Story #8
Description: The return of the Phoenix Gate draws Broadway, Angela, Bonavista and Kennedy into the search for a missing artifact seventy years in the past.

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, violence and intended sexual reference), so read at your own volition.  However,
reader discretion is advised.
The Rockaway and Ramona Yarborough are the intellectual property of the incomparable Christi Smith Hayden.

HISTORIAN'S NOTE:  Most of this story takes place a good seventy years before the gargoyles arrive in New York; however, the parts which take place in the present take place about three weeks after "The Gargoyle Went A'Courting"

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For Valerie, who knows how to make a writer feel appreciated, and who's a true friend.  Val, you're a great big deal.

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        "Siddown, siddown, siddown, siddown, sit down, you're rocking the boat!"

        Nicely-Nicely Johnson, "Guys and Dolls"

        "Orion's my only company tonight, he's always managed to be there
         Maybe if I search the galaxy you'll know that I still care
         Pride can be so many things; well, it can serve you like a backbone
         But it's pride that keeps me lonely inside and it won't let me reach for the phone
         I'm not sure just what to do, I'm terrified at what I might say,
         So this call is all in goodwill, hope you can take it that way
         The swallows left yesterday, and I watched with a little envy
         It's not you I'm runnin' from but sometimes I gotta run from me."
 
        Heather Doiron, "Orion's Lullaby"

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GOLIATH:  "I'm going to ensure that the Eye of Odin and the Phoenix Gate are never used again."
(show Goliath hurling away the Phoenix Gate, "Future Tense")
"Avalon, Part III"

BROADWAY:   "Previously, on 'Gargoyles'..."

ICEFACE: "We've got several leads as to the whereabouts of the Phoenix Gate, the first integral part of Phaedra, but we need money to back them up."
DEACON:  "There haven't been any detailed records of the Phoenix Gate's appearence since 1924, in New York City."
(show Director LaFontaine and Dr. Charlotte Raybur, "Lady Delilah's Lover")
"Nobody Nowhere"

HACKER:  "Bras d'Or is a part of the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service."
MATT:  "Why are you telling me this?"
HACKER:  "I have my orders from higher up to let you know."
"Lady Delilah's Lover"

HACKER:   "Mace Malone was a gangster back in the twenties."
(Show Mace Malone in the Hotel Cabal, "Revelations")
(Show Dominic Dracon reaching for the diamonds, "The Silver Falcon)
HACKER:  "He disappeared in  1924. Matt thought he had a connection to the Illuminati...a secret society he thought runs the world."
"The Silver Falcon"

BROADWAY:  "Just because I don't feel entirely ready to mate with you yet, we don't have to miss out on all the other things mates do."
(show Broadway and Angela kissing, "The Gargoyle Went A'Courting")
"Heart of a Saturday Night"

BROADWAY:  "I want our first time to be special, not the result of some magic spell."
ANGELA: "It'll be special, believe me."
"Take These Broken Wings"

LEXINGTON:  "Found a girlfriend, Bonnie?"
(Show Bonavista and Kennedy kissing, "Take These Broken Wings")
BONAVISTA: "Maybe."
"Take These Broken Wings"

BONAVISTA: "Was I comin' on that strong to Ken?  Was I doin' somethin' that might have been sayin' I was interested in her?"
(show Kennedy and Bonavista laughing, "Convergence")
"The Music of the Night"

BONAVISTA:  "All I was after wantin' between us was what we's been havin' so far."
KENNEDY: "Bonnie, we're great friends, and that's the only impression you gave me as to what you wanted."
"The Music of the Night"

DEMONA:  "Obviously, history is immutable."
(show Goliath travelling back in time, "M.I.A.")
GOLIATH:   "More's the pity."
"Vows"

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Prologue

                From The Ashes

        It drifted.
        The streams of time carried it to and fro, batted as an old schooner might be upon the wind.  It had been sent into the temporal void without a mind to guide it, and yet, that wasn't an issue.  It would be only a matter of time before the currents and eddies of time shunted it out somewhen, a random occurance that would keep it in the real world, able to traverse the mists of space and time.
        And for what seemed like eternity, it did that...buffeted about by a ghostly wind, every so often nearing a point in time and just as quickly being tossed away again.  And then, after what may have been an eternity or as little as a few scant seconds, it approached a gate, out into history...

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The Colonial Building, Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
September 3, 1864
3:02 p.m., Atlantic Daylight Time

        The room had been set out in an array of snacks for the delegates to the Charlottetown conference.  Tables saddled with sandwiches were laid out, along with decanters of drink from across Canada and the Atlantic Colonies.  (The joke was going around that half of them were exclusively for John A. MacDonald, the Prime Minister, and that they would be gone by three-thirty)  While the delegates had been in the conference room listening to George Brown discuss the financial advantages for New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island to join Canada, the stewards and servants had been preparing the luncheon.  They had all briefly stepped out of the room to attend to other matters and to inform the delegates that it was time for lunch, however, and it was just as the door closed that a ball of flame appeared in the west corner of the room.  It burned with a cool fire for a few seconds, and then phased out of existance, leaving a small piece of metal lying in the corner.
        The doors opened, and in walked the delegates, none the wiser.
        "Quite the speech, Mr. Brown"  John Hamilton Gray stated.  "I can't say it would impress many of the critics in the Assembly who feel that Prince Edward Island has a future as a separate colony of Great Britain, but I daresay you impressed me."
        "Mr. Gray,"  George Brown stated haughtily...he was, after all, one of the most influential newspaper publishers in Upper Canada..."let's leave the politics at the door.  I think we've all deserved this luncheon."  He grabbed a sandwich.  "So tell me, how is your charming wife?"
        "What's this?"  Charles Tupper, a delegate from Nova Scotia asked suddenly.  He trotted over to the corner, bent over, and picked up the Phoenix Gate, lying demurely in the corner.
        William Pope, another Island delegate, walked over to Tupper, and frowned.  "I don't know, Charles."  he stated, taking the Gate.  "It looks quite valuable."
        "Do you suppose one of the workmen might 'ave dropped it?"  Georges Etienne Cartier, the most notable Lower Canadian delegate asked.
        "No.  I can't imagine one of the workmen leaving something like this lying around.  Did anyone lose this?  It looks like a piece of jewelery..."
        All of the delegates shook their heads.
        "Hmm."  Pope frowned.  "I'll leave it with one of the workmen, then.  I can't imagine what it is..."
        He excused himself, and walked up to one of the servants, who was serving champagne.  "Excuse me, could you hold on to this?  Nobody in here owns it."
        "I've never seen it before either, Mr. Pope." the man answered.  He took the Phoenix Gate, studied it, and shrugged.
        "Hmm.  Try and find out who it belongs to, if you can.  If you can't just pack it away for a while.  I'm sure somebody will come to claim it."  Pope stated.  He went off and began talking small talk with Thomas D'Arcy McGee.

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        The workman didn't find who it belonged to.  After a week, he left it in the custody of one of the watchmen, who, after a month, placed it in a box along with several other unclaimed items.  It was then moved down in one of the storerooms of the Colonial Building (which would later be renamed Province House), and forgotten about for a hundred and thirty four years.

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Province House
April 6, 1998
10:09 a.m., Atlantic Standard Time

        The Legislature was in session that day.  The door to the Legislative Assembly was closed, and even through that door, Jim MacAusland could hear Liberal leader Keith Milligan and Premier Pat Binns screaming at each other again.  Prince Edward Island politics was almost like a soap opera.
        He sighed, and began to walk up and down the hall.  There were footsteps down the hall, then, and MacAusland looked up, watching the tall, sandy-haired, bespectacled man approach.
        "Dr. Kelligrew!"  he called.
        Christian Kelligrew, an historical researcher based at Memorial University at St. John's, Newfoundland, smiled, and approached him.  MacAusland had met him before; as one of the artistic directors for the Confederation Centre of the Arts next door, he had met the historian once when he had been called in to identify a piece of Mi'kmaq sculputure that had been found up west.
        "G'day, bye!"  Kelligrew chuckled, shaking his hand.  "Mind tellin' me what we's doin' here, Jimmy?"
        "I don't know."  MacAusland shrugged.  "I got the call today to show up.  Something about a few pieces of art  they found in a storeroom."
        Kelligrew rolled his eyes.  "I doesn't know why the frigg I'se here, then.  I'se an historian, not a friggin' art critic..."
        "Good day, gentlemen!" boomed through the hall.  Kelligrew and MacAusland turned. Fast approaching was a Parks Canada official...since Province House was a National Historic Site due to the Charlottetown Conference being held there in 1864, Parks Canada had a visible presence in the building.  The woman approached them.  "Angela Hennesey, Parks Canada.  You must be Christian Kelligrew, and of course I remember you, Jim."
        MacAusland smiled.  "Helps when I work next door, doesn't it."
        "Follow, me, gentlemen."  Hennesey invited.  Kelligrew and MacAusland  nodded, and followed her.
        "Um...Ms. Hennesey..."  Kelligrew began.
        Hennesey smiled, and raised up her hand, which sported a gold ring.  "It's Mrs. Hennesey, Dr. Kelligrew."
        "Really?  Lucky bye that married ye.  Anyways...what is I doin' here?"
        "Well,"  Hennesey began, "we were cleaning out a storeroom, and we found a box in there that had been full of stuff that we think might have dated back to the 1860's.  We must have missed it during the restoration back in the seventies.  Anyway, most of the stuff was just assorted junk that got tossed away, but there was one artifact in there that we can't identify and we don't know what it is."
        "Doesn't ye have researchers on the Island?"  Kelligrew stated.
        "We've tried them.  But all they can tell is that it's like nothing they've ever seen before...and that it's very, very old.  Almost a couple of thousand years."
        Kelligrew blinked.  Hennesey stopped, and looked at both him and MacAusland.
        "Dr. Kelligrew, a couple of thousand years ago, the only people on this entire continent were the native people, and this isn't a native artifact.  Professor Buck at UPEI checked it out, and said it looked almost Roman in origin."
        "Roman?"  MacAusland blinked.  "Maybe one of the delegates at the Charlottetown conference owned it..."
        "Why would they bring something this valuable to a conference on Maritime union?"  Hennesey asked.  She approached the storeroom, and lifted it out of the box.  Kelligrew took it, and stared at it...a piece of metal in the shape of a shield, almost, blue and gold, with an emblem of a phoenix emblazoned upon it.
        "Frigg."  Kelligrew muttered.  He turned it around.  "This almost looks like..."
        "Like what?"

