In His Eyes
Entry 1: Awakening

by Jenigoyle

Gargs aren’t mine—at least not while I’m awake—and I get only pleasure writing for the loyal gargs fans!  I’m really excited about this
new series I’m doing, thanks to MidnightzStorm.  She and I have conspired together and decided I would do a series complimentary to
her In Her Eyes series.
Thanks, Midnight, you had a really creative idea and I can’t wait to work with it more!  Mine will tell the stories of the cannon series
episodes through the eyes of…guess who.  Of course you know who!  He’s tall, dark, and really broody…oh, did I mention he’s a
gargoyle?  (Ok, if you still don’t know, here’s a hint—it’s Goliath!!)  Well, let us know what you think!  Email me and/or MidnightzStorm
at and/or  Please read both our works—we are trying to link them together.
Now the fun begins….

Manhattan, 1994 AD

       I write these words even as they fail to come to me.
       I have lost everything—my home, my world, my time.
       Well, perhaps not my home—for Castle Wyvern still stands—even though it has been moved to a foreign land, unknown to me and my clan.  It is still difficult to comprehend that the castle is standing after one thousand years…
       Yes, it has been one thousand years since I last drew breath.
       Since I last laughed.
       Since I last cried.
       Ten thousand years could go by and I would still remember the night the spell was cast so long ago, just as clear as the moonlight shining down on me now.  I look at the moon even as I am writing, and I am still struggling with the memories.  It looks the same—the silver orb still sends her moonbeams to scatter over this land.  I never thought about how that glowing sphere would look from the other side of the world.
       But then again, why would I?  I was content where I was.  I had my clan, my brothers and sisters, my Angel—
       I—it’s…hard, even now, to think of her.  To remember.
       To me it was as yesterday that I held her in my arms, trying once again to quell her angry heart with soft words.  I miss her.
       I chuckle bitterly now as I look at what I just wrote—it is so simplistic to say those three words, as they seem so inadequate to describe the pain I feel, yet I can find no truer way to say it.
       I miss her.
       Just seeing her night after night brought a joy to my heart I had only hoped to experience when I was merely a hatchling.  And then Fate, as she can so cruelly do, took my beloved from me.  I will never again know her smile, her laughter, her love.
       How I drone on about my lost love!  As if I were the only one to ever suffer loss.  Does my yearning bring her back?  No, of course not—and yet the memories are so tangible it seems as though I can hold her, touch her, whenever I choose.  It would be so easy, so very easy to retreat into my own self-pity and grief, to drown myself in the endless sea of reminiscence.  
       But I have a clan to protect, to lead; though we number so few.
       I am very grateful that my mentor still lives to guide me.  He is the rock I can always lean on, the support I need when I face the impossible.  The three young ones are so curious and eager—I hope and believe they will adapt well to this time.  Which brings me to David Xanatos.
       He is the man that broke the spell holding us prisoners of an endless stone sleep. It was he who brought Wyvern from Scotland to this place he calls Manhattan.  I can look down now from my perch, viewing the bright lights and large buildings of glass, stone and metal.  It is a world of wonders, but how wondrous can it be without someone to share it with?
       Once again I have grown melancholy.  Ah, well, it has been said that time is the healer of wounds, and now I feel as though I will be the one to truly test those words.  People yearn to lose their most painful memories—after all, how can you miss what you cannot remember?  But I never want to forget.  Perhaps that will be a problem, but who can really say?  Memories can be a source of great strength as well as sorrow; I guess it depends on the individual, and how he reconciles himself to the past.
       I met yet another human this night.  Meeting her was very unlike meeting Xanatos.  He is all business, that human, and I do not believe a word of his façade that he wishes only to be our friend.  I will not trust him—never again will I make that mistake.
       And yet this woman I have just recently met makes me hesitate to say those words.  I do not know why.  But I digress, where was I?
Oh, yes, meeting the human Elisa Maza.
       As I stated, this was different that meeting Xanatos.  This human had been slinking around the castle, and I watched her from this very tower I now perch on as Xanatos took her out into the courtyard and told her something about repelling an invasion by a rival corporation, attempting to explain the earlier disturbance.  Whatever that meant.
       I did enjoy the human female’s response and could not repress my smile as she spoke those words to my benefactor.
       “Repelled an invasion?!  You’re a private citizen, Xanatos, not a country!”
       To speak to a man of such position in that manner was most amusing.  I sense a certain arrogance about David Xanatos, and felt absolutely no malice about how the woman handled him.  She seemed outspoken at least, and I admire that.  And that voice—she spoke with such authority and conviction, and yet it was not harsh.
       With just a few words, I was already beginning to form an opinion of her.  
       She seemed as one who would willingly get along with anyone, yet would tolerate no exaggerations or omissions of the truth.  I was willing to wager her to be some type of law enforcer, like some knight of the realm.  I do not know why, but the thought of her in battle armor from my time came easily to me.  She seemed like some majestic goddess, standing on a battlefield above her fallen enemies, who’s sword would bring swift justice.  But I shook off my curious thoughts—I did not know this woman, and I was already envisioning her as some noble crusader!  I returned my attention to the humans below me.
