Caledon Rising 7 - New Friends Part Two

By Brian McCrary -fenris@phnx.uswest.net

DISCLAIMER -- As everyone knows, Gargoyles and its various characters are the property of Buena Vista television and the Almighty Mouse. This story and any subsequent stories I might write with these characters are for my own pleasure and the enjoyment of others, and not for profit -- so don't sue me. Any additional characters to the Gargoyles universe that may appear herein are my own creations, so please don't borrow them without my permission. Now, on with the show!

P.S. If you like my work, send me feedback; it keeps me writing!

SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: The actions and attitudes of the character John DiTagglia in this story in no way reflect my own attitude and beliefs towards women -- he's the bad guy, okay? He's *supposed* to be someone you can hate. Please, no nasty comments about his activities.

ooooo

Marian sat on a sheltered bench deep in the Arboretum, the slanting rays of the afternoon sun casting a rainbow in the mist from the artificial waterfall. Idly, she studied the way the water cascaded down the artfully arranged cliff face that covered the one solid wall of the enclosure. Xanatos had spared no expense when creating his own little slice of the Garden of Eden, but if everything she had been hearing was true, he was a much-reformed Serpent these days.

Certainly she had no grounds for complaint; if not for his shelter, she knew she would be dead by now, either by her own hands or her husband's. As it was, the nightmares were fading, her body was mending, and the counselor was making progress on healing the even deeper wounds in her soul. She would never be the woman she might have been had she not, heedless of the concerned warnings of her friends, married the man who would become her tormentor, but she could take her life back from him.

It shocked Marian a little that she was starting to believe it possible; she had thought all hope dead within her, ground out by the cruel blows of her husband and the indifference of the system. But her counselor had shown her where the embers still burned, and with his help, had slowly fanned them back to life. Now she was beginning to look ahead, to try and come up with a plan for resuming her life.

"There's no need to rush, Marian," Fox Xanatos had said. "You're welcome here for as long as you need." And wasn't that a surprise; Fox Reynard, who made a brief appearance on the runway circuit with her striking facial tattoo before moving on to acting, now the wife of one of the richest men in the world. Marian remembered her from those days, a new face when more voluptuous models were coming into vogue. They had worked a couple of the same shows, although at that time Marian had begun her own transition away from the runways. She recalled Fox's forceful personality, her calm acceptance that greatness was her due; strange to see her happy as a wife and mother.

Marian winced as the old sorrow stabbed through her. Children, that had been the start of it. John had been charming and loving, and very careful to keep his true business concealed from her. Then they found out she could not give him children, that she was barren. Children were very important to John, to his Family. He grew cold and distant, and he grew careless. Marian learned the truth at last, and with that knowledge came her first attempt to leave.

That was the first of the beatings, of "teaching her her place". There were to be many others, some as simple as a slap, some much, much worse. She was a possession, a trophy, and John was a collector. That she was a flawed trophy was irrelevant; what was his, remained his, until he decided otherwise.

Marian shivered and hunched down into herself. The counselor had warned her against dwelling on the past until she was stronger, but sometimes it rose up and overwhelmed her, drowning her resolve. He would never let go; he would hunt her, no matter where she went, no matter what she did.

A warning chime sounded, rousing Marian out of the darkness into which her thoughts had spiraled. Sunset was approaching, and the automated caretakers of Xanatos' private garden were getting ready to perform their nightly duties. It seemed odd to her, closing off the Arboretum all night long, but she would be the first to admit she knew nothing about what it took to maintain the lush growth around her. No doubt the fertilizers and insecticides used to grow and protect the plantlife were both unpleasant and harmful to any people who inhaled them.

The chime sounded again; with a sigh, Marian wrestled herself back into the wheelchair the doctors insisted she still needed and returned to her rooms.

ooooo

"So, how is the lass doing?" Hudson asked, repeating the question he had asked every night since Marian had taken up residence in the building.

"She's doing fine, Hudson," Elisa replied reassuringly. "Her doctors are very happy with her progress, and her counselor says, quote, "She's a strong woman who's dealing as well as can be expected with what she's gone through," unquote." Elisa smiled as Hudson nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as he took in what she'd just said.

The rest of the clan was slightly bemused by the intense interest Hudson was showing in the woman he'd saved. Every night he asked for a progress report, and every night he would corner either Owen or Xanatos and make certain no attempt had been made to breach the Eyrie Building's security.

