
the window, totally silent.
        Elisa was beginning to think he was nearing emotional collapse.  He
hadn't said a word since sunset, when he'd awoken, had barely moved...he
simply sat.  Occasionally, Elisa thought she could see tears rolling down
the gargoyle's cheeks.
        He's completely lost, she thought.
        She got up, and walked over to his side.  He didn't even glance at
her.
        "Hey."  she began.
        Slowly, he turned around.  His eyes were so bloodshot they were
nearly red.  But his face was what alarmed her...the face of someone who
had given up all hope.
        "Oh my...Goliath...are you going to be all right?"  Elisa inhaled
deeply.
        Never changing his desolate expression, he began to whisper.
        "I don't know."
        Elisa grabbed him, and hugged him.  "It'll be all right."  she
sighed.
        Goliath patted her on the back.  "I wish I could be as optimistic
as you.  But I..."
        He paused.  An eyebrow raised.
        "What is it?"  Elisa asked, suddenly alarmed.
        Goliath began to look at one of the fluorescent lights on the roof. 
It began to flicker, as if someone was playing with the light switch.
        Elisa turned to the window.  All the buildings outside were totally
dark.
        "Oh no..."  Maggie exclaimed.
        In response, the lights died.  The entire apartment was plunged
into darkness.
        Goliath's eyes lit up, providing a bit of meagre light, but not
nearly enough.  Elisa got up, and stumbled around, looking for something to
provide light.  She stumbled over Cagney, nearly falling to the floor.
        "Watch it, cat!"  she swore, getting up.  Making it to the kitchen,
she began to search blindly for something in the cupboard.
        "Goliath, could you come here?  I could use a little light."  she
called.
        The gargoyle stood up, and began to walk carefully towards the
kitchen.  Regardless of his efforts, he bumped against a table, and a vase
fell to the floor.  It shattered.
        "I'm sorry."  he apologized.
        Elisa turned back.  "Don't worry about it."
        Goliath finally made it to the kitchen, and looked at the cupboard. 
The light from his eyes illuminated the cupboard, and Elisa grabbed her
prize...a flashlight.  She turned it on, hoping that there was enough juice
in the batteries.
        "This'll help...for a while.  I don't have any batteries besides
the ones in here."  Elisa scowled.  "I don't understand why the emergency
lights wouldn't come on..."
        "We have bigger problems."  Goliath growled.  "If any Servants of
Twilight decide to attack us, we'd be defenseless...or at least
disadvantaged.  I may have better night vision than the three of you, but
in the pitch dark I'm not that helpful.  I can't see in total blackness,
and my eyes aren't THAT bright."
        Elisa scowled.  "We'll have to worry about that when the time
comes.  Hopefully, it won't."
        She turned in what she thought was the general direction of the
window, and tried, not for the first time, to project a thought at
Brooklyn, Broadway, Lexington and Angela.
        Hurry up, you four, she thought.  I don't know how much longer we
can hold out.

***************************************************************************
***************

Holton Apartment Building

        When the lights went out, a wild and crazy plan began to formulate
in Matt's mind.
        He was sitting in the chair, doodling on a writing pad, when the
power went down.  After searching for candles, and nearly shattering his
knee on the corner of his desk fumbling through the dark, the utterly
senseless idea of going to Elisa's apartment came to him.
        Come off it, he thought.  That's the stupidest thing you could
possibly do in these circumstances.  It's a ten minute drive to her
apartment normally.  How long do you think it would take walking?  Add to
that the fact the city's in total darkness right now, and that there's
Servants of Twilight all over the place...
        I don't have to walk.  There's no traffic on the streets.  I could
drive there.
        What would you do there?  She's already hosting two
gargoyles...what good could you possibly do?
        But I need to know she's safe...
        No.  You want to make sure you're safe.  Here, you're all alone,
and noone's here to look out for you.  You want safety in numbers.  Admit
it, Matthew Charles Bluestone, you're just scared of being alone.
        And yes, he could admit it, that was part of it.  But he also did
want to honestly make sure Elisa was safe.  But should he risk going out of
the frying pan into the fire, when he was probably safer right here?
        Almost on cue, a woman's scream came from outside.  Someone had
probably been caught outside when the power went down, and must have been
caught by muggers or looters.  Or Servants.
        That could have been Elisa, Matt thought.  It wasn't, but it could
have been.
        He got up.
        "I might as well admit it."  he said out loud.  "Either I go to her
apartment, or I go insane in here with worry."
        The woman screamed again.
        "And I don't think I'll chance going insane."  he continued. 
Sighing grimly, his rational mind not believing he was doing this, he began
to search his desk for the car keys.  He spent three minutes groping
around, and finally found them.  With a detached sigh, he blew out the
candles, allowed a few minutes for his eyes to accustom to the darkness,
and stepped out of his apartment.
        He walked carefully down the deserted stairwell, and finally came
to the door.  There was no one in the building's lobby, so he didn't have
to answer any questions.
        He walked outside.  A wind had picked up, and the gusts forced him
to squint, to avoid the blowing dust.  Fortunately, his car was parked near
the front door, so he didn't have far to walk.  He unlocked the door,
smiled as the car light came on, and hopped in.  He started the car, and it
came to life with a roar.  Smiling, Matt turned on the police lamp, looked
over his shoulder, and began to back out of the parking lot.
        The drive was easier said than done.  Even though no cars were
moving on the streets, there were still plenty parked there.  The owners,
subverted as they drove, had left their cars there.  The occasional one was
still running.  Matt had to frequently slow down, or drive in the middle of
the road to avoid the cars.
        At least I'm not driving blindly, he thought.  The police lamp,
added to the headlights, made visibility a sight better than it would have
been had he had headlights alone.  He smiled. 
        Too late, he heard a rustling sound.  Alarmed, he turned to the
passenger side, and saw Hudson sitting in the front seat. 
        "Wha..." Matt panicked.  He slammed on the brakes.
        Hudson smiled, his black eyes twinkling in the reflection of the
cars headlights.
        "Good evening, lad."  he greeted.  "What's a nice young man like
yourself doing out on a dark night like this?  It wasn't hard to find you,
the only automobile in Manhattan moving with the bright lights on.  So,
being my normal, friendly self, I though I'd pay you a visit."
        "Hudson..."  Matt gasped.  If he was subverted, then the chances
were that Goliath and Elisa were subverted too.
        But more importantly, the odds were that Matt himself was about to
find out what life as a Servant of Twilight was like first hand.
        The shadows began to drift from Hudson's eyes...
        ...and Matt opened the door and bolted.
        Cursing, Hudson evaporated.  Matt didn't look back to see.  He ran
across the street, into the nearest building.
        He ran up the stairs, and burst into a room full of offices. 
Cursing, he began to peer through the darkness, looking desparately for a
back exit.  But having the lights in the car on had destroyed any progress
his eyes had made in adjusting to the darkness.
        Just then, he heard the rustling noise.  Wondering briefly how he'd
failed to notice it in the car, he spun around to vaguely see Hudson's
form.  Matt gasped, and crept behind a desk.  Hopefully, Hudson wouldn't
find him.
        Hudson began to call out.  "You might as well come out, lad.  If
it's any consolation, I didn't come looking for you. You just happened to
be in the wrong place at the right time.  And if it wasn't me that found
you, there were a hundred other Servants that would have.  Be smart, and
give yourself up now."
        Fat chance, Matt frowned.  He groaned, and began to wish he'd paid
more attention to his rational mind.
        Told you so, his logic seemed to shout at him.
        Hudson fired a shadow bolt.  It hit a desk, and a computer
exploded, adding a brief flash of light to the room.
        "What were you thinking when you decided to go for a drive in a
pitch dark city?"  Hudson asked.  "I thought you would have had a bit more
common sense than that, lad."
        See?  Even he agrees with me!  Matt's rational mind gloated.
        "Oh, shut up."  Matt whispered.
        His eyes were somewhat adjusted now, and he saw what he'd been
looking for...another exit.  Glancing back, he began to crawl towards the
door.
        "Oh, no, you don't."  Hudson smiled, seeing him.  He morphed into
shadow, and flowed towards the door, tauntingly pacing Matt until the two
of them reached the door.  Hudson became gargoyle once more.
        Matt felt like screaming.  He closed his eyes, trying to picture
himself back in the apartment.
        Hudson snapped his fingers, and Matt's eyes were forced open.  The
human stood up, perfectly still.  Once more, the shadows came
forth...unresisted this time, and the thing which had once been Matt
Bluestone smirked.
        He experimentally wiggled his fingers.  "So, what now?"
        Hudson smiled.  "We wait.  Soon, Brooklyn and the others will be
dead, and we can move on to the next step."  Deep down inside, it felt
callous and cruel to be wishing members of his own clan dead, but Hudson
was beyond caring.
        Matt looked around.  He could see perfectly, now.  "Where are
Goliath and Elisa?  I thought they'd be with you."
        "Goliath and the lass are...unenlightened, as of yet.  At least,
that I know of."
        Matt frowned.  "Unenlightened?  Not subverted?"
        "Aye.  But, of course...we could try to remedy that..."  Hudson
pointed out.
        "Where would they be?"
        Hudson sighed.  "If they aren't already subverted, they would
probably be at her apartment.  They would have a bit more sense than you."
        "Hey.  This was the best mistake I've ever made in my life."  Matt
grinned.  "Let's try go make them see the light."
        Hudson and Matt turned into shadows, and melted away into the dark.