        I continued to watch them—well, mostly her—until Xanatos had his servant with the light hair escort the woman away.  Cautiously, I glided to the next tower, determined to know more about this human woman who had invaded my home.
        I was startled when, after she bid the servant a good night, she stopped the machine she had boarded and stepped back out.  I was somewhat annoyed with her for inviting herself to explore my home, but intrigued as well—much more intrigued than angered, to even my amazement—I know I am not known for a calm temperament.  I have a feeling that, had it been someone else I would have been infuriated at this incursion.  Yet I was not furious right then.
       Even from several flights above, I could hear everything—her heart was beating in her chest as if it were trying to leap out of her very body as she ascended the stairway that brought her closer to my hiding place in the shadow of the tower.
        Ducking down, I waited and watched as she walked cautiously out into the open, glancing around before walking over to the edge of the tower, looking out over the city.  Interesting, I thought.
       She doesn’t seem so affected by the height.
       A most unique human indeed.
       I did not realize that I had been staring at the woman until I heard the watchdog’s low growl of warning.  Knowing that she would be alerted, I turned away quickly as she whirled around, pulling some shiny talisman from inside her coat.
       Somewhat alarmed, I tensed myself, ready for a fight, though I found I had absolutely no desire to fight this woman, to my surprise.  I would never have attacked her without provocation, but to defend my home or one of my own, I would do anything necessary.  Anything.
       I repeated that to myself even as she spoke to my watchdog.  Before she saw him clearly, she had said, “Ok, pal, let me see you, nice and slow.”  As the beast came out of the shadows, I saw her face.
       It went from determination to shock to horror—yes, horror—and then back to determination again.  I knew she would use the talisman she held in some way on my beast, so I stepped from my hiding place and took it from her, crushing it with one hand.  It was remarkably light for being a metallic instrument.  It was not of iron, as so many weapons I know of from the tenth century were formed.  Tossing it aside I looked at her face again.  Then I saw those eyes.
        Should I live another thousand years that face will still be etched in my mind.
        Her chest rose and fell quickly as she took deep gasps of air, as if she feared each one would be her last.
       She had nothing but fear in those dark, chocolate eyes.
       That startled me.
       Humans had always looked at me and my kind with fear, but it was mostly out-shadowed by their hatred and loathing.  As I looked into those eyes, I could not make out any hatred.
       There was no anger.
       No loathing.
       Just fear.
       Fear of me.
       And I finally understood why humans thought of gargoyles the way they did.
       I am not human, so therefore I cannot be trusted.
       Ironic, since it is the same way I felt about them.  They are not gargoyle, so I cannot trust them.
       And in that moment of revelation it was clear that we had looked at humans in just the same way that they had looked at us.  And all this time, I was deluding myself into believing we were better, superior.  I was as guilty of arrogance as they were.
       As I watched her tumble over the edge of the tower, I knew what I had to do.
       It was a dangerous drop, I knew.  The wind currents were weak, since these damnable buildings block so much of the wind.  It would be difficult to glide, and I would be in nearly as much danger of plunging to my death as this human.  Still, I was determined to save her, or die in the attempt.
       Bracing myself, I launched downwards and tucked my wings in close to my body, trying to fall faster to catch up to her.  Then I had to hope I could catch some air current to escape the fall.
       I finally reached her, and I use the word finally because it seemed an eternity had passed since I first went after her, when it had actually been less than five seconds.  Though she was scared, I recall how she latched onto me, clinging to me as we descended further.
        I forced myself to look anywhere but her face.  I did not want to see fear in those eyes again, though I still do not know why.  I am accustomed to not caring about how a human feels about me.  I realized I must release her quickly, or she would probably faint there in my arms.  I was luckily able to catch an updraft, and soon I was on a ledge that was jutting out of the building and set her down immediately.  I was unsurprised as she inched away from me.  I stayed where I was, not wishing to frighten her further.
        She managed a calm voice, and told me to “take it easy.”  Who was she fooling?  I nearly laughed and wanted to give her a smart remark, something about who was the one falling off a rooftop (though I bit my tongue).  And she wished for me to “take it easy.”
Even so, I had to admire her courage, though I know she was truly still fearful.  Why else would her heart beat so hard?  I still can hear that beat, that constant drumming in her chest.
        Instead I asked her what she had been doing in my home, though I already knew.  I just wanted to hear her answer.  Instead, she asked me a question; “You can talk?  Who—what are you?”
       I do not think she even knew what I had asked.  She seemed so overwhelmed by the notion that I could say anything at all.  Again, I wanted to reply, but I bit my tongue.  This century has done nothing for my temper.  I forced myself to remember that this was a different time.  Most likely she had never seen a gargoyle before.  Drawing once again on patience as I have done so often in the past, I answered her question, telling her my kind had no names but that humans called me Goliath.  She again asked a question:  “Your kind?  You mean there’s more than one of you?”
