AVALON MISTS: A momentary escape from reality. Issue #10 First Released:Tuesday, April 23, 1996 Editor's Notes: Suprise! It's early! This was actually supposed to be a special weekend issue but it turned into a special Tuesday morning issue. (Tuesday morning 'cause I didn't get it done Monday night.) Hope nobody minds! Second Note: If you have submitted an item and I have accepted it, but you don't *see* it here, please, please let me know! I'll fix it! * * * * * ****Poetry and Filksongs**** The Xanatos and Fox Theme Song (Adapted from the "Pinky and the Brain Theme Song") Spoken: Fox-"Hey, darling, what would you like to do tonight?" Xanatos-"The same thing that we do every night, my dear. Try to take over the world!" Song: They're Xanatos and Fox Yes Xanatos and Fox One is a ninja The other's rich as for Knox. Their Illuminati perks Let them overthrow the Earth. They're Xanatos, Xanatos and Fox, Fox, Fox, Fox Fox, Fox, Fox, Fox, Fox. Before each night is done Their plan will be unraveled. At the dawning of the sun They'll pound the clan to gravel. They're Xanatos and Fox. Yes Xanatos and Fox. They're twighlight campaign Is to cause unneeded pain. To outdo Picard They try very hard. They're Xanatos, Xanatos and Fox, Fox, Fox, Fox Fox, Fox, Fox, Fox, NARF! Bystander-"Look! A gargoyle!" Xanatos-"Actually, I'm a billionaire owner of a multinational corporation in a metal gargoyle exoskeleton in the early stages of a plan of world domination." * * * * "Fantastic Musings" --Lindy Hensley (Lindyh@MICROSOFT.com) Silently I watch the sky Hoping that it was no lie. Gargoyles gliding in the night Keeping barely out of sight. Long we thought we were alone. Who would have thought that in the stone Beings sleep throughout the day Sharing earth with those who say, "Man alone has mind and soul. Earth is ours, both part and whole. Science rules the entire planet. The unexplained we have not met." "Gods and fairies, monsters, elves. None exist besides ourselves. Superstitions long ago, Things are different, now we know." Wouldn't they be shocked to find Beings of another kind Older than the human race Living at a different pace. Honor bound they will protect All from evil they detect. Silent in their nightly role, Steadfast in their weighty goal. I for one would like to see Creatures who turn out to be Just like my own fantasies Gargoyles would just really please. But for now, I sit and stare Up into the moonlit air. Watching shadows cross the moon, Hoping that it will come soon. * * * * There was a rich man with a castle, Who found out it was a big hassle, to conquer the planet when you have to plan it >From within your very own jail cell. There is a fun trickster called Puck. Whose known for his running amuck. Take care what you wish you will look foolish Around him, the world comes unstuck. --Lindy Hensley * * * * "TIME" --Lindy Hensley Time it seems like such a trival thing. Hours, minutes, seconds run by with barely any notice. Yet take enough of these bits and pieces and suddenly, entire lifetimes are gone. Empires have grown and fallen. And all we have known has faded away. For me, it was but a dream. A thousand year sleep and I was in another time, another place, to me... another world. For her, it was an endless march through the years knowing only her fear, her hate, her loneliness. Tearing down the bridges of her mind. Building up a wall around her heart. Here and now, we have to learn to live in the times we now find ourselves I, to adjust and catch up on the wonders and the horrors I have missed. She, to relearn and unlearn the prejudices she has taught herself. Time. It is a precious thing not to be wasted on negative emotions, recriminations, and what-if wonderings. It is a shame that we learn to savor these fleeting pieces of our lives only after we have let them slip away. ****Fanfic**** "Games" Part Two --Tara O'Shea (TaraLJC@aol.com) "Wait!" Brooklyn cried as he vaulted the low wall between two buildings and saw her disappear behind a chimney. He held his breath as he slowed, and then stopped, holding out his empty hands. Slowly, she peeked out at him from behind the chimney. With her wings folded around her, and her hair falling around them, she was a shadow except for two glittering black eyes. Showtime, thought Rowan. She stepped out, and the two gargoyles studied each other for a long moment. "I'm Brooklyn. My clan, what's left of us, live here." "I didn't think there were any other gargoyles in America." "Neither did we." "I'm called Fionnuala." "Are you from Avalon?" She was so tempted not to lie. But that would mean far too many questions, so she simply shook her head, confused. "Avalon?" "Oh." Brooklyn sat down on the ledge, and swung his feet back and forth. "I thought maybe . . . Never mind." Lex and Broadway pulled themselves up the side of the building, and gasped. "Wow!" Lex's eyes were wide. Broadway bumped into the back of him, and they took cautious steps forward. "Guys, I'd like you to meet Fionnuala," Brooklyn said dryly. Broadway was the first to shake himself out of his stupor. "Nice to meet you," he said quickly. "Brooklyn, can I talk to you for a second?" Brooklyn frowned, but followed Broadway to the other side of the roof, Lex trailing behind. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Broadway couldn't keep the worry out of his voice. "What do you mean?" "Broadway's right. We don't know anything about her." "Well, we'll get to know her, then." "But what if she's one of Xanatos' clones?" "What if she isn't? What if she really is exactly who she says she is? Would you turn your back on one of your own just because Xanatos is a jerk?" "I wouldn't turn my back on *Xanatos*. There's a difference." "You've been watching too many tv shows. Not everything in life is a set up." "What about Demona?" "That was different!" "And the Pack?" Lex added. "Hey, that worked out all right in the end." "And Maggie?" "I don't want to talk about Maggie." Lex and Broadway exchanged glances, and Brooklyn glanced back at Fionnuala, who was watching with a puzzled expression on her face. "Look, if you guys are afraid, there's no reason to stick around." "We're not leaving you alone with her." "I can take care of myself. You guys go on back to the clocktower." He had the *I'm leader, what I say goes* tone, but Broadway and Lex still looked sceptical. Rowan braided and unbraided a lock of dark hair as she watched the rookery brothers argue. She had hoped they would be more open-minded, though she had a sneaking suspicion that Brooklyn's friendliness had less to do with a trusting nature than a need for companionship. "Where are they going?" "They, ah . . . Celebrity hockey is on." "Oh." "Yeah, they didn't want to miss it. Richard Dean Anderson is goalie, and Rob Paulson is announcing." "Well, perfectly understandable. Throw D.B. Sweeney on the ice, and I'm there." "Who?" "Never mind." She laughed. "I didn't know there was a rookery in New York." "As far as we know, there's isn't. We're from Scotland, originally. What about you?" Brooklyn asked, and she shrugged. "I came here from Ireland, I roost on a lighthouse up the coast. Not much of a story." "What about the humans?" "Oh, the lighthouse was abandoned. If they see the light go on now and again, the locals just figure that it's haunted, or that the some kids have gone up there to fool around. So far, it's a very pleasant arrangement." "So why come here?" "I was curious." And that was the truth. "And lonely." And that too was the truth. "What about your clan?" "A thousand years ago, my clan scattered over the earth. We are not solitary by nature, but by necessity. Over time, we forgot the loneliness, learned to live on our own. But sometimes, sometimes we need one of our own to call kin. To remember how things used to be, and will one day be again." "Wow." "I'm sorry, I've gotten all maudlin on you." "No, I think it's great." "Great that I've gotten all maudlin?" she gave him a quizzical look. "No," Brooklyn became flustered. "I mean . . ." he frowned. Just what was it he was trying to say? "I'm glad you're so in touch with, you know, yourself." These was an awkward pause, and she giggled. "Wow, that sounded lame," he slapped his forehead, and she laughed. Since she genuinely seemed to be amused by the situation, and not laughing at him, he chuckled. "C'mon," she got up, and tugged at his forearm til he joined her. "Show me around, this is only my second trip to New York." She left unspoken *this century*, for obvious reasons. Neither of them noticed a man taking photographs. This may be because the man was particularly good at not being noticed. Or it may just have been they were too far away, as he was using quite possibly the largest and most expensive telephoto lens on the market. When one is not being noticed, it helps to not be noticed from a distance rather than close up. "Your clan must be pretty different." They were sitting on the walls of Belvedere Castle in park, watching the world go by. Brooklyn held up a yellow bottle. "Do you like mustard?" "Yeah," Rowan nodded, and he handed her a warm pretzel. "How so?" "Well, for one thing, don't you miss your rookery brothers and sisters?" "I stay in touch with a few of them. I even visit, now and again." "I can't imagine being apart from my clan for so long." "You look so sad," she observed, and didn't realise she'd spoken aloud until he answered. "Some of my friends have been gone a long time, thanks to this place called Avalon. I guess I was kinda hoping you were from there, and had come back with them." "You miss them." "Yeah, but it's more than that." Brooklyn knew it was, well, patently nuts to want to open up to a stranger, even another gargoyle, what with clones, and robots, and heaven knows what out there. But something about Fionnuala's openness, and apparent lack of guile made him want to talk to her. And he could, precisely because at the moment they were little more than strangers. "I'm not ready to lead my clan, so I want Goliath to hurry back not just because I miss him. But because I need him." "Who is this Xanatos that your brothers were so worried?" She sank her teeth into the pretzel, and licked mustard off her fingers. He told her, in