        Kelligrew blinked.   "Back in St. John's, I was studyin' up on some of the more shady artifacts around...stuff like that Eye of Odin, the Grimoire of Gaulois.  Stuff that people was after sayin' was magic back in the dark ages.  I remembers readin' about somethin' that looked a lot like this.  The stories called it a...frigg, what was it called..." He started snapping his fingers.
        "You haven't seen anything like it, have you, Jim?"  Hennesey asked.
        "Nope."  MacAusland stated.
        "The Phoenix Gate!  That's it, the Phoenix Gate!"  Kelligrew cried triumphantly.  "Frigg!  They was a story in some of the old books about medieval Spain and Scotland that this thing would disappear in a ball of fire every so often.  It vanished in Scotland in the tenth century."
        "Vanished in the tenth century, and winds up in nineteenth century Prince Edward Island."  MacAusland frowned.  "Are you sure?"
        "Pretty sure, my son."  Kelligrew asserted.  "Look, I'se headin' back to St. John's tonight...I'll read up on 'er and fax you over the stuff.  Just let me take a few pictures.  My camera's out in me car."  He stared at it for a few seconds.  "Sweet Jesus."  he muttered, and he nearly sprinted down the hall.
        Hennesey took the Phoenix Gate, and blinked.  "I wasn't expecting that.  A tenth century relic in P.E.I.?"
        MacAusland blinked.  "We'll probably have to send it over to Halifax for analysis...I mean, carbon dating and all that..."
        Hennesey blinked again, and stared at the Gate some more.  "Wow."

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Castle Wyvern
April 14, 1998
9:00 a.m., Eastern Standard Time

        The door knocked.  "Come in, Owen."  Xanatos called, busily typing some things on the computer.  Fox was in the corner, going over some of her own papers, and Alex playing on the floor, levitating some of his teddy bears.
        The door opened, and Owen Burnett walked in.  He was carrying a newspaper.  "Sir, there's something here I really think you should take a look at."  he said flatly.
        Xanatos looked up, and raised an eyebrow.  He took the newspaper, and looked up again.  "Owen, this is yesterday's Halifax Chronicle-Herald.  Why am I looking at a day-old newspaper from Nova Scotia?"
        "The regional head of Xanatos Enterprises Canada in Halifax FedExed it, sir.  He thought you might be interested in one of the articles on page C3."
        Xanatos flipped to page C3, took a drink of coffee, and spit it out again.  There was a small picture of somebody holding the Phoenix Gate, and from all indications it looked like a recent picture.  He stood up from his chair, prompting both Alex and Fox to look over.
        "David?"  Fox asked.
        "A recently discovered box of artifacts dating to 1864 and the Charlottetown Conference was found recently in Province House on Prince Edward Island.  Among these was found a very unusual artifact indeed."  Xanatos read, standing up and walking around the room.  "Dr. Christian Kelligrew, an historical researcher at Memorial University in St. John's, Newfoundland, identified an authentic antiquity known as the Phoenix Gate, which dates back almost two thousand years.  The artifact is currently on display at the Charlottetown Confederation Center of the Arts until it can be determined what can be done with it...Owen, is this true?"
        Owen hauled out another paper, 'The Guardian', which claimed to 'cover Prince Edward Island like the dew'. "According to this, it is.    The Charlottetown paper reports something similar."
        Fox walked over, and read the article.  "Something like that shouldn't be just lying around."  she stated.
        "I know."  Xanatos muttered.  He thought for a second.  He supposed once Goliath and the clan heard about it, they would insist it be kept safe, and there was no safer place to do that than in the castle.  They would probably insist he go and get it, and besides, having something like that in easy reach might prove useful someday.  He sat down, tapped his pen on his desk, and looked up at Owen.  "Do I have any appointments today?"  He ignored the smug smile that Fox gave him.
        Owen frowned, and reached with his flesh hand for a day planner in his pocket.  "You're meeting with a representative of the United Arab Emirates trade mission at two, Mr. Xanatos."
        "Do you think you can handle it?"  Xanatos asked.  He picked up the phone.  "I think I might take a quick run up to P.E.I."

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Ste-Agnes-de-Dundee, Quebec
9:12 a.m., EST

        "Director LaFontaine!"
        Jean-Francois LaFontaine, the youthful director of the Magical/Paranormal Investigations Bureau of the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service...known in most circles by its code name, Bras d'Or...was normally a very busy man.  As such, he hated interruptions, and this one, brought on by a skinny little twerp obviously looking to make a name for himself, was no exception.  LaFontaine scowled, and sat back at his desk, pulling no punches at his irritation.
        The man lay down a newspaper on the desk.  "It's the Charlottetown 'Guardian', sir.  Yesterday's.  Take a look down there."
        The man pointed, and LaFontaine picked up the paper.  He slammed it down, and pressed a button on his desk.  "Jesus."  he hissed, his normally faint Francophone accent flaring to life.  "Spend half a million dollars scouring for the thing all over the world and it pops up on Prince Edward Island, of all places."  He looked up.  "And why wasn't this picked up yesterday?  The Canadian taxpayers pay us good money to catch up on current events when they're actually current.  Could it be someone in your department isn't doing his job right?  Hmm?"
        The man began to look very nervous.  "Get out of my office." LaFontaine stated tiredly, and the lackey gratefully did so.  Another door opened, and in stepped a man one normally wouldn't see outside of a dream.
        His skin was silver.  It actually glimmered and sheened as he moved, looking almost fluid on his skin.  He was dressed in a business suit, and wore a pair of black gloves.  But the casual observer would have been fixated on his skin...its silver color made it look almost cold and frozen.
        Jean-Francois LaFontaine didn't even flinch.  The man stepped in front of his desk, and took out a cigarette.  He put it in his mouth, and lit up.
        "What have we got?"  the silver faced man stated.  He sounded a lot like the Cigarette Smoking Man from 'The X-Files', but now was no time for comparisons.
        "Take a look, Ellis."  LaFontaine replied, handing him the paper.  The man had no name, but his presence was accounted for in the bureau's expenditure files by the name 'Ellis Montgomery'.  It was as good a name as any.  "Confirmed report of the Phoenix Gate in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island...and it looks like it's gonna be there for quite a while."
        "You're looking to get started on Project Phaedra?"  the man asked.  It was more a statement than a question, but still, confirmation was a good thing.
        "My friend, Project Phaedra is now underway."  LaFontaine grinned.  He took out a file folder, and handed the man two pictures.  One was of the Phoenix Gate, a reproduction from an ancient book, and the other was a picture of an emerald pendant.
        "I want you to get to Charlottetown and acquire the Phoenix Gate.  It's being stored at the Confederation Center of the Arts, right next to Province House.  You know how to go about with acquisition."

        "Mmm-hmm."  he nodded.
        "Once you get the Gate, use it and get to New York City, sometime before September 9, 1924.  That's the last known date the MacKenzie Pendant was seen.  A lot of reports associate it with a group of gangsters headed by two men named Mace Malone and Dominic Dracon."  LaFontaine read out of the file folder.  "I'll give you this file to read on the plane to Prince Edward Island."
        "Gotcha."  the man stated.  He took the file.  "Hadn't you told me I was getting a helper?"
        "He isn't ready yet.  The cloned gargoyle will probably be ready to get started on Phaedra in about six weeks."
        The man frowned, and rolled his eyes.  "Okay.  So basically what you want me to do is Phase One of Phaedra."
        "Basically, that's it."  LaFontaine stated.  "Any problems, just call...at least until you get back to 1924.  But I don't imagine you'll have any problems, will you, Ellis?"
        "Doubt it."  the man replied simply.  He crushed out his cigarette, and grabbed a ski mask.  He pulled it over his head, and flipped through the folders before walking out the door.
        LaFontaine watched him go.  He turned, picked up the newspaper, and smiled.
        "The fun's getting started now."  he whispered, staring at the picture of the Phoenix Gate with a faintly disguised desire.  "Yes sirree."
 

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Confederation Center of the Arts, Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
4:42 p.m., Atlantic Standard Time

        Jim MacAusland's door was ajar when there came a knock at his door.  "Come in."  MacAusland stated without looking up.  "Just going over budget reports for the Charlottetown Festi..."
        David Xanatos walked in, and MacAusland blinked.  "Is this James MacAusland's office?"  Xanatos asked.
        "Yes..."  MacAusland answered. extending his hand.  "I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Mr..."
        "Xanatos.  David Xanatos."  Xanatos replied, returning the handshake.  MacAusland blanched.
        "The head of Xanatos Enterprises, David Xanatos?"  he asked. Xanatos nodded, smiling a bemused smile.  "Oh dear."  MacAusland blinked, nervously.
        "It's all right, Mr. MacAusland.  I'm not planning any hostile takeovers today."  Xanatos grinned.  "I'm sorry I don't have an appointment..."
        "It...it's quite all right, Mr. Xanatos."  MacAusland smiled.  "I'm afraid you just got me off guard."
        "Well, I just have a quick matter of business to discuss with you, Mr. MacAusland."  Xanatos cleared his throat, sat down, and crossed his legs.  He tapped his hands together.  "It came to my understanding that you found an artifact known as the Phoenix Gate."
        "Yes."  MacAusland grinned.  "We found it in Province House just over a week ago.  Took us by surprise, finding something as antiquated as that in a storeroom box along with a few trinkets dropped by the Fathers of Confederation."
        "I'm sure it did."  Xanatos muttered.  "Mr. MacAusland, I'll be brief.  I'm interested in that artifact, and I would like to buy it."
        MacAusland frowned.   "I'm sorry, Mr. Xanatos, but I don't know if I can allow that.  We're still waiting on what exactly is going to be done with it, and a lot of museums have expressed interest in that piece..."
        "I'm especially interested in the Phoenix Gate, Mr. MacAusland."  Xanatos frowned.  "Money is no object."
        "I'm sure it isn't.  But Mr. Xanatos, the federal government has expressed interest in it and has promised to subsidize the Charlottetown Festival for three years in exchange..."
        "The Charlottetown Festival?"
        MacAusland smiled.  "It's a showcase of theatrical performances and musicals.  It's been an Island tradition for a long long time, but with the economy the way it is..."
        "Tell you what.  I'll pay for it for ten years."  Xanatos stated, taking the budget slip off the desk.  "With these figures, I should be able to make that back in New York City alone."
        MacAusland began to look like he had seen Santa Claus.  "TEN years?"  he whispered hoarsely.
        "Ten years.  It'll cost me ninety thousand a year, tops.  That's nothing to me, Mr. MacAusland.  All I want in return is the Phoenix Gate.  Then you're in the clear for the Festival until 2008."
        "Ten years...my God, Mr. Xanatos, that's incredible..."
        "I want the Gate.  It's rather caught up in my personal life."  Xanatos stated obliquely.  MacAusland blinked, and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
        Ten minutes later, the two of them stood in the art gallery.  The Phoenix Gate stood on a pedastal with only one security guard in the entire room.  ("It's Prince Edward Island, Mr. Xanatos."  MacAusland had explained.  "Breaking into an art gallery only happens away.")  MacAusland casually reached out, and gave it to him.  Xanatos blinked...it was surprisingly heavy, and much cooler than he had expected.  He had never actually touched it before...merely let it fling him backwards a millenium.
        "Thank you very much, Mr. MacAusland."  Xanatos grinned, placing the Gate in a bag and shaking his hand.  "Have your people draw up a financial proposal for the funding, and send it to my office in New York.  Here's my card."  He gave the man his business card.   MacAusland still looked stunned, but said nothing.
        "You're quite welcome, Mr. Xanatos."  he mumbled.  Visons of ten year subsidies were running through his head.
        Xanatos smiled, took out a plastic folder, and slipped the Phoenix Gate inside.  He waved good day one last time, and left the gallery.