Hudson cleared his throat, regaining Elisa's attention. "Have ye had any luck putting paid to the bastard who did this to her?" he asked yet again, his eyes glowing softly.

Elisa shook her head with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Hudson; I know you don't like it, but there's nothing the legal system can do to him without a complaint from Marian, and given his track record, probably damned little we could do even if she did sign a complaint." Hudson's expression darkened, and Elisa hastily continued. "That doesn't mean we're completely powerless. We've kept him from finding where she ended up, despite his best efforts to buy, bully or steal the information from someone. And I have some friends on the organized crime unit who are paying particular attention to him right now, and leaking to his family why it's happening. John DiTagglia is by no means getting off scot free."

"But he won't be punished for what he did to her," Hudson said with finality.

"I'm afraid not," Elisa agreed sadly.

Goliath's hand fell on Hudson's shoulder. "Elisa has done what she can, old friend; the woman is safe now, that is the important thing."

"Aye, I suppose you're right," Hudson sighed. A wicked smile suddenly appeared on his face. "But that doesn't mean I canna dream aboot finding him strolling through the park some night, now does it?" he asked.

"We all have our dreams, Hudson," Goliath replied solemnly with a small smile as the rest of the clan chuckled.

ooooo

John perched nervously on the edge of his chair, trying as best he could to ignore the two muscle-bound goons who had delivered his uncle's "invitation". Their silent, brooding presence was a grim reminder as to how far out of favor he had fallen; what remained to be seen was whether or not it was a fall from which he would be able to get up.

The heavy, mahogany double doors on the far side of the room swung silently open on their oiled hinges, allowing his uncle's consigliori to step through. "Your uncle will see you now, Mr. DiTagglia," he said, crooking his figure.

John rose from his chair and felt rather than saw the shift of his escort as they started to follow. Relief washed through him as the consigliori gave his head a small shake, arresting their movement. So his fate wasn't determined yet; he still had a chance to survive this.

That brief moment of confidence faded when he saw his uncle's expression; he'd seen that same bland face more than once, usually just before some nuisance ceased to annoy the Family for good. Nervously he cleared his throat. "How are you feeling today, Uncle Frederico?"

Frederico DiTagglia's expression remained unchanged, an even worse sign. Silently he gestured to the chair on the far side of the desk. When John was seated his uncle steepled his fingers and looked over them at his nephew. "What are we to do with you?" he said at last.

John was smart enough not to try and bluff his way through. "I am sorry, Uncle," he said, hanging his head. "I lost control."

"So. At least you do not lie about it to my face, eh, Johnny?" John risked a glance up; his uncle's expression had shifted to an infinitely safer one of anger and disdain, much preferable to the death mask he had worn when John entered the room. "But you make me wait to hear the truth from your lips; you make me send for you to hear your explanation, to tell me why the police are suddenly so interested you, and why you are using the Family's resources in a search for a wife you did not bother to tell me was missing. I ask you again; what are we to do with you?"

John squared his shoulders. "I was wrong, Uncle," he said gravely. "I ask your forgiveness." Though outwardly he remained calm, inwardly he trembled as his uncle shook his head.

"No, Johnny, no easy forgiveness, not this time. This time forgiveness must be earned." Uncle Frederico leaned back in his chair. "From this moment forward you are cut off from the Family business; all your interests are transferred to your brother Paulo. Let the police watch you all they want, they will see nothing." He held up his hand as John opened his mouth to speak. "That is not all; your sole duty now is to resolve your marriage difficulties. Your wife is a liability we cannot afford; you will eliminate that liability."

"Gladly, Uncle," John said, "but I can't find her! She vanished from that hospital, and no one knows where she went!"

"*I* know where she is," Frederico said calmly. "She has taken sanctuary with David Xanatos, in his Eyrie Building, and while she is there we cannot touch her."

"But, Uncle, if we know she's there, surely we can send someone in to --"

His uncle's hand slammed onto the desk like a shot. "Do not dispute with me!" he shouted. "You *will not* make any attempt on her while she remains under his roof! Is that understood?"

"Yes, Uncle," John agreed, shrinking back into his chair. "But why --?"

"You do not need to know the reasons," his uncle stated, his left hand fingering a small pin just visible under his lapel. "It is enough for you to know that those are my orders."