a messy, roundabout way, of Castle Wyvern, the spell, Xanatos, Demona, Elisa and Matt. She listened intently, looking sad, amused, or distressed at the appropriate parts, sometimes genuinely, sometimes because those were the demands of the part she had taken to play. "Things sure were different a thousand years ago." She found her eyes had fastened on the lake in the park. "Yeah, definitely. But not necessarily better, you know? It took the massacre for the humans we thought were our friends to actually see us for what we were. But Elisa was a true friend right off the bat, even though she'd never grown up around gargoyles. Goliath hopes that someday, humans and gargoyles can life together in peace, but I'm beginning to think that's a long way off." "Maybe not so long as you think." "Maybe," he agreed, and smiled. "So, what finally convinced you?" "Convinced me of what?" "That I wasn't another of Xanatos' tricks." "I'm not. Yet." "So what's a girl gotta do to prove herself?" "I'm not sure." "How about I race you to the lake, and the winner is forced to trust the loser implicitly." "Shouldn't that be the other way around?" "Ah, you have to race me to find out." She got up on the wall, and her tail twitched impatiently. "You coming?" "I'm thinking about it." "Oh, so you're chicken." "I'm not chicken!" he climbed up on top of the wall, and spread his wings. "Ready?" she asked, tapping his shoulder with her tail. "Set-go," he said, and dove off the wall into the night. "Hey, no fair cheating!" she glided after him, the warm night air carrying away her laughter. "Think he'll stay out again?" Lex looked up from his radio to see Broadway staring at the entrance to the balcony, still on the same page he'd been an hour ago of the detective novel Elisa'd given him before she disappeared. The sky outside was lightening, and the sun would be up in a matter of moments. "I dunno." "You don't think anything's, you know, happened, do you?" Lex put down the radio, and they headed up the stairs. "I'm sure the lad'll be fine," Hudson tried to sound reassuring, but when the young gargoyles had returned to the clocktower with their tale of a strange new female gargoyle, he had been just as sceptical. Brooklyn had taken to his role as leader well, better than Hudson had thought when they'd first realised Goliath was well and truly missing. He didn't think the lad would be foolish enough to get tangled up in anything dangerous over a pretty face. But then, that was a weakness Brooklyn didn't seem to share with his rookery brothers. They stepped onto the low wall, and Lex gave the skyline one last long look. Just as they were getting ready to strike a pose for the day's rest, Brooklyn stuck his head around the corner of the rotunda. "Uh, hi guys." Brooklyn looked a little sheepish. "I guess we lost track of time." "'We', lad?" Hudson tried to sound gruff, but he was too relieved that nothing had indeed happened to the gargoyle. Then he gasped as Brooklyn stepped aside, revealing the young female. "Hi," she waved a taloned hand, chewing on her bottom lip, with a hopeful expression that was frozen by the first weak rays of the morning sun. A pigeon fluttered down to land on her shoulder, seeing with its beady little pink eyes only a collection of statues laid out in some kind of strange tableau. It hunted about for the inevitable pretzel crumbs, and resettled itself on the head of the statue to eat when its little pigeon heart almost stopped as the statue moved. "Filthy little--" Rowan muttered, shaking her head and the flustered bird took to the skies a little shakily. "I hate pigeons." In human guise once more, she greeted the sun with a grin. Running her fingers through her hair, she braided it and hopped down from her perch. "Well, that's one way to avoid a confrontation." She chuckled, surveying the frozen scene. The little gargoyle looked as if it was going to have a fit of apoplexy, while the big one seemed only a little fazed. But the old warrior seemed only surprised. Rowan smiled at Brooklyn's still form, knowing he could not see her. She genuinely liked the young gargoyle. And this was more fun than she had had in positively ages, well, except for that incident in the speakeasy with the Irish mobsters during the Prohibition. She skipped across the wood floor of the tower, towards the ladder that lead down into the precinct. Perhaps Owen had changed his mind-- She froze as she heard footfalls. She ducked into the storage closet, and noticed absently that it was no longer Coldstone's last resting place. She could taste the smoky residue of sorcery, and beneath it, the power signatures of the Gate and Eye. However, the room was now devoid of talismans and the like, and housed only some magazines, an old overstuffed chair with only three legs, a cracked bathroom mirror, and her. Opening the door a crack, she peeked out to see a red-haired man emerging from the trap door. He checked the stove, to make sure it was off, she assumed, and then headed up the stairs to where the gargoyles roost. Curious, she crept out of her hiding place, her bare feet making