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Castle Wyvern
7:56 p.m., EST

        The sun set, and the stone shells of the twelve gargoyles roosting on the tower suddenly began to crackle, burst, and shatter as the beings withing suddenly came to life.  They greeted the night, and then began to settle into their routine.
        Goliath stepped off his perch, and happily noted that Elisa was standing out on the parapets.  She, along with the rest of the clan, had put the Regnum Dei incident behind her...with the five bombers in jail and the city returning to normal, it was slowly slipping into the background.  Not entirely...the families of those who had been killed would remember for a long, long time, and Brooklyn and Carbonear were, consciously or not, spending more time around each other.  That was to be expected, of course...they were engaged.  Brooklyn's plan to give Carbonear a traditional human wedding had brought different reactions...most of the younger members of the clan were delighted, while Hudson thought the whole thing was just plain wrong.
        "Hello, Elisa."  Goliath stated, bringing his mind back to the matter at hand.  "How was your day?"
        She smiled, and gave him a kiss.  "Spent most of it sleeping.  I'm on my way to work soon, but I can't say I'm looking forward to it."
        "Why?  What's wrong?"  Goliath asked, briefly wondering if this had anything to do with Regnum Dei.  He knew how badly the school bombing had affected her, and there were still times were she got mildly reflective upon hearing of things that had anything to do with Regnum Dei on the news.
        She sighed.  "Dominic Dracon passed away last night."  she stated.  "He had a sudden stroke.  Wasn't it a mercy he didn't suffer.  Tony Dracon heard about it, and he's getting released for the next few days to get his grandfather's stuff in order and to attend the funeral.  Under police supervision, of course, and we all drew straws to see who had to escort him to his grandfather's old apartment to pick up his stuff.  Me and Brian Lewis lost."
        Goliath grunted, and sighed.  "Well, it doesn't sound like it will be too much trouble."
        "Oh no.  It's just a crappy thing to get stuck on.  Where's Xanatos?"
        Goliath raised an eye ridge.
        "He wasn't around the castle when I was coming up to see you guys."  Elisa explained.
        "He's probably out on business, lass."  Hudson stated, walking over.
        "Hmm."  Elisa muttered.  "Anyway, I don't have to be in for another hour, but I want to get there a bit early, so I guess I'd better go.  Bye, Goliath.  I'll be back later tonight after I get off."
        She kissed him again, and he took a little time to wrap his arms around her and hold her close.
        "Have a good night, Elisa."  he whispered in her ear.  She nuzzled her cheek against his, and then the two parted.

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        Broadway was feeling a little bit depressed.
        He, Angela, Carbonear and Brooklyn were heading towards the door, planning on going to get breakfast started, and as they walked, Brooklyn and Carbonear were telling Angela about some of the plans they had made for their wedding.
        "Witless and Bonnie both agreed to play."  Brooklyn stated, walking hand in hand with his mate (his fiance, Broadway corrected himself, and smiled...he really was happy for the two of them)  "One thing bothers me, though...Lexington's been talking to the two of them a few times, and I overheard him saying 'song for Brooklyn's wedding'.  That little frigger better not be planning anything..."
        "I didn't even think Lex could sing, my son."  Carbonear stated.  She smiled.  "And things is set...June and Marsha and Oggie and Loveless are coming down, along with Robbie and Judy Hynes.  Ye should of heard June on the phone, Angela, she's almost more excited than I is."
        "Have you set a date yet?"  Angela asked with genuine interest.
        Brooklyn and Carbonear looked at each other.  "We're thinking somewhere around the end of May, beginning of June."  Brooklyn stated.  There was a hint of excitement and child-like glee in his eyes that everyone had noticed in both his and Carbonear's expressions when either of them talked of the wedding.  "There's lots of time."
        "Hey, Uncle Brook!"  Whitbourne called over from the other side of the parapets.  "C'mere!  I gots to ask ye somethin'!"
        Brooklyn rolled his eyes.  "If this is about you missing patrol so you can watch that tape of 'This Hour Has 22 Minutes'..."
        Carbonear chuckled, and the two of them walked over to see what Whitbourne wanted.  Angela watched them go, and slipped her hand into Broadway's.
        "They're so happy."  she smiled.   "Ever since Brooklyn proposed to her, she's looked happy enough to burst."
        "Yeah."  Broadway agreed.  "And Brook, too.  They're both pretty well off."
        He turned around, and kissed her.   "So are we, though."  he whispered softly in her ear.  "We have every reason to be happy too, my love."
        Angela smiled, and moved a little closer beside him.  That was enough to make him feel better...he and Angela were at a stage just as blissful in their relationship as well.  Since their one big fight in June, things had been going splendidly between them.
        There was just one physical problem...Broadway's shyness.
        The only real fight they had ever had, other than the squabbles which all lovers get into, the tiffs which develop almost in a second and are forgotten just as quickly, had been after Broadway's assertion that he wasn't ready to make love to Angela yet.  That in itself hadn't been the problem, but Broadway had felt that the fact that seven months had passed since he and Angela had gotten together without having sex indicated rushing into a lifelong commitment.  That had been resolved, and Broadway now knew that he loved Angela just as much as the first night he had seen her, and she totally respected his slowness.
        But those seven months had now become almost seventeen.  A year and a half.  And while the situation had improved somewhat (he and Angela were very intimate, coming to the point where they were just coming short of The Event without a problem in the world) and the boundary which Broadway just couldn't seem to bring himself to cross kept being pushed farther and farther back, he still couldn't do it.  He sort of wanted to, but he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.
        He was beginning to get frustrated.  He had had a couple of talks with Brooklyn and Whitbourne (not with Lexington, though...part of him immediately rejected the idea of going to Lexington for help, even though he knew that he and Ophelia were fast approaching the point he and Angela were at and showed no signs of stopping once they got there. Too many associations with that long ago June night).  They had told him the same thing that Bonavista had told him that June night...to not worry about it, to let things go at their own pace, and to focus on the other things he and Angela did.  And he did, but there was a part of him that kept on focusing on his little problem and wondering if there was something wrong with him.
        "Are you all right, Broadway?"  Angela asked, and Broadway snapped awake out of his train of thought.  He grinned sheepishly, smiled, shuffled his feet, and cleared his throat.
        "Yeah.  I'm fine."  he smiled, kissing her.  "Let's go get something to eat."

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        Bonavista had beaten the rest of the clan into the kitchen, but he wasn't interested in the food.  He made a beeline for the phone, and quickly lifted up the reciever, punching in a number.  The phone rang, and then Kennedy Woodworth picked it up.
        "Hello?"
        "Hi, Ken!"  Bonavista greeted cheerily.  "How the frigg are ye?  I hasn't seen ye in days!"
        "I'm pretty tired."  Kennedy laughed.   "I was up all night last night at Laine's house typing up a lab report.  My computer's getting fixed."
        "Ah.  That's why ye wasn't answerin'."  Bonavista smiled, remembering how last night he had tried to phone her several times and beginning to get upset after ten or twelve answerless calls.  "Listen, can I come over tonight?  I doesn't got patrol till midnight, so I'se in the clear till then..."
        "Bonnie, I'm sorry.  I'm really busy tonight.  I have finals coming up next week, and since my old Chemistry prof turned out to be a religious bomber I have to spend overtime trying to understand the substitute's notes."  Kennedy sighed.   "I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, I promise.  I'll come up and visit you."
        "Oh."  Bonavista stated, disappointed.  He knew she was busy, and he knew it wasn't fair to expect her to drop everything to accomodate him, but still, he couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt.  After all, she'd been busy for the last week.  "That's all right, me girl.  Have a fun night studyin'.  And remember, alcohol is the university student's best friend, me girl."

        "I'll keep that in mind."  Kennedy chuckled.  "I'll see you tomorrow, Bonnie."
        "G'night."  Bonavista replied, and he hung up the phone.  He sighed, and plopped down at the kitchen table.

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The Mainville Building
8:02 p.m., EST

        The door opened, and Anthony Dracon walked in.  He frowned critically, and surveyed the one room apartment his grandfather had lived in.  It hadn't changed much since the Silver Falcon incident; Dominic had been put under house arrest because of his age, and had kept the apartment.  He had been in remarkable health for a man pushing a hundred, and Dracon supposed that had it not been for a sudden blood clot in his brain, he might be living in the apartment still.
        He turned to the two detectives who stood in the door watching him.  One he didn't recognize, the other he knew quite well.
        "Something wrong, sugar?"  Dracon asked irritably.
        "No."  Elisa muttered, crossing her arms.  "Just do what you have to do, Dracon, and we'll leave you alone.  And don't call me sugar."
        "Whatever you say."  Dracon muttered.  He stepped over to the desk, and absently poked through a couple of books.  He was sad, but it wasn't as if he and his grandfather had been especially close.  It was almost token mourning.
        He picked up one book, and noted it was an old photo album.  He opened it up, and casually leafed through it.  They were all grainy black-and-white photographs of some long forgotten era, when men were guys and women were dolls.  Here a photo of the old Silver Falcon Nightclub, where Dominic Dracon, Mace Malone, and a few other members of the gang were smiling and waving to the camera.   There, a much younger Dominic Dracon and the distinguished Mace Malone, holding their lapels.  And there...
        Dracon blinked, and peeled off the cellophane, picking up the picture of his grandfather and a very beautiful young woman.  She had a narrow but not unattractive pinched face, and was very petite.  She was wearing oddly modern clothes (he thought he could faintly pick out what looked like the Adidas logo on her shirt) but thought nothing of it.  He turned over the picture, and read the note on the back.  There, in his grandfather's scratchy handwriting, was "Dominic and Kennedy, The Silver Falcon, September 8, 1924."
        "Whoa, Gramps."  Dracon whispered in reverence.   "You were quite the swinger."
        He put the picture back, and resumed his picking.