"Then what do you want me to do, Uncle?" John asked.

"You wait," he said firmly. "You need to learn the value of patience, and this is as good a way as any. Your wife cannot stay under Xanatos' protection indefinitely; sooner or later, she will leave the Eyrie Building, and those I have watching will tell us. Then, and only then, you will act."

ooooo

More time passed, and Marian set aside her wheelchair and crutches, working daily with her physical therapists to rebuild her strength. At her counselor's suggestion she began self-defense classes, finding in Fox a frighteningly competent teacher.

"You know," Fox said, eyeing her friend critically as they relaxed in the steamroom one afternoon following a strenuous workout, "it's amazing how little you've changed since I knew you. You could probably call up any modeling agency in town and go back to work tomorrow, especially now that you're all buffed out." She playfully poked Marian in a sharply defined biceps.

"Oh, please," Marian laughed, "Can you really see me sauntering down a runway again after all these years? Competing with all those hordes of teenagers who were always trying to claw their way up there with us? No thank you!" she said firmly, though she was secretly pleased at the compliment.

"I'm serious," Fox said. "The lean and muscular look is all the rage now, and you've always had that incredible bone structure. You mention the name of 'Marian FitzWalter' to any of a dozen top fashion photographers and they go all dreamy-eyed." She shrugged as Marian stared at her in frank disbelief. "It's something to consider, anyway."

Marian leaned back as Fox poured more water over the heated stones in the center of the room. "I -- I don't think I'm ready for that," she said at last. She ran her hands unconsciously over her arms, over her face. The bruises were all gone, the last fractures healed. The damage done to her nose by several breaks had been expertly corrected by a plastic surgeon flown in especially for the job. No evidence remained of the dark side of her marriage, at least on the surface.

Inside was another matter. The nightmares were almost gone, though the counselor warned her that intense stress would almost certainly cause reoccurrences. She was still uncomfortable around any man who reminded her of her husband; it had taken considerable effort on her part to relax around David Xanatos, his Greek heritage lending him the dark good looks that triggered her reactions. And the idea of leaving the safety of the Eyrie building terrified her. She knew he was waiting out there, waiting to punish her disobedience.

"Well," Fox said at last, noting her friend's withdrawal, "it was just an idea. There's no rush, Marian; you're welcome here for as long as you need." She chuckled a little. "To be honest, I'm glad for the company; the only other woman that I see socially around here is Detective Maza, and she and I have some -- issues that make it a little difficult to relax around each other. Besides," and she smiled wickedly, "just between us, she has absolutely *no* fashion sense!"

Marian laughed, then frowned. "But if there's bad blood between you two, why is she here so much? It can't be just to see me; how did she know she could bring me here in the first place?"

"Oh, well, she has some friends on David's staff," Fox evaded. "One of his troubleshooters is her boyfriend. She comes around to see him, and, well, we manage to get along."

ooooo

Marian looked out through the tinted glass of the limousine's windows, her nervousness evident in the tense lines of her body. "Do you really think this is a good idea?" she asked for about the fifth time.

David and Fox both nodded reassuringly. "You need to get out and about, Marian," Fox said, "and this as good a place to start as any. Pierre has the shop reserved just for us; the only other people who will be there will be his staff and our regular security team." She smiled ruefully at Marian's questioning look. "You see, you're not the only one who has to worry about their safety away from home; David's made some very powerful enemies on his way to the top."

"Not that we expect any trouble," David interposed at Marian's worried expression. "It's more a matter of common sense, like looking both ways before crossing an empty street. Habit, really."

"If you say so ..." Marian said doubtfully.

"We do say so," Fox replied firmly. "You need to see some new faces, and try some new things. How else will you know you're really getting better?"

"My counselor said the same thing," Marian said slowly. "He said I had to be careful not to let my shelter become my prison ..."

"That's the idea," Fox said. "I remember when Alex was born; someone tried to kidnap him immediately after his birth --"

"No!" Marian said, shocked that anyone would try such a thing.

"By his maternal grandmother, no less," David replied grimly.

"And if not for the help of some dear friends, she would have succeeded," Fox finished. "It was weeks before I was able to relax when Alex was out of my sight, and I had to force myself to let him outside the safety of the Eyrie Building." She laid a hand over Marian's. "You can't let fear rule your life; if you do, *he* wins."