       Instead of saying “Yes, saying ‘my kind’ would imply multiple members, wouldn’t it?” I only sighed heavily and said, “Barely.”
       I turned to climb the wall of the building, hoping she would forget about me and “my kind,” knowing that I was taking a risk in letting her go.  Ah, well, who would believe her anyway?  From what Xanatos has told me, humans are not nearly so superstitious as they were a millennium ago, or even a century ago.  They think of gargoyles as simple statues.  That is fine with me.  Perhaps now I will find peace in their ignorant bliss.  Ironic that the only way I seem to find peace in the human world is to not exist.  It would be humorous if it were not so tragic.
        I must return to my tale.  I was about to leave her when she asked me not to go.  I looked back at her, and she had the strangest look in her eye, though it was not fearful.  Indeed, she did not seem to be worried about me attacking her.  Something else was there, a glint of some sort.  I wondered if that was the look she gave her fellow humans—wait, that was it!  I think it was a look of…acceptance.
        I cannot believe it.  She had just toppled over a building, and been rescued by a being she surely thought would eat her or some such nonsense, and she was actually being—friendly.  She seemed to be gazing at me for a split second longer before she mumbled something about needing to get up to the castle or down to the ground.  Then she said, “Since you can fly—”
        I cut her off immediately.  I guess I wanted the record straight, so I told her that I glide; I do not fly.  I was surprised at myself.  Why should I have cared if she thought I flew?  At the time I did not believe I would encounter her again.  Something about this woman obviously gets to me.  I do not know how, but I somehow believed that she was going to play an important part in my life here…a very important part.  Even now, hours later, I feel the truth of those words.  Already I will be meeting with her again tomorrow night.  I will get to that soon.
       The rest of my clan met her as well, and she seemed once again uncomfortable around them; and just when she was becoming comfortable with me, too!  I nearly told them to go away and leave us in peace, but that was a strange thought.  I wonder why I felt so possessive, like I did not want to share her with the rest of them.  After some conversation, I told her she needed to leave—the sun was about to rise and I did not want to trust her after we were helplessly locked in stone.  I am still not ready to share that with her—if the choice were up to me I would not have Xanatos know it either.
       I do not know what possessed me to agree to her request to meet with her later; she had said that I would need someone to show me the city and how it works.  For some reason I gave in to her argument—though Xanatos can surely do that for us as well.  But where this human woman is concerned, my judgment is proving sorely lacking.  She had also said she wanted to know more about me—or did she mean my kind?  She was talking to me—indeed, she seemed rather shy around my clanmates; she stayed close to me.
       I am looking forward to seeing her again, I admit—she has a determined spirit, somewhat like Xanatos, but she lacks his arrogance.  She has a charm about her, and she does not even try to put it on, I can tell.  I doubt she is even aware of it.  Perhaps that is the largest difference between her and Xanatos—he is charming, but it is so incredibly false.  I have felt warmer gazes from snakes than this man.  I will keep my eyes on him.
       I keep telling myself I will never trust humans again, yet I am giving this Elisa Maza every chance to betray me, to entrap me somehow, and I have known her a total of mere hours.  I must use more caution.  When I go to see her tomorrow, I will be there first, and I will make sure that she brings no one with her.  I do not know why, but I am finding myself hoping against hope that she will not betray me—but I must shake that thought.  She is no friend, not even an ally yet.  What care I if she betrays me tomorrow?  I will know beforehand if she brings others and will escape easily.  Let tomorrow come.  I will take it as I find it.  What else can I expect?


       I do not know how to begin this next entry.  The last two nights have been a montage of surprises, shocks, miracles, and sadness.  I will start with my meeting with Elisa, and work my way forward from there.
        Actually, I must first explain how Xanatos requested my help.  Shortly after he had awakened us a few nights ago the castle was attacked by humans, and they had escaped, apparently with something important from Xanatos.  He told me they were something called discs and that he needed my help to retrieve them.  He tried to tell me that he felt these humans would use the discs for some terrible purpose, but something tells me Xanatos would not necessarily have better use for them.  He asked me to consider it, and I left to meet with Elisa shortly after.
        As I waited for Elisa on the rooftop we had agreed to meet upon, I kept thinking about the past—about my beloved especially.  I kept wondering what she would think of this world, of Xanatos—and of Elisa.
        It was not until I heard the small woman cautiously come out onto the rooftop that I exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath.  Why was I so apprehensive?  Even now I cannot imagine as to why I had been so anxious.
       Elisa was clearly alone—I could hear that heartbeat a mile away, I swear.  
       Yet she was not fearful or worried—just anxious.  As I was.  She must have been nervous.  I know I was.