***************************************************************************
***************

Greenwich Apartment Complex

        "Is it bigger than the television?"
        "How big is the television?"  Maggie shot back.
        "MY TV set."  Elisa clarified, testily.  "Look, whose idea was it
to play twenty questions, anyway?"
        "Yours."  Goliath added, patiently.
        Elisa shot him a withering glance.
        The four stranded were trying to pass the time, simply waiting for
the sun to rise.  They were all worried, but Elisa felt that doing other
things to keep their minds of the four travellers and the Servants of
Twilight would help ease the tensions.  And she was right...it was helping
a little bit.  Not much, but a little bit.
        Elisa got up and streched.  "I've got a cramp in my spine from
sitting down for so long."
        Goliath frowned, and touched his foot.  "It's tingling."  he
reported.
        Elisa laughed. 
        "What?"  Goliath asked.
        "Nothing...it's just I can't picture a gargoyle's foot going
asleep."
        "Asleep..."  Goliath repeated.  He began to bang his foot on the
floor, trying to get the feeling back in it.  Elisa began to laugh harder,
grateful to see he was a little more light-hearted..  Maggie began to
smirk, and even Claw, who had been solemn since the escape from the
Labrynth, cracked a weak smile.
        Goliath turned to them, and smiled.  "If my efforts to 'wake up' my
foot are what you're laughing at..."
        "Yes...that's it."  Maggie laughed.
        Then, there was a rustling sound.
        "Is the skylight shut?"  Maggie asked.
        Elisa frowned, and looked.  By the light of the moon, she could see
that it was. 
        "Uh huh..." she began.
        Suddenly, a lamp fell off of a table near the door.  It shattered
on the floor.
        "Something else is in this apartment."  Goliath stood up.  His eyes
flared. 
        Elisa picked up the flashlight, and shone it around the apartment. 
At the door, the two figures of Matt Bluestone and Hudson stood there,
amidst the wreckage of the lamp.
        "May we come in?"  Matt asked sheepishly.  The flashlight clearly
showed his black eyes.
        Elisa dropped the flashlight.  As it hit the floor, it went out.
        "Elisa, run!"  Goliath yelled.  Elisa continued to stare towards
the door.  A blast of shadow came towards her, and would have hit her, had
not Goliath dove to get her out of the way.  He took the blast to the
stomach, and crashed to the floor.
        Elisa got up, and looked at the skylight.  If she ran, she might be
able to make it outside, and get to the fire escape.  But what about
Goliath, Maggie and Claw?
        Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Goliath stood up. He
turned to Elisa. 
        "Get out of here.  We'll try and hold them off."  he ordered.
        Elisa nodded, and ran towards the skylight.  She undid the latch,
and opened the window.  Looking back worridly, she scrambled outside.
        Matt began to dash for the skylight, in pursuit, but Maggie,
growling, blocked his way.
        "Move."  Matt ordered.  Maggie smiled, and savagely kicked him in
the stomach.  Matt went flying into the wall, and crumpled to the floor.
        Hudson, meanwhile, had moved behind Goliath.  The lavender gargoyle
spun around, and earned a punch in the mouth.  Stumbling back, Goliath
tripped over the couch.  He fell onto the cushion, but leapt off before a
blast could hit him.  Regretfully, he began to fight back, driving Hudson
into the corner.
        "Sorry, old friend."  Goliath whispered.  With a lash of his tail,
he knocked Hudson down.  Hudson cried out, and hit his head on the wall.
        Matt saw this, and discorporated.  He flowed behind Goliath, and
resolidified.  Too late, Goliath turned around.  Matt's eyes glinted, and
he was about to spread the shadow sickness...
        ...but then Claw dove from behind, and tackled the subverted to the
floor.
        Matt snarled.  He turned his head around, and subverted Claw.
        Goliath turned to Maggie.  "There's no room in here.  We have to
get outside!"
        Maggie looked at Claw, and nodded in agreement.  The two bolted for
the skylight, and just barely made it out before the barrage of bolts came.
        The cool night air welcomed Goliath, but he paid no attention. 
Instead, he frantically looked around for Elisa.  She was there, hooking up
the fire escape.
        "Goliath...this thing's practically dismantled."  she cried with
dismay.  "I couldn't get down..."
        Goliath raced over to her, and grabbed her.  "Come on."  he told
her.  He ran for the edge of the roof, but was blocked by the shadow blasts
coming from within the apartment.  Hudson, Matt and Claw materialized on
the balcony, and began the assault anew.  Goliath was hit in the shoulder,
and he dropped Elisa.  She fell, and hit the balcony.  Instinctively,
Goliath moved to stand in front of her, but Hudson expertly fired a blast
between them.  Chunks of stone flew out, one hitting Elisa in the temple. 
She was knocked backwards, and tumbled off the side of the balcony.
        Gasping, Goliath turned and dove off to catch her.  He dropped
beneath her, and caught her roughly.  She was unconscious, and the right
side of her head was bleeding.  But she was otherwise fine.  She would wake
up momentarily.
        With a wry smile, Goliath soared towards a neighbouring building.
        He landed, and set her down gently beside an air duct.  She moaned,
and her eyes fluttered open.
        "What..."  she began.
        "Ssh.  It's all right."  Goliath shushed her.  "You're safe."
        He stood up, and saw the four figures behind him.  Suddenly, he
realized that that assessment of the situation no longer applied.
        Hudson, Claw, Matt, Maggie.  All subverted.  They had gotten Maggie
while he was rescuing Elisa.
        At the same time, the four of them raised their hands, and fired. 
The bolts came flying, and nearly hit Goliath.  He ducked in time, though,
and the bolts hit a nearby power line.  The line fell.
        Goliath turned, and grabbed Elisa.  She didn't question, merely
nodded with acceptance.  Goliath cradled her in his arms, and dove off the
side of the building, narrowly escaping the constant blasts.  They weren't
followed.
        "Where can we go now?"  Elisa asked, the fear evident in her voice. 
        Goliath looked at her, her face that of a scared little girl.
        What would it take to drive such a strong woman to this?  he asked
himself. 
        He realized that he was probably in the same state. 
        Before now, the only time he'd been as frightened as this was the
time when, as a hatchling, some of the older gargoyles had allowed him to
go on a hunting run with them.  He'd been separated from them, and they
didn't find him before sunrise.  He'd spent the entire night alone, lost
and frightened. When he awoke at night, and there was still no one to come
to save him, he'd been more terrified than he'd ever been in his life. 
Granted, it was the fear of a young, inexperienced child, but it had never
been equalled...until now.
        Goliath looked down into Elisa's face, and realized that he was
more afraid now than he had ever been in his entire life, and probably ever
would be.
        "I don't know."  he replied, finally, answering her question.  "I
don't know."

***************************************************************************
***************

Central Park

        As they landed, they nervously glanced around.  No sign of any
Servants.  Good.
        Goliath glanced behind them.  "This place should be safe for a
while, but I'm not eager to spend any great length of time outside."
        "We might not have another choice.  The castle's gone, we can't go
to either my or Matt's apartment, Mom and Dad aren't anywhere to be found,
the Labrynth's gone..."  Elisa ticked the points off on her fingers.  "We
have nowhere to go.  Even if we wanted to do the extreme thing and go to
Avalon, I'd imagine it's the same as here."
        She looked away.  "Maybe if we left the city..."
        Goliath shook his head.  "To go where?  From what we have seen, the
rest of the world is almost as bad as it is here.  We'd only be delaying
the inevitable."
        Elisa nodded.  "You're right.  It's like that 'gray goo scenario'
Anastastia Reyn...er, Titania told us about in Austrailia.  Soon the whole
world will be like this, unless Brooklyn and the others beat Silhouette."
        Goliath frowned.  "They might not make it fast enough to save us. 
I'm not nearly as optimistic as I was when their quest began."
        "You weren't that optimistic to begin with."  Elisa pointed out. 
She looked at her watch, frowned, and pressed the button to light it up. 
"Two in the morning.  Five hours to sunrise."
        Goliath closed his eyes.  "When I turn to stone, you'll be alone. 
I won't be able to protect you."
        Elisa scowled.  "This is just so unfair.  Why did this all have to
happen?  What did we do to deserve all this?"
        She waved her hand.  "Look around.  The city's dead.  The world's
dying.  In a few days, everywhere will be like this.  Why?  Because some
psycho Child of Oberon decided it looked better like this.  What did
Hudson, and Matt, and Derek, and everyone else in the world do to deserve
to become living shadows?"
        She kicked over a nearby garbage can, and trash spilled out all
over the place. 
        "Calm down!  If we're going to live through this, then we have to
keep a hold of ourselves."  Goliath hissed.  She was in a rage now, a far
cry from her depression ten minutes before.  Goliath suspected that if a
Servant of Twilight had chosen that moment to walk by, Elisa would have
kicked its head off.
        Elisa turned around, and sat down on the ground.  "I just wish
that...."
        She froze, staring behind Goliath.  The gargoyle turned around, and
saw the four subverted they had tried to leave behind.
        "And just why were you trying to sneak away like that?"  Maggie
asked, patronizingly.
        Amazingly, Claw began to speak.  "Running away from destiny often
takes you places you don't want to go."  the formerly mute pseudo-gargoyle
stated.  "Like here."
        "It's the end, and ye know it.  We're only trying to help you." 
Hudson raised a finger.
        "Help us?"  Goliath retorted.  "You're trying to subvert us!  Force
us to give up our souls, become creatures of darkness and shadow like you!  
Hudson, you were my friend once, and you know that this is wrong!  All of
you!  Try to fight what's been done to you!  You can break free!"
        Hudson shook his head sadly.  "We could, that's true.  But why
would we want to?"
        Goliath and Elisa stared at each other.
        "The name 'Servants of Twilight' is misleading.  We serve no one,
save Silhouette, and she gives us unheard of freedom.  The eyes are a small
price to pay for what we get in the deal."  Matt explained patiently.
        "But what about forcing it on people who don't want it?"  Elisa
asked.  "I know you didn't want it, Hudson.  You were fighting against it
when it happened to you."
        Hudson regarded her patiently.  "I didn't understand, lass.  I
couldn't, until I knew what it was like.  Subversion was the best thing
that happened to me through all my years.  And it will be the best thing
that will happen to you."
        "It's not going to happen to me."  Elisa corrected him, angrily.
        The elder smiled, bemusedly.  "Believe that, if ye want."  Hudson
sighed, and he calmly subverted her.
        Elisa's eyes took agonizingly slow to darken.  As Goliath watched
in horror, the air seemed to be driven out from him.
        But he didn't really accept it, not until she turned around and
glanced at him with a sadistic smirk.  The air seemed to be driven out from
him, and a slow horror overcame him.
        "He was right, Goliath."  Elisa laughed.  "I've never felt so free
in all my life."
        "No....please, no..."  Goliath whispered.  He squeezed his eyes
shut, praying that it was all an awful dream.  From beneath his closed
eyelids, the tears streamed out.
        "Don't cry for me, Goliath."  Elisa said softly, sounding almost
concerned.  "Be happy.  For me, and for you, because now you can share..."
        "NOOOO!"  Goliath roared.  He knocked Elisa backwards, and she
landed in the grass.  He ran towards Hudson, but a shadow blast knocked him
down.
        Hudson turned to Matt and the two Mutates.  "The three of you
leave.  This would better be done by the people he knows best."
        Matt, Maggie and Claw looked at each other, shrugged, and vanished.
        Hudson turned to Goliath.  "Now, it's time, lad."
        Elisa picked herself up from the grass, and brushed herself off. 
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."
        Goliath looked up, and stared at Elisa.  "I don't care."  he
whispered.  "I don't want to live without you, anyway."
        Elisa frowned.  "Touching."
        Goliath felt the tears roll down his cheeks.  To hear her speak so
callously of the love they shared...it felt like a sword through his heart. 
He had meant what he said, too.  To see Elisa like this...it felt as if his
soul had died, and what trouble was it to lose a dead thing?
        He was alone, now...totally alone.  Better to be subverted than to
face the nightmare without anyone at his side.
        He opened his eyes, and looked at Hudson.  "Do it."  he said.
        Hudson looked surprised.  "Glad you're seeing things our wa...."
        He paused, and looked up.  Elisa did the same.
        "What would she want with the two of us?"  Elisa frowned.
        "It's urgent."  Hudson stated.  "That's all we need to know."
        "Should we finish with him, first?"
        Hudson looked at Goliath.  "No time.  We have to get there right
away."  As soon as he finished, he discorporated.  Elisa did the same. 
Goliath was alone in the park.
        He sat down, and sighed.  He was safe.
        But Elisa was gone.  The Elisa Maza he knew and loved had ceased to
exist.
        Goliath sat there for a long time, the tears streaming down his
lavender cheeks, waiting for the sun to rise.