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Confederation Centre of the Arts

9:04 p.m., AST

        Jim MacAusland was almost ecstatic.  Xanatos' offer was much too good to be true, but even so, it would help ease a lot of financial aches and pains.  It was hard to think that at the beginning of the day, he had been worried that one of the plays would have to be cut.  Now, so much for the worries.  He had called up the museums that had expressed an interest in the Phoenix Gate, had told them the "bad" news, and then settled back, with pleasant thoughts of finances in his mind.
        Now, though, he was locking up for the night.  The night watchmen were all on duty, and everyone else in the offices had gone home for the night.  He stepped out of his office door, and locked it.  He began to walk down the hall, but suddenly sensed movement behind him.  Spinning around, he came face to face with a man in a ski mask, smoking a cigarette.
        "Hello, Jim."  the man stated, flicking the cigarette on the carpet and stamping it out with his foot.
        MacAusland stepped fearfully back.  "Who are you?"  he asked.  It was a situation that a gargoyle might have been most welcome to intervene in, but, alas, there weren't any gargoyles on Prince Edward Island.
        The man took off the ski mask, revealing a completely silver face.  It didn't even seem like skin.  MacAusland had seen "Terminator 2" once, and the man dizzily brought back memories of that other terminator, the liquid metal one.   This man looked something like that.  MacAusland felt unreality wash over him in waves, and nearly fainted.
        The man cleared his throat, and a vague semblance of a smile came across his silvery lips.  He pulled out a folder with the coat of arms of Canada stamped on the front, and a smaller insignia on the bottom.  A bent golden arm, holding a spear, rising from the water.  "James Aaron MacAusland", the folder's label read.
        "Know what this is?"  the man asked.  MacAusland shook his head no.  The man pulled out a government form from the folder...an income tax return, stamped Revenue Canada at the top.
        "It's the tax form you cheated on last year, Jim."  the man stated.  "We've checked.  Your bank records indicate you made a lot more money than you claimed last year, Jimmy.  Got something on the side that isn't quite kosher?"
        "Who are you?"  MacAusland demanded again.  The man took out a package of cigarettes (DuMaurier, MacAusland noted), tapped one out, and lit it.  He took a drag, and stared MacAusland in the eyes...and that was when MacAusland saw that the man didn't have any eyes.  Just two indentations in his face where they should have been.  He let out a squeal of terror.
        "Where's the Phoenix Gate, Jim?"  he asked.  "If you don't tell me, I'm afraid I may have to deliver a few messages to Revenue Canada."
        By now, MacAusland was beginning to sweat.  "You can't do that!"  he nearly shouted.  "I'll call for the watchmen and have you arrested if you don't tell me who you are right now..."
        The man grabbed him by his throat and slammed him against the wall.  "I don't have time to fuck around with you, Jim."  he hissed, his gravelly voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.  "If you call those watchmen, I'll be gone before they get here, and I'll be taking your income tax return with me.   And I have a gun, too.  I could decide to forget about the tax fraud and just shoot you.  Would it make you feel better to know that if I did that, then there wouldn't ever be any charges laid because the agency I'm with is above the law?"
        MacAusland let out a squeal again.  The man let him down, but didn't release his throat.
        "Where's the Phoenix Gate?"  he asked again.
        "Gone!"  MacAusland cried hoarsely in a strangled squawk.  "Gone!  Someone bought it!"
        "You're lying to me, Jim..."
        "David Xanatos!  He promised to subsidize the Charlottetown Festival for ten years if I gave it to him!"
        "David Xanatos?"
        "Yes!  Let me go!  I can't breathe!"
        "Dark-skinned man, black hair, dresses in black, has a beard, moustache and a ponytail?"
        "Yes!"
        "Shit!" the man cursed, and he let MacAusland's throat go.  He paused for a second, considering what to do next.
        "You listen very, very carefully."  the man growled.  "You will tell no one of what just happened here.  This did not happen.  If you do tell, we'll find out about it, and you'll spend the next couple of years in jail for tax fraud.  Or worse.  Do you understand?"
        He flashed open his coat, revealing a gun, and MacAusland moaned, nodding furiously.
        "I'm glad we understand each other."  the man replied.  He put back on the ski mask, grabbed his hat, and walked down the opposite end of the hall.
        MacAusland shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath.  By the time he opened them again, the man was gone.

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

        Ten minutes later, the man was in an unmarked limosine parked outside the Confederation Centre.  The car started, and drove down Queen Street, headed out of town and towards the airport.
        The man grabbed the phone on the wall, took out a magnetic key card from his wallet, and ran it through a slot along the keypad.   He then punched in a secret number, and the signal was relayed from the car's arial to a communications satellite in geosychronous orbit over Quito, Ecuador, that no non-authorized, non-Canadian tracking station in the world knew about.  The phone call was bounced back down to earth, and right onto the satellite dish in the backyard of a small, unobtrusive house in Ste-Agnes-de-Dundee, Quebec.  The house was a cover; nobody lived there.  Wires ran underground from the satellite dish to the fenced off government complex a couple of miles out of town that everybody thought was an experimental farm.  The subterranean complex beneath the false farm building was anything but.  It raced throughout the building's advanced telephone system, and then the phone rang  on Jean-Francois LaFontaine's desk.
        "Hello?" he answered.
        "The Gate is gone." came the reply.  LaFontaine growled, and slammed a fist on his desk.

        "Merde!"  he cried.  "Who took it?"
        "The man at the Confederation Centre said it was given to David Xanatos in exchange for a ten-year private subsidy of the Charlottetown Festival."
        LaFontaine cursed fluently in both official languages, and sighed.  "Okay.  I'll get in touch with our agent in Xanatos Enterprises, and he'll let us know.  If it turns out to be true, I want you to get to New York City before the night is out, and get it back. I'll call back in twenty minutes."
        "Gotcha." the man replied, and then there was the open hum of disconnection.

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Chapter One

                Stalemates

Central Park
9:34 p.m., EST

        It was a remarkably quiet night.  The fast approaching spring meant that it was a warm night, and winter's end usually meant that the muggers and ne'er do wells were out in droves, but somehow, that night was different.   It was quiet, peaceful, and serene.  Central Park was almost deserted.
        Broadway and Angela landed in a small clearing, out of sight from the path nearby.  Broadway's wings were beginning to ache, he had said, and Angela had agreed that a quck rest probably wouldn't hurt.
        Broadway sat down on the grass, and just as immediately got right back up again, grimacing.  "Aw, man."   he muttured, craning his neck around.  "The grass is wet.  I just soaked my loincloth."
        Angela snickered, and rolled her eyes.   "You just haven't been having a good night."  she stated.
        "That's for sure.  I probably have grass stains, too.  Damn."  Broadway muttered.   Angela smiled, and almost shyly looked.  Broadway suddenly raised an eye ridge, and found himself blushing.
        "No.  You don't."  his mate replied.  Broadway's face was still flaming, and he couldn't bring himself to do much else than nod.
        Angela smiled, and walked a little closer to him.  She wrapped her wings around him, and drew his face closer, giving him a soft, gentle kiss.
        "You really do fret too much, my love."  she replied.  "That isn't good."
        "Oh, really?"  Broadway blinked, feeling himself begin to react to her closeness.  Aw, geez, here we go, he thought.
        "Mmm-hmm."  she nodded, and she kissed him again.  Then she parted, and walked slowly to the other edge of the clearing.  Broadway's eyes were closed, and it was quite obvious to see he was enthralled by what she had just done...even though Angela accepted his slowness with almost saintlike patience, she seemed to take a perverse delight in teasing him.
        He walked over to her, suddenly feeling serious all of a sudden.  "Angela, I think we need to talk."
        "Is something wrong?"  Angela asked, concernedly, all traces of teasing gone from her face.
        "Not...well, not really."  Broadway stuttered.  "I'm just...how are you feeling?"
        "My wings are a little sore..." Angela began, and Broadway shook his head.
        "No, no.  About us."  he clarified, taking her hands and softly stroking them.  "I mean the pace we're moving at.  I know it's been almost a year and a half since we became mates, and we've gone a little farther than before, but..."
        "Broadway."  Angela smiled with infinite patience, a gentle, caring expression that made Broadway's heart melt.  "I've told you that I'm more than willing to wait for you.  We're spending the rest of our lives together, so there's no need to rush if you don't feel comfortable yet."
        Broadway sighed, feeling a little bit better with the initial awkwardness out of the way.  "Cause I feel kind of bad." he continued, deciding to let all his feelings spill out.  He scratched the back of his head.  "I know that you want to, and I think I want to, but...I don't know, I just get so nervous..."
        She pressed one finger to his lips, gently, lovingly, her brown eyes shining.  "You're right; I think I want to, and I think that I'm ready."  she stated.  "But it's like I keep telling you...when you're ready, then we will.  I don't want to push you into anything you don't think you're ready for."
        "Thanks for understanding..."  Broadway mumbled, and  she kissed him.
        "It's what I do best." she replied.  They kissed again, and all was forgotten.

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Castle Wyvern
10:00 p.m, EST
 
        Goliath and Hudson had been on patrol together, finding the night very quiet and peaceful, much as Broadway and Angela had.  They had stopped a potential break-and-enter, but that was about it.
        "It's nice to have quiet nights every once in a while, lad."  Hudson moaned as they returned to Castle Wyvern.  "Kind of gives these weary old bones a chance to rest."
        Goliath smiled, and clapped his oldest friend on the back.  "I couldn't agree with you more." he replied.
        They landed on the parapets, and immediately came face to face with David Xanatos.
        He was holding the Phoenix Gate.
        Goliath sucked in his breath, his eyes wide.  Images of Puck's nightmarish vision of the future immediately came to mind, and then a whirl of confused images came into his head.  He stared for what seemed like forever at the seemingly innocent piece of metal in Xanatos' hand, with one thought turning over and over in his mind.
        I thought I got rid of that...I thought it was gone...
        "Where did you get that?" he asked hoarsely, walking over to Xanatos, and taking it from him.  It fit in his palm, but was just as heavy and cold as he remembered it.
        "Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island.  Supposedly it's been there since 1864."  Xanatos replied.  "I went up today to get it, just so I'd know exactly where something like that was."
        Goliath looked up, his eyes narrowed and with a faint hint of a glow.  "Nobody is using it."  he stated vehemently.  "We'll keep it here, but it's not to be used..."
        "I thought you might see it that way."  Xanatos nodded.  "I wasn't planning on using it, Goliath.  I don't have any need for it.  I thought it might set your mind at ease to have it where you know exactly where it is.  I'll leave it with you.  I trust you'll find something to do with it." He stared at it for a few seconds more, turned, and left.
        Goliath watched him go, and turned down to look at the Phoenix Gate, looking deceptively simple as it lay there in his palm.  He had a brief urge to whisper the familiar words and send it hurtling into the mists of time again, but he had done that before and it apparently hadn't worked.  He stared at it, barely noticing as Hudson trod over and looked at him critically.  He knew about the Phoenix Gate, of course...hadn't ever been caught travelling in it, but he knew about it.
        "What are we going to do with it, lad?"  he asked.
        "We're going to keep it."  Goliath replied.   "The same way we kept the Grimoire of Gaulois.  Something like this is too dangerous to leave where anyone can get it."
        Hudson nodded in agreement.  "Like we kept it before."
        "Yes."   Goliath closed his eyes.  His face grew a little more determined, and he walked puposefully into the castle, headed towards Hawthorne's room.