        I came out then, as she called out to me softly.  She must have indeed been nervous, for she gasped as she saw me suddenly appear.  I wonder if I will always have that effect on her.  This thought saddens me, though I should not really care.  But I do.
       She asked me why I had been hiding.  I just gave her a look for a split second.  Did she not realize that I could not completely trust her?  I am beginning to realize, though, that she does not mean to be naïve, she is just unsure of how to deal with me.  I could say the same.
        I told her truthfully that I wanted to be sure that she was alone.  I told myself I would not deceive her into believing I trusted her—better she understood exactly where I stand.  I was glad that she took no offense to my bluntness.  She even made a jest with me, saying I could handle a whole, uh, swat team, was it?  I had to smile at her attempt for humor, even though I still have no clue as to what a swat team is.  She did not try to tell me either.  Perhaps I do not really want to know.
        Just then my mentor swooped down from his perch above us—the crafty old gargoyle!  I had to hide a grin, for though I can see and hear very, very well, I know my old mentor can come at me any time he chooses and I will never know it until it is too late.  He is the only person who can make me feel like an untrained hatchling.
       I asked him what he was doing there, and he replied that he wanted to make sure I was not being ambushed.  Again, Elisa made an attempt at humor by saying we were paranoid even for New York, and I was beginning to appreciate the fact that she was warming to me—to us.
        She asked my mentor if he was coming with us on the tour—did I hear something in her voice then?  It sounded almost like reluctance.  But that is folly—why in the world would she care if my old friend joined us?  Surely she did not believe an elderly gargoyle was more dangerous to her than I, a larger gargoyle still in my prime.  I must have imagined her tone.
        She wanted to know what to call my mentor.  I had told her that my kind have no names, save me.  My mentor looked slightly offended, while I could only look on in amusement.  I stayed silent—I had no desire to interrupt them, for I wished to see how my mentor would handle himself with Elisa—I knew I certainly needed tutoring in that area.
        My mentor asked her why humans named everything, claiming nothing is real to them until they have named it and given it limits.    Elisa simply said that things need names, and I held back my laughter at such a circular argument.  My mentor handled her well, asking if the sky or river needed a name.
       This, however, is where she caught us both by surprise.
       She said instantly that the river was called the Hudson, and my mentor had such a look as I have never seen on him before.  I could not hold back a smile this time—she had successfully met his challenge, and I was impressed.  Even my mentor was impressed, for though he gave an exasperated sigh, he gave in to her, saying he would be the Hudson as well.  She readily agreed, saying, “Hudson it is.”  I imagine she was feeling very clever just then.  
       My mentor likes her, I can tell.
       Next she came over to me, and once again I heard her heart beat just a little faster, though not as fast as it did before.  Was she still frightened of me?  No—I again searched her face, her eyes.  Perhaps she was just getting used to my kind, still unnerved at falling off of a huge towering building.  That would have to be hard on anyone, I suppose.
        She wondered aloud how she was going to keep people from noticing me.  I was beginning to wonder if she were giving me these openings on purpose—it would have been so easy to have some fun at her expense.  But, once again, letting the opportunity pass, I just simply said that we would stay on rooftops.  She answered, “Easy for you with those wings but what about me?”
        This time I could not resist.
       Instead of saying anything, I felt it would be more effective—and perhaps more fun—to show her.  I simply reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to my chest.  Again she gasped, but I was relieved when I realized it was a startled gasp, not a terrified one.  For some reason, I want her, more than any human I have met, to respect me.  No, not simply respect.  I realize now that I want her to like me—to want me as a friend and not just an ally or someone she owes a life debt to.  Perhaps I am reaching out for a real friend.
       Regaining her composure, she just smiled lightly and said, “Well, that answers that question.”  Then she put her arm around my shoulders—that took me by surprise, though not unpleasantly so.  As I looked into her eyes—I realize now that I have looked into her eyes more so than any other person, human or gargoyle, that I have ever known—I smiled, and I could feel her heart beginning to drum against her chest again.
       I realized then that my mentor—uh, Hudson—was still there, and looking at me with one of those expressions, like that of a rookery elder about to scold a hatchling.  Clearing my throat, I announced that we should be off.  I asked him if he was coming, trying out his new name with uncertainty.  I found it not difficult to adjust to, but still slightly odd.
        He replied no, that the city was too big, too bright, too loud—he wanted to go back to the castle.  I must admit that I was slightly relieved when he left.  Perhaps I was feeling a bit…scrutinized.
        Once again her eyes found mine.  She said, “Well, looks like it’s just you and me.”  I had such a peculiar feeling then, as if I were…glad.  Glad of what?  To be with her alone?  I wonder what brought that thought on…?
        She then asked me what I wanted to see.  I told her I wanted to see the dangers that threatened me and my kind.  She told me to “lighten up,” and I could not help but smile.  I can see the humor and irony in the fact that this woman has been the only one to make me smile since I awoke in this strange land.  I do not need to be old and wise to see already that she is remarkable…what a pity she was born human!  What a gargoyle she would have made.