no sound. She could hear him talking to himself out on the rotunda. "Just wanted to check on you guys before I head home," he was saying, despite the fact that they were sleeping and would never know. Flush against the wall, hidden in shadow, she smiled. This was an interesting human, anyone who was trusted by Detective Maza with the gargoyles' secret must be extraordinary, at the very least. She ducked back into the shadows as he passed by, covering a mammoth yawn with his hand. She decided to follow him. After all, she had nothing better to do today. Heading back out onto the rotunda, she began to climb down to the top of the fire escape, landing in the alley below just as the intriguing young man passed by. Waiting a second, she peeked around the edge, and waited until he was a half a block or so ahead before she set out in his wake. "Interesting," Marlowe held up a grainy photo and smiled. "It would appear to be a mated pair. I was beginning to wonder if the female of the species even existed." He chuckled. Clermont stood next to him, in a dark suit and sunglasses. Clermont failed to see the humour of the situation. Clermont wouldn't; Margaret Thatcher had more whimsy in her pinkie than Clermont had in his entire body. However, he was very, very good at what he did, which was basically whatever Marlowe told him to do. It was a mutually profitable relationship that had existed for some small number of years. "Sir, with a mated pair . . ." Clermont began, and Marlowe set down the photo, steepling his fingers and smiling. "Indeed. Have we discovered yet where they sleep?" "No sir, I'm afraid they are *very* careful about that. I've tracked them six straight nights, however, and am relatively sure they are in this area," he circled a ten square block area of Manhattan. "Excellent work, Mr. Clermont. That's the 23rd precinct, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "Detective Maza's precinct. The woman who put, however briefly, David Xanatos in jail. And Matthew Bluestone, the Society's current fair-haired boy." "Would you like me to pick him up, sir?" "No, no. There's no need to involve the police in this matter, I believe we can handle it ourselves. Matt yawned widely, and stuck his hands deep in his pockets. He'd gotten into the habit of walking home from work, though he really wished Elisa would get back soon. He didn't have a car since there was so little parking in his building, and he'd kind of gotten used to having his partner drop him off. He hoped Elisa made it back soon. He hadn't worked with a partner since Hacker, and he'd forgotten what it was like to rely on another person so completely. "I wonder if that's what marriage is like," he muttered, and chuckled. Captain Chavez had asked him yet again today if he'd heard from Elisa. She'd gotten it into her head some time ago that there was something between the two detectives, and since he couldn't tell her it was the gargoyles, he'd just let her go on believing. It was getting thorny now, though. No one seemed to believe him when he said he didn't know why Elisa had taken such a sudden leave of absence, and that he hadn't spoken with her since her disappearance. He wished he could tell the Captain, and Officer Morgan at least. But that wasn't his story to tell, he just hoped Elisa had a job to come back to. Turning the corner by the grocery store, he thought he caught out of the corner of his eye a figure darting behind a parked car. He stopped, puzzled, and watched the reflection of the street in the glass window of a toy store across the street. He saw the figure peek out from behind the car, and saunter back onto the sidewalk. It was only a fraction of a second, before a bus rounded the corner, full of commuters, and Matt ducked into the mouth of an alley to get a better look. Flush against the wall, he waited until his shadow reached the entrance. Reaching out, his hand closed on the wrist of his follower, dragging the figure into the alley and pinning him against the damp wall--no, not a him. It was a kid. Matt blinked in surprise. She looked like a high school girl, the kind he remembered from high school, not the Drew Barrymore Hollywood type of today. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and she was wearing cut-offs and a faded black tee-shirt. No make-up, no watch, no jewellery, no purse, no wallet, no shoes. "Who are you?" He shook her. "Why were you following me?" "Was I following you?" she asked, all innocence. "Yes." "Oh." "And I want to know why." "Because you looked interesting," she said with great conviction. "What is that supposed to mean? And why don't you have any shoes on?" "Well, at the moment, I don't have any shoes." "Don't you know it's dangerous to walk around without shoes? You could get cut, there's glass all over the place!" "I'm sorry, I'm mildly confused. Why are you shouting at me for not wearing shoes, when a second ago you were shouting at me for following you?" Rowan gave him a quizzical look, and Matt suddenly realised he too was mildly confused. He sighed, and glanced around. There was a strip mall a few blocks