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Greenwich Apartment Complex
10:06 p.m., EST

        Thank God for coffee, Kennedy Woodworth thought irritably as she sat at her desk, going over her notes.  She was mucking her way through a problem, and while Professor Chandrasekhar was quite a bit more thorough (and more sane) than Professor Bell (at least, Kennedy hopped that Chandrasekhar wasn't moonlighting as a religious bomber), the way she explained things always left her confused and not understanding.
        "Explain how optical isomerism differs from geometrical isomerism."  she read aloud.  "My God in heaven."
        Suddenly there was a swoop of wings at her balcony, and she looked up.  There, at her door, were Bonavista and Whitbourne, politely waiting to be let in.  She frowned; she was happy to see them, and after all, she and Bonavista were good friends, but tonight was a study night and she didn't want any distractions.
        Lately she and Bonavista's friendship had been a little strained, anyway.  She hadn't been able to spend much time with him over the last week, due to her busy schedule, and while he was patient about it, it was plain to see he was getting irritated with not being able to see her whenever he wanted.  She felt bad for that...after all, just a few months ago, she and Bonavista had had a crisis over their developing friendship where Bonavista had been thinking that he might have been coming on too strong and that his actions might be indicative of a romantic attraction.  That had been worked out and forgotten, but Bonavista was lately beginning to act a little differently around her.  For the past couple of weeks, he had been a little less at ease around her, and he seemed to try to impress her a little more.  She didn't know what he was thinking, but in any case, tonight was not a good night to talk it over.
        She opened the balcony door.  "Hey, there, Ken, me girl, how's ye tonight?"  Bonavista greeted.  "We was just in the area patrollin' and we thought we'd pay a visit..."
        Kennedy smiled.  "Thanks.  It'll have to be a quick visit, though, cause I've got a lot of work to do."
        The two gargoyles walked in.  Whitbourne went over to her chemistry notes, and began flipping through them.  "What're ye studyin'?"
        "Physical Chemistry 331."  Kennedy replied.  "I have my final for that next week, and it's hard to understand."
        Bonavista smiled, and sighed.   "But ye's got time for a break tomorrow, I'd imagine, so when ye comes up to visit tomorrow night..."
        Kennedy blinked...she had come to the conclusion a half an hour ago that she would have to cram like crazy for the other final she was worried about, the Biochemistry nightmare.  It was starting to look doubtful that she'd be able to take the time off.
        "Bonnie, I don't know.  I've got a lot of tests, and I really shouldn't be skipping off.  I did that last year and I nearly flunked.  I need the time tomorrow to study.  I'm sorry."
        Bonavista blinked, looking mildly hurt.  "Oh."  he replied, sounding crestfallen.  "You promised, though..."
        Whitbourne looked up, raising an eye ridge.  Kennedy sighed.   "Bonnie, it's not that I don't want to, it's just that it's a really busy time.  I have final lab reports, exams, and I still have classes every day.  As soon as finals are done next week, I'll come up..."
        "Oh.  Okay, fine."  Bonavista blinked.   He sighed.  Kennedy smiled weakly, and gave him a pat on the hand.
        "I can take a little study break for now, I guess.  Not too long, though.  Either of you want a beer?"
        "Yeah, sure."  Whitbourne called.  "Bonnie, does ye want one, my son?"
        "Nah."   Bonavista shook his head.  Kennedy went into her kitchen to grab a beer.
        "Is ye cuttin' off all your other friends, too, me girl?"  Bonavista asked.  Kennedy suddenly slammed the fridge door angrily.
        "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  she asked, angrily.  Bonavista blinked.
        "I was just askin'..."
        "I'm not cutting you off, Bonnie, I'm busy.  I've got final exams. My life doesn't end at daybreak, you know."  she frowned, as if this was perfectly obvious.
        "I knows that."  Bonavista replied irritably.  "I didn't mean nothin' by what I was after sayin'..."
        "You sure?  I mean, you've seemed awful upset lately.  Look, I'm not meaning to cut you off or not spend as much time with you lately, I'm just really busy."  Kennedy frowned, and then she shook her head.  "I'm really sorry, but there's not all that much I can do about it."
        Bonavista sighed.  "It's just that we hasn't been able to spend time together for a week or so, and I just gets bored.  I likes hangin' around with ye, me girl."
        "I know you do, Bonnie, and I like spending time with you too.  But you can't expect me to drop everything every night.  I have stuff I have to do too, just like you and your clan go out patrolling every night.  And this is important to me...I have to keep up my scholarship, and I can't do that unless I have good marks.  It isn't fair for you to feel I'm neglecting you because of that."
        "I'm not...I don't...look, just forget it, okay?"  Bonavista muttered.  He stomped over to the window, and turned back.  "Have a nice night, me girl."  he frowned, and then he took off.
        "Bonnie!"  Kennedy protested, and she threw up her arms.  "What the hell is wrong with him?"
        Whitbourne shrugged, and left his untouched beer on the table.  "I thinks I'd better be after him, me girl.  Don't study too hard.  I'll have a good talk with him."
        Kennedy shook her head.  "See you, Witless.  Thanks."
        Whitbourne stared the way Bonavista had gone, shrugged apologetically, and left to catch up with him.

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

        Bonavista was heading home in a fuming snit, suddenly angry and not really understanding why.  He kept looking back towards Kennedy's apartment, receding in the distance, wondering why he was so mad all of a sudden.
        "Jesus Christ in heaven above, Bonnie, what the hell got into ye?"  came Whitbourne's voice, and Bonavista spun around.  He hadn't noticed Whitbourne coming up behind him.
        "What the hell business is it of yours, Whitbourne, my son?"  he asked angrily.  "It's  'tween Kennedy and me."
        "Bonnie, ye and her are best friends almost.  Ye doesn't go screaming at someone like that when they's your friend, my lad."
        "I was pissed off.  She's been ignorin' me almost a week..."
        "Bonnie, she's a college student.  She's bound to be busy.  And you seen them books on her table, she weren't lyin' to ye."
        "Look, I knows!"  Bonavista sighed exasperatedly.  "It ain't about the friggin' studyin'..."
        Whitbourne's eyes widened.  "Then just what is it about, Bonnie?"
        Bonavista groaned.  "Look, just forget it.  Why doesn't ye just forget about it and go home and has yourself a snuggle with Delilah..."
        Whitbourne suddenly nodded in understanding.  "I knows what's wrong with ye, Bonnie."  he smiled faintly.
        "Oh, really?  Tell me, then, Witless.  Tell me what's wrong."
        "Ye's jealous."
        "Jealous!  Ha!  What's I jealous about, Witless?"  Bonavista laughed mockingly, but he felt a little twitch on the side of his mouth, and he suddenly had to turn his head away.
        "Ye's jealous cause everyone else in the clan has got someone to go home to and all ye gots is Kennedy.  And since she's all ye's got, ye gets mad cause she can't spend all the time with ye that ye wants her to."
        Bonavista scowled, and then it died.  He sighed, and turned away.  "Ye's right."  he admitted.   "They ain't no flies on ye, Witless."
        "Bonnie, it's only for another week, and then she's done till September.  Think 'a that, Bonnie!  That's four months were she won't have to worry about schoolwork..."

        "It isn't just that."  Bonavista stated suddenly, and he looked directly at Whitbourne.  "Witless, every night I sits at the castle all by meself, watchin' while ye and Delilah do somethin' together, or listen to Brooklyn and Carb make their plans for their wedding, or see Broadway and Angela or Lex and Ophelia  holdin' hands, and there I is all by myself.  I doesn't hold that against none of ye's, but I just wish...you know, I wishes I had that."
        He frowned, and sighed heavily.  "And then I starts to wonder if maybe it's Kennedy that I'se supposed to be doin' that with."
        Whitbourne blinked.   "Bonnie, ye's just friends with her!  Remember November, when ye was all upset cause you thought she was after thinkin' you wanted more?   Frigg, bye..."
        "That was November."  Bonavista stated in a pained voice.  "Five months ago.  And I dunno...lately I'se been startin' to wonder exactly how I feels around her.  She's nice and funny and smart, and they ain't nobody else around for me.  And plus Goliath and Elisa..."
        "That's different."
        "How?"
        Whitbourne blinked; he didn't have an answer.  "Look."  Bonavista stated.   "I doesn't know how I feels about her.  But I thinks it's more 'n just friendship, and that's why it hurts when she and I can't be together."
        "Bonnie, if ye's even considerin' a relationship with her deeper than what ye's got now, ye can't be so selfish as to expect her to drop everything for ye."
        Bonavista looked about to say something, but he stopped, and sighed.  "Ye's right."  he muttered.  "Frigg, what a jerk I'se been.  But I doesn't know how I feels, Witless.  I doesn't know if it's just lonliness speakin', or if I actually feels somethin' for her.  And I dunno if it's just friendship or somethin' more deeper."
        "Then I thinks ye'd better figure it out, Bonnie, for her sake as well as yours."  Whitbourne sighed.  He patted Bonavista's shoulder.  "And when ye figures it out, ye'd be best off lettin' her know."
        Bonavista looked at him, and sighed dejectedly.

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Castle Wyvern
10:40 p.m., EST

        By twenty to eleven, all of the gargoyles had returned to the castle, all of them logging in quiet, peaceful nights.  However, Goliath had told them to meet in the library, as something important had come up.  He wouldn't elaborate, leaving the rest of the clan to wonder what was going on.
        After Lexington and Brooklyn, the last stragglers, had shown up, the meeting began in the library.  Goliath immediatly started by setting the Phoenix Gate down on the table.  Brooklyn, Broadway, Lexington, Angela and Ophelia's eyes all widened, and even Bronx, who was sitting down in the corner, let out a curious whine.  Whitbourne, Carbonear, Bonavista and Delilah looked at each other in confusion.
        "What's that?"  Delilah asked.
        "It's called the Phoenix Gate.  It's a magical artifact that can travel through time."  Goliath explained.
        "Through time?"  Carbonear asked.  Bonavista felt a brief urge to come out with a disbelieving comment, but after seeing the things he had seen since joining the clan, he decided it was probably just worth it to accept it at face value and leave it at that.
        "Yes.  To travel through time."  Goliath replied.  "That's where Xanatos was today, retrieving this.  I had thought I had gotten rid of it, but it turns out I was wrong.  Since we can't seem to destroy it, it then falls to us to guard it and to make sure nobody can use it."
        "Well, wait?  What's the big deal?  Can people go back in time and change history with that thing?"  Whitbourne asked.
        "No."  Goliath replied.  "History cannot be altered.  But people like Demona have tried, and the Archmage used the Phoenix Gate trying to destroy Avalon.   It's much safer here, with us, and that's why I have decided that we'll keep it in Hawthorne's room, the same place we keep the Grimoire."
        Brooklyn nodded, finidng no objections.  All of the more traditional members of the clan were nodding in agreement.  Delilah, Carbonear, Whitbourne and Bonavista shrugged, not quite understanding but figuring it couldn't hurt.  Goliath nodded.  "That's it, then.  I felt that you should know about this.  It'll be kept in Hawthorne's room, then.  You can go."
        The clan all got up, and headed off.  Goliath took the Phoenix Gate, and headed towards the far end of the castle.

