"Gargoyles" Fan Fiction
Story
by
Dylan P. Blacquiere
E-mail:
pblacqui@cycor.ca
Story #6
Description: Demona's latest attempt to destroy
humanity links Lexington's mind to that of
an autistic savant. The clan must search for
a cure, and Lexington must search for himself.
Part I
Convergence
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, I have decided that in this, and
in every future story, I am ignoring the existance
of any episodes after "Hunter's Moon, Part
Three", for the most part. Not because I don't
like them, because I LOVE them, but
because they and my universe conflict so badly that
letting anything besides the first two
seasons exist would make my stories unintelligible
in terms of my plotline. Finally, this
story contains mature subject matter (language),
so read at your own volition. However,
reader discretion is advised.
The Rockaway is the property of the rockin' Christi
Smith Hayden, and is mentioned with
her permission, though not actually seen in this
story.
Autism is a disorder that medical science does not
entirely understand. My use of it in this
story may not be entirely accurate, but every attempt
has been made to make this story as
factual as possible.
HISTORIAN'S NOTE: This story begins one week
after "Take These Broken Wings"
You should read "Take These Broken Wings", and Chapter
Three of "Heart of a Saturday
Night" ("Night Life") before reading this story.
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For Kellie, who's one of my best friends and biggest
fans (and vice versa) and who's the
only one so far who's risked comin' up to the Island.
And no matter how much she might
tell you otherwise, she was born to fish.
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In a room without windows, in the company of shadows,
You know THEY won't forget you, they'll take you
in.
Emotionally shattered, don't ask if it mattered,
Don't let it upset you, just start again.
In a world under glass, you can watch the world
pass
And nobody can touch you, you think you are safe.
But the wind can blow cold in the depths of your
soul
Where you think nothing can hurt you till it is
too late.
Run till you drop; do you know how to stop?
All the people walk right past you, you waved good-bye.
They all merely smiled, for you looked like a child
Never thought that they'd upset you, they saw you
cry.
So take advice; don't question the experts.
Don't think twice, you just might listen.
Run and hide, to the corners of your mind, alone,
Like a nobody nowhere.
Reprinted from "Nobody Nowhere - The Extraordinary
Autobiography of an Autistic"
Written by Donna Williams.
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LEXINGTON: "I'm never trusting anybody again!"
"The Thrill of the Hunt"
LEXINGTON: (voice over) "Previously, on 'Gargoyles'..."
DEMONA: "Humanity is our enemy, Goliath."
(Show Demona planning to steal the Grimoire of Gaulois,
"Take These Broken Wings")
"Awakening, Part Five"
DEMONA: "I don't believe it. It's an
exact copy..."
(Show the Grimorum Arcanorum, "Temptation")
"Take These Broken Wings"
OPHELIA: "I can tell you're smart, funny,
sensitive..."
(Show Lexington and Ophelia dancing, "One Ring To
Rule Them All")
"One Ring To Rule Them All"
LEXINGTON: "Because I love her. She
has to, because I love her."
"Shadowlands."
OPHELIA: "You're still hoping against hope."
LEXINGTON: "I guess after all we've been through,
I shouldn't have to ask. You've kept
telling me if it'll happen, it'll happen."
"Heart of a Saturday Night"
OPHELIA: "Show me how much of a man you can
be, Lex."
(Show Ophelia seducing Lexington, "Take These Broken
Wings")
"Heart of a Saturday Night"
OPHELIA: "Lately I've been finding I'm feeling
weird around him. Lex is a really nice guy,
and I love being around him...but what do I do if
I fall in love with him?"
"Heart of a Saturday Night"
CORNELIA: "Yes, Matt. Yes, I'll marry
you."
"Take These Broken Wings"
LEXINGTON: "Found a woman, Bonnie?"
BONAVISTA: "Maybe."
(Show Kennedy Woodworth kissing Bonavista, "Take
These Broken Wings")
"Take These Broken Wings"
KENNEDY: "That green one's kind of cute."
"Take These Broken Wings"
CARBONEAR: "Look, ye doesn't know him like
I do. He won't even go outside if it's too
cold, and he's after running away if someone chases
him with a butter knife."
(Show Whitbourne fainting, "Take These Broken Wings")
"Lady Delilah's Lover"
GOLIATH: "We need a sorceress. We need
Demona."
(Hear Demona's laughing, "Take These Broken Wings")
"The Price"
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Prologue
Of Somedays And Tonights
Columbia University
November 13, 1997
11:03 a.m, EST
"Mrs. LeJeune, Dr. Langille's ready to see J.D. now." the receptionist
called.
Christine LeJeune stood up, and looked at her son,
who was busy drawing on one of the
covers of the magazines.
"Come on, J.D. The doctor's ready." Christine prompted.
J.D. didn't look up. Dr.
Langille walked out of his office, and crossed his
arms, studying the scene intently.
"J.D." Christine knelt down next to him. "We have to go see
the doctor, OK?"
The receptionist dropped a metal clipboard onto the floor, and it made
a hollow
ringing sound around the room. "C sharp."
J.D. stated absently. Christine sighed, lifted
him to his feet and gently guided her son towards
the office. J.D. didn't so much as blink,
and made no indication that he felt any social attachment
with his mother. He shifted
uncomfortably, as if being touched pained him.
It was plain to see that had it been anybody
else but his mother, he would have screamed.
Dr. Langille ahemmed, and adjusted his glasses. "You can come on
in, Mrs. LeJeune."
he stated, and he turned and walked back into his
office. Christine quietly followed. She let
go of J.D. inside the room, and shut the door.
J.D., who was by now used to the drill, sat
quietly in a chair, although it was apparent his
mind was far away. Christine noted with
some dismay that he had retreated into 'his world',
a world where there was no such thing as
doctors, waiting rooms...or mothers.
J.D. was autistic. He had developed odd symptoms when he was one,
thirteen years
ago. It had begun when he would cry whenever
someone touched him. Then, he began
ignoring people, showing no signs of affection towards
his parents, his friends...the only
objects he would even associate with were his toys.
He began having fits when his toys
were moved around without his noticing, and he more
often than not didn't acknowledge
people who spoke to him. His behavior grew
increasingly odd, and he began developing
strange habits. He had a fascination for throwing
eggs around, and was absolutely terrified
of people with black hair. At first, Christine
had believed that J.D. was deaf, or perhaps
even retarded. But her adoptive sister, Cornelia
Stallman, had recommended that she take
J.D. to a psychologist who worked at Columbia University,
and who had done an extensive
study of autism. Dr. Kurt Langille, after
a long time of studying test results and having
interviews with J.D. and Christine, had diagnosed
J.D. LeJeune as having a classic case of
autism.
J.D., now fourteen years old, was still just as autistic as ever.
He displayed bizzare
mannerisms, and he had insurmountable difficulty
with any social contact. He could barely
be touched, and he was always in motion. He
would sometimes simply rock back and forth,
he would sometimes jump up and down, he would sometimes
spin around in circles for no
reason at all. Basically put, J.D. was struggling
to exist in a world his mind would not allow
him to understand, and he was forced to deal with
it on a level nobody else could
comprehend.
J.D., however, had one emotional outlet. Music.
J.D. was autistic, but Dr. Langille had also termed him a savant.
After hearing a song
once, he could play it, down to the last accidental,
on the piano. His repetoire ranged from
Ludwig von Beethoven to Oscar Peterson, and he could
play on a level equal to piano
students who had been studying for ten years.
Dr. Langille had explained that some autistic
people had amazing talents such as that. The
autistic person's mind, tragically confining as
it was, would focus on one facet, and the autistic
person would have an amazing gift for
such things. He had pointed out the case of
an autistic person in Calcutta who could
multiply two twenty-digit numbers together in his
head in under three seconds. And he
illustrated the woman in Canmore, Alberta, who could
paint exact replicas of almost any
painting in the world, ranging from Da Vinci to
Picasso, all without taking an art lesson in
her life. J.D. had never taken music lessons;
he couldn't handle the barrage of people and
social contact that the instruction would entail.
All the same, the kid was a prodigy,
accordng to Langille.
Dr. Langille folded his arms on his desk, and looked, with a warm smile,
at J.D.
"Hello, J.D." he stated pleasantly.
J.D. picked up a model of the human brain sitting on the
desk, and began to run his fingers along the parietal
lobe.
"Say hello, J.D." Christine prompted.
"Hello, J.D." J.D. replied, not looking up. He wasn't trying
to be cheeky; he had no
understanding of who J.D. LeJeune really was, and
as far as he was concerned, J.D. was
just another word.
Langille sighed, and looked at Christine. "How is he?"
"Much better, thanks." Christine grinned. "In fact, my sister
and her fiance are taking
him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art this week.
After hours. Her fiance's a detective,
and he managed to pull a few strings with the curator
to let them in after the museum
closed, so J.D. wouldn't have to deal with the people."
