|The emerald colored envelope sat in the mailbox.
Molly Alice Destine
2222 N. Haverbrook Ave.
Upstate, NY 00572-62019
I know at this young age you must have many questions, all of which no
one can answer or will answer. Your mother loves you, or at least,
I hope she does. I can tell you I love you from what I know of you. It
was an awful night and I'm sorry I got drunk, but the rose colored champagne
they served, they had sworn was apple in taste. It was, but everything
got bubbly and dizzy and Dominique looked exquiste that night, simply wonderful.
How we ever ended up back in my bedroom I don't think I will ever know.
Of course, the morning I
woke up was no better. I had a splitting headache and then after spotting
your mother next to me, Avalon! Medusa looked better on her wedding night!
And then there was the yelling and screaming, and the throwing of things.
Of course doors slammed and everyone was trying to figure out what happened.
I tell you this Mollie-Ollie, sleeping with your mother did nothing in
the way of my reputation!
Of course, nine months later
I get this phone call screaming curses that would make a sailor blush (I
apologise for the trashy cliche, I couldn't think of anything better) and
telling me everything is my fault. And what do you know, I haven't a clue
as to what the mad woman is talking about until she threatens me to come
to the hospital. So I go.
You were very pink. That
was my first impression of you. And I thought it was funny that the top
of your head barely had any hair. Of course it was blonde or black, I can
never remember such details as that, but I remember your eyes were so blue.
About as blue as my own and the nurses swore up and down you'd have those
blue eyes forever.
Ugh, I'm getting sentimental
now, aren't I? Forgive your dear old dad.
Mollykins, someday when
the world is right and you're old enough to properly understand the world
at large, I may be able to show up on a doorstep and whisk you away to
a heritage and land that you never knew exsisted, but until then, I am
afraid that all we have that is connecting us is my blood in you and this
letter which will probably annoy you to the core.
I love you Molly and when
I get your mother sober and realizing she made a grave mistake in humanity,
she'll love you too.
Until then my Mollicious,
Author's Note: In case it's not obvious, Owen Burnett and Dominique
Destine, later to be Puck and Demona because they are, after all, one and
Officer Morgan just could
not wait before coming home and going to sleep. It was late, his shift
just ended, and he was tired. Too tired, in fact. Maybe it was because
he was old, and no longer could do for hours without sleep. No, he still
could do that. What he couldn’t do was not to be able to awake from by
a first emergency call at home. No, he still could do that as well. It
was just that he was edging near his retirement date – after all, not even
the members of the police could work forever – or until it was too late
for them to be concerned about it. Morgan shook his head. He just wanted
to go home.
Somewhere, some distance upwards
on the street away from Morgan, glass crashed. A show-window of a shop.
That meant anyone, from some young punks having fun, to an organized robbery
by some heavy-duty burglars. Officer Morgan paused. It was late, he was
tired, alone. He could just ignore the noise and go home and no one would
No, he couldn’t do that. He was
a policeman of the old school, not one of those new arrivals, the officials
with epaulets. “Hey, you!” hee said loudly, walking forward. “Freeze!”
The vandal stopped, his hand holding
onto something. From the distance he was standing at, Morgan could see
that the impromptu burglar had a clear-shaven head, and dressed in denim
cowboy-style pants, worn and battered kersey boots and a matching denim
coat and some sort of a vest. “Come forward,” Morgan commanded, his hand
grasping his gun and the other – his handcuffs. “I need to see your face.”
The burglar made no move. “You’re
tired,” she suddenly said, her hands behind her.
“Now why does a girl would to
break into… a hardware store?” Morgan said glancing upwards, momentarily
breaking the eye-contact with his opponent. This proved to be fatal, as
the burglar’s hands shot out, and a heavy sledgehammer slammed into his
chest, splintering half of his ribs. The elderly police-man fell down onto
his back, his weapon clattering downward into a street gutter.
Slowly, leisurely even, the burglar
made her way to the fallen man, picking up the heavy tool with ease. “You’re
old and tired,” she told the man, and Morgan, with blood racketing in his
ears, heard the weird inflexions in her voice. “However, no one – except
for the select few – should know that I’m back in town. Therefore…” the
burglar leaned over Morgan, and the policeman gurgled up a semblance of
a scream, for the face that leaned over him was inhuman, with dark blue
skin and eyes pupils glowing yolk-yellow. “Bye,” the creature said simply,
opening her mouth, and emanating an organ that was no human or animal tongue,
Quicker than the eye could follow,
the organ struck Morgan straight into the ruined chest, there was a electric-like
jolt of pain, and then—
The next morning, when Captain
Chavez came to her district’s building, a woman was waiting at the front
door. “Hello Mrs. Morgan,” the policewoman said. “What’s up.”