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Fourth Avenue
April 15, 1998
1:34 a.m., EST

        It was quite an ordinary car.  Forest green Toyota Camry, not at all conspicuous or suspicious.  The car's owner, one Gerald Philips, had bought it on his comfortable salary, working as a research physicist for Xanatos Enterprises.  He was a model employee, participative, innovative, willing to help out, and above all, loyal.
        However, that was only one side of the story.  It didn't say in  his employee file, for instance, that he was actually from Fredericton, New Brunswick, and not Mechanic Falls, Maine as he had originally claimed.  It also didn't say that he was an inside operative for Bras d'Or, assigned to keep an eye on David Xanatos and his alleged forays into claimed magical artifacts.  With the arrival of the gargoyles, Philips had been a very busy man over the last year and a half.
        Tonight, however, he had been assigned to pick up another agent, arriving at a private airfield owned my the Canadian embassy near JFK International.  The man hadn't said much, and had been wearing an unseasonal ski mask, but Philips didn't say anything.
        "Okay."  Philips stated.  "We'll head up to my office, and we'll use the surveillance equipment up there.  It has direct scans to almost security camera in the castle..."
        "Let's hear it for voyeurism."  the man whispered softly, crushing out his cigarette.  "Once I see the Phoenix Gate, however, I go up to get it alone."
        Philips nodded.   "I'll short out the security cameras so you get up there unnoticed.  There should be some gargoyles hanging around, though, so you'd better watch..."
        "Mr. Philips, I've had a long day.  I've had to get diverted here from Charlottetown.  I'm not in the mood to screw around.  I know about the gargoyles; for Christ's sake, we've got a  clone of one of them up in Quebec.  You just do your job and get me up there, okay?"
        Philips blinked; he didn't know much about this man at all.  However, he had orders from Director Jean-Francois LaFontaine himself to do whatever the man said, and so he didn't argue.
        "Okay, then.  Let's go."  He drove the car into the Eyrie Building's underground parkade, which had been completely repaired after the explosion which had torn it apart a month and a half ago.  He parked, and he and the man got out, headed towards the elevators up to the offices.

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Greenwich Apartment Complex
1:45 a.m., EST

        After her adventure with Tony Dracon, (he'd been remanded to police custody at the 23rd precinct until the wake the following day) Elisa had stopped in for groceries at the 24-hour supermarket, and had just dropped them off at her apartment when Kennedy Woodworth came walking down the hall, dressed in her coat.
        "Hi, Kennedy!"  Elisa greeted warmly.  "How are you?"
        "I just finished studying for my finals.  I should be studying still, but I can't concentrate anymore."
        "It's quarter to two in the morning.   Don't you have classes tomorrow?"  Elisa asked.
        Kennedy nodded.  "They aren't till the afternoon, though, so there's no rush for me to get to bed.  I was just wondering, are you headed to the castle right now?"
        "Uh huh."  Elisa nodded.
        "Could I come with you?  Bonavista and I got into a fight tonight while I was studying, and I want to talk to him in person.  That's why I can't concentrate."
        Elisa shrugged, and nodded.  "Sure.  Just as long as you get some sleep later on."
        "I probably won't be that late and I can take the subway back.  I'll be fine."
        "Okay."  Elisa shrugged.  "Let's go, then."

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Castle Wyvern
1:49 a.m., EST

        Angela and Ophelia were sitting in the deserted kitchen.  They were just having one of their frequent friendly chats, not at all unlike the talks they'd had on Avalon as children.
        "...so that's that."  Ophelia finished her tale, toying absently with the bracelet Lexington had given her for Christmas.  "I don't know what it is, why he and I can go so fast when it took me a year to admit how I felt for him, but he and I are just moving along so well.  Everything feels right, Angela."
        "That's wonderful."  Angela agreed.  "I'm glad you and Lexington are happy with each other."
        "How about you and Broadway?  How are things between the two of you?"  Ophelia asked.
        Angela considered the question.  Things were going well, even despite his shyness and his repeated apologies.  "Wonderful."  she said aloud.  "He's been having some problems lately, because he still doesn't feel ready to consummate anything yet."
        "Broadway isn't exactly a forward person."  Ophelia noted.  "At least you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves you..."
        Angela nodded.  "Ophelia, I don't have a problem with his slowness at all.  I've told him time and time again that I'm willing to wait for him, and that whenever he's ready, we will.  The thing is, he keeps expecting me to be hurt and upset about it.  He's the one obsessing over it, not me.   I care, but it doesn't bother me how slow he goes."
        "Well, sooner or later he'll stop worrying about it."  Ophelia shrugged.  "And when he is ready, then there you go.  Just keep being patient with him, and let him know you love him regardless."
        Angela nodded, and smiled.

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

        Broadway, meanwhile, was doing something remarkably similar with Brooklyn.  The two of them had sat down in the den, and were sitting there discussing the facts of life.
        "Broadway, you don't have anything to be worried about."  Brooklyn stated patiently.  He knew of his rookery brother's problem, and was trying to act as a helper.  "Angela loves you very much, and she understands how you feel first of all..."
        "But everyone else is doing it, and I keep expecting her to wonder if I love her as much as you love Carb or Witless loves Delilah or Lex loves Ophelia."  Broadway sighed.  "I know in my head that I'm just being foolish, but my heart has me wondering."
        "Broadway, sex isn't the biggest thing in a relationship."  Brooklyn explained.  "When Carbonear and I make love, it just builds the relationship we have.  Makes us closer together.  That isn't what love's all about.  Just because me and Whitbourne aren't as shy as you doesn't mean we love our mates more than you love yours.  You just haven't gone as far physically as we have.  That isn't as big a deal as you're making it."
        Broadway sighed.  "You're right."  He tapped his talons on the chair's arm, and thought for a second.  "And it isn't like it's never gonna happen.   I feel a lot better about it than I did last year..."
        "There you go!  You're working yourself up to it!"  Brooklyn smiled.   "And as for Angela, don't worry.  She understands, and she loves you."
        "I am being stupid, aren't I."  Broadway grinned.
        "Just a little.  I have to go meet Carb, we're watching a movie.  If you and Angela want to watch too...it's kinda sappy though.  Carb wants to see "To Gillian on Her 37th Birthday" again."
        "I'll go ask her."  Broadway stated, standing up.  "Thanks, Brooklyn."
        "Don't mention it."  Brooklyn smiled, watching as Broadway left the room.
 

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

        The picture had been taken a couple of months ago.  It was a small shot of Bonavista and Kennedy, taken at her apartment by Shawn Mercer one night when they'd all been over.  He and Kennedy were both on her couch, and Bonavista was lying down with his feet up on her lap.  She was laughing, and throwing chips at him.  That had been a happy night.
        Bonavista sighed, and put the framed picture down on the table where it had stood.  He was in the smoke hole, alone, lost in thought.  Wondering why he had flipped out at Kennedy that night, achingly wanting to apologize...but that wasn't all.  As he sat there, staring at her picture, he suddenly thought back to a few nights ago, when he had been down to the aboretum and had seen Whitbourne and Delilah skinny dipping in the pool.  He hadn't been enough of a voyeur to stay and keep peeking, but he had gone away wishing to God that he had someone to be with.
        Whitbourne had been right, of course; Bonavista was jealous of them all.  Brooklyn, Broadway, Lexington, Whitbourne, Goliath...all of them had somebody special to share their lives with and to be there whenever they needed someone.  Bonavista didn't have that...he had a friend, but that was it.  And while he had been worried a few months ago that Kennedy would think he might be interested in more than friendship, he was wondering now if perhaps that might not be the case.
        "What does I feel for her?" he asked aloud.  "Frigg, I either loves her or I don't."
        He stared at her picture,asking himself some hard questions about his relationship and wondering just what he felt for Kennedy Lauren Woodworth.

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

 The Eyrie Building
2:05 a.m., EST

        Gerald Philips accessed the Eyrie Building's security grid with practised ease.  His office was, of course, deserted...he and the mysterious skimasked man had no problems getting up, with Philips explaining to a night watchman that he had left some documents up there, and that the man was just a friend who had recently had plastic surgery on his face.
        "Okay."  Philips frowned, watching as his computer screen suddenly began to show a security camera image of a dark, empty office with a panoramic window.   In the lower right corner of the screen, a little map of that floor of the castle appeared, with a glowing red dot on one room.   "I've accessed the security camera system.  I just have to scan all the images here..."
        The man watched impatiently as images flashed across the screen.  More than once, gargoyles showed up on the scans, causing him to frown slightly.  Suddenly...
        "Stop."  the man commanded.  Philips did so, and the image of the computer showed a crystal clear image of the Phoenix Gate, resting on a table along with an ancient book.  The map showed that the room was on the far end of the castle.
        "That's on the second floor of the castle, that."  Philips frowned.  "If you went up there directly from here, you'd have to walk through about sixteen security scans before you go to the room.  I can shut off the security cameras; we installed a software program that makes the cameras look like they just glitched up last year, just in case we ever had to do anything like this.  The security guards won't know a thing."
        "Good.  Deactivate them as soon as I get up there."  the man frowned.  He growled, and headed for the elevator.