Langille smiled, and walked over to J.D. "Going to the museum?"
J.D. looked up, but deliberately stared past Langille's shoulders.
"Yes." he stated. He
reached out, and touched Langille's thinning gray
hair. Langille allowed him to touch his
hair, and stepped back. J.D. had a fascination
for hair, as long as it wasn't black.
"That's wonderful, Christine." Langille stated. "Like I told
you, the key to allowing
J.D.'s personality to shine through is to treat
him as if he's normal. Normal as in like us, I
mean."
"Yeah." Christine stated. "In fact, the times where he behaves
regularly are getting
more frequent."
"He's very high-developed at times." Langille agreed. "I think
that perhaps after a
while more of our sessions like this, he'll be able
to hold a more conventional place in
society, that is suited for him. Autistic
people are first and foremost people, Christine, and
it's nice to see parents who understand that."
"Yes." Christine agreed. "J.D. is my son, and I'd love him
even if he was
cataclysmically retarded. He's not, but I
would anyway."
Langille agreed. "Well, let's not waste any more of your money, Mrs.
LeJeune.
Today, we're going to work on improving his aversion
to touch..."
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Metropolitan Museum of Art
11:46 a.m, EST
"Careful!" Matthias Vanderaa hissed as the workmen brought the box
into his office.
The workmen grumbled, and set the box on his desk.
He took a letter opener and carefully
sliced away the tape which held it in place, and
then began digging through the styrofoam
chips. The book was there, with the runic
symbols engraved on the front. The Grimoire of
Gaulois.
He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and picked up the book. He allowed
himself to
carefully leaf through the remarkably well preserved
tome, and found his caution was
needless. The pages were in no danger of crumbling
to dust; in fact, the pages were as
strong as the day it had been bound. Matthias
wondered if the legends were true; that the
book was, in fact, a tome of magic spells, and that
someone had cast an enchantment to
keep the book protected from the ravages of time.
He chuckled. The way Ms. Destine from Nightstone acted, they might
as well be. She
called at least once a day now, to see if it had
arrived. She behaved as if she truly believed
the legends, and might spend an evening leafing
through the book looking for a spell to
grant her immortality, or something.
The pages were all carefully inscribed in Latin, which made sense.
The book had been
written in Rome, and brought to modern-day France.
It would make a very good addition
to the museum's exhibits.
He nodded his assent to the workmen, who left. With a sigh, he set
the Grimoire on
his desk, and began to sip his tea.
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Castle Wyvern
7:16 p.m., EST
Winter had come early this year.
A couple of days after the party on Bonfire Night, the snow had begun to
come down.
There was now a good ten centimeters on the ground.
It wasn't enough to make life
uncomfortable, but the little bit of snow did signal
that it wouldn't be far off until winter
began.
And that spelled dire things for the gargoyles. Or, at least, for
Carbonear.
This evening, for instance, about twenty minutes after awakening and going
in for
breakfast, she found herself being carried roughly
outside. Her hands were in Brooklyn's,
her feet were being held by Broadway. She
was twisting and kicking and screaming, and
the two males were laughing.
They came outside, and Carbonear's eyes widened at the sight of a small
snowbank.
"No, byes, don't!" she pleaded, half laughing. Her cries went
unanswered.
"In you go!" Brooklyn cried, and he threw her in the snowbank.
She screamed, and
lashed her tail around his leg. She jerked
it, and pulled him down with her. He fell on top
of her, and the two began kissing. Broadway
grinned, made a snowball, and pelted
Brooklyn in the head.
Soon, all of the castle's gargoyle residents were outside, playing and
laughing in the
snow. Lexington and Bonavista began running
around, throwing snowballs at everybody.
Bronx was running around, barking happily, chasing
the snowballs, and earnestly trying to
chew on Hudson's ankle. Whitbourne dumped
a huge armful of snow down Ophelia's back.
"Cool off, me girl!" he laughed. Ophelia's eyes flared, and
she picked up a huge
armful of snow.
"How do you like it?" she screamed, pelting him with snowball after
snowball. He
tried to flee, but tripped over his own two feet,
and landed in the snow. Ophelia stuffed a
generous amount of snow down his back, and then
buried his face in it. He sputtered, and
sat up.
Broadway and Brooklyn were in a snowball war, laughing in delight as their
projectiles
struck each other in the face. Suddenly, Brooklyn
held his hands up, and pointed discreetly
at Goliath, who was standing by the parapets.
Broadway grinned, and he and Brooklyn
began making huge snowballs. They walked over
to the clan's leader, whistling innocently.
"Yes?" Goliath asked, utterly clueless as to what was about to happen.
The younger
gargoyles grinned, and let him have it. Broadway's
snowball struck Goliath harmlessly in
the shoulder, but Brooklyn's hit his face with a
satisfying thud.
"Yes!" Brooklyn cheered, giving Broadway a high-five. Goliath
wiped the snow off
of his face, and began grinning nastily.
"Oh, oh. You're in trouble now, Brook." Broadway grinned.
Goliath knelt, and made
a huge snowball. He wound up, and threw it
at Brooklyn as hard as he could. It hit the
beaked gargoyle in the face, and sent him flying
backwards into the snow. Angela walked
over, and offered a hand to help him up, but then
she and Carbonear began rubbing his face
with the snow.
Lexington, laughing, walked over to Ophelia. "I love winter!"
he cried, brushing a bit
of snow off of his shoulder. His loincloth
was soaked from when Hudson had dumped him
in a snowbank. Ophelia grinned, and made a
snowball. She threw it at Angela.
"Well, winter doesn't really start for another month and a half, yet."
she muttered.
"But yeah; I love it too. We never had any
snow on Avalon."
Lexington nodded; last winter, Ophelia had nearly had a fit at the sight
of snow; not
understanding what it was. She had been the
butt of endless jokes on the part of
Whitbourne and Bonavista, who convinced her it was
poisonous by pretending to get sick
every time they touched the snow.
He grinned, and stared out at the city. It was snowing a little bit
now, as a matter of
fact. The signs of winter were in the air.
And last night, when patrolling had brought him
near Macy's department store, he saw a flyer advertising
a Christmas sale. Lexington didn't
see the point, since it was only the middle of November,
but he had noticed that humans
were funny like that.
On the other side of the courtyard, the gargoyles had divided into teams,
and were
having another snowball fight before patrol.
Whitbourne had just gotten socked in the jaw
by Goliath, and was complaining. "He's throwin'
too hard!" he protested. "And he's puttin'
ice in them..."
Everybody biffed him with a snowball, and he stomped away angrily.
Lexington and
Ophelia laughed, and looked at each other.
"I've got a night off patrol tonight." Lexington grinned.
"So do I. Do you want to do something?"
"Sure!" Lexington replied, a little too enthusiastically. He
frowned. Ophelia was
giving him a bit of a quizzical look, and he groaned.
The two of them were the only two members of the clan who were still in
the dark as
to where their relationship was. Broadway
and Angela had been mates for a little over a
year, now, despite Broadway's insecurity when it
came to sexual matters. Goliath and Elisa
were mates for all intents and purposes. Hudson
was quite happy in his purely platonic
relationship with Maria Chavez. Bonavista
was hitting it off with his new human friend,
Kennedy Woodworth. Whitbourne and Delilah
were together, and they would probably
take the plunge and become totally committed very
soon. And Brooklyn and Carbonear
had finally found each other, after a year in which
Carbonear had patiently waited and
Brooklyn had recovered from the loss of his first
real love.
Lexington and Ophelia were still the wild cards.
It had been a year since the quest for the Ring. Lexington had known
ever since
Ophelia had been shot that he was in love with her,
and he was suspecting that Ophelia felt
something for him, too. They were best friends,
doing almost everything together. On the
date to the Rockaway five months ago, Ophelia had
gotten jealous when Lexington had
been picked up by the vivacious Ramona Yarborough.
And only two weeks ago, Ophelia
had practically jumped on top of him when Alex had
cast the spell bringing true feelings to
the surface. That excited Lexington; Ophelia
had admitted that she loved him under a spell
of true feelings. But after the spell had
been broken (a development that Lexington had
accepted with a little bit of disappointment) she
had stated she didn't know what she was
doing, and refused to talk about it. While
she still acted friendly and companionable around
him, Lexington couldn't help but fear that the incident
had destroyed any progress in their
relationship.
Ophelia shivered for a second, and looked at the castle door. "I
didn't get a chance to
finish my breakfast." she stated. "I'm
still hungry."
"Well, the food's still where we left it when we all ran outside."
Lexington replied.
'I'm hungry too. Let's go in and finish it."
Ophelia nodded, and the two walked into the doorway, leaving their laughing
clanmates behind.
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Holton Apartment Building
7:30 p.m., EST
Matt picked up Cornelia's dishes, and kissed her. She kissed him
back, and he walked
over to the dishwasher.