        She had said she was a cop, and I asked what that was.  She just laughed and said she was “one of the good guys that locked up the bad guys.”  Her use, or maybe I should say misuse, of the English language is interesting to say the least, even if I can only decipher every other sentence.  But, to listen to her voice, I would not care if she spoke Greek.
        We glided over the city, and I appreciated the fact that she remained mostly silent, save when I asked her a question, or when she wanted to point something out to me.  She asked nothing of me, and I was grateful for that.  
       I worried that she would assail me with many questions, not caring if the past was a painful subject for me.  She did not, and I was able to enjoy her silence comfortably—I hope she felt the same, though her heart still beat rather quickly.  It must have been a thrill for her to be up in the air so high—it is not humans’ natural habitat, after all.
        Looking down from our glide, she noticed a couple of humans (a man and woman) with their car—I believe that is what those contraptions are called—being approached by a group of three younger males.  Elisa had a look on her face that told me that trouble was coming, so I asked what was going on.  She told me to land quickly in an ally nearby, and told me to wait for the young humans to follow her into the dark area.  I did not like this—I asked if they would hurt her or the other two humans they were preying upon.  She just shook her head and told me to relax, and be ready.  Without another word she turned and walked into the street.  Bracing myself, I crouched slightly and waited…
        I did not have to wait long.  Elisa did quite a job on luring them into my hiding place; I still smile in memory at how she mocked them.  As soon as they began running after her, I could feel my eyes glowing, ready for battle.
       Letting Elisa run safely behind me, I then roared at the three young males, making them stop in their tracks.  I easily disposed of them with simple brute force, but the couple that had just been saved from the “mugging,” as Elisa called it, just turned and ran.  Elisa walked up to me from her safe distance and all I said was, “Human gratitude?”
        She shrugged and said, “I guess,” and then said something else that will last in my memory for years to come.
        “You know, Goliath, you may be the best thing to happen to this city in a long time.”
        Then she just put her hands in her coat and walked on.  I was stunned momentarily.  After a few seconds, I cautiously followed her.
        We walked in what she called Central Park soon after.  She made some offhand comment about not getting “mugged” and I could only shake my head, saying that this world is as savage as the one I remember.  Her response completely overwhelmed me—she simply stated that I was judging it the way humans have judged me.  I could only stop walking and look at her.  How wise and perceptive of her!  She cannot be past her thirtieth year, and already she has an air of maturity and common sense about her that makes her seem as wise and serene as my mentor himself.
        I was distracted from her soft speech by a sound in the brush around us.  
       Cocking my head to the side with a slight growl, Elisa immediately noticed something wrong and asked what it was.  How quickly she was ready to take my warning.  Pity we had no time to ponder as something sharp pierced my body, causing me to roar in rage.
        The next thing I knew, I was covered by humans in black—the same, I realized as those that had attacked the castle the night I had awakened—and I was desperately trying to fling them off of my body.  But I could not; my strength was ebbing and all I could feel was a forced slumber come over me.  
       My last rational thought was that I was about to be locked in stone again, and I vowed that this would not be…not again.
        Fighting to stay conscious, I watched as they held Elisa, at the same time mocking me, telling me that they would hunt and destroy my clan.  I declared that I would not let them, and as the leader of our attackers continued to taunt me, asking what made me think I had a choice, Elisa broke free of her captor and came to my rescue.  I watched in amazement and admiration as she drove her body into the human holding a talisman over me, similar to the one I took from Elisa when she first saw me.  With renewed hope and strength, I threw off the other humans that were holding me pinned to the ground.  Elisa immediately ran to me, laying her hand delicately on my chest, as if to check that I was still there and uninjured.
        Before I had time to think or respond to her, I felt hot blazes around our feet—some kind of beams of energy.  Deadly weapons these humans now carry!
       Grabbing Elisa, I took off into the night, knowing that the sleep I had been fighting was coming upon me again, and I sped up as fast as I could to put as much distance between us and our assailants as I could.  Soon, I had to land and set her down, and I crouched to the ground.
        Elisa was beside me once again, her hands resting softly on my arm and neck.  She was concerned for me, and I was deeply touched.  Before I could say anything about her helping me to fight our attackers, something on my wing strut caught her attention.  Gently she pulled something off of me and held it to my face.  She told me it was a device that led them to us, allowed them to track us.  I believe she called it a… transmitter, I think.
        Some dog came near us then, and after placing the transmitter on it, she helped me to my feet, taking as much of my weight as she could on herself.  
       As we headed deeper into the park, I was deep in thought.  She had touched me many times that night, as though I were her close friend instead of a mere acquaintance—and a strange one at that.  Well, strange by human standards anyway.
        Just as I was enjoying her closeness and her concerned touch, I could feel dawn approaching.  I knew then that the moment of testing her had come—not that I had much choice in the matter.  I pushed away from her gently and dropped to the ground, telling her I would not make it back to the castle in time—before sunrise.  She asked what would happen at sunrise, and I only had time to say, “You’ll see,” before the sun rose and stole my consciousness once again.