“My husband. Officer Morgan. He
hadn’t come home last night from his shift, and he didn’t leave a message
on the answering machine, either. I'm worried. What if he is in trouble?”
The woman’s fear passed on to
Chavez. “Don't worry,” she told the older woman gently. “We’ll find him,
don’t you worry about a thing!”
“Ahem,” another voice spoke from
the right and behind the two women. “Officer? I have something to tell
you: I’ve been robbed.”
“And you are-?” Chavez couldn’t
think of anything better to add.
“I'm an owner of a hardware store,”
the man said, “I’ve been robbed last night. The thieves or thief broke
in and took away my prize sledgehammer.”
“Any clues?” captain Chavez asked.
“Oh yes! Come inside, and I’ll
show you,” the man said, shouldering a heavy black plastic bag.
The two women complied, curious
as well as worried now.
Once insight, the store’s owner
showed the two women an unpleasant surprise: a full kit of a policeman’s
tools, containing a gun, handcuffs, and a badge. The badge’s number was
identical to Morgan’s. The two women gaped, but their unpleasant surprise
intensified a thousandfold, as the man continued his display with ruined
policeman’s uniform. The uniform was burnt away in some places, and untouched
in others. The especially large hole in the upper half of the chest. “Well,
what do you say to that?” the man indignantly said. “I ask you, what can
you say about that?”
Captain Chavez exhaled. “Look,
sir,” she said. “The police will do its’ best to find out the robber of
your store, and may I ask, what was stolen?”
“A very large hammer, almost a
sledgehammer,” the man re-plied. “Don't know who would want that, it’s
not humanly possible to use this thing for anything – I just kept it for
a show-piece, to tell the truth. You're keeping the evidence?”
“Yes, thank you,” Chavez nodded.
“Just fill up this form… and could please take this lady home? I'm afraid…
it’s her husband’s uniform you brought back.”
“Oh. Sorry,” the robbery’s victim
turned to the policeman’s wife. “No problem,” he added, turning back to
Chavez. “Just keep in mind – I don’t exactly have the best handwriting.”
“Don't worry, we’ve had a lot
of practice with such things,” the policewoman replied.
Several hours later, the full cast
of the police of the 23rd District was gathered, listening to captain Chavez’s
morning report. “So what we have here, from my point of view,” the senior
policewoman was saying, “is a bust-up robbery, and one of our senior men,
possibly in trouble, possibly dead. I want you, who are not on a serious
case, start working on this one immediately. Is this clear?”
“Yes ma’am!” the entire police
staff replied in a chorus.
“Good. Assembly dismissed.” The
policemen left, thoughtful, except for Detective Maza, who already had
a plan figuring out…
“Good evening, Elisa,” Broadway
said, as the rest of the Manhattan clan awoke. “How do things proceed at
“Sadly and terrible,” Elisa replied.
“A hardware store was robbed and Officer Morgan, who was a witness to it,
disappeared, leaving nothing behind, but his police clothes, which were
“How strangely?” Owen Burnett
suddenly spoke behind the policewoman.
“Owen!!” the policewoman almost
jumped into the air. “You startled me!”
“Excuse me,” Owen said, not really
meaning it, as all could see, “but how strangely are his clothes damaged?”
“Pretty strange,” Elisa said.
“They were like eaten away in some places by acid or something like that,
and completely untouched in others.”
“Any renegade relatives of yours?”
Goliath asked, noticing how Owen changed in his face.
“Not quite; hold Alex please;
I need to make a call,” the blond man replied.
A short time later, a phone rang
in Destine Mansion. “Who is it?” Demona asked, as she picked up the receiver.
“It’s me. Puck.”
“You!” Demona bellowed. “What
do you want from me?”
“To tell you something.”
“That it looks like our girl has
come to Manhattan, and may’ve made her first public kill here already.”
Demona’s facial features froze,
one could not tell what she was thinking. “Our… daughter?” she slowly asked.