"Thanks for dinner, Matt." Cornelia stated, standing up. She
walked over to her
fiance's side, and wrapped her arms around him.
He grinned, and kissed her.
"My pleasure." Matt replied. The two had gotten engaged under
mysterious
circumstances at the Rockaway two weeks ago, but
nothing was mysterious about their
feelings for one another. Matt Bluestone and
Cornelia Stallman were very much in love,
and Cornelia couldn't be happier about changing
her name to Cornelia Bluestone.
"I have to be at work in an hour and a half." Matt sighed.
He put his arms around her
waist, and kissed her.
"I wish you didn't have to go. Will you drive me home first?"
"Of course!" Matt blinked. He walked over to the couch, and
the two of them sat
down.
"Christine's really excited about you doing this for J.D." Cornelia
smiled.
"Yeah, well I've met J.D. He's a nice kid. And there's an exhibit
on musical
instruments that I think he'd like." Matt
clarified. Tomorrow night, he had to go to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art after it closed to discuss
upgraded security details. Matthias
Vanderaa had wanted to see a detective in person
to show him around. Since Matt's future
nephew-in-law, J.D. LeJeune, couldn't be around
other people, and wanted to see the music
exhibit, Matt was taking him and Cornelia with him.
Despite J.D.'s autism, he and Matt had
gotten along very well the times Cornelia had taken
him over to see her adopted sister, who
was almost ten years older than her. Matt
liked J.D. very much.
Cornelia smiled, and looked at the engagement ring on her finger.
They had set a date
for sometime in February, although they weren't
quite sure when.
"And maybe after it's done with and we take J.D. home, we can have a little
fun
together." Matt smiled wickedly. They
kissed, which grew more empassioned by the
second.
"Sounds...intriguing." Cornelia whispered. They collapsed onto
the couch together,
and proceeded on from there, Matt's impending work
forgotten.
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Queens
7:45 p.m., EST
With a graceful swoop, Demona landed on her rooftop, fuming quietly to
herself.
Nightstone's deal to buy out Dow Chemicals (which
might have quite nicely facilitated
another method to fumigate the planet of the humans
a la last year's Clean Slate) had fallen
through, all thanks to a clerical error. Demona
had quite cheerfully considered visiting her
worthless (and now ex) assistant's house and ripping
her arms off, but had decided against
it. Demona contented herself with merely firing
her, and with placing a few falsified
comments in her employee file, in case she requested
them as references for another job.
With any luck, Kellie Hyde would never work in New
York City again. Demona sighed;
even though it had turned out that Robyn Carrey
had been a Hunter, she had still at least
been a competent assistant. For a human.
She wriggled into her skylight, and walked over to her phone, stopping
briefly to look
at the answering machine. The light was blinking,
and the display indicated there were three
messages on the tape. Demona smiled grimly,
and tapped the button for playback.
"You have reached the residence of Dominique Destine." the machine
played. "I can't
take your call at the moment, so please leave a
message. I shall get back to you as soon as I
can."
Demona groaned...she had wanted to leave a recording that told the caller
where they
could shove their message, the telephone, and the
quarter they had used to call her, but
more often than not, the message was important,or
at least amusing.
There was a beep, and the voice of Jonathan Abernathy, her personal accountant,
was
playing throuhout the room. "Ms. Destine,
I'm calling to remind you of the appointment at
the firm tomorrow to discuss your long term investment
strategy..." Demona grimaced, and
fast forwarded. There was a beep as it skipped to
the next message.
"Hello, Ms. Destine, this is Assistant D.A. Margot Yale calling.
I was just making
sure that you knew the city wanted copies of your
affidavits regarding..."
<BEEP>
"Ms. Destine, this is Curator Matthias Vanderaa at the Met. I'm calling
to let you
know that the item you've expressed an interest
in, the Grimoire of Gaulois, is in. I was
wondering if you'd perhaps care to drop over tomorrow,
since it doesn't go on display for a
week or so and I know you've shown a great deal
of curiousity in it. Let me know, and I'll
arrange something. Thanks! Bye!"
Demona listened to the message, and allowed it to sink in. The Grimoire
of
Gaulois...the exact copy of the Grimorum Arcanorum
she'd heard about sporadically over
the last millenium, and which had recently been
rediscovered, was there. Hers for the
taking.
A wide grin played upon her face as she considered this latest development.
"Excellent." she muttered. Her sour mood was brightened considerably.
To hell with
Dow Chemicals, she thought. This will be much
more successful.
She chuckled, and as she walked towards her chambers, she began to whistle.
The
casual listener might have thought that perhaps
the fire-haired gargoyle was one of the
cheeriest, friendliest people on the face of the
earth if they had heard it. And that made it all
the more unsettling.
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Castle Wyvern
8:00 p.m, EST
"If I could change the world, I would be the sunlight in your universe,
You would think my love was really something good, baby,
If I could change the world..."
Lexington, mildly distracted by the music in the background, pulled the
pool shot ever
so slightly. The cue ball rolled along, misisng
it's target by a mile. It lazily struck one of the
solid balls, and sent it careerning into the side
pocket.
"I believe that's a point for me, Minnesota Lex." Ophelia grinned.
Lexington shot her
an impatient glance, and stepped over to the CD
player. He turned the volume down a little
bit, and watched as Ophelia took a shot. Hers
didn't fare any better.
"I think it's the table." Ophelia sighed. Lexington chuckled,
and set his cue aside.
"This is getting kind of boring." he sighed. He picked up a
bottle of Mountain Dew
sitting on the table nearby, and took a drink.
"Yeah." Ophelia agreed. "The thing about having a night off
patrol is that there's a lot
less to do when nobody else is around. It's
not like we can go up to Xanatos and ask him if
he wants to play cards with us."
"He probably cheats." Lexington remarked casually, and grinned.
"He strikes me as the kind of guy who would."
Lexington laughed, and set his pop down. "There's other stuff to
do. We could go to
the Rockaway..."
"No." Ophelia stated quickly, looking away. Lexington frowned.
Ever since the
incident with Puck and Alexander casting the spell
on the patrons at the nightclub two
weeks ago, Ophelia had bristled at the very mention
of the name of the club. That worried
Lexington. Because the spell had brought out
true feelings, Lexington had been able to tell
without any doubt that Ophelia felt at least a physical
attraction to him. That thrilled him to
no end...the idea that he could attract someone
physically was never one he had had much
faith in...but since then, things had changed.
Ophelia now acted very platonically towards
him. There was a warm, easy friendship, but
the occasional light-hearted flirting and sitting
together close during movies was gone. Apparently,
Ophelia hadn't been too thrilled with
what happened, and was now scared off. Although
he didn't show it, the idea of that was
starting to depress the smaller gargoyle.
He ahemmed. "We could go watch a movie..."
"We've seen every one there. I'd actually like to go read.
I'm right in the middle of
'Alias Grace', and it's a very good book."
Ophelia suggested.
"Oh. Okay." Lexington sighed. Now he was starting to
get depressed about the
whole thing. It was no secret he was in love
with Ophelia, but she was content to keep him
waiting. It was almost like Brooklyn and Carbonear,
when he thought about it. Brooklyn
had kept Carbonear waiting for an entire year before
finally revealing on Hallowe'en night
that he loved her. But he had been coming
off a tragic love, in which a woman he had cared
very deeply for had died. Ophelia was just
playing hard-to-get. Until now, when because
of what had happened at the Rockaway, she might
have lost all interest, scared away by a
magic spell.
Ophelia turned, and walked towards the door. When she realized Lexington
wasn't
following, she turned around.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked. "You could work on your Bras
d'Or webpage..."
"No. That's almost done; Witless and I are putting it up this week.
I think I'm going
to go out and get some air, okay?"
"You don't have to ask my permission." Ophelia grinned sardonically.
She turned,
and walked away, towards the library.
Lexington sighed, and stared at the pool cue. He closed his eyes,
and began to curse
silently.
"Why did that stupid Rockaway thing have to happen?" he asked no
one in particular.
*************************************************************************
*********
Ophelia opened the door to the library, and flicked on the light.
It was neat, tidy and
organized, as it always was. Her book was
on one of the desks. She walked over to it, and
saw a couple of other tomes out as well. Hudson's
copy of "1984", a book on motorcycles
Brooklyn had been reading, and, very badly hidden
in a half closed drawer, Whitbourne's
latest issue of "Penthouse". Curiously, she
opened the magazine to where Whitbourne had
left it open. Her cheeks flared, and she dropped
the magazine in surprise and
embarrassment. She picked it up, and put it
in the drawer. As she did so, she grinned.
Maybe Delilah might like to hear about her beau's
literary tastes.
She picked up "Alias Grace"...Margaret Atwood was her favorite author...and
sat on
the stool where Goliath spent many a night quietly
engrossed in some tome of philosophy or
poetry.