        When I awoke, I found her there beside me, sitting on the ground.  I could not disguise my disbelief—she had obviously stayed with me the entire day!  
       She had come to me right away, again touching me as she asked if I was all right.  I realized that I was beginning to really enjoy her touch.
       I asked her if she had indeed stayed there with me, and she said simply that someone had to ensure those “comic book rejects” did not find me.  I was too stunned to even ask what a comic book reject was, but I was too happy to care.  Maybe there is hope for gargoyles and humans to coexist peacefully after all.  And I can believe that because it took only one single human to show me their virtues…
        One human to show me kindness.
        One human to show me loyalty.
        One human to save my life at the risk of her own.
        I thanked her, though I knew it was hardly appropriate since she had done so much for me.  She said we were even, and I wanted to say we were friends, but I knew we were still a ways away from total trust.  I am still not quite ready.  It will take time.  At least on my part—I cannot guess as to how she feels.
        She asked me as I was leaving if I would meet her later that night.  I saw the hope in her eyes, and before I even knew what I was doing I was nodding my agreement.  We arranged another rooftop, and I asked if she wanted me to see her home.  I saw her eyes drop briefly as she held her breath.  I understood.  She was not quite ready to give me that kind of trust, to disclose where her dwelling was.  I was not offended—well, I guess that is a lie.  I wanted her to trust me, I still do.  But I cannot have a double standard—to get trust, I must give it, and I know that I cannot do it yet.  
       So I will wait.  I know what she was thinking—not only am I a stranger, I am an inhuman one at that.  And she is still getting used to the fact that creatures such as I exist, and that years of monster stories (I still remember the ridiculous tales Prince Malcolm told to his daughter, the Princess) have yet to be expelled from her mind.  I will give her time.
        So with that, we left each other.  I was concerned that she would be attacked again, but before I left she assured me that her talisman—she has a new one now, and she called it a gun—would protect her.  So I let her go, and went back to my own home.
        And what a shock awaited me!
        I told the others about the incident of the previous night.  When I used my mentor’s new name, the younger warriors were surprised, and then wanted names as well.  I simply smiled and asked what names they wanted.  The red, beaked one chose Brooklyn, while the small web-wing chose Lexington, and the larger aqua-colored one chose Broadway.  Then the one called Brooklyn named the watchdog Bronx.
       Just then Xanatos’s servant interrupted us.  I do not like that man—he is cold and something seems inhuman about him; I have noticed that he does not even smell quite human either.
        He—I believe Xanatos calls him Owen—informed me that Xanatos wanted to see me.  I agreed and followed Owen to meet with Xanatos.  I was no sooner in his study than he told me an old acquaintance of mine was there.  I was dumbfounded—who could still live now that I knew in the tenth century?
        I found out, though, as a familiar shape appeared in the doorway facing me.  As she made her way into the light, I nearly passed out.  I could only gasp for lack of air and can only imagine how my eyes looked, as I felt they would explode from their very sockets.
        My beloved, my Angel of the Night, stood before me, her arms extended out to embrace me.  Even then, I could not get past the shock—surely it was some trick, some horrid joke!  But then I heard her voice—oh that sweet voice I had not heard in a thousand years except in my dreams…
        Her words were simple; she only said, “Goliath, my love,” and I suddenly came out of my delirium, stepping towards her and taking her in my arms.
        For a shocked moment, I simply held her, then expressed how I could not believe it was really her.  When we parted, I asked how it was possible.  
       She told me she had escaped the massacre of our clan by trying to find me as I was searching for the Vikings.  She said that, when she returned, she had found me already in the deep stone sleep of the Magus’s spell, and requested the same fate.  Xanatos then said that he had found her and brought her here to see if she would awaken as well.  I could barely hear either of them though; I was simply too happy to care.  I told her so, I told her that with her alive I could live again as well.
        Leaving Xanatos in his private study, I took my beloved deeper into the castle.  She had protested, saying that she wanted to see the others.  I silenced her then, telling her there was time enough for that.  I took her to the nearest private chamber I could find, and spent the next several hours showing her how much I had missed her, how much I loved and needed her.
        She had been like a tigress in my arms, as though she were the one who had lost me.  We held each other as though we believed there would be no tomorrow, until she finally convinced me to let her see the others before dawn, which was still several hours away.  I told her so, but she laughed and told me that I could not keep her all to myself.  I told her that I begged to differ, but gave in and took her up to the tower, telling her to wait as I gathered the clan.
        They were as shocked and thrilled as I was upon seeing her.  After telling them how good it was to see them again as well, she asked me a favor.  And of course I would not deny her.  She asked me to help Xanatos in retrieving the discs for him, and I agreed with her that I owed him something for bringing her back to me.