***************************************************************************
***************************************************************************
***************************************************************************
*********************************************

Chapter Two

                Truth Or Consequences

423 Junction Street

        "They's been in the kitchen for a while."  Carbonear frowned,
looking towards the doors.
        Hawthorne yawned.  "They said we probably needed something to eat. 
They're probably cooking it now." 
        "I can't even think about eating."  Whitbourne frowned.
        Brooklyn sighed, and resumed pacing.  "What worries me is the
others.  No one in that vacant lot except us, signs of a fight..."
        "They were there."  Whitbourne looked up.  "Ophelia helped us save
ye, and Lexington cast the spell.  And I saw Angela and Broadway."
        "Something else bothers me.  We got to Atlanta fine, but how are we
to get home?"  Carbonear asked.
        Brooklyn stopped pacing, and sat back down, groaning.  "Getting you
home, finding the others...this leading thing's getting too out of hand. 
We've still got a piece of the ring to find yet."
        Hawthorne concentrated.  "I can see where it is...at the bottom of
a little pond somewhere in a park.  Kind of close by here."
        Brooklyn frowned.  "That's no help.  The Cromwell's won't let us
leave."
        He spoke the truth.  Before Brooklyn had woken up, Carbonear had
asked to leave.  The Cromwell's politely, yet firmly, refused.
        Whitbourne stood up.  "They're in the kitchen now.  What's to stop
us from packing off?"
        He walked to the door.  He tried to pull, then push it open, but it
wouldn't budge.
        "It's locked from the outside."  Whitbourne scowled.  "What kind of
fools would want to lock themselves in their house?"
        "Fools that want to keep us in.  And I have a sneaking suspicion we
wouldn't be able to open or break those windows."  Brooklyn sighed,
realizing.
        He got up, and tapped the glass.  It wasn't glass at all, but
incredibly strong plastic.  And no amount of pushing would open the window.
        He raised an eyebrow.  "We're prisoners in a suburban house."
        Brooklyn and Whitbourne sat down.  "What's more, we have no clue
where the others are.  That's what worries me the most.  Somehow, we have
to get out and find them.  They might be in trouble."
        "They probably are."  Carbonear frowned.  "That Tybalt buddy looked
as if he was after giving them trouble.  But why would he just take those
four?"
        Hawthorne frowned.  "Maybe if we could figure out what Broadway,
Lexington, Angela and Ophelia have in common, we could figure out this
whole puzzle."
        Brooklyn blinked.  "Maybe.  What was it that Woodstock slipped to
us, anyway?  I can barely think!"
        Whitbourne frowned, and looked away from the others.
        Carbonear was staring at him oddly.
        Whitbourne looked up, and noticed her stare.  "What?"
        "What was you saying back home about that drug?  You were
practically taking the blame for it."  Carbonear whispered.
        Whitbourne glanced around nervously.  "Me responsible?"
        Briefly, he considered telling the truth.  He'd come close to it in
Newfoundland, before they'd rescued the others.
        "Yes, yes!  I betrayed them!  I didn't mean to...I was trying to
save us, Carb!" he'd told her.  A practical admission of guilt.  But he'd
been flustered, then.  Now, he had a possibility to escape from the
consequences.
        A clean slate.
        "That's a silly idea.  ME responsible?  What will ye be thinking
next, that I'm after robbing banks and smoking dope, too?" he laughed.
        Carbonear blinked.  "I'm sorry, it's just...."  she began, but she
cut herself off.  Brooklyn and Hawthorne were staring at them curiously.
        "Are you two finished?"  Brooklyn asked.
        Whitbourne nodded.  "Let's get to finding a way out of here."

***************************************************************************
***************

Lafayette's Meat Shop

        It was a long time before Lexington left the lot.
        Shivering, soaking wet, tired and hungry, he stood up, and decided
that he would have to rescue the others.
        But where am I going to find them?  he asked himself.  How am I
going to know where to look?
        Sighing, he began to pat his stomach.  He hadn't eaten
since...Nanaimo, if you didn't count the six beer he'd drank in
Newfoundland.  He was going to have to find something to eat fast, or else
risk collapsing of starvation.
        Groaning, he took a step forward, and tripped.  He landed face
first in the mud.
        "Wonderful."  he growled.  "What a fabulous freaking night."
        He looked up, and saw for the first time that there was a meat shop
right there.  He could easily break in and find something to eat.
        Break in.
        Lexington rolled his eyes, and began to drum his talons in the mud. 
What a time for morals to interfere.  Should he break in?  Here he was,
sworn to protect the innocent from crime, about to help himself to someone
elses livelihood.
        Still, though, he had a mission, and he couldn't very well
accomplish it if he was about to keel over from hunger at any second.
        Sighing and telling himself it was for the greater good, Lexington
got up, and slowly walked towards the back loading door.  With a swipe of
his claws, the lock shattered.  He easily pushed the door open.  No alarms
went off.
        Lexington walked through the back of the meat shop.  Freezers lined
the wall, and he opened them one by one.  Everything was frozen or raw
anyway.
        "Come on...he must have pepperoni, or ham, or something..." 
Lexington sighed.
        Sure enough, in the last freezer were several packages of ham. 
Sighing, Lexington took one.  It wasn't frozen, probably only there for a
little while.
        Lexington sliced open the package, and greedily ate the ham.  He
patted his stomach.  It wasn't much, but it would tide him over.  He shut
the freezer, and walked out of the shop. 
        He held up a hand.  The rain seemed to be dying down.
        "At least one thing's going right tonight."  Lexington smiled
grimly.  He began to scale the wall, and jumped onto the roof.
        "Where to start looking?"  he frowned.
        Tybalt and Augustine had flown off to the west, so that should be a
good place to start.
        Rolling his eyes, Lexington leapt off the roof, spread his wings,
and soared to the west.  They had mentioned something about a gatehouse,
too, so that could mean an industrial park, or a normal park.  Or an
entrance to practically any major business or estate in Atlanta.
        "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, and I don't know
where the damned haystack is to begin with."  Lexington complained.  Down
below, he spotted a park, about six blocks over from the street he was
currently over.
        Might as well start there, Lexington thought.  He dove down.

***************************************************************************
***************

Gatehouse, Piedmont Park

        Ophelia struggled to break loose of the chains.  She failed, once
again, and sat back dejectedly against the wall.
        "Why won't these things break?"  she asked.
        "They're magically enhanced."  Augustine replied, from where he was
sitting.  "Nothing short of magic can break them.  Face it, ladies, you're
here for a long time."
        Angela frowned.  "Well, thanks for the help."  she stated,
scowling.
        She turned over to where Broadway was sitting.  He was
blindfolded., just in case he saw anyone in danger and called his power
forth.
        "Are you all right?"  she called.
        Broadway searched blindly for her.  "Me?  Never better."  he
replied sarcastically. 
        Just then, Tybalt walked in. 
        "I just got off the telephone device with the two humans.  They say
that the plan is in place.  What a marvellous thing!  You simply speak in
it, and people far away can hear you!"  he told Augustine.
        Broadway laughed.  "Bravo!  You figured out a telephone.  What's
next on your list of accomplishments, Tybalt?"
        Tybalt's eyes flared.  "First of all, regardless of how much more
superior I am to you, I am still from Avalon.  I've never even heard of a
telephone until now.  Secondly, you look like the only accomplishment you
can handle is eating everyone else's helping at dinner.  And finally, you
already know what my next trick is, anyway."
        He walked up to Broadway.  "I call it 'Protector's End', or, 'Death
of a Gargoyle', for short."
        And then, quite deliberatly, he spat in Broadway's face.
        Tybalt smirked.  Broadway scowled.  "If I was free of these..."
        "But you're not, are you?  You can't do anything, unless you can
twist yourself free by losing five hundred pounds."
        "Tybalt,"  Angela called over, "why are you so hellbent on
tormenting and destroying him?"
        Tybalt stiffened, and slowly turned around.  "You should know,
Angela."  he explained.  "You were there when he attacked me, and nearly
killed me.  You were there when I was forced to beg for my life."
        "It wasn't his fault!  He lost control of his power!  He would
never want to kill anyone, especially if what they're doing isn't their
fault!"  Angela protested.
        Tybalt's expression almost seemed to soften a bit.  "It's not that
I want to..." he whispered softly.
        Ophelia and Angela stared at each other.  Broadway's jaw dropped in
shock.  Augustine looked up from where he was about to drift to sleep.
        "What did you say?"  Broadway asked.
        Tybalt's face twisted.  "I said...nevermind what I said.  You..."
        He began to fume silently, and left the room.  Seconds later, he
poked his head back in.
        "As soon as I think of the most painful way possible, you're dead,
Protector."  he warned.
        He left.  Broadway sat back, frowning.

***************************************************************************
***************

        Scowling, Tybalt walked outside the gatehouse.  It was well within
the park, so no one on the street would see him.  And the park was closed
for repairs, which wouldn't be going on in the rain, so he was safe there.
        Why had he almost said that?
        He didn't know.  And he hated not knowing things that bothered him.
        For a brief instant, it seemed as if a surge of empathy for the
Protector had shone through the corrupted darkness of his soul.  For the
first time since his subversion, which felt like less than a day ago, a
glint of the old Tybalt had risen through.
        So what does that mean?
        Tybalt didn't know.  Unaware that he was being watched, he looked
heavenward, and sighed.
        "At least the fact that the Protector will soon be dead should
console me."  he whispered.
        But he wasn't so sure.

***************************************************************************
***************

        Almost too late, Lexington spotted him.
        Twenty minutes ago, he had landed in Piedmont Park, perching on a
tree branch.  Rubbing his eyes to keep the fatigue out, he stared at the
gatehouse. 
        I can't spend too long here, he thought.  There're probably
hundreds of gatehouses in Atlanta. 
        Still, a couple of minutes more won't hurt. 
        He positioned himself near the front of the gatehouse, and yawned. 
No rest for the wicked, he thought.
        It took twenty minutes for anything to happen.  Lexington caught
himself nearly nodding off to sleep several times.
        Then, just before he was about to give up hope, and leave to check
another gatehouse, he saw a red gargoyle walk out.
        He couldn't make out any features from this far off.  But there
were only two reddish colored gargoyles that he knew were in Atlanta at the
moment...Brooklyn and Tybalt.  In either case, it was one of the gargoyles
he was looking for.
        Hoping it was Brooklyn, Lexington climbed down the tree, trying not
to make any noise.  He crept a little closer, hoping to see his friend's
face...
        As he moved closer, he saw it was Tybalt.  He couldn't help but
feel a little dissappointed.
        Why?  he asked himself.  Where Tybalt is, you're sure to find
Broadway, Angela and Ophelia.  Maybe even the others.
        Lexington shrugged.  He began to inch a little closer.  Tybalt
walked back inside.
        When Lexington reached the building, he glanced around, looking for
a window.  He found one on the southside, and hesitantly pushed aside the
bushes to see through.  Sure enough, Broadway, Angela and Ophelia were in
there.  All three were in chains, and Broadway was blindfolded.  Augustine
and Tybalt were in there, too, but of Brooklyn, Hawthorne, Carbonear and
Whitbourne there was no sign.
        Well, at least I've found some of them.  But how to get them free?  
he asked himself.
        It was one of the many questions he realized he had no answer to.