John twitched as the phone rang. "DiTagglia here," he said into the receiver.

"It's Tony, Mr. DiTagglia," the voice said. "She's outta the building."

Heart racing, he reached for the silenced pistol resting on the desk before him. "Give me the address."

"I can't, Mr. DiTagglia; we were told not to do anything while she was under Xanatos' protection ..."

"So?" John ground out between his teeth.

"So she's with both of them, the Xanatoses. They're at some fancy clothing store, uptown," Tony replied.

DiTagglia reined in his temper; he knew the muscle on loan to him would report any loss of control back to his uncle. "All right; keep observing. If that's the way Uncle Frederico wants it, that's how we'll play it."

"Sure thing, Mr. DiTagglia."

"Oh, and, Tony?"

"Yes, sir?" Tony asked.

"Don't call me again unless you have good news."

Marian stared in bemusement at the piles of packages that rendered the spacious interior of the limousine cramped. "I don't know how I let you talk me into buying all of this," she said. "And I certainly don't know how I'm going to repay you for it all, either."

"Don't worry about it, Marian," David laughed as the limo crawled through the evening traffic. "This is a mere pittance compared to when Fox goes on one of her serious 'fashion safaris', I assure you!"

"Now, David, I've told you before; it's more than just buying clothing. An original in my closet is an original that is *not* in someone else's." She winked at Marian, who laughed.

"And the media wonders why I'm obsessed with making money!" Xanatos mock-groaned.

Fox eyed the relaxed expression Marian wore and remarked, "You know, you seem to be doing a lot better this evening. This outing has been good for you, just like I said it would."

"I think you're right," Marian replied. "Of course, part of it is that it's nighttime." She looked at their puzzled expressions and shrugged. "It's true; I don't know why, but for some reason, ever since that night on the bridge, I've always felt safer at night, as if there was someone looking out for me."

David and Fox exchanged glances, the same idea on both their minds. Marian misinterpreted the look on their faces and continued, "I suppose Elisa told you about my hallucination on the bridge; an angel swooped down out of the sky, caught me before I plunged into the river, and saved my life. So it didn't happen that way; God has better things to do with his angels than to send them to stop some foolish mortal from throwing away the gift of life. Well, even if it wasn't real, I still seem to find comfort in it. My subconscious supplied an angel to save me, and somehow, somewhere, I can't help feeling that he's still around."

ooooo

Elisa looked at Fox in surprise. "What did you say to that?" she asked at last.

"What could I say?" Fox retorted. "I wasn't very likely to say, "Actually, Marian, your angel is real and he roosts in the castle on top of the Eyrie Building," now was I?"

"No, I suppose not," Elisa agreed. An impish smile crept across her face. "Still, it's kind of a shame she can't meet him."

"What?!"

"Well," she said defensively at Fox's expression, "once you get past the wings and the tail, Hudson's a real charmer; not many men today have the old-fashioned respect for women that he has. And then there would be the plus of knowing that her 'guardian angel' is real, that she didn't dream him up."

Fox shook her head. "No, I don't think so; she's got enough to deal with. If she hasn't made the connection between her 'angel' and the stories of gargoyles in the media, I'm not going to suggest it to her."

Elisa shrugged. "It was just an idea. You've been spending more time with her than I have; if you don't think she could handle it, that's good enough for me."

ooooo

Elisa leaned backward, her weight resting comfortably against Goliath's chest, his wings cloaked about them both against the night air. "Mmmm," she sighed, the day's tensions leached out of her by the slow, measured vibration of her lover's heart. "We don't spend enough time like this."

"Like what, my love?" Goliath asked, one surprisingly gentle hand caressing her hair.

"Like this," she replied, turning around within his wings, slipping her arms around his waist. "Sometimes it seems we're always rushing from one crisis to another; if it's not Demona, it's Oberon, if not Oberon, it's the Quarrymen ... you know what I mean." She tightened her grip, holding him as tightly as she could. "We never have time to just ... be together, to just be a couple of people in love."

Goliath gently slipped a talon under her chin, his worried face looking down into hers. "You do not regret what we have, do you, my Elisa?"

She smiled without a trace of hesitation. "Not for an instant, Big Guy. I never knew how empty my life was until I met you. You filled that lonely spot in my soul I didn't know existed; how could I regret that?"