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

Castle Wyvern
2:11 a.m., EST

        The elevator opened, and Elisa Maza and Kennedy Woodworth stepped out.
        "See you.  I'm gonna go find Bonnie."  Kennedy stated, heading down the other hall.  Elisa nodded, and began to head towards the library, where she expected she would find Goliath.
        He wasn't there.
        She frowned, and wandered aound until she found Lexington and Ophelia walking down the hall.  "Hey, Elisa!" they said at the same time, waving cheerily.
        "Hi, guys.  Where's Goliath?"  she asked.
        Lexington frowned.  "I think he's in Hawthorne's room, Elisa."  He hesitated.  "Xanatos got the Phoenix Gate."
        "WHAT?"  Elisa nearly yelled in surprise.  "That's impossible!  I saw Goliath chuck it away!"
        "Well, it's back."  Lexington shrugged.  "That's where he is."
        "Okay.  Thanks."  Elisa stated.  She began to head over to the far end of the castle from the elevators, not at all noticing that the red lights on the security cameras were winking off.  She came to Hawthorne's room, and opened the door to find Goliath standing behind Hawthorne's statue, staring at the Phoenix Gate.
        "Goliath?"  she asked, coming around.  "Are you all right?"
        "I'm fine."  he stated.  "I'm just thinking."
        She walked to his side, staring at the artifact that she personally had not wanted to ever see again.  "How did it get back?"
        "I don't know.   Apparently it showed up on Prince Edward Island about a hundred and thirty years ago.  Somehow it managed to find its way out of the void I sent it to and it surfaced there."
        He frowned.  "But it's here now, and if we can't get rid of it, we can at least ensure that it's never used again."
        "You kept it in the clock tower and Demona and MacBeth managed to steal it."  Elisa frowned.
        "I know."  Goliath growled.  "But this time things will be different."

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

        Kennedy, meanwhile, headed straight for the smoke hole, knowing nothing about the Phoenix Gate or the CSIS intelligence officer who was at that very moment stepping out of the elevator and walking down the hall towards Hawthorne's room.  She was instead focusing on Bonavista, trying to figure out what to say to him.
        The door was closed.  She politely knocked on it, and was answered with a muffled "C'mon in."  She opened the door, and came face to face with Bonavista, who was sitting down, absently smoking.
        He blinked in surprise. "Ken?" he asked, standing up, slack-jawed.  Then, a touch of bitterness edged into his voice.   "I thought ye was too busy to c'mon up and see me."
        "I am.  I should be studying or sleeping right now, but I figured that since I couldn't concentrate after the fight we had, I might as well come up and see you."  Kennedy replied.  "Bonnie, I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend as much time with you..."
        Bonavista sighed, and shuffled his feet.  "Yeah.  I'se sorry too.  I shouldn't of yelled at ye."
        "Just think.  In a ten days time I'm done of school for the summer.  That's four months where I'll be able to spend time doin' stuff with you and Laine and Shawn.  My summer job's all day shifts, so I'm in the clear all summer."
        "Yeah."  Bonavista agreed, a smile coming to his face.
        She walked closer to him.  "But you have to understand that there's other things in my life too, and if we're going to be friends, then you have to accept that."
        She looked quizzically at him as his face twisted into an unreadable expression, but it quickly passed.  "Ye's right.  I'm so sorry, Ken, I was such a jerk."
        Kennedy smiled, and took his hand.  "I was being kinda testy too.  And I felt I had to apologize to you in person.   Talking over the phone just doesn't do it justice."
        Bonavista chuckled.  'Ye'd better go home and get some sleep, me girl. She's goin' on two-thirty in the morning."
        "Yeah.  Tell you what...I'll take a little study break tomorrow, and if you want to call for twenty minutes or so, say around nine o'clock..."
        "I'll do that, me girl."  Bonavista smiled.  "G'night."
        "Good night."  Kennedy replied, smiling.  She turned, and walked out of the smoke hole, feeling quite a bit better.

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

        The man walked silently down the hall, carefully watching for the sign of any gargoyles or security guards.  He was disappointed in that respect, but that was hardly a problem.  It was late, he was tired, and while he physically didn't need any sleep, he felt a weariness set into his entire being.  He wanted to get the Phoenix Gate, get back to 1924, and do what he had to do so he could take a day off.
        The security cameras were offline, but not traditionally.  The guard in the security office a few floors down would be staring at a freeze frame of the hallway at each camera, recorded by Philips and set to play until the man finished what he had to do.  Thank goodness for modern technology.

        He came along the hallway until he got to the room where the Phoenix Gate was being kept.  There were voices inside, and the man peeked his head in.  Inside were a woman and a huge gargoyle, talking to one another.  The room was dominated by the stone statue of a female gargoyle.  Behind that, just barely in his view, was a table, on which was lying an ancient book and the Phoenix Gate.
        The man narrowed his eyes, and wondered how he was supposed to get the Gate with those two in the room, when suddenly they saved him the trouble by turning their heads around and staring right at him.

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

        Goliath had been shaking his head, still a bit uneasy staring at the Gate, when suddenly he felt a presence behind him.  He turned around, and saw a man standing in the doorway, wearing a business suit, gloves, a hat, and an unseasonable ski mask.  Goliath suddenly felt a chill race up and down his spine just looking at him.  Elisa spun around and saw him too.
        "Who..." she asked, momentarily off her guard.  The man suddenly sprinted forward, knocking her backwards, heading for the table with the Grimoire and the Phoenix Gate.  Goliath wasted no time, grabbing the man by the arms and whirling him around, his eyes aglow.
        "Who are you?"  Goliath demanded.  The man replied by savagely punching Goliath in the face, hard enough to make spots dance in front of his eyes.  Goliath let him go, stunned just long enough to watch him grab the Phoenix Gate.
        "No!" Goliath roared, and he dove and caught the stranger with a tackle.  The intruder let out a bark of air, and crashed to the floor, dropping the Phoenix Gate.  It went skidding across the room and came to rest against the wall.  Elisa got up and grabbed it.  Goliath growled, his eyes aglow, and ripped off the ski mask...and the white fire in his eyes suddenly died.
        The man's skin was silver.  Not makeup, it was actually silver, and the lights reflected and glimmered in the silvery sheen of his cheek.  Elisa stared as well, shocked to silence.
        "What are you?"  Goliath whispered.
        "I'll thank you not to stare." the man hissed, and he drove his knee up into Goliath's groin.  The gargoyle let out a howl of pain, and the man twisted and squirmed out of his grasp.  He dove for Elisa, who jumped out of the way and pulled her gun.  The man growled, and responded  by pulling his own.
        "Don't even try it." Elisa snarled, holiding the Phoenix Gate close.
        "Give it to me." the man replied.   "This doesn't have anything to do with any of you.  Give me that gate or I'll take it from you.  It's your choice."
        Elisa bit her lip, and suddenly the man lunged for her again.  She fired a shot, but it missed, hitting the wall behind.  The man wrenched the Phoenix Gate from her grasp, and then Goliath got up again, enraged.
        "I really don't have time for this." the man sighed, and he suddenly pushed Hawthorne's statue over.  It tipped, and went into free fall.  Goliath dove to catch it, and managed to keep it from shattering, but the distraction served its purpose.  The man took off and began to race down the hall.  Elisa chased after him. Goliath set the statue upright, and then took off in hot pursuit.
 

*********************************************************************************************************
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Chapter Two

                Tempus Fugit

        The gunshot had been heard all over the castle.  All of the gargoyles were now heading towards the hallway, drawn by the sound, as were Xanatos and Fox.  Lexington, Brooklyn and Ophelia were the first to arrive, and they were immediately pushed aside by the man, who was making a mad dash to escape.
        "He's got the Phoenix Gate!"  Lexington cried.   Brooklyn stared incredulously...the man's face had seemed almost silver...
        Elisa and Goliath came running down the hall.   "Catch that man!"  Goliath bellowed, and everybody began to race after him.
 
**********************************************************************************************************

        Kennedy had just arrived at the elevators when she heard the gunshot.  A few minutes after, she saw Brooklyn, Lexington and Ophelia run by, heading for the hallway from whence the sound had come.  She began to get seriously curious when she saw Whitbourne, Delilah, Broadway, Angela, Hudson and Bronx head towards the noise, too, and before she knew it, she was slowly heading up the hallway.
        Suddenly, a man came running down the hallway, being fast pursued by the gargoyles.  Kennedy almost began to run, just in case this guy was a dangerous psychopath...and then she stared in rapt fascination as she suddenly realized that the man's face was silver.  No makeup or masks, it was actually silver...
        The man ran over to the elevators, and suddenly grabbed her.  Kennedy hissed in fear as he whirled her around, and set a gun to her temple.
        "Sorry, miss."  he muttered.   "It's nothing personal."  His voice was the sound of nails scratching against a chalkboard, and he was carrying a piece of metal.
        The clan came running out of the hallway, and Bonavista and Carbonear, who hadn't gotten there yet, suddenly arrived.  Bonavista took one look at Kennedy, being held hostage, and suddenly froze.
        "Let her go!"  Brooklyn growled, his incredulity forgotten.
        "This has nothing to do with you, gargoyles." the man hissed.  "I'm just a guy trying to do his job."
        He cocked the gun.

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

        Bonavista felt his blood run cold.  Kennedy looked absolutely terrified, but she wasn't screaming.  She was crying, but no sound came from her lips.  He felt a low growl come from his throat, and he suddenly lunged forward.  The man smiled faintly, and raised his arm to squeeze the trigger.   He was a hair away from doing so.
        "Take another step and her blood is on your hands."  the man stated coldly.  Bonavista stopped, but growled ominously.
        "Who are you?  What do you want?"  Angela asked.
        "I've got what I want.  I need the Phoenix Gate.  I don't have any intentions of killing this lovely young lady here, but I won't lose any sleep over it if I do.  But if you just leave me be, and let me do what I was sent to do, I'll let her go."
        "I'm afraid that's not an option, lad."  Hudson snarled, unsheathing his sword.
        "It's the only one you've got."  the man retorted.
        Bonavista began to shift his weight forward, preparing to dash out and get Kennedy away from him.  Phoenix Gate be damned.  Let him have it if he wanted it, as long as he let Kennedy go.  It was strange...ten minutes ago, he had been caught up in a personal matter, with any thoughts of heroism gone from his mind, and now here he was, about to take on a man...a man?  His face was silver...with a gun.
        Kennedy looked scared.  She was sweating, and softly whimpering, wondering what was going on.  Bonavista looked, seeing the rest of the clan surrounding the man, with Broadway and Angela in the forefront.
        The man looked around, seemed to consider what was going on, and sighed.  "It looks like I'm outnumbered."  he mused.
        "Indeed."  Goliath frowned, stepping forward.
        "In that case," the man frowned, "I have only five words to say."
        "Stuff the talk."  Whitbourne growled.  Since the episode with Demona  the year before, he and Delilah had been working on overcoming his cowardice in stressful situations.  He was still scared out of his wits, but he was doing an admirable job of pretending not to be.  "Just let 'er go."
        "Oh, but they're very good words."  the man smiled.  He traced one gloved finger along the cool metal of the Phoenix Gate.
        "What are they, then?"  Elisa snarled.  Her gun was still pulled.  By then Xanatos and Fox had shown up, and were now part of the crowd.  They reacted in shock at the silver faced man, but both had calmed down enough to grab two particle beam weapons from the wall panel.
        The man grinned.  "Desflegrate, muri tempi et intervalia."  he smirked.  The Phoenix Gate suddenly flared, and then it shot out twin beams of cold fire.  The man and Kennedy were enclosed in a sphere of flames.
        "Jesus, no!"  Bonavista cried, and he suddenly dove inside without thinking.  The rest of the clan lunged forward, but only Broadway and Angela made it inside.  Goliath managed to touch the flames, but he couldn't get inside...
        ...and then the ball of flame disappeared.  The man, Kennedy, Bonavista, Broadway and Angela were gone.  There was no sign that they had ever been there.
        Carbonear ran to the spot where the flames had been.  "Where's they to?" she asked fearfully.  "Sweet Jesus, where'd they go?"
        "God knows when."  Elisa muttered.
        The clan gathered around the spot where the fire had been, staring in shock, wondering what had just happened.