***************************************************************************
***************

423 Junction Street

        "Angela, Ophelia, Broadway, Lexington."  Brooklyn repeated the
names, writing them down on a scrap of paper.  "What do they have in
common?"
        "The lot of them wears them skimpy clothes..."  Whitbourne began,
but Carbonear punched him in the arm.
        "Each of them has a power.  Truthfinder, Illusionist, Protector,
Traveller."  Hawthorne added, a bit more seriously.  "It might have
something to do with their powers."
        Brooklyn scowled, and snapped the pencil.  "It's hopeless.  It's
like one of those Riddler puzzles from Batman."
        Carbonear looked at the kitchen doors.  "I hates to be rushing ye,
but the way those two's in the kitchen...I doubt they's making toutins."
        "Making what?"  Brooklyn looked up.
        "Toutins.  You know, when you're making pancakes, and you has the
batter..."
        Brooklyn held up his hand.  "Uh...I'm not exactly a chef.  You'd be
better off talking to Broadway about that.  If we can ever find him."
        Hawthorne looked at him.  "Don't worry.  He'll turn up."
        Brooklyn smiled, and took her hand.  "I'd like to be so
optimistic."
        Whitbourne sat back, and opened a candy dish on the coffee table
next to him.  Grabbing a mint, he popped it into his mouth.  As he sucked
on the peppermint, he began to realize that he felt incredibly guilty for
hiding the truth.
        He looked at the other three, trying to figure out the puzzle of
the four names.  The only one who suspected anything was Carbonear, and
even she wasn't quite sure what to think.  As far as Brooklyn and Hawthorne
were concerned, Whitbourne was completely in the clear.
        And that made him feel like dirt.
        He was part of what had happened in Newfoundland.  He should be
owning up to it.  Instead, he was letting Woodstock take the blame.
        Normally, Whitbourne would have let the feelings slide.  He was
used to it...back home, whenever he did something wrong, he'd pretend
nothing had happened, and usually the people involved would forget about
it.
        But something was different this time.  Before, they'd been
harmless tricks played on humans.  This time, he'd helped to toy with
friends' lives...gargoyle friends, the only gargoyles he'd ever seen
outside of Clan Newfie.  So, he felt incredibly remorseful.
        Minutes later, he decided to come clean.
        Brooklyn was doodling with half of the broken pencil when
Whitbourne turned around.
        "I...has a bit of a confession to make."  Whitbourne began.
        Brooklyn and Hawthorne looked up.  Carbonear turned to face him.
        "I...I helped Woodstock slip you the drug.  That's why I was acting
so wierd when I came down from the cigarette.  A black-eyes came, and tells
the two of us...Woodstock and I...that it would be in our best interests to
get the six of ye out of commission.  That the ring was what was causing
the subversion, and that you wouldn't be hurt if we helped.  We refused,
but then he threatened to subvert Clan Newfie if we didn't help.  We had no
choice.   We didn't want to...and for what's it's worth, I'm sorry."
        He had closed his eyes as he related the tale.  As he opened them
again, he found Carbonear and Hawthorne staring at him, looks of disbelief
on their faces.  Brooklyn, his jaw dropped, his expression that of
betrayal.
        "This is a joke, right?"  he asked, desparately.
        Sadly, Whitbourne shook his head.  Brooklyn's mouth shut, and he
looked away.
        "I don't believe this."  Brooklyn exhaled.  "First, I'm knocked
out, come to in Georgia, find half of my friends gone, stuck in some house,
realize that I have to find a ring, rescue my friends, and get you two
home, and now I find out one of my friends was in on a plot to kill us? 
I...I just don't know what to say."
        Whitbourne sighed.  "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am."
        Hawthorne looked at him, frowning.  "Why didn't you come right out
and tell us?"
        Whitbourne thought for a second.  Why hadn't he?  He had made a
pretty stupid judgement call, hadn't he?
        "I was afraid.  Buddy with the black eyes was after saying that if
I told, he'd subvert us all.  I just panicked, I guess."
        "You just panicked.  That's really great."  Brooklyn muttered.
        He turned to Whitbourne.  "Did it honestly never occur to you to
come and tell us?  We could have defeated him.  He was one Servant of
Twilight, Whitbourne.  Against ten of us, he wouldn't have stood a chance. 
But because of you, we were drugged, and nearly killed."
        Carbonear nodded.  "What was ye thinking, bye?  Bonnie and
Woodstock were subverted anyway, even though you didn't tell the rest of
us.  If you hadn't gotten away, Ophelia and I would have never found out. 
These buddies would have been killed!  You never were much for thinking
things through, Witless, but for the love of God..."
        Whitbourne growled.  "I'm sorry!  What more does ye want?"
        Brooklyn glanced around, as if trying to think of what to say.  He
began tapping his hands together.
        "I'm not even angry.  I should be exploding, and just letting you
have it, but I can't.  I've made mistakes in my life, too, so I can't be
setting myself on a pedestal, yelling at you for mistakes I've made
myself."
        He sighed.  "I can say I'm really dissappointed, though.  I
honestly thought better of you, Whitbourne.  I know I'm not perfect myself,
but still, it hurts when you almost die as a result of someone elses
carelessness.  You should have known better, but you didn't.  I guess I'll
just have to live with that."
        Brooklyn sat up straight.  "Thank you for telling us, Whitbourne. 
I appreciate your honesty."  he told the Newfoundlander coldly.
        Whitbourne raised an eyebrow.  "But I..."
        "Thank you.  Let's just forget this happened."  Brooklyn sighed. 
The bitter dissappointment in his friend was etched on his face, plain for
all to see.
        "Let's get back to trying to figure out how to rescue the others." 
he decided.
        Hawthorne and Carbonear looked at each other, then to Brooklyn.  He
felt their glances, and looked up.
        "Problem?"  he asked.
        Carbonear shook her head.  "Nothing."
        Whitbourne began to stare intently at the ground.  He had expected
Brooklyn to start yelling at him, accuse him of being a traitor, and had
steeled himself for it. But Brooklyn's reaction had surprised him.  And,
oddly, made him feel worse inside.
        It was more bitter to accept the fact that instead of angering
Brooklyn, he had deeply dissappointed him to the point where the
Manhattanite was ignoring him.  As he watched Brooklyn purposely avoid
looking at him, Whitbourne realized a simple truth...it's better to be
hated than simply ignored.
        Feeling the lowest he ever had in his life, Whitbourne continued to
stare at the ground.
           
***************************************************************************
***************

Gatehouse

        Tybalt was totally silent after he walked back in, looking
obviously dismayed. 
        "What's the matter?"  Augustine asked, an eyebrow raised.
        Tybalt didn't reply.  Instead, he walked up to Broadway, and
punched him again.  Broadway's head was driven back, but he didn't say a
word.  Tybalt frowned, and retreated to the corner, sitting down.
        "Why don't you just kill me now, then?"  Broadway asked Tybalt,
tauntingly.  "If you're so anxious to..."
        "Much as I'd like to,"  Tybalt shot back, "I have to wait for the
word from the two humans, saying your other friends are dead, first.  Don't
worry, you'll get what's coming to you." 
        He glanced up to the window, and scowled.  He couldn't wait until
the menaces were dead, and then he could get on with his life.  As a
subverted, a member of the new order of things.
        What a promising life that would be.
        "Relax, Protector."  he smiled.  "Enjoy the wait."