"I am glad, beloved," he rumbled, his bass voice shivering along her spine. His eyes glowed softly as she caressed the sensitive spot between his wings. "I never would have known completion, had I not found you. I realize now, Demona and I --" he paused as he felt Elisa stiffen slightly at the mention of his former mate's name, "we were never true mates," he continued quickly. "You, Elisa, are the mate of my soul; you make me whole, make me greater than I ever was alone. You are the anchor that centers me, the hearthfire that warms me --"

"Okay, okay, Goliath, I get the point," she said at last, chuckling, showing him mercy after his gaffe. "You don't have to convince me you're not interested in her any more." His own chuckle followed after a moment, and they lapsed back into companionable silence.

A little while later Elisa noticed Hudson departing from the battlements below them. "He seems to be flying a lot more patrols lately," she commented, nodding after the retreating figure.

"Aye," Goliath replied, "and I am glad to see it. The transition to this new time has always been harder on him than he admitted; his ... 'addiction' ... to the television was but a symptom. For a time I feared that we would lose him to the Wandering."

In the distance Elisa could see Hudson stoop into a dive over Central Park. "The ... 'Wandering', you said? What's that?"

"Sometimes, when a gargoyle's remaining years grow fewer than those he has already lived," Goliath said in a tone reminiscent of a bard reciting a lesson, "he may come to a point where he loses interest in the life of the clan. He withdraws into himself, shunning a gargoyle's nature." His arms gently squeezed, holding her even closer to him. "Males who lose their mates are especially vulnerable to the Wandering."

"And you thought Hudson might be turning that way?" Elisa asked.

"He had started to show some signs of it a thousand years past, before our enchantment," Goliath replied. "Once we awoke here, the constant danger to what little remained of the clan kept him from growing worse, but since returning to the castle and learning of the Hidden Clan --"

"Right; he didn't need to hang on any more."

"True; he began to drift away, and nothing I tried seemed to help." He sighed.

"Well, sure, but Hudson is getting on a bit. Is it such a bad thing if he decides to take it a little easier, especially now that he knows the clan is more secure?" she asked.

"You must understand, Elisa; gargoyles do not know 'retirement' as humans do. If we do not follow our nature, we are lost. A gargoyle lost to the Wandering withdraws into himself, until at last he leaves the clan and ... seeks the dawn."

"That -- sounds kind of ominous," Elisa ventured.

"Ominous, aye," Goliath agreed. "The gargoyle glides towards the sunrise ... and does not land."

Elisa looked up in shock as he nodded. "Somehow it's hard to imagine Hudson doing that," she said at last. "He's so important to all of you; I know you don't think of family the same way as humans do, Goliath, but Hudson's like a father to you, and a grandfather to the others. It would be terrible if you lost him."

"I know," he replied. "I remember the night Xanatos deceived us with a statue into believing he was gone; I had never felt such pain before, not even the night the clan perished. I thought I had failed him, and that I would never have a chance to tell him what he means to me."

"Well," Elisa said reassuringly, "he seems to be coming around nicely. Over the last month or so I think he's bagged more muggers, thieves and what-have-you than Brooklyn, Lex and Broadway combined."

Goliath smiled. "There is an old gargoyle saying: 'With youth comes strength, with age comes skill.' Hudson has great skill."

"That's not all he has," Elisa laughed, remembering Fox's story. "He has a fan club, too." She related Marian's continuing faith in her 'angel', but was surprised at the seriousness of his reaction.

"You say she is aware of Hudson when he is awake? That is ... interesting," he mused.

Elisa poked him in the ribs when he didn't elaborate. "Careful, Big Guy; you're catching a case of 'ambiguous' from Owen." She laughed at his affronted expression. "Come on, give; what's 'interesting' about it?"

Goliath sighed. "There may be nothing to it, but one of the few things that can draw a gargoyle back from the Wandering is a mate -- or the potential of one."

"You mean, Hudson and Marian?!" Elisa gawked. "But, she only saw him for a split-second before she fainted. How could she --?"

"I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, my Elisa," Goliath rumbled, making her blush. "Of course," he smiled, "it did take me several years to realize it!"

"Oh, you --!"