As she settled down, and began to read, she began to think of Lexington's
attitude
over the last two weeks. Ever since the Rockaway
affair (an incident she would be just as
happy to forget, thank you very much) the pair's
relationship had changed. Not that much;
she and Lexington were still the very best of friends...but
Ophelia felt a little uncomfortable
around him. She didn't know why...it wasn't
his fault, since he had done nothing wrong.
The reason for the apprehensiveness was, of course, her.
The way she had acted at the Rockaway two weeks ago had opened her eyes
somewhat. She had been ensorcelled by a spell
to bring true feelings to the light of day, and
the first thing she had done was go out and nearly
mate with Lexington. Avalon knew she
had entertained the possibility, and hell, even
wanted to, while the spell was there. Granted,
Owen had explained in great detail that the sordid
results were the fault of Alexander, who
had decided that limits weren't any fun and had
pushed his victims so hard it sent them for a
loop. But despite all that, Ophelia still
felt apprehensive.
Because then, at the Rockaway, was the first time she had known, beyond
a shadow of
a doubt, she was attracted to Lexington.
There had been many subtle clues before. On Valentine's Day, just
before...it...happened, the two of them had been
cuddling together watching "Love Story".
At the beginning of the summer, the night she and
Lexington had discovered the Rockaway,
she had become very jealous after Ramona had picked
him up and began flirting with him.
And one of the main reasons she had decided to stay
in the real world in the first place was
because she knew she would hurt Lexington if she
had gone back. The Ring incident had
created a very deep rapport between them, and she
hadn't wanted to lose that. And all that
was well and dandy.
But the Rockaway hadn't been as subtle. It had been as discreet as
a blow to the
temple with one of the Quarrymen's hammers, and
that scared Ophelia a bit. She had
always been fairly cautious, not ever wanting to
rush into things too fast or too headstrong.
It had been an ideosyncracy of hers back on Avalon...Gabriel,
Tybalt and Jeremiah would
often tease her, saying she was more cautious than
Boudicca when the dog tried to filch
table food at dinner...but she couldn't help it.
It was her nature to be prudent. Alex's spell
had eliminated all of her cautious self-controls,
and let her emotions (which were more
romantic than the Rockaway thing might have led
Lexington to believe) mutate and fly
loose. That had, to effect, scared Ophelia
away a little bit, and she was sorry for that.
She liked Lexington. There was no denying that. He was very
intelligent, smart,
funny, sensitive, loyal, a good friend...Ophelia
had nothing but respect for him. Since she
had joined her ancestral clan a year ago, she had
been saying that she wasn't interested in a
romantic relationship with him at that time, but
the year had made her realize her feelings a
bit. It was a bit like Brooklyn and Carbonear's
revelations, in a sense, but without the sense
of tragedy or romanticism that had been present
there. Who knew? If the Rockaway hadn't
happened, then she might have told Lexington sooner
or later how she felt, and put his year
of waiting to an end. But that was now on
the back burner, all because of something Owen
and Alexander had done to violate her sense of slowness
and caution.
She sighed, and began to stare out the window, closing the book and setting
it aside.
*************************************************************************
*********
Pletsch Bookstore
8:27 p.m., EST
The two gargoyles landed in the alleyway, looking around.
"I thought ye said ye heard a mugger, my son." Bonavista sniffed,
looking around.
From the looks of things, he and Whitbourne were
the first living things in the alleyway all
night.
"Well, I was after thinkin' I did." Whitbourne replied. He
opened up a package of
cigarettes, and his lighter.
"Oh, like frigg. Ye just wanted a smoke break." Bonavista muttered,
taking out his
own package.
"Yeah, but I doesn't see ye complaining." Whitbourne grinned.
He lit his cigarette,
and took a drag. "Besides, I'd be after havin'
a nicky fit if I didn't get my fix, eh, Bonnie?"
Bonavista looked at him, and stared in dismay at his empty package.
He had forgotten
he was out of cigarettes. "Blood of a bitch.
Witless, me lad, lend us a smoke?"
"Uh uh. Ye's got debts outstanding from last week, my son."
Whitbourne replied. He
took his cigarette, and offered Bonavista a drag.
The green Newfoundlander accepted the
gift, and grinned.
"These ain't your regular brand." Bonavista stated.
"Yeah, Matt went and bought me friggin' DuMaurier. Buddy knows I
likes Player's
the best, too..." Whitbourne growled. "Delilah's
after tryin' to get me to quit, too."
"What's ye got to say about that?"
"Well, I just don't smoke when she's after bein' to, my son." Whitbourne
grinned.
"What she don't know won't hurt her."
Bonavista rolled his eyes, and scaled the wall. Whitbourne dropped
his cigarette and
crushed it, and followed. They took off from
the bookstore roof, and started gliding
around.
"I'se still not used to this." Whitbourne sighed. "Runnin'
around protectin' people.
I'se still used to goin' to parties all the time,
gettin' smashed, and just doin' whatever we
wants to."
"Yeah, well, this is a good life we gots here." Bonavista stated.
"We's still havin' lots
of fun; ye's got a girlfriend, Carb's in love, I'm
havin' fun..."
"...with Kennedy..."
"... we's helpin' out the buddies livin' here. Showin' them how to
relax and kick loose
and have fun. I'se a Newfoundlander, Witless,
but I'm some glad I lives in New York City,
now. I doesn't think I'd go back, if I had
the chance. For good, I means."
"I'd like to visit a while, but it's right wicked here, too." Whitbourne
grinned. "We's
keepin' up our culture in the face of all this mainlander
influence, too. Lots of other Newfs
who's after goin' to the mainland loses their accent,
and kind of forgets that bein' a Newf is
the greatest thing ye can be."
"God Almighty, bye, but the tourism board'd love ye."
Whitbourne grinned, and squinted. "Who's that there, now?"
He pointed. From the north, a gargoyle like shape was gliding towards
them. It
looked like...
"It's Lex." Bonavista stated. He cupped his hands to his mouth,
and began to shout.
"Hey, Lex, bye! Stay where you're at till
we comes where you're to!"
Lexington apparently heard, as he began gliding towards Whitbourne and
Bonavista.
When he got there, Whitbourne regarded him closely.
"What're you at, my son? I thought ye was off tonight."
"I am." Lexington replied. "I just thought I'd clear my head
a bit."
"What was ye drinkin'?" Bonavista asked with a grin. Lexington shot
him a pained
glance.
"I'm loaded on vodka." Lexington muttered, utterly deadpan.
"Shirley Temple's, he means." Whitbourne grinned.
"Don't say that; buddy's almost as much of a drinker as ye." Bonavista
retorted. "So
what's the trouble with ye that ye needs to clear
your head, my son?"
Lexington sighed as they passed over Central Park. "It's just...I'm
thinking about how
things are going with Ophelia, and it's getting
me down."
"Figures." Whitbourne grinned. "Buddies is only after havin'
long faces like that when
the drink's too low or there's a maiden involved."
"Yeah, you can laugh, but you've been going with Delilah now for almost
half a year."
Lexington scowled. He sighed. "Sorry,
but it's just kind of frustrating. Ever since that
thing at the Rockaway two weeks ago, Ophelia's been
acting...what are you grinning at?"
Whitbourne was smiling at Bonavista. "Oh, I was just recallin' something
Bonnie told
me about distractin' Ramona that night." Bonavista
blushed furiously, but grinned.
"Anyway...before, things were moving along steadily, but then that thing
happened,
and now it's gone. She's acting as if what
happened scared her off. And that...that's not
fair, because it wasn't even anything I did.
It was Alex's fault, and I can't blame him. He's
only a year and a half old."
"Well, Lex, my son, I was there that night, and I seen how Ophelia was
acting."
Bonavista proclaimed. "She weren't exactly
herself at all...she's normally so quiet and
shy..."
"Didn't ye see her chuckin' the snowballs at me?" Whitbourne demanded,
but the
others ignored him.
"...and what Alex did to her was pretty intense." Bonavista continued.
"She just
needs a little time to get over that. And
ye knows how she acts around ye, right friendly."
"Yeah, I know." Lexington smiled.
"Well, if that spell brought out the true feelings, then maybe she's just
after wonderin'
how to deal with the fact that she might be more
interested in ye than she's lettin' on. Ye
can't understand women, bye. They's got so
many moodswings, and hormones...bye, they's
the biggest mystery in the world. That'd make
the perfect X-Files episode, me bye...Mulder
after thinkin' there's alien involvement in why
girls treat men like dirt and expects us to think
it's after bein' our fault."
Whitbourne grinned. "I can see that...the rag is out there."
Bonavista and Lexington burst out laughing. After they had a good
chuckle,
Lexington sighed. "You really think?
About Ophelia just adjusting, I mean."