***************************************************************************
***************

        Well, Lexington thought, this puts a crimp on things.
        He sat back in the bushes.  Eavesdropping, he had heard the entire
conversation.  Now he had to either help the three in there, or try to find
the others, who were in more danger, because they would be killed first. 
But he had no idea where the others were.  However, Tybalt and Augustine
probably knew.  Meaning that he'd have to weasel it out from them, first.
        Meaning that he'd have to rescue these three.
        But how?
        The beginnings of a plan began to formulate in his mind.  Broadway
was in there, so he could use his power.  But he was blindfolded, and he
had to see someone in danger before he could use it.
        So, Lexington would have to go in, get past Tybalt and Augustine,
get the blindfold off...
        ...and let Tybalt and Augustine try to kill him.
        Not the best of plans...but it would have to do.
        With a sigh, he crept away from the bushes, and sneaked towards the
front door.  He nervously glanced around, and walked in.
        The entrance room was an information desk, filled with pamphlets
about Atlanta's park system.  Wondering why Tybalt would chose to put his
hideaway here, Lexington looked around.  There were two doors...one of
which was open.  Lexington peeked in, and saw it was the one with the
others inside.  Noone noticed him.
        Lexington frowned, and closed his eyes.  He'd have one chance at
this...
        Quickly dropping to all fours, he ran into the room.  Augustine
shot up, and began to blast him.  Tybalt, reacting in surprise, tried to
grab him.  Dodging the shadows and his would be captor, Lexington jumped
and tore the blindfold off of Broadway's face.  The blue gargoyle blinked
in shock.
        "Lexington!"  he yelled.
        "Watch me very closely."  Lexington hissed.  Angela and Ophelia
looked at each other curiously.
        Lexington suddenly stood perfectly still.  A shadow blast hit him
in the side, and he was thrown to the other side of the room.  He hit the
wall, and winced in pain.
        "The more, the merrier."  Tybalt smiled.  "Find something to tie
him up with."
        Lexington paled.  If they didn't try to kill him, his whole plan
was for naught.  And then, they would be totally screwed, since noone would
be able to rescue them.
        So, Lexington did the only thing he could.  With a cry, he turned
and attacked Tybalt.
        Tybalt was thrown backwards.  With a snarl, he lashed out at the
smaller gargoyle, trying to throw him off. Lexington slashed Tybalt's face,
his eyes glowing, his face desparate.  But Augustine ran up behind.
        "Lexington, look out!"  Ophelia cried.
        Too late, Lexington turned.  Augustine punched him in the bridge of
the nose, and Lexington crumpled to the ground.  Tybalt roared, his eyes
reflecting his fury.
        With a wry smile, Tybalt picked Lexington up off the ground.
        "What are you, suicidal?"  Tybalt asked.  He drew out the knife
from his belt.  "Because you were asking for this..."
        Lexington smiled.  "I sure hope Broadway didn't hear that."
        Tybalt paled.  He looked to Broadway, who was smiling oddly.  His
eyes were white.
        "No..."  he whispered.  "Not again..."
        The light arked out, striking Tybalt and Augustine square in the
stomach.  They cried out, and fell to the ground.  The chains which bound
Broadway seemed to explode, and the beams of light came again, nearly
disintigrating the chains which kept Angela and Ophelia prisoner.
        "Thanks, Lex."  Ophelia sighed.  "Right on time."
        Angela stood up, and walked slowly over to Tybalt.  She growled,
and picked him up.
        "Where are the others?"  she asked.
        Tybalt began to stutter.  "S-s-some place called 423 Junction
Street. Just please, keep him away from me!"
        Lexington brushed himself off.  "Broadway, come on back down."
        Broadway shook his head.  "Tybalt tried to kill you, Lex.  He's not
getting away with it this time."
        Lexington frowned.  "No, seriously, it's okay.  Broadway.  I
planned it."
        Broadway laughed, and grabbed Tybalt away from Angela.
        "So, you didn't learn the first time, did you."  Broadway smirked. 
Tybalt's eyes widened in fear, and he whimpered in fright.
        "Broadway, stop it right now.  We have to save the others..." 
Ophelia began.
        "Quiet."  Broadway snapped.
        "No, Broadway.  Listen.  You're losing control again...ungh!!" 
Lexington cried out as Broadway blasted him.  He was driven back into the
wall again.  Angela's eyes widened in shock.
        "Broadway, what are you doing?"  she screamed.
        "He was getting in the way."  Broadway replied defensively.
        "He's lost himself!"  Ophelia yelled. 
        "Lost?  More like found."  Broadway smiled grimly.  He turned to
Tybalt.  "So we meet again."
        Tybalt screamed.  Calmly, Broadway blasted him.  Tybalt went flying
across the room.
        "Broadway, stop!"  Angela shouted.  She ran up to him and grabbed
him by the shoulders.  "You have to come back to us!  Remember the pact? 
The ringbearer's covenant?  Well, now's the time.  Come home, Broadway. 
For me."
        Broadway looked dismayed.  "But I have to protect you..."
        "You aren't protecting now.  This is overkill.  You've hurt
Lexington..."
        "But..."
        "Broadway,"  Ophelia interrupted.  "You don't need to do this. 
Killing Tybalt won't accomplish anything...it's not him that's evil, it's
what's been done to him."
        Broadway's eyes closed.  "Why are you trying to confuse me?"  he
yelled.         
        "We're not trying to confuse you, we're trying to bring you back. 
Look at Lexington.  You've gone too far, and it's time to come home."
        "Remember in Las Vegas, you were telling me about the point of no
return?"  Angela yelled.  "You're about to cross it, Broadway.  Stop it!"
        Broadway's body seemed to shudder.  With an agonizing cry, his eyes
stopped flaring, becoming the same emerald-green they'd always been.  He
sank to his knees, and with a sob, collapsed on the floor.
        Angela knelt down, and held his head.  "Broadway..."
        He opened his eyes.  "Is Lex all right?"
        Lexington was getting up.  "I'm fine."  he muttered, grimacing. 
"Other than the worst headache I've ever had in my life, I'm fine."
        Broadway looked into Angela's eyes.  "You saved me again."  he
smiled.  "I was gone, but you brought me back."
        Angela laughed.  "Ophelia and Lex helped too.  Besides, what kind
of friend would I be if I didn't help you out?"  Relieved as she was that
Broadway hadn't become dejected again, she secretly wondered why he was
internalizing this.
        She leaned forward, and kissed him.  "My love."  she added.
        Broadway blushed.
        Angela stood up.  "The others are at some place called 423 Junction
Street."
        "Sounds like an address."  Lexington noted.
        "Wherever it is, Tybalt even said that they're in grave danger.  We
have to help them."
        Broadway stood up.  "What about these two?"
        Ophelia frowned.  "Leave them.  If they try to follow us..."
        In response, Tybalt and Augustine vanished.
        Lexington whistled.  "I think they got the hint."
        "Let's just hope that they're not waiting for us there.  Are you
going to be all right, Broadway?"  Ophelia asked.
        "I think so."  came the unsure reply.
        "Good.  Let's go.  We have to get to the others before they wind up
dead."  Angela warned. 
        The four left the gatehouse, and scaled the wall.  Noticing that
the rain had stopped, they jumped off, and soared away.

***************************************************************************
***************************************************************************
***************************************************************************
*********************************************