up, and he thought he could discern the familiar orange and yellow sign of a discount shoe store. "C'mon." "Where are we going?" She sounded amused. "To get you some shoes." "You're kidding, right?" "No, I'm just out of my mind." They started walking in the general direction of the mall, and Matt silently questioned his sanity while Rowan tried to keep from giggling. When they reached the door, Matt suddenly turned around. "What's your name?" "Call me Jackie," she stuck her hand out, and Matt shook it. "Matt Bluestone. Detective Matt Bluestone. As in, I'm a cop, so don't try to snow me, kiddo." "Okay, I won't try." She smiled, and he opened the door. "What's your size?" he asked as they walked into the store. The clerk behind the counter, who didn't look much older than the girl, looked as if he was going to say something. He thought better of it, and didn't spare them a glance as they headed for the women's shoe department. "I have no earthly idea." *Jesus, this kid eats like a horse*, Matt tried to keep the naked amusement off his face as Jackie wolfed down her second Egg McMuffin and carton of milk. He'd insisted that she wear the shoes out of the store, and though he had the distinct impression she was humouring him, she'd laced up the keds as he'd shelled out the eight bucks to the clerk. Common sense told him he should head home and crash, having done his good deed for the day. But it was a nice morning, and she was a nice kid, and he had very little common sense. "When was the last time you ate?" "I had a pretzel with mustard at about midnight," she'd said blithely, swinging the plastic shoe store bag with the empty cardboard shoebox inside as she walked. He'd grabbed her elbow, and steered her into the MacDonald's. "Do you do this often?" she asked around a mouthful of egg and Canadian bacon. "Don't talk with your mouth full," Matt unconsciously parroted his mother, and sipped his coffee before replying. "Do what?" "Rescue starving, shoeless young women and stuff them full of fried foods." "No, you're my first." "Wow," she waggled her eyebrows, and Matt felt a flush creep up his neck. "Why aren't you in school?" he hastily changed the subject. She started laughing, practically choking on her sandwich. He thumped her on the back, and she finished off her milk before replying. "Nope, no school." "What about your parents?" "Are you always this nosy?" "I'm a detective, remember? You'd can't detect without being nosy. So how old are you, anyway?" "One thousand, three hundred, and seventy-one." "Ask a stupid question . . ." "It wasn't a stupid question," she shook her head and patted his hand, encouragingly. The gesture and tone reminded him of his third grade teacher, Mrs. Delany. This is nothing quite like being treated like an eight year old by a teenager. "So where you from?" "Avalon." "That's up north, isn't it?" "Sort of." "Funny, you don't sound Canadian." "My accent wanders," she admitted, and wiped her mouth daintily with a paper napkin. He shouldn't haven been surprised at all, really. Rowan simply ignored the bits of life she didn't want to deal with, and forced everyone around her to do the same. Despite the note on which they'd parted, she appeared in his office by way of the bathroom mirror all smiles, braid bouncing behind her, clutching a plastic drawstring bag. "I had the most marvellous day." Rowan sat on the edge of his desk, plucking the pen from his hand. He took another one from his inside breast pocket, and continued writing without looking up. She noted with some amusement that even when he was alone, he left his left hand stone. He really should do something about that, although with the Grimorum Arcanorum gone, and Demona and MacBeth the only practising sorcerers in the vicinity, she could see his dilemma. With a wave of her hand, it became flesh again and though he frowned, he didn't change it back himself. "Really?" He massaged his wrist until the tingling subsided. "Oh yes, I met the most amazing fellow. His name is Matthew, and he bought me shoes." She laughed, delighted, and stood on one foot, her other extended in a manner only that could only have been managed by a contortionist, or a member of the Bolshoi to display a cheap canvas tennis shoe barely inches from his face. "And very fetching they are." "Did you know, they have a device that measures your feet? I can't quite understand it, actually, the numbers seem to have nothing to do with the actual length of my foot. My feet are hardly six inches long. Still, I thought it perfectly amazing. I mean, how often do humans buy complete strangers footwear?" "What does your Matthew do?" "He's a police detective." She studied a bowl of fruit sitting on the bar near the bathroom, and carefully, painstakingly chose a shiny red apple. Owen looked as if he was trying to keep from swallowing his tongue. "What?" she asked innocently, biting into the apple. "You have an absolute talent for chaos." Owen pronounced, shaking his head. "Detective Bluestone is Detective Maza's partner. You are aware of this?" She laid down on the leather couch, feet dangling over