"The point is, beloved," Goliath continued, "that both their souls were bereft; his by the loss of his mate long ago in a distant land, hers by the betrayal of the one who should have been her protector. His heart recognized her need, hers recognized his strength." He frowned. "It seems likely from both their actions that a bond formed; it is tenuous, but there. Whether it will grow or fade, however, only time and circumstance will tell."

ooooo

"Mr. DiTagglia, it's Tony."

"Yes, Tony, what is it?"

"I think we've got a winner, boss."

ooooo

"All right, Miss FitzWalter, that's a wrap!"

Marian collapsed back against the divan on which she was perched, heedless of the expensive original gown she was wearing. She had forgotten just how grueling an all-day photo shoot could be -- the endless rounds of costume changes, makeovers, and hair styles, not to mention the blinding heat and glare of the floodlights used for some shots, or the migraine-inducing flash of the strobes used for others.

And she'd loved every minute of it. Oh, she knew she didn't want to return to this career on anything like a permanent basis, but to know she could still do it -- to know there were professional photographers who names she knew and respected who were fighting over the chance to be the one to reintroduce her to the fashion world -- that was worth it all.

"Marian, that was wonderful!" came the enthusiastic voice of the man who'd won out over the others.

Lawrence Decatur was relatively new to the fashion scene, but his work was already setting new styles in all the magazines. His photographs gave his subjects an ethereal quality, like one of the Victorian paintings of the Arthurian legends. The worst slut on the runways became a demure, virginal being in front of his lens, while models like Marian became goddesses.

Marian smiled wearily up at the photographer Fox had chosen for her. He was definitely an odd character; a little over six feet tall, with a wild mane of hair and bushy black eyebrows. Those brows swept in an uninterrupted line over a pair of deep-set eyes the most incredible shade of ice blue she had ever seen. He was incredibly thin, yet she had seen him devour four hamburgers, two large fries, a jumbo shake and three orders of cinnabons in the course of a single lunch. He was a roaring bundle of nervous energy, hands constantly fidgeting, illustrating every word he spoke with broad pantomime. He always seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown -- until he picked up a camera. The little box with its roll of chemically-impregnated celluloid captured him immediately, focusing all his energy and directing it through the viewfinder, and the results were always spectacular.

"Wonderful!" he said again, snapping her out of her reverie. "I knew it would be, of course; anyone familiar with your early work would know, but the actual experience!" He grinned, his white teeth stark against the black smudge of his day-old beard.

"I'm glad you're happy, Lawrence," Marian said, her old nervousness starting to creep back now that her mind was no longer fully involved with the task at hand, "but I'm afraid I'm tired. I haven't done this in a long time, and it's taken a lot more out of me than I thought it would."

"You mean, you're not going to stay around for tonight's party?" he asked, gesturing to where his assistants were already clearing away the lights, backdrops and such and setting up tables for a buffet.

Marian shuddered; the very thought of a large crowd of noisy, pushy fashion people, some of them drunk, some of them drugged, most of them annoying, sent a chill of fear through her. "No, thank you, but I think I'm going to call it a day. If someone could call my limo while I change--?"

"I'll take care of it, Miss FitzWalter," an anxious voice said.

Marian looked over at Benny, Lawrence's eager junior assistant, and smiled, sending a flush up over the young man's ears. "Thank you Robby, I'd appreciate that." After he scurried off, she whispered to the photographer, "Good heavens, Lawrence, where did you find him, and what in God's name is he doing here? Those runway cats will eat him alive and spit out the bones, just to practice sharpening their claws!"

Lawrence chuckled. "He is a bit of a Rube, isn't he? Saw his work in a review of student photographers of the Midwest and offered him a job. He has a very good eye to go along with that good heart, and the makings of a fine photographer.

"As to the other, some of my regular models have more or less adopted him, and are keeping the worst of the sharks at bay while he gets his balance. As for the little sharks, well, a few bites never hurt anybody too much, now did it?"

Marian was saved from answering by Benny's return with the report that the limo would be pulling up in front in about five minutes. She thanked him and ducked into the dressing room, emerging a few minutes later in a sleeveless top, culottes, and a pair of walking shoes. Marian said the last of her good-byes, gathered her things, and headed for the door.

The glare of the setting sun stabbed at Marian's eyes from a dozen distant skyscrapers as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Squinting, she donned a pair of dark sunglasses and looked around for her limo, a small smile of triumph lighting her features as she spotted it waiting a few yards away.