Chapter Three

                False Pretenses       
       
423 Junction Street

        "Stew's on!"  Mrs. Cromwell cried, carrying in two bowls of the
stuff.  She set them down.
        Mr. Cromwell came out with two more bowls of stew.  "This should
fill the four of you up.  How are you feeling?"
        "Much better, thank ye.  Would it be possible for us to leave now?" 
Carbonear asked.
        Mr. Cromwell raised an eyebrow.  "Well, perhaps you should eat a
bit, first.  Then we'll see."
        "Mr. Cromwell...we really appreciate the hospitality, and we've
already thanked you for possibly saving our lives...but, we have to leave. 
Our other friends may be in danger."  Hawthorne frowned.  Absently, she
removed the half of the ring from her pocket, and began to toy with it.
        Mrs. Cromwell's eyes widened at the sight of the talisman. 
"Uh...well, we'll see.  Have something to eat, dear.  It's my patented
onion stew."
        With a sigh, Hawthorne picked up a spoon, and dipped it in the
stew.  She took a bite, and set the spoon down.
        "Delicious."  Hawthorne smiled.  She tilted her head towards the
door.
        "Aren't you going to eat something?" 
        With a sigh, Brooklyn took the spoon, and filled it with the broth.
        "May I ask ye why ye aren't intimidated by us?"  Whitbourne asked,
suddenly.  Surprised, Brooklyn set the spoon down, not having eaten its
cargo.
        The Cromwells looked at each other.  "Uh...there was a clan of
gargoyles where we originally came from..."
        "Where was that to?"  Carbonear asked.  She pushed the bowl of stew
away, deciding not to eat.
        "Uh...Minneapolis.  Minnesota...dear, there goes the phone."  Mrs.
Cromwell reported.
        "That must be...the insurance broker.  You might as well come,
Gloria, we need your input.  We'll be back in a few minutes, and we can
discuss your leaving then."  Mr. Cromwell assured them.  The couple turned,
and left for the kitchen.
        "I didn't hear a phone..."  Carbonear muttered.
        Brooklyn dumped the stew in the spoon back into the bowl.  "I'm not
going to eat that."
        "It's tasteless."  Hawthorne informed him.  "Although it smells a
bit funny."  She turned over the ring.
        "I keep sensing that the next piece is nearby here.  Not in the
house, but fairly close by."
        Brooklyn looked at the ring, the half circle, and sighed.
        "What is it?"  Hawthorne asked, looking up.
        His mouth twitched.  "It's nothing."
        "Brooklyn..."
        The red gargoyle sighed.  "It's just that...every piece of the ring
we get, we come closer to having to battle Silhouette.  That isn't
something I'm looking forward to."
        "What, you think I am?"
        "Yeah, but, you aren't going on your second time around."  Brooklyn
pointed out.
        "What do you mean?"   Carbonear asked.
        "It's a long story."  Brooklyn frowned.  "Back in New York,
Silhouette killed me, but because of the prophecy, I was brought back."
        Carbonear's eyes were widened.  In the explanation back in
Newfoundland, they had left the segment about Brooklyn's death and
resurrection out of the tale. 
        Whitbourne gaped in shock.  "Second time around..."
        Brooklyn didn't say anything to him.  He glanced at the blueish
gargoyle, his exprtession a conflict of emotions, ranging from anger to
sorrow.
        Whitbourne rolled his eyes, suddenly angry.  "Go on out and say it. 
You knows you want to.  If I had my way, you'd be on your third, right?"
        Brooklyn frowned.  "I didn't say a word."
        "That's the problem!  You don't have to completely ignore me! 
Don't play out this mature leader charade any more.  I knows you wants to
say something to me, so say it.  Do you want to scuffle?  Come on, we'll
scuffle.  But for the love of God, don't you ignore me.  I said I was
sorry, and I can't say no more.  I can't go back in time and make things
right again.  Much as I'd like to, I can't.  All I can offer is an apology. 
And if you can't accept that..."
        "I can't, all right!  I can't!  Are you happy?"  Brooklyn snapped. 
Hawthorne glared at him.
        "Calm down, now."  she warned him.
        Brooklyn stared at her.  "I'm...I'm sorry.  But he's right.  I
can't accept an apology."
        He turned to Whitbourne.  "Do you really want me to be angry with
you?  Because if you do, I will.  I'm not sure how to deal with you.  I
thought you were my friend, but then you pull a stupid stunt like this!  I
can't deal with it, all right!"
        Brooklyn wrung his hands, and closed his eyes.  "Don't start with
me, all right?  Don't make this any worse than it already is."
        Whitbourne sighed.  "Right, then.  I'll not be bothering ye again."
        Brooklyn frowned, about to say something else.  He opened his
mouth, closed it again, and sat down.
        Carbonear looked at him.  "Brooklyn, can I speak with ye for a
second?"
        "What about?"
        Carbonear tilted her head towards the dining room.  "Privately." 
she insisted.
        Brooklyn rolled his eyes, and sighed.  "Fine." 
        He got up, and picked his way to the dining room, which was
connected to the living room by means of a double door.  Carbonear
followed, and shut the door behind the pair as they entered.
        "What is it?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "Why did you start that up all over again?" Carbonear frowned.
        "Start what?  He exploded at me for not being mad at him!"
        Cabonear sighed.  "I know you're right in dealing with it this
way...I mean, blowing up in his face wouldn't help us much, and ye's
probably just doing what you does as a leader back at your clan...but you
seem kind of upset about it."
        "Of course I'm upset about it.  He helped try to kill us."       
        Carbonear wrung her hands in frustration.  "That's not what I
means.  You're having problems dealing with this, is what I'm after saying. 
You don't know how to deal with it, so you let it slide.  And it's hurting
ye, and it's hurting Whitbourne."
        Brooklyn sighed.  "I just don't know what to think.  On the one
hand, he betrayed us, and almost got us killed.  On the other hand, he just
made a mistake, which I've made before too.  The reason I'm not yelling is
because I really don't feel like I have the right to judge him."
        "Wisdom beyond your years.  But ye has to understand, he doesn't
see things anything like you does.  He's not a natural leader.  He's not
with this sense of honor, or leadership that ye's with.  It's from growing
up in two different backgrounds.  You in New York, as a leader, him in
Newfoundland, as a human."
        "As a WHAT?"
        Carbonear sighed.  "We knew nothing of our gargoyle heritage until
three years ago.  Up till then, we hung around with humans, living their
lifestyle.  That's why Clan Newfie's so unique, cause we wasn't raised as
gargoyles.  We didn't even know we was gargoyles.  We were called
dragons...but that's how we grew up.  He isn't used to making such life and
death decisions.  The most dangerous thing he's ever decided before is
whether to let someone he knew was drunk drive home or not."
        Brooklyn sighed.  "I understand that.  And I'm accepting these
things.  I know he's not used to leadership.  It's just common sense,
Carbonear..."
        "To you!  To him...or even me...God knows I'd have panicked too. 
He didn't know how to deal with it.  Common sense had no meaning there,
because it was a completely new situation to him."
        "All right.  I see the point."
        "And he DID try to set things right.  He helped save you, and he
tried to come clean by telling you, when he could have pinned it all on
Woodstock.  He's trying his best to make this up to you, and he feels you
aren't accepting that.  Trust me, I knows Whitbourne.  He may come across
as this fun loving party animal, but deep down inisde he feels just as
abandoned as we all does.  Maybe that's why he's so sensitive.  You have to
take that into account when you judges him."
        She snickered.  "Funny...I never pictured myself giving this
advice.  Up till tonight, the most I ever did was have some fun with
Whitboune, Bonnie and Woodstock, and with the humans...having parties,
listening to music and the like...and now I finds myself helping in magical
quests with gargoyles from New York, B.C, and some magic island
God-knows-where."
        Brooklyn smiled.  "You're doing fine, though.  You're a natural at
this, Carb."
        "Since when do you call me Carb?"
        "Since now, I guess.  But...back to Whitbourne...you're right.  But
what do you want me to do?  Lose my temper so he knows I still care?"
        "No!  By the Jesus, no.  The only reason I'm telling you this is
because you two was great friends, and I want you to realize these things
about him before you goes and moves on."
        The leader sighed.  "I just feel so upset.  I want to be his
friend, and I realize it's natural for people to screw up once in a while. 
But now, when I look at him, I don't see someone who's trying to set things
right, I see someone who was in on a conspiracy to kill me.  I trusted him,
and now I feel like I trusted the wrong person."       
        "You didn't pick the wrong person to trust...you just trusted in a
normal person."  Carbonear explained.  "Like I said, Whitbourne hasn't come
up against the things you have.  You face this sort of thing practically
every day."
        "Not on this scale..."
        "You know what I mean.  He doesn't.  Clan Newfie's biggest crisis
to date was when we were born, and we were completely alone, with no one to
care for us.  And that was solved when we were discovered by a human who
took it upon himself to care for us, and I was but three weeks old, then. 
He wasn't much older.  And, you're after being a leader in your clan,
right?"
        "Second in command."
        "Close enough.  We doesn't need a leader.  Whitbourne doesn't have
the leadership skills, or the crisis management tactics you do.  All he had
were his instincts, and he weren't sure how he was to react to them."
        She moved a little closer to him.  "He made a mistake...just like
every living human and gargoyle on this world does.  At one time or
another, we all makes mistakes.  I'm not asking you to forgive him totally,
because, regardless of what I says, he did commit a wrong, and many a man
would get angrier for less than what he did to ye.  But at the very least,
try to move forward from this.  People make mistakes, but they learns from
them, too.  He has to learn from this.  We all do.  He's just got a little
farther to go.  So perhaps, when you finally decide what you're going to do
about him, help him learn from his mistake, instead of shunning him.  And
then, maybe in time, the two of you will forgive each other, and be as
great friends as you were back in Newfoundland."
        Brooklyn smiled.  "You'd make a great rookery mother."
        "Great what?"
        "A rookery mother.  When a clutch of eggs hatches, usually a female
of a previous clutch is assigned to watch over the children.  When the
hatchlings get a little older, and start to squabble, then the rookery
mother would try to solve them.  My rookery mother hated me.  She kept..."
        "I get the idea."  Carbonear laughed.  "Maybe if I was your rookery
mother, it might have turned out differently."
        Brooklyn laughed.  "Anyone would have been better than ours.  If
you asked Lexington about it, he'd go on for hours about how much he hated
her."
        Carbonear chuckled.  "Anyway...does you see what I'm saying?  We
have to help Whitbourne along.  So set this aside.  Let it go."
        "I promise.  Rookery mother..."
        "Good.  That should be one pressure off your mind.  I hates to see
you all...you know, pressured like that."
        "And why's that?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "Well, I cares for ye too much to see..."
        "Care for me?  What do you mean?"
        Carbonear paled.  Oh, God, did I say that out loud? she asked
herself.
        "Uh...I mean...I hate to see anyone pressured."
        "You can't lie very well.  What are you trying to say?"
        Carbonear sighed.  "Guess it's my turn in the spotlight, eh."
        Brooklyn's brow creased.  Carbonear sighed again.  It had all come
out so easily when she was telling Ophelia.  Of course, now she was about
to tell the person she was confused about.
        "Remember when I said that I was helping you because of you?  How I
said I felt close to ye?"
        "Uh huh..."
        "And how I said I wasn't in love with ye?"
        Brooklyn frowned.  "Oh."  he whispered.  "I get it."
        "The thing is, it's not some silly little girl crush, or something
totally physical...but there's something almost...spiritual."
        "Spiritual."
        "Exactly!  A feeling that the two of us was meant to be
together...or at least to share in something special together.  That
there's a bond between us."
        Brooklyn sighed.  To think that two weeks ago he was resigned to
the fact that the only eligible female gargoyle he had a chance of getting
was out of reach, and now he found himself the focus of a love triangle. 
And he was just beginning to see what an undesirable situation that was.
        Brooklyn searched for something to say that wouldn't hurt her
feelings.  "Carbonear...it's not that I don't like you..."
        Carbonear sighed.  "Here it comes."
        "...but we're really good, close friends, and if I can call you
that after knowing you for a little less than six hours, you know I mean
it."
        "And you're in love with Hawthorne."
        Brooklyn nodded sadly.  "I'm sorry."
        Carbonear blinked back a tear.  "It's okay.  I just...when I first
saw you on the roof of that building in St. John's, I felt this...instinct,
for the lack of a better word.  I felt like something like fate meant for
us to be together, and that maybe I'd met...you know, the one you wait for
all your life.  That's what it felt like."
        Brooklyn sighed, and scratched the back of his neck.  "I'll
admit...I was starting to feel something odd, too.  But it just isn't meant
to be.  I just love Hawthorne so damn much...and I think she feels the same
way.  At least, I hope she does.  But my feelings for her won't ever
change.  I hope you can understand that."
        Carbonear nodded.  "Perfectly.  I'm not angry...you can't help the
way you feels.  And if your heart's after telling ye to choose her, then
you should go.  She loves you, too.  She might not show it, or admit it
just yet, but I can tell it's true.  In time, the two of you will be
together...and I hope you have some beautiful youngsters..."  she laughed.
        Brooklyn smiled.
        "Just...just remember me, okay?  I'll not be after telling you this
again, or going with some emotional display...but if you'll remember me,
that's all I'll ask of ye."
        She sniffed.  "And yes, I realize this sounds corny...."
        The two of them both laughed.  Brooklyn stepped forward, and hugged
her.
        "Don't worry."  he sighed.
        "Tryin' not to."  Carbonear replied, a single tear running down her
cheek.
        Brooklyn stepped back.  "Is there anything else you'd like to say
to me?"
        Carbonear shook her head.  Brooklyn smiled, and opened the door.
        The two of them walked out.  Whitbourne stood up, to the
encouragement of Hawthorne.
        "Brooklyn,"  he began, "Hawthorne and I was having words while the
two of ye was in there.  I apologized, and she's decided to accept it."
        Brooklyn looked curiously at Hawthorne, who nodded.  She frowned,
and put a hand to her head.
        Whitbourne continued.  "So, anyway, we talked, and I came to the
conclusion that if you isn't mature enough to come to terms with the fact
that I'm terribly sorry for what I did..."
        "Apology accepted."
        "...then that's your...what?"
        Brooklyn rolled his eyes.  "I'm accepting your apology, Whitbourne. 
I'm still angry, but I realize that it was a mistake.  I'm far from
perfect...I make mistakes too.  So I've decide that instead of ignoring
you, or fighting with you, I'll accept what you did as an experience in
your life, as something you did and will learn from.   Maybe...maybe, in
time, I'll get completely over it, and I'll be able to completely trust you
again, but for now, I can just accept it."
        He extended his hand.
        Whitbourne grinned, and eagerly shook it.  "Friends?"
        Brooklyn shook his head.  "Not just yet."
        Whitbourne's face fell.  "Oh."  he muttered, his voice sounding
disappointed.
        Brooklyn and Carbonear sat down.  Hawthorne groaned, and closed her
eyes.
        "Are you all right?"  Brooklyn asked.
        "I'm fine.  I've just got a headache, that's all."
        Carbonear frowned, and picked up the spoon that was in the stew. 
"Didn't you have a taste of this?"  she asked.  Hawthorne nodded.
        Frowning, Brooklyn leaned down, and carefully sniffed the stew.  "I
can't smell anything wrong with it."  he informed them.
        "I probably just have a bit of the flu from lying out in the rain." 
Hawthorne sighed. 
        The gargoyles looked at each other, concernedly.  At the slightly
ajar door to the kitchen, where they were hiding, Maria Chavez and Travis
Marshall smiled.

***************************************************************************
***************

        "They're in there."  Ophelia frowned, looking through the living
room window.
        Lexington looked in.  "They don't seem to be in any trouble."
        "Why are Whitbourne and Carbonear there?"  Broadway asked.
        Lexington looked up at him.  "I accidentally brought them along
with us.  It wasn't pleasant."
        Broadway scowled, and peered in again.  "Why would they be sitting
in someone's living room, chatting?"
        He tapped on the window.
        "Something feels wrong about this house."  Angela shivered.  "I
can't place my finger on it..."
        The four in the living room didn't seem to notice the tapping. 
Mumbling, Broadway began to tap a little louder.
        "Are they deaf?"  Lexington growled after they didn't answer.  "Try
going harder."
        Broadway clenched his fist, and gave one solid bang on the window. 
It buckled, but didn't even come close to breaking.
        "That's a strong window."  Ophelia noted.
        Brooklyn looked up.  His mouth curved into an expression of
surprise, and he got up.  The others looked to the window.
        Brooklyn walked up to the window.  "Where were you four?"  he
asked, his voice muffled through the glass.
        "Being entertained."  Lexington frowned.  "What are you doing in
there?"
        "We can't leave."  Carbonear explained.  "The owners won't let us,
and we can't get through the doors or windows."
        As a demonstration, Brooklyn punched the window as hard as he
could.  It buckled.  Nothing more.
        "Well, you have to find some way out of here.  We still have to
find the Ring, and it'll be sunrise in a couple of hours."  Ophelia pointed
out.
        At that moment, the Cromwells stepped back into the living room. 
They took one look at the window, with the four gargoyles on the other
side, and blanched.
        Angela frowned.  Something really didn't feel right about this.
        She closed her eyes, and it came to her.  Illusion.
        "Those two aren't real."  she stated.
        Ophelia spun around.  "What?"
        "The humans.  They're not who they seem to be."
        Brooklyn, still at the window, scowled.  Angela's brow furrowed,
and Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell gasped.  Their images faded away, to be replaced
by that of Maria Chavez, and Travis Marshall.
       