the armrest, and took another bite. "Oh, yes. He was checking on the gargoyles before his shift ended--" "And you knew this because?" "Because I was there, silly. Don't fret, he didn't see me. Well, not just then, anyway." "When exactly?" "When he tackled me in an alley and asked me why I was following him. Once we got over the paranoia, he was really quite charming. I'm seeing him again tomorrow, as a matter of fact." "Why?" She rolled over onto her stomach, and pitched the apple core into the wastepaper basket behind his desk. It was actually very aerodynamic, until it defied the laws of gravity and velocity and turned so that it landed squarely in the bin, since the bin was under the desk. "Because I like him. He has this very entertaining idea about getting me placed into foster care. He thinks I'm an orphan from Newfoundland. I didn't disabuse him of this notion, because it amused me greatly." "Tell me, do you actually have a plan, or are you just picking people at random to assault and bedazzle?" "A nice balance of both, actually. And I didn't assault him. Technically, he assaulted me." "And what exactly do you plan to do with your Matthew?" "Keep allowing him to buy me meals, for one thing. Do you know, I'd never eaten at MacDonald's before." "And then what?" "I'm not sure. He's an interesting human." "He's an illuminatus, albeit an initiate." "You know, every time I hear that word, I picture giant walking light bulbs. I know that's not that illuminatus means, but still--" "Rowan." Owen sat back down behind his desk, looking at her from over his glasses before he turned back to the papers he'd been going over. "You're going to lecture me, aren't you." "No." "Really?" She sounded surprised, but he didn't look up from the contracts. "No," he said curtly. "Whatever has put you in such a mood?" she teased, but he shook her off. "You're one to talk. Your moods are quicksilver, I grow weary following them." "If I promised you that I would be on my very best behaviour, would you believe me?" "The set is setting, shouldn't you be back on your ledge? Or you'd have rather a lot of explaining to do." "You didn't answer me," she said from the bathroom doorway. "No, I didn't." Rowan stepped out of the mirror in the closet, and carefully removed her new shoes, and replaced them in the cardboard box. Glancing around, she stashed the box in its plastic bag behind the mirror. After all, she shouldn't be needing them until dawn. Peeking out into the loft, she saw it was empty and climbed the stairs to the balcony just as the sun began to dip below the skyline. Resuming her place in the tableau, she waited. As the sun slipped under the horizon, the familiar weblike pattern of cracks appeared, and with a chorus of roars and yawns, the gargoyles awoke from their stone sleep with a shower of gravel. Rowan twitched the last bit of thin stone skin from her tail, and then looked back and forth between the elder and Brooklyn. " I trust her, Hudson," Brooklyn said quietly. Hudson stroked his beard thoughtfully, and then smiled. "Any friend of the lad's is welcome here, lass." He offered his hand, which she clasped at the wrist. "Thank you, it means a great deal to me." She looked expectantly at Broadway and Lexington, who stared at their feet. Obviously, this was going to take some work. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to them. "Shall we start again? I'm called Fionnuala." She held out her hand. The young gargoyles traded looks, and then glanced over her shoulder to Brooklyn, but his face was a mask. "I'm Broadway." The big green gargoyle reached out and gave her hand a quick shake. Lex followed suite, and she grinned. "Hey, have you got Doom on that laptop?" She jerked her thumb to the interior, and Lex's eyes lit up. "Yeah." "I've never played, you wanna teach me?" "I guess." Brooklyn smiled as Lex followed her inside, Broadway on his heels. Hudson held back, and touched Brooklyn's shoulder. "I should have a few things to say about your bringing a stranger to our home, lad." Brooklyn squared his shoulders. "She's not a stranger, Hudson. She's a gargoyle." "I said I should. But obviously you've given this a lot of thought, and I trust your instincts." "Thanks." Brooklyn relaxed, and followed the elder gargoyle inside. So far, so good. "Wow," Rowan looked over the darkened library, and ran her finger along the spines of the row of books closest to her. "Pretty cool, having your own personal library." "Yeah, Goliath spends a lot of time in here." Brooklyn settled himself of the top of the ladder, and watched her pull a book off the shelf and settle down on the floor, wings wrapped around her like a cloak. He could read the gilded letters of the title in the dim light. "Man, Myth and Magic?" "I like the pictures." She lifted up a page emblazoned with a black and white lithograph of a scene from one of Shakespeare's plays. Tiny fairies with gossamer wings fluttered around a reclining woman with delicately pointed ears who was laying a wreath of flowers over a man with an ass' head. She flipped pages with an amused expression on her face, and