It had taken half a dozen excursions in the company of one or both of the Xanatoses, as well as a number of intense sessions with her counselor, to bring her to the point where she had enough confidence to venture away from the confines of the Eyrie Building without the comforting presence of one of her benefactors. Yet here she was, out in the open on a Manhattan sidewalk, her only security the chauffeur and bodyguard waiting in the limousine for her return. She squared her shoulders, swung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the car.

As she approached the chauffeur's door opened and he emerged, his broad form a comforting presence as he opened the passenger door for her. She slipped inside, breathing a small sigh of relief as the door closed with a solid thunk.

"Miss me, darling?"

Marian's eyes snapped open in terror at the familiar voice. Seated in the passenger side of the front seat in place of the bodyguard was her husband, a cruel smile on his face as he regarded her, the muzzle of a silenced pistol pointing at her over the seat.

"You don't know, my dear, how much work I've had to go to in order to reunite us," he continued as the chauffeur re-entered the car. Now that she could see him out of the glare of the evening sun, Marian recognized Tony, one of Uncle Frederico's trusted enforcers. That meant that whatever was supposed to happen had the Family's sanction.

Marian heard a voice whimpering, and realized as John's smile broadened that it was her own. With an effort she brought it under control and raised her chin, an exhibition of will that seemed to make him angry.

"Still trying to stand up to me?" he snarled as the limousine started to move through traffic. "Haven't you learned by now how hopeless that is? Not even your high-and-mighty rich friends can protect you!" His other hand clenched on the top of the front seat, his fingers digging into its materials, and Marian knew he was imagining having those fingers around her throat. "When will you *stop* defying me?" he shouted.

"Boss ..." Tony warned as DiTagglia became agitated.

"What?!" John snapped, momentarily distracted.

Marian took the chance and made her break. Her hand clawed at the door latch and she tumbled out into the street, not caring at that point if another car ran her over. She rolled over and over, scraping her arms and legs painfully while cars screeched to a halt and horns blared around her.

Once she stopped rolling she staggered to her feet, blood dripping down her arms and legs from the raw asphalt burns. She looked up and saw the limo stopped a dozen yards or more away, Tony and John standing beside it, looking for her amidst the stalled cars. John's eyes met hers, flaring wide with rage as he saw she was relatively unhurt. John waved at his henchman and started towards her, ignoring the shouts of the angry drivers around him as they abandoned their vehicle.

Marian looked around in desperation; it was too far to run back to the studio, and none of the people around her looked to be ready to help. And even if they were, there was the matter of John's, and surely Tony's, guns. She needed a place to hide, a place to put distance between herself and John's vengeance.

With a sob she turned and ran into Central Park.

ooooo

The ear-splitting roars of the gargoyles' awakening split the evening sky, reverberating from the stone walls. Goliath looked around, momentarily disappointed at his lover's absence before he remembered Elisa giving him a final embrace as she told him she would have to go to work early the next evening. Sighing, he caped his wings in preparation for entering the castle, then noticed that Hudson still crouched on his perch, wings spread, tension in every line of his body.

"What troubles you, Hudson?" he asked, his eyes raking the skyline, seeking what held the elder gargoyle's attention.

"There's summat wrong," Hudson growled back. "I dinna ken what, but I awoke knowing it. Danger, aye, and pain, but who --?"

A commotion erupted in the courtyard below as Fox burst out of the Great Hall. "Goliath," she shouted, "Marian's in trouble!"

"Och, I knew it!" Hudson groaned. "It's that bastard husband o' hers, or I'm a loon!"

"Quiet, Hudson," Goliath commanded. "Let us hear what Fox has to say first."

Fox reached the top of the steps leading to the battlements, panting for breath. "Marian went out by herself for the first time today, with only a driver and a single bodyguard." Hudson glared at her and she continued defensively, "There'd been no sign of any trouble from John DiTagglia, no clue that he had any idea where she was. Even Elisa agreed it was safe enough, and her counselor said it was time she started going out on her own."

Fox pushed her hair out of her face as she regained her breath. "Anyway, she went into town for a fashion shoot --"

"A -- what?" Hudson interrupted.

"To have her picture taken; Hudson, I'll explain it all later. The important thing is, everything seemed to go fine until it was time for her to come home. The limo responded from where it was waiting, it picked her up -- and that's when things went crazy."

"How do you mean, 'crazy'?" Goliath asked.