***************************************************************************
***************

        Travis and Maria cried out in anguish as the illusion melted away. 
In their minds, they could hear the screams of Silhouette and the others on
Avalon, as the power of the illusion they had created seemed to backlash,
then cut out.  With a groan, they collapsed to the floor.
        Brooklyn, Whitbourne, Carbonear and Hawthorne gasped as they saw
the Servants of Twilight for the first time.  Lexington, Broadway, and
Ophelia gaped in shock, and turned to Angela.  A frown was on her face, but
she seemed somehow satisfied.
        Travis stood up, his eyes now clearly black.  "Clever, gargoyles." 
he smiled.  "But not nearly clever enough."
        He blasted Whitbourne with a shadow blast.  The blue gargoyle flew
backwards, crashing into the wall.  A picture of a family shattered,
falling to the floor.
        Snarling, Brooklyn leapt at Maria.  She dodged his attack, and
blasted.  The bolt missed, striking the door.  It exploded in a burst of
wooden splinters.  Lexington, Ophelia, Broadway and Angela, seeing the
oppurtunity, rushed in.
        At that same moment, Tybalt and Augustine appeared. 
        "You called?"  Tybalt asked Travis.
        Travis simply pointed at the newcomers.  With a smile, Tybalt began
advancing towards Broadway.  The larger gargoyle's eyes flared, causing
Tybalt to flinch in fear.  But it wasn't the power, Tybalt realized...so he
jumped Broadway.  The two went tumbling into the wall, sliding into the
couch.  Instantly, they began to strike wildly at each other.
        Angela rushed over to Brooklyn, who was in a tense standoff with
Travis Marshall.  The subverted kept raising his hand, feigning a strike,
but never actually firing a blast.  Brooklyn looked at Angela.  Wordlessly,
she nodded, creeping behind Travis.  Before the Servant of Twilight could
do anything, Angela tackled him, pinning him to the ground.  Brooklyn,
smiling grimly, stepped forward.  With one punch, Travis was knocked out.
        "That's for the hospitality."  he frowned.  "Thanks for the help,
Angela."
        "No problem."  the female smiled.
        Things were faring worse in the battle with Maria Chavez. 
Lexington and Carbonear had her cornered, and were about to finish her off. 
Suddenly, Maria smiled, and became a shadow.  Lexington gasped.
        "Look out!"  he cried.
        It was too late.  Maria solidified, and grabbed Carbonear's chin. 
With a smirk, she spread the cancerous darkness.
        Carbonear's eyes darkened...but then flared to white.       
        "WHAT?"  Lexington and Maria cried simultaneously.
        Carbonear growled, and punched Maria in the stomach.  She doubled
over, and the Newfoundlander kicked her.  Maria went flying into the
kitchen double door.
        "My Jesus..." Carbonear gasped.  "I actually fought her!"
        "How did you do that?"  Lexington demanded, confused.  "You aren't
immune!"
        Carbonear frowned.  "I don't know.  It just felt...easy to resist."
        Whitbourne groaned, meanwhile, but felt four hands grab him.  He
looked up, and saw Hawthorne and Ophelia.  Hawthorne really doesn't look
well, he thought.
        Then, he saw Augustine, and realized they had bigger problems.
        Augustine was frowning.  "I've got to hand it to you eight, you're
resourceful."  h admitted.  Then, he fired a blast of shadow.  Whitbourne,
Hawthorne and Ophelia were all driven backwards, crashing into the coffee
table.  It splintered.  Laughing softly, Augustine picked up a jagged
fragment of wood, and brandished it like a weapon.  He chuckled, and turned
around.  Brooklyn's back was to him, completely defenseless.
        Whitbourne gasped.  He bolted up, and jumped onto Augustine's back. 
Augustine roared, and drove the piece of wood right through Whitbourne's
calf muscle.  Whitbourne screamed in pain, and lashed out.  He scratched
Augustine's face.  Brooklyn gave Augustine a savage kick to the stomach,
and he faded away.  Whitbourne sank to the ground, and began to inspect the
wound.  Drops of blood stained the carpet around him.
        "You saved my life."  Brooklyn gasped.  He looked down at the
wound, and his eyes widened.  "Oh my." 
        "Don't mention it."  Whitbourne frowned painfully.  He whimpered,
and gingerly touched the skin around the wound.
        Brooklyn knelt down, and inspected the leg.  "That'll heal at
sunrise.   It's not too serious.  But are you going to be all right?"
        Whitbourne groaned, and moved to remove the piece of wood.
        "Don't do that."  Hawthorne told him, walking over.  "That'll start
the bleeding again."
        "What do I do?  Leave it here?"
        'It'll be sunrise in a couple of hours.  Wait till just before,
then take it out.  You'll turn to stone, and it'll heal.  The less time
that wound's open, the better." 
        Brooklyn took his hand.  The anger that he had been feeling was
still there, but it was suddenly eclipsed by gratitude, and the realization
that Whitbourne had done this to make up for his past mistakes.
        "Thanks again for saving my life."  he said again. 
        He knelt down.  "I think you're learning."
        "How to be useful to ye when ye fights?"
        "No, no, no.  You're learning a lesson from Newfoundland.  That you
help people out.  To top it all off, you saved my life."
        He smiled.  "I think I can count you in my list of friends again."
        Whitbourne's eyes widened in surprise...and understanding.  "You
mean..."
        Brooklyn nodded.  Whitbourne smiled, and hooted with glee.
        "I knew it!"  he crowed. 
        Broadway, meanwhile, struggled with the effort of fighting off
Tybalt.  But the red gargoyle's hatred kept him going, so Broadway had to
increasingly exert himself.
        "Give up, Protector."  Tybalt sneered.  "Even your out of control
power can't save you now."
        Broadway snarled.  "Get off me!"  he yelled.  With a roar, he threw
Tybalt aside, knocking him into the wall.  Tybalt yelled, and vanished. 
        Broadway stood up.
        "Is everyone all right?"  he asked.
        Everyone nodded.
        "Except for the obvious."  Whitbourne frowned.
        Hawthorne stumbled.  Brooklyn gasped, and stepped to catch her.
        "Whoa...you're a bit unsteady."  he frowned.
        Hawthorne groaned.  "I feel all weak now."
        Maria, from where she lay in the kitchen, began to laugh.  "There's
a reason for that."  she chuckled.
        Hawthorne growled.  "And what's that?"
        Maria stood up, and tossed her the bottle of poison that was on the
table.  Hawthorne caught it, and looked at the label.  An expression of
fear crossed her face, and she numbly set the bottle down.
        "The stew."  she stated dully.
        Maria nodded.  "In about forty-five minutes, you'll be dead.  And
you'll die very painfully.  There's an antidote, however...in this bottle. 
I hope you'll be able to find it in time..."
        She held up another bottle...a small, green one.  Before anyone
could make a grab for it, it vanished.
        "It's somewhere in this house."  Maria laughed.  "Have a merry
hunt."
        With that, she vanished, taking Travis with her.  Brooklyn roared,
and kicked a table across the room.
        "That...that..." he began. 
        "Brooklyn..." Hawthorne frowned, and she collapsed. 
        Brooklyn gasped.  "No...oh no..."  he muttered.  He and Ophelia
grabbed her, and laid her on the couch.
        "Hawthorne..."  he frowned, worridly, holding her hand.
        She opened her eyes.  "I'm not feeling too well."
        What an understatement, he thought.  He began to brush back her
hair.  "It'll be all right.  We'll find that antidote."
        Angela stood up.  "We should split up to try to find it.  Ophelia,
Lex, you come with me and look around upstairs.  Broadway and Carbonear
will look downstairs.  Brooklyn, do you want to stay here?"
        Brooklyn nodded.  "Yeah.  Just to look out for her."
        Whitbourne looked up.  "I can probably help.  I just has to stay
off of my foot."
        Broadway nodded.  "You come with us and look around downstairs.  We
should be back soon, Hawth.  It's not a big house."
        Whitbourne grimaced with each step as he, Broadway and Carbonear
walked over to the kitchen.  Angela, Ophelia and Lexington went upstairs.
        Brooklyn watched them go, and sighed bitterly.  Frowning, he turned
to Hawthorne.  She lay on the couch, her normally teal cheeks paling .  A
single tear rolled down his cheek.
        "I love you."  he muttered.  He leaned over, and kissed her. 
"Whatever happens, remember that I love you."
        Hawthorne smiled.  "I love you, too."  she stated weakly.  She
closed her eyes, slipping off into a fitful sleep.

***************************************************************************
***************

Ten Minutes Later

        Broadway frowned, and emptied the silverware tray.  The clang of
falling spoons echoed throughout the dining room.
        "It's hopeless!"  Whitbourne cried, tossing the knick-knack shelf
away.  "Whoever owned this house before those two came weren't after
cleaning the place regularly."
        "This entire trap they set was a mindgame."  Broadway scowled. 
"They were probably planning on something like this all along."
        Carbonear sighed, and began rummaging through the china cabinet.  A
porcelain sugar bowl toppled, fell to the floor, and shattered.
        Carbonear winced.  She bent down, and started to pick the fragments
up.  Suddenly, a glint of green caught her eye.
        "I found it!"  she cried, picking the bottle out of the wreckage. 
"I..."
        She frowned, and inspected the bottle closely.
        "What's wrong?"  Broadway asked.
        Carbonear showed him the bottle.  Broadway glanced, and closed his
eyes.
        His voice sounded bitter, full of defeat.  "We'd better tell
Brooklyn and Hawthorne."

***************************************************************************
***************

        Lexington, Angela and Ophelia came down the stairs sadly.
        "Did you find it?"  Brooklyn asked, hopefully.  Angela shook her
head.
        "We looked everywhere.  It just wasn't there."  Lexington sighed.
        At that moment, the door to the dining room opened.  Whitbourne
hobbled out, Broadway and Carbonear following.  Broadway was holding the
green bottle.
        "The antidote!"  Ophelia cried.  Brooklyn jumped up, and ran to
Broadway.  He took the bottle.
        Frowning, he shook it.  "Broadway...this thing's empty."
        Broadway nodded.  "There never was an antidote, Brooklyn.  The
Servants fooled us. It was all another game.  We've lost."