then grew silent. He thought she was reading one of the entries, but when he hopped down to see, she seemed to be staring a crude woodcut of a hobgoblin, one talon tracing the lines of the figure's mischievous grin. "Hey," he touched her wing, and she blinked. "You looked a million miles away." "I was. Sorry." "Where were you anyway?" "I was just thinking about seeing someone about something that I probably shouldn't--never mind, it doesn't matter." She smiled for his benefit. "So what should we do tonight?" "In case you haven't noticed, the sun'll be up in about an hour." Brooklyn would have raised a brow, if he had eyebrows. But the general effect was the same. "Already?" She glanced back, and finally noticed the sky outside the high windows lightening. "Where did the night go?" "You spent most of it kicking Lex's butt at Doom." Brooklyn chuckled, but she didn't laugh. She had the far away look in her eyes again. "Rowan, when you said your clan was scattered . . ." "Yes?" "Do you have a mate?" "Yes. No. Sort of. Why, are you volunteering?" At his stricken look, she chuckled. "Sorry, humour by reflex. That couldn't have been fair to you." "We'd better head back upstairs." "You go on," she closed the book, and tucked it back between its fellows on the shelf. "I just need to think a while." "Sure. Okay." He headed back up the stairs. By the time he was at the first landing, she was gone. Owen was in his room reading when she appeared, this time wearing her human form. He noticed she was barefoot again, apparently she had already lost interest in the novelty of new shoes. He put down his book, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I take it you made your appointment, then?" "Yes. Met the clan, ate some Belgium waffles, played some computer games." She tried to keep her tone light, but the act was wearing thin. "Brooklyn is quite upset, what with Goliath and the detective off on Avalon's magical mystery tour. But then, I hear the gargoyles paid you a visit, so you must already know that. They have no idea about the Gathering, it would seem. Neither does Goliath, from what Grandmother told me, although that may have changed. I hear they've gone to Ulster, but the bean sidhe has disappeared, so who knows what they got mixed up in there." She did smile now, a little self indulgent smile. "I must say, they certainly tweaked Raven's ears." "Ah, yes. How is he?" "Still as insufferable as ever. He always was the over-achiever in the family. So he took a more active role in society, does that give him the right to lord it over me for centuries? I could have endeared myself to a native culture and lived my millennium so as a god among them. I simply chose not to, that's all. I avoid Canada in its entirety thanks to him." Owen stood, replacing the book on the night stand, and removed his glasses. "I think it's time for you to go." "Hey, I've just downloaded the latest version of Doom, where's Fionnuala?" Lex looked up from his laptop to see Brooklyn sitting with his back to Hudson's chair, skimming the Times. "She's downstairs in the library." "No, she's not," Broadway looked up from the sink where he was doing the washing up. "I was just down there to put the cookbook back, there was no sign of her." Brooklyn tried to hide his surprise, and started up the stairs to the balcony, newspaper forgotten. "Where you going?" Lex logged off and clicked the laptop closed, slipping on the dust cover. "Just a hunch." "It's almost dawn!" Broadway called after him, but Brooklyn had already leapt off the balcony into the rapidly fleeing night. "I knew this was a bad idea," Lex scowled, and Hudson looked up from his section of the paper, but kept silent. "I'm sorry, what?" Rowan kept her expression purposefully blank. "You heard me." "Has anyone ever told you you have an absolute talent for non-sequitors? Was that a suggestion, or something more?" "You've had your fun, Rowan. But it's time for it to come to an end. As much as you seem to disdain him, Lord Oberon is gathering his children to him. Perhaps it's time you gave that matter the grave thought it is due." "I see. Obviously, you've done your thinking on the matter." "When all is said and done, beneath the galmours and illusions, when all the games are finished and done, we are what we are." "We're not just of the third race, you and I. We and our kin, though they be small in number, its true, are more. We're pookas and jacks, tricksters and wise fools. We're kin to the coyote and the raven, not merely Lord Oberon's subjects. Perhaps you've worn that shape so long, you've forgotten our nature." "It is not our nature that compels you to meddle, leaving havoc in your wake." "And what havoc have I wrought? Was your precious David so much the wiser for my little visit?" She walked around him in a wide circle, a flush rising in her cheeks, but he remained silent. She stopped, facing him, and tilted his chin so he met her eyes. She traced his jaw with a fingertip, and felt the muscle twitch beneath her caress. "I see. So it was not your life here that I disturbed, but your heart? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" She reached up to touch his cheek, and he caught her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm before letting it drop and stepping back. She winced as if his touch had burned. She walked over to the window, and looked out over the night sky. "Since it is obvious you will not return to Avalon for love, whatever will you do when your master calls you home, eh?" she asked his reflection in the windowpane. "Tell him you're traded him in for a bright, shiny mortal one?" "And do you really think that just because Oberon is gathering the fay, that you will be exempt from the order?" She turned, her expression melting from neutral to one of contempt. Not for him, but the situation. "He's not *my* master, remember? You know where my loyalties lie. He's a bit full of himself. Acts more like a king than a consort." "I think you've confused literature with reality, my dear. He's the king, your mistress is the consort." "No, MacBeth has confused literature with reality. I, on the other hand, have remarkably clear memories of the incident. And people accuse *me* of being enamoured of mortals. He was positively taken with that poor besotted mortal, what did Will call her? Helen? But then, you know much more about it than I. And all the while, he professed his undying love for his lady wife, then banished her--and us, may I add-- to 'cure' her of her prejudice." She scowled, and then drew herself up tall, nose in the air. "We are Oberon, lord of the third race, ruler of Avalon, first class hypocrite and horse's ass." Owen couldn't help a smile. She did a passable imitation. She collapsed in a boneless heap once more on the couch, and rested her chin on her hands, grey eyes glittering like stars. She scowled, very prettily he thought, but then her words stole his good humour. "I wonder what will happen when our dear Lord Oberon realises that we learned the lesson too well." She looked for a reaction, but his face was a mask. So she pushed. "He suffers us to live that we amuse him, but he is not *my* lord." All trace of amusement was gone now, and he knew any pretence was gone. Her words were like the naked steel of a blade. "And he would not have been yours if you did not let him rule you." "You have selective memory." "One of us does," she amended. "And remember who brought you to this island--" "Have done, Rowan," he warned her. "As if you have never set a foot wrong, when we both know just how much a lie that would be--" "I said *have done*," he thundered, and she flinched. She had crossed the line, and she knew it. Seeing his face now, she regretted it, though she had spoken true. She reached out to touch his shoulder. "I never meant--" "You never *mean* to do anything, do you, Rowan," he said coldly, pulling away from her light touch. "You never mean to. But you always do." She froze, as if she was carved of stone. He didn't even think she breathed. He knew he should make some joke, dispel the tension. But he couldn't, his mood was too black. Like a runaway train, part of him could only watch as he hurtled towards disaster at breakneck speed. She looked as if she would say something, and then thought better of it. She crawled up into the open window frame, and glanced back at him from over her shoulder, with a small wistful smile tinged with bitterness. "And how unlucky I must be, to love a one such as you. You'd as soon break my heart as look at me. Again, I am the fool." "Rowan--" he stepped towards her, but she leapt out into the night, her form flowing from human to gargoyle so quickly it was a blur. He leaned out the window, and could only make out a silhouette in the distance. "Rowan!" he called out, and gripped the stone ledge almost painfully, the rough texture biting into his palms. They were red and tingling when he finally came back inside. That was a thing badly done. Badly done, indeed. There was no reason to believe she'd lied. None. And yet, there he was, watching Castle Wyvern, when there could have been a million other places in the city she could have gone to. But as Brooklyn saw her leap from the window, he knew there was really only one place she would have gone, and his instincts had been right. Brooklyn wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, his mouth a grim line, he spread his wings and followed her. ~To be Concluded in Issue Eleven ****Advertisements**** Title: "Hurt Hawks" By: Batya Levin (bl96@columbia.edu) and Constance Cochran Short Summary: Set during the Avalonauts World Tour, post-KINGDOM, pre-PENDRAGON. There's been no word from Goliath or Elisa, and now Lexington is missing too. And a college student named Jeremy has found a wounded..._something_...on a lonely road in New Jersey.... * * * * Attention: Gargoyles fans at Columbia University. (Come on, I know you're out there!) Batya "The Toon" Levin here, searching for like-minded people. No, this is not an invitation to join a fan club, a support group, or the Please Please Please Get A Life Foundation; I'm just on the lookout for fellow fans in my neighborhood. Drop me a line at bl96@columbia.edu.