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

        Broadway hadn't meant to enter the Gate.  He didn't really know why he had lunged forward, other than the mere instinct of it.  Kennedy had been in trouble and that...ice-faced man was stealing the Phoenix Gate.  His gargoyle instincts had moved him towards that ball of fire more so than any conscious thought.  It was only after that he realized what it was he had done.
        He plunged through the firey globe, almost surprised at the absence of any heat.  It almost felt cold.  He could hear Angela enter, and he could dimly see the man, Kennedy, and Bonavista....and then it happened.  He felt an indescribable sensation...like one might feel in a fast moving car that suddenly stops, and then boots 'er down the road in reverse.  It felt like he was moving BACKWARDS at some incredible speed.
        He opened his mouth to scream, but not surprisingly, no sound would come out.

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Fourth Avenue
September 6, 1924
9:10 p.m., Eastern Daylight Time

        As abruptly as it vanished, the ball of fire reappeared in the middle of an alleyway.  It disappeared, and the weird, silver-faced man, Kennedy Woodworth, Bonavista, Broadway and Angela were left standing where it once had been.  The man almost immediately pushed Kennedy away, and took off running down the street, still holding the Phoenix Gate.
        "Much obliged, m'am!" he called.  Bonavista picked her up, and held her close as she began to shudder, assumably from delayed shock.  Broadway and Angela immediately began to run down the alleyway, intending to chase him...and came out into the main street.  People screamed at the sight of them, running away, and in the confusion, the man was lost from sight.
        "Damn."  Broadway muttered.  Then he looked around, and his jaw dropped.
        He didn't know where or when he was, true.  The Phoenix Gate could have dropped them off anywhere.  But part of him was still assuming  he was in New York City (as opposed to Chicago or Montreal or Kuala Lumpur or something), and as such, the act of NOT seeing the Eyrie Building, or the Empire State Building, or even the World Trade Centre, made him suddenly shudder.
        He looked around, saw the cars...very old cars, like something out of the Untouchables...driving around the street.
        He and Angela stepped back in the alleyway, and apparently Angela was having the same idea he was.
        "Broadway...where did the Phoenix Gate take us?"  she asked, near panic.  "Where and when are we?"

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

        Kennedy was crying.  She had been terrified.  Bonavista couldn't blame her.  She had, after all, had a gun held to her temple and cocked, and had then had something weird happ...
        What did happen, anyway?
        He blinked...he really didn't know.  He remembered diving inside the ball of flame and then feeling a sickening sensation of moving backwards.  He remembered that man (who was another mystery Bonavista really didn't feel comfortable thinking about) saying a few strange words, and then...
        He rocked Kennedy close, deciding to put the feelings off.  "Ssh."  he whispered.  "Ssh, Ken, buddy's gone, ye's safe..."
        She took a few minutes to calm down, and then she looked up.  "Bonnie...I..."
        He smiled.  "Ye's gonna be fine, me girl."
        "Who was he?  Bonnie, his FACE..."
        "I knows, me girl.  I doesn't know who he was neither.  But he's gone."
        She took a few deep breaths, and suddenly looked around.  Her expression went from one approachng calmness to one of confusion.  "Where are we?"
        For the first time, Bonavista looked around.  It only then struck him that just a minute ago, he had been standing in the castle, and now he was standing in an alleyway.  He frowned, and looked around, trying to discern his location and failing miserably.  "I doesn't know."  he muttered.
        Broadway and Angela came walking back, looking just as confused as they were.  "We  have a pretty big problem."  Angela stated softly.
        "What?"  Kennedy asked, still in shock.  "Where are we?"
        "We don't know.  We don't know when, either.  But one thing's for damn sure, it isn't 1998."  Broadway muttered.   "Go take a look at the cars out on the street."
        Kennedy and Bonavista looked at each other, and slowly approached the end of the alleyway.  Sure enough, the cars were ancient...but brand-new.
        "How...what..."  Kennedy blinked.  "What happened?"
        "That guy used the Phoenix Gate, and he took us with him."  Broadway frowned.  "We've gone back in time."
 
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        Kennedy had been having a remarkably bad night.  Just an hour and a half ago, she had been sitting in her apartment studying for her Physical Chemistry final exam, and since then she had been held hostage at gunpoint and got caught in a ball of fire.  And now, according to Broadway, she had just travelled backwards in time.
        I'm going crazy, she thought wonderingly, staring at the cars parked on the street.  Wheeee!
        "That...I...how?"  Bonavista asked.  "Is this what Goliath was after talkin' about?"  Angela nodded yes.
        "This is just insane."  Kennedy whispered.  "Time travel is impossible..."
        "Go out and ask what date it is." Broadway stated.  "I know it's crazy, but how else can you explain what happened?  Explain those cars."
        Kennedy stared at him, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the alleyway.  The first thing she noticed was that she was dressed differently than every other woman she could see.  She was wearing a sweater and blue jeans and sneakers, and every woman was wearing hats and dresses and high heeled shoes.  There were a few people pointing at the alleyway, and Kennedy could hear someone talking about monsters.
        She approached a couple walking down the sidewalk.  "Excuse me..." she began.
        "Yes?"  The man asked.  The woman looked at her quizzically.
        "I'm...uh, well this is gonna sound stupid...but could you tell me what the date is?"  she asked innocently, looking at them apologetically.
        "The sixth."  the woman replied.
        "Sixth of what?"
        "September."
        "Um...and, uh...what year is it?"
        "It's 1924."  The man said very slowly, as if speaking to a very stupid person.  "Let's go, Ethel.  I heard Manhattan was crazy, but this is just ridiculous."
        Kennedy paid them no notice.  She stared up and down the street, feeling suddenly very lost and very helpless.  She saw a newspaper lying on the sidewalk, and picked it up.  There is was, in black and white.  September 6, 1924.  5 cents a copy.  She stared at the headlines.  James 'Gentleman Jimmy' Walker Elected Mayor.  Claims of Atrocities in Mussolini's Fascist Italy.  Al Jolson to appear at the Rockaway Theatre.
        She felt like she was about to faint.
        She slowly walked back towards the alleyway.  She stumbled there, feeling very small and confused and dazed.  More than once she had to look down at the newspaper, and there it was in black and white.  She had to think back to the conversation with the two snobs.  If they and the paper were to be believed, then she had somehow started the night on April 15, 1998, and ended it on September 6, 1924.  Almost seventy four years back from where she had been.
        My God, she thought wonderingly,  my grandmother is probably just a little baby up in Schenectedy now...
        She walked into the alleyway, still feeling sufficiently numbed.  "According to the people I talked to, tonight is September 6, 1924."  she muttered.
        "1924."  Angela hissed.  Bonavista looked a little bit dismayed, but he didn't look disbelieving.
        "Seventy four years back."  he muttered.  "Sweet Jesus, I ain't gonna be born for thirty-six years..."
        Broadway stared at the paper, frowning.  Kennedy watched him for a second, and then suddenly thought of something.
        "If this is true...if this 1924 and that...guy...brought us back in time with him...how do we get home?"  she asked.
        Bonavista, Broadway, and Angela looked at each other, their expressions revealing that they didn't know."
        "We can't get home unless we get the Phoenix Gate off that guy."  Broadway groaned.  "I think we'd better go find him."

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The Silver Falcon Nightclub
9:26 p.m., EDT

        Historians would later call them "the Roaring Twenties".  Roar they did.  People had a lot of reasons to be happy.  After all, the Great War (World War One, of course, but on September 6, 1924, nobody had the faintest idea there would be a second one) had been over for six years.  The economy was booming, (Black Thursday was another five years away) and the people were happy.   Of course,  Prohibition was a thorn in the side, but one of Dominic Dracon's philosiphies of life was NO PROBLEM.  It's against the law to sell anything with over 0.5% alcohol?  NO PROBLEM.  First of all, the Silver Falcon (which his partner, Mason E. "Mace" Malone owned) prided itself on its willingness to abide to the law.  So of course, no liquor was sold at the club...at least when one of the policemen that Dracon hadn't paid off was around, anyway.  And since he had a network of bootleggers and rumrunners that operated all around Manhattan, (there was the odd turf war, but once again, NO PROBLEM) he was in quite the position to supply booze to anyone who wanted it.  Ask Dominic Dracon how he felt about Prohibition, and he would probably shrug, smile, and utter his philosophy...NO PROBLEM.
        Tonight, he was sitting at his table with a few of his associates, listening to the band play.  They were pretty good...Salvadore Thomas was on trumpet tonight, and Sal Thomas was one of the best big band musicians the patrons of the Silver Falcon had ever heard.  Dominic was at his table.  Sitting with him was Mace Malone, and the third most prominant member of the gang, a huge black man with two gold teeth who's name was Timothy Sutton, but who was invariably known as Too-Tall Timmy.  On Dominic's arm was a beautiful woman wearing a long, expensive gown, a strand of pearls, and sinfully expensive shoes.  Alexia Yarborough was her name, and while Dominic privately found her a bit shallow, (not to mention expensive) he had absolutely NO PROBLEM with her good looks and her...well, her nighttime talents.
        He, of course, had no idea that she was just using him for his money, but that was how she wanted it.
        Mace and Dominic were drinking, of course...they had just sold a largish quantity of whiskey to a man on the Upper East Side for quite a bit of money, and Too-Tall Timmy had "collected" an outstanding loan payment from another client over the course of the day.  Business was booming, and that deserved a celebration.  And since there were no cops...
        "I think we're gonna have to do a bit of territorial expansion."  Mace frowned, taking a drink of whiskey.  "The Greek's trying to cram himself in on our territory.  Again."
        Dominic rolled his eyes.  "For Christ's sake, when is that guy gonna learn?  Timmy, did you break his wife's legs like we asked you to?"
        "Yup."  Too-Tall Timmy replied, nodding his head in time to