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*********************************************

Chapter Four

                Wonderful Tonight

        Brooklyn felt a numb sensation come over him.  "Never was an
antidote..."
        Carbonear nodded.  "I'm sorry."
        "But if there's no antidote, then she'll die.  The prophecy will be
lost...and Silhouette wins by default."  Ophelia replied, stunned.  "We
can't do anything to save her?"
        Angela felt a tear roll down.  "I think...I think we've done all we
could."
        Brooklyn closed his eyes, and an expression of pain crossed his
face.  He slowly crushed the bottle in his fist.
        "I'm not going to just let her die."  he stated.  "I'm not."
        "What more can we do for her?"  Lexington asked sadly.  "If there
isn't an antidote..."
        "...then we'll have to improvise."  Brooklyn growled, his eyes
flaring.  The face of pain was replaced with one of resolve.  "Lex, look
around.  Try to find a basin or something."
        "A basin?  What for?"
        "Just do it."  Brooklyn snapped.  He got up, and ran for the
kitchen.
        Angela and Carbonear followed.  "What are ye after?"  Carbonear
asked.
        Brooklyn began opening cupboards.  "Find me some dish soap."  he
ordered.
        "Dish soap..."  Angela began.  "What are you doing?"
        "If we can't cure the poison, we have to eliminate it.  It's the
only chance she's got."  Brooklyn replied.
        Carbonear found a bottle of dish soap, and handed it to Brooklyn. 
"How this'll help, I don't know."  she stated.
        "Watch."  Brooklyn shot back.  He found a drinking glass, and
filled it with water.  Then, he dumped in a sizable amount of the dish
soap.  He stuck in one finger, and began to swirl it around.  The mixture
became an off green liquid.
        Brooklyn rushed out, back into the living room.  Lexington had
found a trash bucket, and had emptied it out on the floor.
        "It's the best I could do."  he informed Brooklyn.
        "Good enough.  Put it next to her head."
        Lexington did so, to the curious stares of the others.  Brooklyn
sat down next to Hawthorne.
        "Hawthorne,"  Brooklyn called.  "Hawth...you have to wake up."
        Hawthorne's eyes weakly fluttered open.  "Antidote?"  she asked.
        Brooklyn smiled.  "I hope.  Drink this."
        "What is that?"  Whitbourne asked.
        "Dish soap."  Angela replied.  "Brooklyn..."
        Hawthorne took the mixture, and drank it.  She sat back.
        Suddenly, she bolted forward, making funny noises, holding her
mouth shut.
        "She's going to throw up!"  Carbonear yelled, understanding.
        Brooklyn took the makeshift basin, and held it out.  Hawthorne
retched into it, made sick by the soap.
        Hopefully, she would eliminate most of the poison as well.
        She heaved again, noisily.  The gargoyles turned away, disgusted by
the sight.  Hawthorne retched one final time, and collapsed back on the
couch.
        Brooklyn disdainfully set the basin aside.  "Hawthorne, how do you
feel?"
        Hawthorne frowned.  "A little better, actually.  I don't feel like
I'm getting any worse."
        She smiled.  "I think it worked."
        Brooklyn laughed.  He reached down, and hugged her.
        "It worked!  It worked!"  Lexington yelled, happily.  The others
looked on in amazement, and sheer joy.
        "How did you think of that?"  Ophelia asked. 
        Brooklyn sniffed, tears of happiness rolling down unchecked.  "I,
uh, saw it on a TV show.  It was the best thing I could think of."
        "I still feel sick, but not as much as before."  Hawthorne noted.
        "Most of the poison's probably out of her system.  It'll all be
gone come sunrise."  Angela beamed. 
        Everyone was in the best spirits they'd been in since arriving in
Atlanta. They laughed, relieved that Hawthorne had pulled through, and that
the prophecy could proceed.
        The focus of the excitement watched with benign interest.  She knew
that the poison was mostly gone, and she knew that she would live. 
Hawthorne realized this the second she looked up and saw the wild
expression of hope in Brooklyn's eyes.  She then realized that Brooklyn
wasn't going to allow her to die...that he would have given up his own life
in order to save her.
        "Thank you, Brooklyn."  she whispered.
        Brooklyn looked surprised.  "You don't have to thank me."  he
sighed. 
        Lexington stood up.  "I hate to put a damper on this, but we should
probably get out of the house.  I don't like the idea of turning to stone
and then being smashed by a vindictive Servant of Twilight."
        Brooklyn sighed.  "You're right.  Can you glide?" he asked
Whitbourne.
        "It's my leg what's hurt, not my wing.  I should be all right."
        Brooklyn looked to Hawthorne.  "You probably aren't in any
condition to fly on your own.  I'll carry you."
        Hawthorne nodded.  "Where are we going?"
        The gargoyles looked at each other.  "The park where the Ring is. 
I think it's big enough that the Servants won't find us."  Angela pointed
out.
        "Is it that far off?"  Broadway asked, picking up a scrap of cloth
and looking at Whitbourne's leg.
        "No.  It's a few minutes away."  hawthorne replied.
        "It's probably the same as the one where Tybalt was keeping us." 
Broadway frowned.  "Is it really safe to go back there?"
        Lexington rolled his eyes.  "We aren't going to where Tybalt held
you.  It's a fairly big park."
        "Okay, I was just asking!"
        "Let's go, then.  The sun will be up soon."  Brooklyn decided.  He
gently picked up Hawthorne, and walked to the gaping hole where the door
once stood.  The others followed, climbing to the top of the house. 
Carbonear helped Whitbourne make the ascent.  Once they had all reached the
top, they soared off in the direction of the park.
        They choose a small stand of trees to shelter in once they landed. 
There they waited for the dawn, hoping that the trees would be enough
shelter during the day.
        At a quarter to seven, the sky began to lighten.  Angela noticed
it, and smiled grimly.
        "The sun's about to rise."  she stated.
        Whitbourne grimaced, and pulled the shaft of wood from his leg. 
Instantly, it began to bleed again.  Broadway knelt down, taking the piece
of cloth, and pressed it on his leg.  The pressure began to slow the
bleeding.
        And then, the sun rose, and the gargoyles gratefully turned to
stone.


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***************

Avalon

        Silhouette frowned, and looked through the mirror as the gargoyles
turned to stone.
        "We could just travel back and smash them."  Fox noted, as the
eight gargoyles petrified.
        "That's true."  Silhouette frowned, getting up.  "But...I have
another little surprise planned.
        The mirror changed, showing an image of a large tower.
        "The Space Needle?"  Fox frowned. 
        "That's where the fifth piece of the Ring is."  Silhouette
clarified.  "But I have a new plan.  One that involves no violence
whatsoever."
        "How do you plan on killing them this time?"  Brendan asked.
        "I don't."  Silhouette smiled.
        The Servants looked on in shock.
        Three shadowy columns billowed up from the floor, turning into the
images of Brooklyn, Broadway and Hawthorne.
        "When Ariel showed me the prophecy in New York City, I began to see
that some of the chosen ones would have some problems along the way.  The
Protector would frequently lose control of his power, the Leader would have
to go through an...identity crisis of sorts, and the Ringbearer would have
to make an ultimate sacrifice at the end.  But, from what I see, the Leader
and the Ringbearer know nothing of their...little problems."
        The images shifted a bit, to show Broadway's eyes flaring bright
white, Hawthorne turned to stone, and Brooklyn's eyes glowing black. 
Subverted.
        "Also, the Protector is painfully aware of his shortcoming, but
doesn't yet realize the extent to which it will take him."
        "How do you know all this?"  Maria frowned. 
        Silhouette raised a page of parchment.   "Several hours ago, a
Servant of Twilight in England brought me this...oh, what was his
name...Arthur Pendragon, I think...but this is the missing piece of the
prophecy.  It tells me all of this, along with an interesting tidbit about
the seventh."
        "The what?"
        "Did you know, that there were supposed to be seven members of the
company?"  Silhouette grinned.  "Ariel and the Six don't.  So, before this
one plays her part, I want one of you to go and eliminate her."
        "I'll do it." came a voice from the shadows.
        The Servants turned around.  Elisa Maza stepped out from the
shadows, and stood before Silhouette.
        "Since you refuse on telling Hudson and I why we were called here,
I want to take part in this."  Elisa frowned.  "Why you said it was so
urgent, and kept us waiting for a couple of hours, I'll never know.
        "I had another purpose in mind for you, child."  Silhouette
frowned.  "But..."
        She turned.  "Fox, I want you to take care of the seventh.  Ms.
Maza and I have some arrangements to plan.  Is the gargoyle still with
you?"
        Elisa nodded.  "Hudson's here, confused as I am."
        "Excellent.  The two of you will help me along in this plan.  I
have a feeling that they'd more readily trust you than Mrs. Xanatos.  No
offense, Fox."
        "None taken."  Fox replied.
        Silhouette smiled.  "Before the night is over, those three will
have been made painfully aware of the price they must pay for facing me."

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***************

Piedmont Park, Atlanta, Georgia.
November 4, 1996

        When the sun set, twelve hours later, the gargoyles awoke, roaring
into the night.  No Servants had attacked while they had slept.
        Whitbourne touched his leg, which was totally healed.  He stood up,
shifting his weight onto it, and smiled.
        "Good as new."  he stated.
        Hawthorne stood up, all effects of the poison worn off.  She
streched, and smiled as Brooklyn took her hand.
        "Feeling any better?"  he asked innocently.
        "Much better, thank you."  Hawthorne grinned.  "Thanks TO you."
        Brooklyn blushed.
        Lexington yawned, and smiled.  "So, now that everyone's all right
again, what do we do?"
        "We find the ring, and get out of here."  Angela exclaimed.
        "What about those two?"  Ophelia asked, pointing to Whitbourne and
Carbonear.
        Brooklyn frowned.  "It might not be safe to go back to
Newfoundland.  If Bonavista and Woodstock were subverted, then most of your
human friends probably were, too."
        "And we can't take you with us."  Lexington reiterated.  "Much as
we'd like to, the spell must be designed for six people.  If I take you
again, I might kill myself."
        Carbonear frowned.  "So...you're suggesting we stay here."
        "It would only be for a day or so.  By then, we'll have battled
Silhouette.  If we win, it'll be safe for you at home.  We can get Xanatos
to send you back to Newfoundland.  If we lose..."
        "Then it won't matter much, will it."  Whitbourne added glumly.
        "Not for you.  But Carbonear...she might be the same as us." 
Lexington pointed out.  "She can't be subverted, either."
        "What?"  Brooklyn exhaled.  "You can't?"
        Carbonear shook her head.  "I don't know why."
        Broadway frowned.  "That could mean that some people are naturally
immune." 
        Ophelia shook her head.  "I knew she couldn't be subverted either. 
Maybe..."
        "Maybe what?"  Angela asked.
        "Nothing."  Ophelia frowned.
        Brooklyn sighed.  "Regardless, it sounds like the best plan."
        Carbonear sighed.  "I know, but...still..."
        She leaned forward.  "You be careful."  she told Brooklyn. 
        "I will."  Brooklyn promised.  He took her hand, and looked deep
into her eyes.
        For one, brief moment, he began to understand what she was talking
about.  It was there...an almost tangible feeling of togetherness, of
belonging.  Something in his mind told him that he and Carbonear
were...cosmically connected somehow.  That some greater force meant for
them to be together.  It wasn't anything his mind could comprehend...but
Brooklyn found himself wondering that, had it been different circumstances,
if he had never known Hawthorne, would he have fallen desparately in love
with Carbonear?  Something told him yes, something urged him on...
        Blinking, he tore himself away.  "I promise."  he repeated.
        The couple hugged, and looked away.  Carbonear and Whitbourne began
circulating, making their goodbyes.  Ophelia and Carbonear gave each other
a warm embrace.  Lexington and Broadway eagerly gave Whitbourne their
goodbyes.  Soon, everyone had given their adieus.
        Whitbourne looked to Brooklyn.  "They don't know, do they."  he
whispered.
        Brooklyn shook his head.  "I don't have to tell them..."
        "Yes, ye does.  If they don't find out about my part in
Newfoundland, then they'll go on blaming Woodstock for something he wasn't
alone in doing.  This way, they'll be able to forgive us both together. 
Still, it's probably best that ye tells them after ye finishes with
Silhouette."
        Broo