“Yes, you remember, France, 1520s,
“Blue,” Demona whispered the name
of her daughter that Puck, out of a pique of curiosity about birds and
bees had gotten onto her. Half-Fay, half-gargoyle, the child had proven
to be wholly deadly. A life-eater. And now she was in Manhattan, searching
for Demona herself and Puck. “You sure it was her?” she asked the Fay sprite
on the other end of the line.
“It wasn’t Detective Maza who
got killed, was it?”
“No, it was a police friend of
hers, Morgan or something.”
“Well, good luck telling the tale,”
“I think not.”
As soon as these words were said,
Demona got magically teleported over to Puck, to the genuine surprise of
the others. “What are you doing here?” Angela asked.
“To explain,” Demona said curtly.
“We should’ve guessed that you’re
behind this,” Brooklyn spat.
“Completely; and half-way,” Demona
admitted. “I should warn you not to try to tackle her though; you’ll only
“How’d you know that?” Angela
frowned. “Who’s she anyway?”
“The one who did that to this
policeman,” Demona said, mis-understanding the question on purpose.
“More specifically?” Angela refused
to be taken astray.
Demona sighed and looked almost
petulant. “Your 480-year-old half-sister, Angela, that’s who.”
There was a general silence. “My
what?” Angela slowly asked.
“Your 480-year-old half-sister,”
Demona explained, helpfully. “Her name is Blue.”
“A strange name for a gargoyle,”
“She’s not a gargoyle, she’s a
Fay halfling, like your own spouse,” Demona replied.
“A Fay halfling? By whom? What
“Him,” Demona said helpfully,
indicating the Fay tutor of Alexander’s, Puck.
“Puck? How could you?” Goliath
The sprite looked miserable. “I’m
sorry, but what could I do? I was just so carefree back then, I thought
I’d give it a try. Other Fay already done it, so I thought, why shouldn’t
I do it as well?” He looked around the assembly of human and gargoyle faces,
sighed sadly, and continued his tale of woe. “Only my idea had backfired
– substantially! Even by then,” he turned to Goliath, “your ex had a lot
of bitterness and rage and other negative emotions bottled inside of her,
and the Fay-sired halflings are very sensitive to that kind of thing. So-“
“-when the child was born, Puck
quickly left the problem of caring for it onto my shoulders, and left in
an unknown direction,” Demona interrupted the Fay.
“How does she look like?” Elisa
asked, in morbid fascination.
“Blue of skin, as strong as a
Fay, can breathe fire and toxic smoke, and, of course, she sucks away the
life of mortals and immortals to receive their longevity and any powers
included,” Demona helpfully said. “You go against her and you’ll never
“Yes. Just like your friend. He
once was, but he’ll be no more: all that had been left for him to live
was eaten away by Blue now.”
“Gee, how did you manage raising
her up?” Xanatos said.
“Oh that was easy for her to do,
due to the Oedipal complex of Blue,” Puck said. “Our misbegotten daughter
would do anything that her mother told her too; in fact, their personalities
were very similar, only Demona was smarter.
“Gee, what broke up such a perfect
pair?” Brooklyn sarcasti-cally said.
“The Seelie court had,” Puck replied.
“Blue was proven to be too much of an Unseelie Fay to be left in the nurturing
hands of her misanthropic gargoyle mother.”
“Didn't she object?” Xanatos asked.
“Sure. But a simple – okay, a
very powerful one – knock-out spell, and the rest was a piece of cake.
Blue, fortunately, wasn’t yet strong enough to take down three professional
Fay who specialized in things like that. And now she has come to Manhattan.”
“So how are we to find her?” Elisa
“It’s not necessary,” Demona said.
“Blue’s attuned to me; if she’s in the vicinity of Manhattan, she’ll find
me, no matter what.”
“Yeah right,” Broadway snorted.
“Hello, mother!” somebody suddenly
Everybody turned in that direction.
Blue had appeared all of a sudden in the doorway to the conference room
in which all now were. She really was blue, at least all the visible parts
of her skin were. Except for her eyes. They were as yellow as egg yolks.
Her facial features were similar to Demona’s, only… rougher.
Then Blue smiled. Her teeth resembled
the piranha’s. “Father,” she hissed, looking at Puck. Then the sprite threw
a white ball lightning at her. Only his daughter was a fraction of a second
faster, and her heavy sledgehammer had hit Puck in the stomach the same
fraction of a second faster than Puck could take a good aim. Now, instead,
the missile streaked upwards and struck the chandelier on the ceiling.