"Bye, I doesn't know. But it sounds good. Ye knows she's doesn't
hate ye or
anything, cause she's after spending just as much
time with ye as before."
A bit of snow began to fall. Whitbourne looked up at the overcast
sky, and grinned.
"Looks like we's in for a bit of a dwoi, byes."
"A what?"
"A dwoi. Ye know, flurries? Snow shower?" Whitbourne
grinned. "Friggin' Jesus,
bye, but I thought ye would have known all the Newf
words we says after we's been livin'
with ye a whole year."
"I never heard that word." Lexington replied. He turned to
Bonavista. "You're right,
I guess. I'm probably just overreacting."
"Ye does that from time to time. I remembers the time ye was so upset
when I
accidentally deleted the hard drive on your computer.
I doesn't see the big deal." Bonavista
stated. He was computer illiterate, and proud
of it. Lexington growled, and sighed.
"I just hope that it didn't scare her away completely." he muttered,
returning to the
original subject.
Bonavista and Whitbourne glanced at each other, and shrugged.
*************************************************************************
*********
Levin Residential Building
11:27 p.m., EST
Christine and Thomas LeJeune sat, cuddling, on the couch. They were
watching "ER"
together...it was Christine's favorite show.
However, now on the commercial break, she stretched, and rose up.
Thomas looked
at her quizzically.
"Hon?" he asked.
"I'm gonna go check on J.D." she sighed, grinning. "He's got
a big day tomorrow,
and I want to make sure he's sleeping. You
know he sometimes sits up all night."
Thomas nodded. "What time are Cornelia and Matt coming over to pick
them up?"
"About sevenish." Christine replied. She headed out of the
TV room, towards the
children's rooms. Crystal LeJeune, the couple's
seven year old daughter, was sleeeping
soundly in her room, so Christine didn't go to check
there.
J.D.'s door was closed. Christine opened it, and saw with some relief
that the lights
were out. J.D. was sleeping quietly in his
bed. Christine stood in the doorway for a long
time, watching her son.
The session with Dr. Langille had gone as expected this afternoon...J.D.
hadn't made
any progress. He was still as evasive to touch
as ever. Langille had been optimistic...after
all, he claimed, Rome wasn't built in a day...but
after fourteen years of dealing with J.D.'s
autism, Christine wasn't up to building up hopes.
And besides...she had lived with J.D.'s
condtion for fourteen years. If it turned
out that J.D. would always be autistic, Christine
knew deep in her heart that she would love him just
the same. After all, he was her son.
Being autistic didn't change that; it never had.
With all thoughts of "ER" washed from her head, she stood, watching.
J.D. tossed
fitfully in his sleep...he had never been a heavy
sleeper and was subject to nightmares.
Christine walked to the bed, knelt, and stroked
her son's face. She saw him smile; deep in
sleep was the only time he responded to her touch.
While her heart ached for J.D. to love
her, to cry out for his mother's embrace the way
Crystal did, she accepted it.
She had to.
Christine knelt for a while, and gently leaned down and kissed her son's
cheek. She
stood up, and tucked him in. With a glance
back, she walked out of the room and shut the
door, leaving J.D. to dream his own dreams.
*************************************************************************
*************************************************************************
*************************************************************************
***************************
Chapter One
The Robbery
Castle Wyvern
November 14, 1997
8:00 a.m., EST
He poked listlessy at the hard boiled egg, staring at the International
News page of the
Times. Fox sat, watching him, staring at him
oddly, taking a small bite of her own fried
egg. Alex merely sat in his high chair, content
to throw flakes of Raisin Bran around the
room and laugh.
"David?" Fox asked. David looked up, and blinked.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
"You tell me. You've been sitting there staring at the paper looking
like it was
announcing the start of another Great Depression."
"Well," David sighed, "I don't know about me getting depressed, but
the gargoyles
might when they see this."
Fox took the paper, and stared at it. "Hmm, peace talks in the mid-east.
I can see
how that would sent Goliath into a ranting fit."
"Under that." David grinned, chuckling.
Fox smiled, and looked again. It was talking about developments in
the Canadian
House of Commons. As in, the government had
just approved spending increases to certain
government departments...including intelligence.
"I don't get it." Fox stated.
"The Canadian government just granted more funding to the Canadian Security
and
Intelligence Service."
"CSIS." Fox stated, cluing in. "Bras d'Or."
David nodded.
"David, you don't know that. Remember Detective Bluestone told you
that Bras d'Or
was just one branch of CSIS. For all we know,
they might be just giving them money so
they can go spy on Moscow, or Washington."
"I know." David sighed. "It's just paranoia. I've gotten
a couple of more memos from
the Society about Bras d'Or, and it's just association,
I guess." He took the paper back, and
flipped to the city events page.
"Look, there's an exhibit at the Met opening in a couple of days."
he stated. "Roman
art and antiquities. Do you want to go there
when it opens? I've got a holdership in the
museum after I donated the Eye of Odin to them a
couple of years ago. I could arrange a
private tour."
"Hmm." Fox nodded, frowning a little at the mention of her 'engagement
present'. "I
suppose."
"We could take Alex and expose him to a little culture." David grinned.
"There's even
a picture here of the centerpiece. The Grimoire
of Gaulois, it's called. It's..."
He blinked. "Funny. That almost looks like..."
*************************************************************************
*********
Metropolitan Museum of Art
8:02 a.m, EST
"...the Grimorum Arcanorum..." Dominique Destine whispered. Matthias
Vanderaa
blinked, and shook his head.
"No, I'm afraid not. This is the Grimoire of Gaulois. I've
heard of that other artifact,
but I thought David Xanatos had..."
"Perhaps. I can tell it's the Grimoire, Mr. Vanderaa." Dominique
interrupted. "The
French footnotes throughout it give that indication."
She looked up. "Enough idle chat, Mr. Vanderaa. Let's discuss
price."
Vanderaa looked as if she had just suggested he leap off the Eyrie Building.
"Excuse
me?"
"I'm a collector of such things, Mr. Vanderaa. I wish to purchase
the Grimoire."
"I'm afraid that's impossible." Vanderaa sputtered. "Ms. Destine,
I'm a collector of
Roman antiquites myself, but...but this is a priceless
find..."
"Money is no object." Dominique frowned. She was becoming dangerously
irritated.
After thinking it over last night, she had grudgingly
decided that stealing the Grimoire might
not be the best option. That infuriating policewoman
Maza might show up, or she could be
seen and the public might see gargoyles as threats
again, leading to potential harm to
Angela...so she had decided to try and obtain the
Grimoire legally. Failing that...
"I cannot, Ms. Destine. I am terribly sorry." Vanderaa sighed.
"Perhaps you've forgotten the donations Nightstone Unlimited has made to
the
museum's restoration fund." Dominique casually reminded
him. "I would hate to have to
terminate them..."
"Blackmail me all you want, Ms. Destine." Vanderaa frowned, his voice
taking on a
dangerous edge. "My answer remains the same."
Dominique opened her mouth to protest, but snarled. "Fine." she muttered.
She
stormed off, not bothering to thank Vanderaa for
allowing her to come in before opening to
look at the Grimoire.
"I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way." she muttered to herself
as she left the
office.
*************************************************************************
*********
Columbia University
10:09 a.m, EST
Kennedy Woodworth walked out of the lab building, talking eagerly to Laine
McKinnon.
"That new teacher's weird." Laine sighed. "I wonder if all
the people from upstate
New York are that strange. The way he kept
muttering to himself about God and
decadence..."
"I saw his notebook, and it had the word Manifesto written at the top,
so maybe
Professor Bell is a nut." Kennedy agreed.
"Oh, well. Come on...we've got time to go over
to Subway. I'll buy you a sandwich."
As the two friends walked along the path, they saw Shawn Mercer, standing
next to a
man wearing a T-shirt with a hammer on it.
A Quarryman. Kennedy and Laine sucked in
their breath...they were both good friends of the
gargoyles. Shawn and Laine had met them
a couple of more times since the Hallowe'en incident,
and were now almost at ease with
them as Kennedy was. Bonavista, of course,
was the one they saw most often...the green
Newfoundlander often dropped by Kennedy's apartment.
Shawn didn't look like he was signing up, though. The Quarryman was
urgently trying
to explain to Shawn that the gargoyles were menaces
that ought to be smashed, and trying
to force pamphlets into his hand. Shawn had
his arms crossed, was rolling his eyes, and was
quite politely telling the Quarryman where he could
shove his hammer. He saw Kennedy
and Laine, and walked over.
"Hey." he greeted, kissing Laine. "Where are you off to?"
"Subway." Laine replied.
"Ladies!" The Quarryman hollered. "Are you concerned about
the gargoyle menace?"
"Well, kind of, but I heard that all the Quarrymen do at their meetings
is dress up in
drag and parade around in lipstick and mascara,
so I'm not interested." Kennedy shot back.