        And so we told Xanatos that we would help.  He gave us his instructions, and I dispersed the clan to their locations of where the disks were being held.  To make a long story short, we all managed to return with the discs, though none of us were totally without even minute injuries.  I could not complain though, as we could have been far worse off.  Something troubled me about my Angel, however.
       The two of us had attacked the air fortress for the first disc, and she had been most merciless with the humans.  What had disturbed me most was how she was willing to throw unconscious, helpless humans from the ship, which was very, very high in the air.  I told her that killing in the heat of battle was one thing, but this was different.  She gave me a look then, a look I had never received from her.  She flung the humans aside, telling me that the centuries have made me weak.  All I could do was stare at her back as she walked away from me.  Reluctantly, I followed her.
       She damaged the ship, starting a serious fire.  I still remember the flames, how the humans scrambled about, trying desperately to save their flying fortress even as it descended closer and closer to the body of water below.  
       I wanted to help them but my Angel pulled me away, and we left.
       I could not shake the feeling of guilt I had, especially when I thought of Elisa.  I hate to say this, but I honestly wonder if I would have cared about saving the ship so much had I not met her.  Would I have been as merciless as my beloved?  I still cannot believe how one human has come to affect me so.
        Back at the castle, we all gave Xanatos the discs.  He was most pleased, and as he took them and left, I told my beloved that I had promised to meet a friend.
        She immediately asked who, and I told her that it was a human, and her name was Elisa Maza.  She had a vicious look then, and it caught me off guard.  
       She claimed that we did not and should not have human friends besides Xanatos.  I tried to reason with her, telling her that Xanatos should prove that not all humans are bad, though I find it hard to believe I was convincing since I could barely believe it myself.
        She asked if I could forgive the humans for what they did to us.  I told her that the ones who had killed our clan died a thousand years ago.  She claimed that their descendants should pay; that she would have blood for blood.
        I was too sad to reply right away.  She was not the beloved of my youth any longer.  I told her so—I told her that though she claimed that the years had changed me, they also changed her.
       That she had become hard, unforgiving.
       That she was not as I remembered her.
       She only stared at me then, and I calmly said I was going to see my friend.  
       Strange—before that moment, I had not thought of Elisa as a friend quite yet; I was distinctly trying not to.
        But I could not deny it any longer.  My instincts have been telling me from the moment I met her that she is trustworthy.  I decided to trust those instincts, wherever they lead me.  I can only hope not to regret it.
        So I went to see her as I promised.  The instant I saw her and landed on the rooftop that we had agreed to meet on, she was already questioning me about the night’s events.
        I explained how we were returning Xanatos’s stolen discs, but she told me that she checked on them and that they were not his after all.  This information took me by surprise, but not because I did not want to believe it—but because I believed it so quickly and easily.    And it angered me.
       Here this human, this Elisa Maza, had saved my life and I had been reluctant to trust her.  And this other human, Xanatos, has done nothing for me save awaken me and my clan, as well as my love, and he immediately asked us to risk our lives for his precious discs.  Everything was clear then—Elisa told me that I needed to trust someone in this world, and that I would be better off with her than Xanatos.
       And I agreed.
        I returned to the castle, only to find my clan being attacked by gargoyles made of metal—and Xanatos was watching the chaos with a smile!  I could have ripped his throat out then, but my clan needed me, so I bared my teeth and flew into the frenzy.  One by one, we destroyed them, until none remained.
        It was over, or so I thought.
       After the last machine had been destroyed, my love—my very Angel of the Night—fired a weapon of some sort at me!
        As I fell to the terrace below, I could only look at her and ask what she was doing.  The others waited below, as Xanatos had his own weapon aimed at them, telling them to let me and my love “play out our little drama.”  
       Ignoring him, I stood and faced my love, who still aimed her weapon at me.
       I think that hurt more than angered me—to think that she could even consider killing me was more than I could deal with.  I almost rushed at her so she would do it and be done; perhaps then I would fade into oblivion and be at peace.  What did I have if my own beloved Angel of the Night turned against me?
        But she told me that I had been a fool, and that she had made a bargain with the Captain at Wyvern and Hakon, the slaughterer of my clan, of HER clan, to sac the castle.  She put the blame on me, saying that I was the one who destroyed the clan because I would not take them with me.  What hurt was that I believed her—I felt as guilty as if I had shattered my brothers with my own hands.
        But I told her that there was good and evil in all of us, human and gargoyle.  I told her none of it would have happened had it not been for her betrayal.  She was upset by that, and asked me to join her, to help her exterminate the humans.  She came forward then, asking me if finding each other after a thousand years of solitude meant nothing to me.
       Oh, how I wanted to keep her!  It was so tempting to just hold her and say, Yes, beloved, let’s destroy the humans and finally have our revenge!  But then I thought of Elisa, of her faith, her respect.  So I remained silent, knowing that if I opened my mouth, I would surely cry out, so I waited, hoping that she would just kill me and be done with it.