Heat, light, sparks, and fire
flew down throughout the room like a meteor shower for a moment, and then
all was pitch-dark.
But not for long: the emergency
lights on the walls got acti-vated, making the room as bright as it was
before. Everything was at it were, only Blue and Demona were standing next
to each other, wearing identical smirks on their faces.
“Now see here,” Xanatos began,
to stop this before it got too out of hand. “I understand that you and
Puck have a lot of unresolved issues up ahead. But please don’t destroy
my home or kill him.”
“And who are you?” Blue asked,
looking at Xanatos first time… and with genuine curiosity.
“I'm David Xanatos, owner of this
building. Also, the employer of Puck.”
“What do you need him for?” Blue
“To tutor our son,” Fox said,
as she and Alex got into the foreground.
“Hah,” Blue didn’t appear to be
swayed by those arguments, when Demona grasped her by the shoulder.
“I have another reason why you
shouldn’t kill him, daughter,” she said.
“Why, mother? What he did to us-“
“He’s indebted to you now, daughter,”
Demona said softly. “As one Fay to another.”
“If you were Fay enough not to
be remained in my care, then you’re certainly Fay enough for him to be
indebted to you,” Demona said.
“What’s she’s talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Hudson replied.
The only one who remained blissfully
unaware of this exchange had been Puck himself, who only now got rid of
twittering birds and polka dots before his eyes and in his ears.
“Ahem!” Blue said, turning to
her father. “Father, are you awakened yet?”
“What?” asked Puck, preparing
for another exchange of blows.
“Is it true that I’m Fay enough
by the Seelie standards for you to be indebted to me? If so, there’s going
to be no more fighting.”
“Will you leave?” Puck said, hopefully.
“Maybe,” Blue drawled. “As a repayment
to your debt to me, will you grant me a wish?”
“All right, but it can’t be selfish,”
Blue’s piranha-like smile grew
wider. “Don't worry about that,” she said. She leaned over to Puck’s ear
and whispered something into it.
Puck’s face distorted with horror.
“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Not that! I can’t do that!”
“You can! You must! You will!
It’s in the rules – it’s allowed by the rules, and you must obey the rules,
Puck,” Demona said to that. “Do it!”
“NOOOO!” Puck howled, even as
his clenched fists unclenched, releasing two spear-pointed sprays of white
foam, which hit Demona right in the chest.
BOOM! For an infinite amount of
time, the whole room looked like it was in a sandstorm. Then it stopped.
“Yes, I’m back and in charge,”
Demona said. Only she wasn’t really Demona anymore. Instead, she was now
some new Fay, dressed in a black robe with embroidered peacock “eyes” on
“Who’re you?” Lex managed to say.
“I'm Izanami or Hera, the 1st
wife of king Oberon, and now the queen of the Unseelie court,” the Fay
helpfully said. Then she turned in another direction. “How are you feeling,
“Fine,” the cross-breed (or not?)
Fay managed. “This new strength fills weird, though. Pleasantly weird,
“Don't worry, you’re quickly going
to get used to it,” Izanami said, forming an ebony chair to sit upon out
of thin air.
“First wife? What about my mother?”
“Her? Uzume? Or, sorry, Titania?
She married my husband after the, ahem, divorce.”
“So where does Demona appeared
from?” Elisa asked.
“After me and Oberon divorced,
the Faerie host got split in two, of course, led by me and him. Then there
was a war, and my side lost. As a punishment, I was ‘encased’ in a gargoyle’s
body – Demona – until I earned forgiveness.” Izanami paused. “However,
because of Archmage’s ambitions and Weird Sisters manipulations, I’ve managed
to get a semblance of immortality back, and the rest was just a matter
of time, and, one could say, good fortune.” She looked at everyone for
one last time. “Blue, you ready to go?”
“Yes, mother,” Izanami’s second
daughter still looked the same, but Fox suspected that that was only superficial.
“Good. Well, good-bye, but not
farewell, for you may meet me or Blue some time later!”
BOOM! In a flash of black smoke,
Izanami, Blue, and the chair vanished.
“Why do I have a feeling,” Elisa
turned to Goliath, “that our life just got worse?”