The Quarryman bristled, and stomped off, muttering
something about freaks.
Shawn was chuckling. "I wish I'd said that."
"Well, it was the first thing that popped into my head." Kennedy
replied. There was a
rumor circulating through the university that John
Castaway was a cross-dresser, and the
Quarrymen were now the butt of jokes about it.
They knew it, too. The vigilante group
had lost almost all respect with the people of New
York City anyway, so it didn't matter.
Life had now essentially returned to normal, like
before the gargoyles were discovered to be
real.
Well, for the most part. Since Kennedy had met Bonavista, life was
a little more
interesting for her, anyway.
"So, are you coming to my apartment tonight? I finally have everything
unpacked."
Kennedy grinned. "And you-know-who's coming
over..."
Laine and Shawn exchanged a glance. Then, Shawn brightened.
"You'll never guess
what!" he grinned.
"What?"
"Coach Hayden called last night, and I'm in! I've got tryouts for
the World's Cup
Team December 12th!"
Laine's eyes widened. "Shawn, that's great!" she cried.
She grabbed him, and kissed
him. Kennedy grinned.
"Congratulations, man!" she shook his hand. "Shawn Mercer...World
Cup freestyle
skier..."
"And you and I are going to lunch to celebrate." Shawn looked at
Laine. "Ken, you
wanna come?"
"Nah. Go on." Kennedy smiled. "Great job, Shawn!"
Shawn grinned, and took Laine's hand. "So where do you want to go
to, me girl?" he
asked.
"You've been hanging around Bonnie too long." Laine chided.
*************************************************************************
*********
Castle Wyvern
6:12 p.m., EST
The golden disk of the sun slipped behind a cloud. and set obscured.
But the effect
was the same. The stone began to crack, and
the gargoyles burst forth from their stone
shells with fearsome roars. They hopped down,
and instantly began to complain about their
hunger.
As Brooklyn walked over to Carbonear and kissed her gently, Carbonear's
hand
reached up to Hawthorne's pendant, suspended around
her neck. It still felt a bit odd to be
wearing it, but the feelings it represented more
than made up for that. She kissed him, back,
savoring the touch of his lips against hers.
Lexington and Ophelia watched that, and sighed. Lexington looked
away.
"We need to talk." he stated to Ophelia. She nodded, and tilted
her head towards
another section of the parapets.
They trudged there together, and Ophelia sat down on the chilled stone.
Lexington sat
down next to her.
"Something's really bothering me." Lexington began. "About
you and me." Ophelia's
mouth curved into a frown.
"It's the way I've been acting towards you lately, isn't it." Ophelia
concluded. "I've
been acting differently around you since that thing
at the Rockaway."
Lexington nodded. "I can understand why...if I had been acting the
way you had been,
I'd be a bit nervous around you..."
Ophelia smiled. "Well, I'm not angry at you. It's just that
what happened was really
strange, and it kind of changed a few feelings I
was having."
She swallowed, and watched as the others walked into the castle, casting
a few glances
at them. That was good. Privacy might
be better for what she was about to say.
"Lex, I'm really sorry for being a little nervous around you over the past
two weeks. I
know I've been doing it, but I couldn't help myself.
What happened just made me think I
might need a little space when it comes to dealing
with what there is between us."
"What is between us?" Lexington asked. "You know how I feel.
And Alex's spell
kind of meant that you feel something for me."
Ophelia blushed. "Well...all right, it's true. I feel something
for you, Lex. You've
known ever since the summer. And why would
I have joined your clan permanently if it
wasn't for you? There was lots of other things
which shaped that decision, but you were
one of the big factors. We're really good
friends...and to tell you the truth, I've never been
as close to someone as I am to you. Not even
Angela."
Lexington smiled.
"I've known for a long time that I feel something for you. But you
know me; I'm a
slow mover. I have to have that pacing, or
otherwise the emotions come on too fast, and I
get uncomfortable. I was more than happy with
the speed things were moving between
us...but then Hallowe'en happened. I do like
you...and I think you're good-looking...but I
didn't want to admit it to you or to myself so fast.
It did scare me off a bit, Lex."
Lexington frowned again. "So what does this mean? Between us?
Did it screw our
chances? Does it mean I'll have to wait another
year?"
Ophelia sighed. "I still feel the same way. But the Rockaway
brought those feelings
out much too fast for me to cope. That won't
change what there is."
She hesitated, and took his hand. "Just give me a little more space
for the next little
while, okay?" she asked. "You know how
I feel about you, whether I wanted you to or
not, but I still want to make up for the speed.
So let's just wait and see what happens."
Lexington nodded, but the disappointment was plain to see. "All right."
he muttered.
"I'm sorry." Ophelia sighed. "But at least you know that you'll
get an answer you
want to hear sooner or later. I...like you
very much, and we have something a lot deeper
than friendship. Just give me a little more
time, and maybe I'll be ready to call it love."
"I'll be waiting." Lexington smiled, but it was clear to see he was
disturbed. He stood
up. "Let's go get something to eat."
*************************************************************************
*********
Queens
6:52 p.m, EST
Dominique Destine, dressed in the halter top and loincloth, wearing her
jewelry, stood
at the window. She watched the sun slip into
the western cloudbank, and sighed, tensing
her muscles for the momentary agony.
It hit her like a freight train. She gasped, and then clenched her
teeth as the pain
began. Her skin turned blue, and then her
body began to alter. One of her fingers fused to
another, and the tips sharpened into talons.
Her canine teeth elongated, and became fangs.
From her back, two wings erupted, extending to their
full spread. A tail burst forth from
her lower back. Her feet changed shape, her
muscles realigned, and her bones shifted. But
soon, it was over, and the pain was gone.
As was Dominique Destine.
In her place, in all of her feral, wild glory, stood Demona. She
hissed to the sky, her
eyes aglow, and waited a few seconds as the dull
throbbing ache all over her body subsided.
She grinned, and looked at the window. Tonight, she would once again
have access to
some of the most powerful magic this side of Avalon.
Not wanting to wait a second longer than she had to, she grabbed a laser
cannon from
the rack by the window, leapt onto the windowledge,
and took off into the dark November
night.
*************************************************************************
*********
Levin Residential Building
7:00 p.m., EST
The sound of J.D.'s keyboard filled the air.
J.D. LeJeune sat quietly in his room, playing Frederick Chopin's 'Fantasie
Impromptu',
without a single page of music in front of him.
His fingers moved at almost impossible
speeds across the keys, but J.D. didn't notice.
All he heard was the music; it filled his
world, flowing out naturally, an extension of himself.
HIS world. There was nobody else but him. Here, he didn't have
to worry about
anybody intruding in his personal space, because
there was nobody else. He was alone.
Except for the music.
Suddenly, the door opened. A strange person came in. She looked
at him and said a
name. J.D. Who was J.D? Certainly
not him. He didn't want to be J.D. right now. J.D.
had things to do tonight. He wanted simply
to be alone, to be LEFT alone. So maybe if he
wasn't J.D., he would be.
The woman called J.D. again, and he sighed. He stopped playing, and
looked at her.
She wanted him to come out of his world, and come
into 'the world'. That was the last
thing he wanted to do. Nobody understood him
there, and he didn't understand anything.
'The world' was too complicated. Let it sort
itself out.
The woman, however, was persistant. "J.D, Aunt Cornelia's here.
She's taking you to
the museum."
He blinked. J.D. liked Aunt Cornelia, and so he might as well too.
And he suddenly
wanted to get out of the house. He decided
to become J.D, and with a snap, he entered 'the
world'. He looked at the woman, staring past
her shoulder.
"All right, Mom." he replied. For some strange reason, this
woman liked it when J.D.
called her Mom. He didn't like doing that,
but he had long found out that if he made people
happy, they'd leave him be.
Mom grinned, and stepped away. J.D. picked up his kitbag, and as
an afterthought,
grabbed Mr. Furley. Mr. Furley was a small
stuffed animal...a dog, to be exact. Mr. Furley
went wherever J.D. went...unless Mr. Furley was
easy to reach, and close by, he felt
threatened and incomplete.
He stuffed Mr. Furley into his kitbag, and headed out to the kitchen.
The keyboard
stayed right where it was.
*************************************************************************
*********
"He's coming." Christine stated, walking out. Cornelia and
Matt smiled, and shuffled
around.
"Matt, you've never been in the car with him before, have you?" Christine
asked her
future brother-in-law.
"No." Matt frowned. "Is there stuff I should be aware of?"
Cornelia sighed. "He freaks whenever you make a left turn.
He has a personal set of
directions...right is right, left is wrong."
Matt blinked. "Okay." he muttered. "Anything else?
I know the basic stuff. Don't
touch him, don't make eye contact..."
"I realize how strange this stuff might sound, Matt." Christine mumbled
apologetically.