        She was angered by my silence and aimed the weapon, firing above my head and causing a wall behind me to explode, knocking me to the ground.  She stood over me then, and told me that she had a name.  That I should know it before dying.  To hear her speak those words tore at my heart.
       She told me that her name was Demona, and I felt that it was appropriate, and had I time to speak I would have said so, telling her that she was not my Angel, but a demon that had taken her place instead.
        But Elisa came out then, much to my shock—and worry—and pushed Demona away from me just as her weapon fired.  The shot hit a high tower, and it crashed down where my beloved and Elisa then stood, shattering the terrace beneath them.  Then I saw them both falling.
        I had only seconds to decide.
        I knew full well I could reach only one.
        My Angel.
        My once-beloved, the rookery sister of my youth.
        My friend, who had once again risked her life for me.
        Steeling myself, I made my decision.
        I leaped down and grabbed Elisa by the hand, pulling her up to the safety of my arms and took her back up to the tower.  Then I looked back down.  
       Demona was only a tiny dot then, and I knew it was too late.  Perhaps she was able to survive, perhaps not.  I was not to know, not then anyway.  
       Maybe not ever.
       But, then, perhaps that is best.
        I was in a cold, blind rage.  My only thought was vengeance against the man I felt was responsible for all of this—this human who had brought me to this forsaken land and time—this place that had so corrupted my Angel, that showed hatred instead of love, and deceit instead of trust.  I held Xanatos by his arrogant throat and dangled him like the worm he was over the side of the castle.  I said only that Demona had wanted me to destroy humanity, and that I would start with him.  Of course, I had no intent, even then, of attacking humanity, but my words were meant to taunt an enemy I felt nothing for.  I said nothing else, I meant only to throw him down to his death, to rest beside his filthy world’s creation that had once been my beloved.
       He even dared me to do it, saying, “Go ahead…Without me you’d still be gathering moss.”  And, oh, the cocky gleam in his eye!  How I wanted to drop him, and I was just about to…
        But before I could, Elisa told me not to do it.  For some reason, seeing her face softened my heart, and I knew then, even as I asked her for a good reason, any reason, not to drop him, that I could not do it, for the sake of winning her respect if nothing else.  I only knew that I did not want her to be disappointed in me.
       But what really hit me hard was what she said next, in response to my request for a reason not to kill David Xanatos.
       “Because if you do, you’re the same as Demona.”
       And then my mentor was standing next to her, and said that she was right.  
       Then he asked me if that was what I wanted.  To be frank, I did not care much.  I wanted to kill the man.  And had it not been for Elisa, I would have, and not given it a second thought.
        I saw her eyes, then; that damnable fear was back, and I could not kill the pathetic human I held.  I flung Xanatos towards the castle, and did not say another word.  But it was worth it, for Elisa looked at me and smiled then.  
I had won her respect, her total respect, at last, and I knew it from just looking at her.  Somehow the thought helped soothe my rage.
        She arrested Xanatos, and as dawn approached, I stood with Elisa and Hudson on Wyvern’s highest tower.  Looking away from them, I asked if they thought she survived.  They knew whom I was speaking about.
        Elisa said nothing, she seemed to recognize my pain.  It is one of her best qualities—she does not comment or question; no judgments, no prying, no advising.  She simply lets you be as you are, either accepting or rejecting what she will.  I really do respect and appreciate that about her, and in that subtle way, she accomplishes change—not through force of will like so many others, but through inspiration.  I wonder if she is aware of the trust she engenders.
       Hudson replied to my question, though, and said that if Demona had survived, we will know soon enough.  I could not tell if I was dismayed or relieved by the thought.
        Hudson left me alone with my new human friend then, and she stood beside me as I took my place on my perch.  I told her it was nice to know I had at least once friend in this world, and it was my way of telling her that I accepted her friendship, and was giving her mine in return.
       She told me that she hoped I had more, many more, but whether I did or not that she would always be my friend.  The thought pleased me greatly, and I know now as I knew then that no matter how many friends I am blessed with, none will ever take her place in my mind, or my heart.
       And now, tonight, I have been thinking once again of my once-beloved.  I have tried to think of the right words to describe my grief, my pain, and my hope.  I do not know what the future will hold, but I will try to face it as best I can, and with the clan, and my new friend, Elisa, I can begin to hope.  As for my Angel—time will tell.  I hope she finds the peace so long denied her all those centuries ago, in this life or the next.  But for now, all I can do is say goodbye—goodbye to the past, and wait for my tomorrow.
       Rest in peace at last, my Angel of the Night.


Of all the things I believed in
I just want to get it over with
Tears form behind my eyes
But I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by
I’ve been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I’m hearing are starting to get old
Feels like I’m starting all over again
The last few years were just pretend
And I say
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
I used to get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can’t live a day without you
Closing my eyes and you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light
But it’s not right
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time
I want what’s yours and I want what’s mine
I want you but I’m not giving in this time
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
We the stars fall and I lie awake
You’re my shooting star…

The End