Matt smiled. "Christine, I've met autistic people before. There's
nothing strange."
Christine smiled, and then J.D. walked into the room. He looked at
Matt. Matt
suddenly made eye contact with him, quite accidentally.
J.D. began to shudder, and turned
away.
This is going to be one hell of an evening, he thought. I'll probably
end up
traumatizing the kid for life.
"Hi, J.D.!" Cornelia grinned, kneeling down. J.D. mumbled hello,
and put on his coat.
"J.D, be good, okay?" Christine warned. J.D. nodded, and then
walked past Cornelia
and Matt without even saying good-bye.
"We'll take good care of him, Chris." Cornelia promised.
"Good. Have fun." Christine smiled. Matt and Cornelia
walked out, waving
goodbye. J.D. was already halfway up the hallway,
arms extended, twirling around.
Cornelia ran to catch up, Matt following.
"All ready to go, J.D?" Cornelia asked. J.D. nodded yes, and
went on spinning,
looking at the ceiling. He stopped, and began
to walk slowly with Matt and Cornelia.
They got in an elevator. The chime rang as the door opened.
J.D. looked up, and
frowned. "B flat." he muttered.
""B flat?" Matt asked. "What does that mean?"
"It's a musical note." Cornelia explained. "J.D. has a thing
for music. Whenever he
hears a sound, he almost automatically identifies
the pitch."
"Oh." Matt frowned. He remembered J.D. doing things like that
the last time they
met, but this was the first time he had been with
J.D. without Christine around.
They exited the elevator, and J.D. heard another B flat. They left
the building, and got
into Matt's car. Matt started his auto, and
pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards
the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Cornelia slipped her hand onto Matt's lap, and Matt smiled. "Excited?"
he asked.
"No. I've been to the Met before." Cornelia grinned.
Matt nodded, and looked up in
the rearview mirror. He raised an eyebrow...Elisa
was a couple of cars behind him.
"Look at that." he smiled. He raised up one hand in a hearty
wave, and wasn't too
surprised when she didn't wave back. Elisa
Maza wasn't much for noticing people in front
of her.
"Who are you waving to?" Cornelia asked.
"My partner. She's a couple of...uh, J.D, what are you doing?"
J.D. had reached up, and was rapidly flicking the interior lights in the
car on and off.
He was humming to himself as he did so.
"J.D..." Cornelia stated, turning back. J.D. ignored her, and
continued playing with
the lights.
"Here, J.D, how about I put some music on?" Matt asked. He
flipped on the radio...it
was tuned into an oldies station, and the sounds
of the Doors filled the car. J.D. seemed to
calm down somewhat, and retreated into a stare,
watching as the lights of the city passed
by. Cornelia turned back, and shrugged.
"So what exactly is going on tonight?"
"Well, Captain Chavez wanted me to talk with the curator over some of the
security
details that have been upgraded since the break
in a couple of months ago. I asked him if he
minded a couple of my friends taking a look around
while he was doing that, and he agreed.
I knew J.D. wanted to see the music exhibit, so..."
Cornelia was smiling. "A couple of friends?"
Matt smirked. "Maybe I should have gone for the fiance discount,
huh?" Cornelia
chuckled, and lovingly clasped Matt's hand.
About twenty minutes later, they pulled into the Met, and headed towards
the parking
lot. Matt saw Elisa again, and waved.
This time, she saw. Elisa gave a great wave, but
then her attention seemed to be caught by something
else. Matt shrugged, and pulled into
the front parking lot. He, Cornelia and J.D.
got out, and walked up the front steps of the
Met.
*************************************************************************
*********
It had been a relaxing day for Elisa Maza. She had spent the majority of
it asleep, and
almost felt as if she'd never been more relaxed
and peaceful in her life. She had gotten word
today that she was up for promotion soon, as well,
so she was quite cheerful.
As she drove towards the precinct house for another night's work, Elisa
thought a little
bit about the events of the past week...more accurately,
with the way her apartment life was
shaping out. Nowadays, two gargoyles were
frequent visitors to the Greenwich Apartment
Complex...Goliath and Bonavista. Kennedy Woodworth's
apartment was now like hers...a
gargoyle hangout for one. But she had her
doubts that what happened downstairs was
anything as blissful as what happened above.
Since that long ago June night when Elisa and
Goliath had shared one of the most passionate, romantic
spiritual evenings together that
Elisa could ever recall, their relationship had
reached a new level of tenderness. Last night,
Goliath had visited after his patrol finished, and
had actually weaseled a backrub out of her.
She had happily given it, but apparently, Goliath
had had much more on his mind than tense
back muscles. They had made tender, sweet,
passionate love, with the odd feeling of
unification present again. Every time, Elisa
had had that overwhelming feeling of spiritual
unity with him. What had he called it?
Bonding. The cosmic sign that told you you were
meant to spend your life with that person.
She drove by the Met just as the light turned red. As she sat in
the intersection, she
saw Matt Bluestone's car drive in. She grinned,
and waved. He was with Cornelia, no
doubt, and...
A trace of movement caught the corner of her eyes, and she looked up in
time to see a
gargoyle shape glide to the roof of the Met.
It wouldn't have bothered her, normally, but
the lights from a nearby office building were very
bright that night. Even from that
distance, Elisa could tell the shape of the gargoyle,
and see the blue skin and firey red hair.
She gasped. Demona. Demona and museum in the same sentence
were not usually a
good thing.
She made a right turn, pulling into the parking lot of some office building.
But it
wasn't the tower she was interested in; she was
interested in the pay phone nearby. She got
out of her car, and ran to the pay phone, pulling
out a quarter and inserting it with trembling
hands. She punched in seven numbers, and listened
as it rang.
*************************************************************************
*********
Castle Wyvern
7:20 p.m., EST
Brooklyn and Carbonear were sitting on the castle parapets, locked in a
tender,
passionate kiss, when Owen walked out.
"Excuse me." Owen stated. Carbonear and Brooklyn jumped apart,
blushing.
"What is it?" Carbonear asked.
"Detective Maza is on the direct line to the castle, and asking to speak
to a gargoyle. I
saw the two of you outside from my office window,
so..."
"I'll take it." Brooklyn frowned. He took the phone from Owen's
flesh hand, and set it
to his ear. "Hello?" he greeted as Owen walked
away.
"Brooklyn, I need you to get all the clan together." Elisa stated
urgently. "Are they all
at the castle?"
"Uh, yeah." Brooklyn blinked. "No hello, huh?"
"Hello. Brooklyn, I just saw Demona headed into the Metropolitan
Museum of Art..."
"Demona!" Brooklyn hissed. He nearly dropped the phone, and
Carbonear blinked.
Elisa sighed. "I don't know what she's doing, but it can't be good
news. Get the clan
together, and get down here right away." She
hung up. Brooklyn's eyes flared.
"Brooklyn?" Carbonear asked concernedly.
"Demona's at the museum." Brooklyn hissed. He began to head
into the castle.
"That don't explain much." Carbonear frowned. "Who the frigg
is Demona?" She,
fortunately, had never met Demona, and the only
time she had ever heard of her was in the
background stories the others had given her upon
her decision to stay in New York City,
and the news of Whitbourne's little adventure Hallowe'en
night.
"An evil, psychopathic bitch." Brooklyn hissed. He began to
sprint down the hallway,
to tell everyone what was going on.
"I still doesn't understand..." Carbonear mumbled, following.
*************************************************************************
*********
Metropolitan Museum of Art
7:21 p.m., EST
Matthias Vanderaa walked down the stairs, smiling. "Glad you could
make it,
Detective Bluestone." he greeted. "Who
might these two be?"
"Mr. Vanderaa, this is my fiance, Cornelia Stallman, and her nephew, J.D.
LeJeune. I
spoke to you about letting them look around the
exhibits while we discussed the security
upgrades?" Matt prompted.
"Ah, yes." Matthias grinned. He knelt down, and looked J.D.
in the eyes. "Hello,
there!" he grinned. J.D. didn't reply,
but reached out to touch Vanderaa's graying hair.
"J.D..." Cornelia frowned. "Be polite..."
J.D. continued to feel Vanderaa's hair, marvelling in the coarse texture
and the two
colors...dimming brown on top, and gray on the bottom.
Involuntarily, Vanderaa stepped
back, confused.
"He's autistic." Matt explained. "He didn't mean anything..."
"No, no, it's all right." Vanderaa blinked, smoothing out his hair.
"Uh, Ms. Stallman,
I've arranged for a security guard to escort you
around. There he is there. Ryan! This is
Ryan Boulter. He'll be happy to answer any
questions you may have."
A large, stocky man stepped forward, grinning an infectious smile.
"Hello." he
greeted. Cornelia said hi, but J.D. ignored
him. He walked over to the window and began
to rapidly blink his eyes. Matt, Vanderaa
and Boulter raised eyebrows, and said nothing
Boulter cleared his throat. "Uh...so where would you like to go?"
"I want to see the pianos." J.D. stated, to no one in particular.
Cornelia nodded and
looked at Boulter. The security guard thought
for a second, and brightened.
"Up on the second floor." he stated.
"Come on, J.D." Cornelia stated. She looked at Matt, and smiled.
"We'll meet you
down here when you're done, okay?"
Matt nodded, and kissed her. Cornelia, J.D. and Boulter headed for
the stairs.
"Come along, detective." Vanderaa invited. "Let's go to my
office, first..."
*************************************************************************
*********
Castle Wyvern
7:24 p.m., EST
"Demona!" Hudson hissed.
"That's what Elisa told me." Brooklyn growled. His eyes had
taken on a whitish cast,
not quite fully aglow. "She's at the museum.
And that means trouble."
Broadway, Lexington and Ophelia (who remembered Demona from the Battle
of
Avalon) nodded their heads in agreement. Goliath
remained stoic, and Angela looked a
little hesitant. Whitbourne looked nervous,
and Bonavista and Carbonear were staring at
each other blankly.
"Okay. I doesn't quite understand exactly who this Demona girl is."
Bonavista
complained.
"No time." Hudson stated. "Come on, lads, we'll explain on
the way. Better to get
there early than to chance her gettin' away."
"Hold on, hold on. I'se not goin'." Bonavista shook his head.
"I'se goin' to
Kennedy's..."
"This is a little more important." Brooklyn snarled. His face
was twisted in an
impatient scowl. Carbonear didn't like that
look.
Whitbourne was very earnestly trying to make himself as unnoticeable as
possible. "I
doesn't want to go, neither. Last time, she
shot at me, all for the sake of a couple of
goddamn eggs."
"Both of you are going." Goliath stated sternly. "Demona is
a skilled agressor, and
she may be searching for something she'd best not
have. We need all the strength we can
muster."
Bonavista sighed bitterly. "But...c'mon, I was gonna..."
A warning glance from Goliath silenced him. "Fine." he muttered.
"But can I at least
call Ken?"
"We shouldn't delay." Goliath sighed. "You can call your friend
when we return."
"Ye sounds pretty confident that we is, Goliath, my son." Whitbourne
muttered.
Broadway and Lexington rolled their eyes in a cocky
display of bravado.
"Let's go." Brooklyn stated. He was out of the room, headed
for the parapets
outside. The gargoyles arrived, and leapt
off the roof, heading for the museum.
Lexington wasn't thinking of Demona at all, oddly enough. Since his
talk with Ophelia
after awakening, he had been fairly preoccupied.
The admission of her feelings hadn't
surprised him terribly, but the confirmation of
his fears over the Rockaway had left him
uneasy. It meant that he had been cheated
out of something he wanted desparately...for
someone to love him.
He watched as Broadway and Angela soared together, giving each other random
looks
of affection. The Rockaway didn't scare them
off, he thought bitterly. He looked at
Brooklyn and Carbonear. They were gliding
together, too, but the mention of Demona had
caused Brooklyn to become very edgy. However,
he wasn't as bad as he probably would
been had Carbonear not been there. He looked
angry, but he wasn't enraged. Carbonear
was mellowing him out a bit as he explained to her
exactly why he hated Demona so much.
He turned his head forward to look for the museum, but his gaze caught
Ophelia. She
was looking at him, and he quickly spun his head
around. He scowled...the two of them
had parted as friends a little less than an hour
ago, but after being confronted with his two
rookery brothers and their mates, he wasn't quite
in the mood. He was content to merely sit
and run through the emotions in his mind.
That didn't stop him from wishing, though.
With all thoughts of Demona and the museum completely out of his head,
Lexington
lamented over Ophelia as he headed towards the museum.
*************************************************************************
*********
Ophelia, meanwhile, was listening attentively as Goliath outlined the plan.
Brooklyn
and Carbonear had stopped their quiet conversation,
and everyone was silent.
"By now, Demona will probably be in the museum." Goliath stated,
with a hint of
regret in his voice. "So we'll split up into
five groups and look for her. Brooklyn, you and
Bonavista will go together. Lexington and
Angela, Whitbourne and Ophelia, Carbonear
and Hudson, and Broadway and myself will be the
other four."
Brooklyn nodded, and looked at Bonavista. Ophelia glanced at Whitbourne,
and
frowned. She couldn't help but notice that
Goliath had split up all the couples.
She looked towards Lexington, and frowned as he quickly turned his head
away.
Blinking, she watched his brow knit in concentration.
He's thinking about what I said to him, she thought. How I said the
Rockaway
brought it out too fast.
"Lexington." Goliath snapped. "Were you listening to what I
just said?"
"Huh?" the green gargoyle blinked, snapped out of a stare.
"Oh, yeah. Demona's at
the museum."
Goliath growled. "I also said that you were teaming up with Angela
to find her." he
stated. Lexington blinked.
"Sorry." he muttered. "I just had my mind on something else."
"Ye'd better concentrate, lad." Hudson warned. "Demona isn't
somebody you want to
be caught off guard facing."
"I'm fine." Lexington stated. Ophelia watched as he turned
his head away again.
Maybe when we return to the castle, I'll go out of my way to do something
for him,
she decided.
He looked vaguely as if his feelings were hurt, and Ophelia didn't doubt
that it was her
fault. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but she
feared she might have done it by telling him her
feelings had changed. She was overcome with
remorse; Lexington was, after all, her friend,
and she didn't like to see him hurt.
She almost went over to talk to him then, but then Broadway pointed downwards.
"There's the museum." he reported.
"Let's go, then." Brooklyn stated. He began to bank downwards,
and the others
followed.
Bonavista groaned. "I'd be havin' more fun at Kennedy's..." he sighed
as the gargoyles
descended.
*************************************************************************
*************************************************************************
*************************************************************************
***************************
Chapter Two
Two To One
Metropolitan Museum of Art
7:34 p.m., EST
Demona peered around the corner, and looked up and down the hall, peering
at the
exhibts, looking for the Grimoire of Gaulois.
She suddenly remembered that even though
the Grimoire was here, it wasn't going on display
for a couple of days, yet. With a faintly
audible expletive, she began walking down the hallways,
searching for a flight of stairs. She
knew that the artifacts not currently on display
were kept upstairs, so she guessed that
would be a good place to start looking.
At least the place was deserted. She had come from the roof and headed
directly
downstairs, but there had been no sign of any watchmen.
She supposed they were around
somewhere, but they hadn't seen her. That
suited her just fine; she didn't want the
knowledge of who had perpetrated the theft to become
common knowledge. She was
mildly surprised they hadn't figured out she had
disabled the alarm, but better not to look a
gift horse in the mouth.
With a sigh, she repositioned the laser cannon on her shoulder and headed
down the
hall.
*************************************************************************
*********
The front door to the museum swung open, and a rather beautiful lady raced
in, pulling
her gun. Robert McKinley, the security guard
at the front desk, looked up, and paled.
"Put it down, or I'm calling the cops." Robert stated, jumping up
and pulling his own
gun.
"I am the cops. Elisa Maza, NYPD." The woman growled.
She pulled out her badge,
and Robert relaxed.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
"I just saw someone possibly break in." she muttered. "My partner
came in a little
while ago; do you know where he is?"
"No. Where was the break-in?" Robert frowned, suddenly paling
He began looking
at a row of security monitors along the wall.
"I'm not sure; I saw a suspicious looking character in the area."
Elisa sighed. "I really
need to find my partner. Don't you have like
a PA system or something?"
"Uh, yeah." Robert walked over to the desk, loooking more confused
by the minute.
"What's his name?"
"Matt Bluestone."
Robert nodded, and pressed a switch. "Matt Bluestone to the front
entrance, please,
Matt Bluestone to the front entrance."
Elisa nodded, and settled down to wait. She obviously looked impatient.
Robert
turned behind him, and started flicking nervous
glances at the security monitors.
*************************************************************************
*********
"So you can see, Detective Bluestone, that..."
"MATT BLUESTONE TO THE FRONT ENTRANCE, PLEASE, MATT
BLUESTONE TO THE FRONT ENTRANCE." the loudspeaker
outside blared.
Matt perked up, and looked quizzically at Vanderaa. The curator shrugged,
and stood
up.
"Probably Cornelia wanting the keys to the car." Matt grinned.
Vanderaa smiled. "I'll come with you. We can continue our conversation
on the way
there."
*************************************************************************
*********
He looked around. So many pianos! He longed to touch them,
to play a stirring
melody or sonata...
Cornelia and the strange man were staring at him as he walked purposefully
around the
room. He didn't care...if they couldn't see
the specialness of the room, then they were
obviously stupid.
"What is he doing?" he heard the strange man say. J.D. payed
him no attention; he
walked over to one of the pianos. Mes