"According to reports from the few eyewitnesses willing to say anything," Fox continued, "several blocks from the studio Marian threw herself, or was pushed, from the moving limo in the middle of traffic, rolled to a stop, got to her feet and ran off into Central Park. What's more, the driver and the bodyguard abandoned the limo in the middle of the street and chased after her, cold-cocking a taxicab driver who tried to get in their way."

"That doesn't make any sense," Broadway interjected from where he stood listening.

"It does with what we learned next," Fox replied. "We were just informed that two bodies found in an alley along side the photo studio have been positively identified as the chauffeur and bodyguard who were supposed to be with Marian. Both were shot once in the back of the head." Fox's voice turned grim. "Someone else picked Marian up."

"Aye, and they're after her still!" Hudson snarled, turning towards the battlements.

"Hudson, wait," Fox called. "David and Owen are already on their way there along with a Xanacorp security team, and I've called Elisa and let her know what happened so she can get the park police involved. If you're going to go down there, you need to be careful --"

"No, lass, that's where you're wrong," Hudson interrupted, one hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword. "I've let this dog go on breathing because you all said you knew what you were doing, that it was modern times and the simple solutions were nae longer right. You said she would be safe, but now the lass is out there again, alone, hurt and afraid, pursued by a worthless coward unfit to wash her feet! I say, NO MORE!" With that he leapt from the battlements, his warcry fading into the distance as he plunged towards Central Park.

"Wow," Fox breathed. "I mean -- Elisa told me what you said about a bond, but I never imagined -- those two really are linked together, aren't they?"

"And even more strongly than we imagined," Goliath affirmed. "Hudson knew as he awoke that Marian was in danger; my hope is that the bond will lead him to her in time, and woe betide any who get in his way.

"Broadway, Angela, follow him," Goliath directed. "Hudson is too focused for his own safety right now; watch his back for him, but do not interfere unless necessary."

"Right, Goliath."

"Lexington, go and bring one of the 'scanners' you use to monitor the police frequencies; we will do a broad sweep of the park and look for any activity that might provide a clue to Marian's location."

"Gotcha, Goliath," Lex said and scampered off on all fours to gather his electronics.

"I wonder now at the wisdom of giving Brooklyn permission for his journey," Goliath mused as they waited for Lex's return. "His sharp eyes and battle skills would have stood us in good stead this night."

"Goliath, you can't second-guess yourself," Fox replied. "Brooklyn needs to resolve his relationship with Caitrin one way or another; since she won't come back here, he had to follow her. It's the only chance either of them have for any happiness."

"I suppose you are right," he nodded. "I only hope his quest is successful; his luck in matters of the heart has never been good."

"You didn't see them together while you were off dealing with Thailog," Fox replied. "Those two are so much in love it makes your teeth hurt; I don't know what Caitrin's problem is, but not caring for Brooklyn definitely isn't it."

"You may be right," Goliath admitted as Lex returned and handed him a spare headset. "We will just have to hope that Brooklyn will be wise enough to find a solution."

ooooo

"Boss, we've lost her."

"No, dammit, NO!" John insisted. "She can't have gone too far, not the way she was banged up! We just need to keep looking!"

"Boss," Tony argued, "this park is huge, and you know the Family doesn't want anyone in here after dark. It just ain't a healthy place to do business anymore, and she could be anywhere by now. Come on, there'll be other chances --" he stopped as John shook his arm free from Tony's grip.

DiTagglia stared out from his vantage point on top of the stone bridge, peering into the fading light just now being augmented by the park's lighting system. Suddenly a figure he recognized passed under a lamppost just as its globe lit up. A startled face was briefly illuminated before it vanished back into the gloom. "There she goes!" he crowed. "I told you we'd find her!" He glanced back the way they'd come and grinned. "And she's not too bright, either; she's been traveling in a straight line since we entered the park."

He gave Tony a shove on the shoulder, sending him down the left side of the bridge. "You head that way, and call in some of the others. Have them enter the park from the northwest and work their way towards us. We'll trap her between us."

"You got it, boss," Tony answered as he moved off. "Crazy bitch," he muttered to himself as he trotted along the sidewalk, his early days as a park mugger serving him well, making it easy to navigate the maze of paths. "Where does she think she's going? The only thing left out this way is that old castle."

ooooo

Marian crouched in a pool of shadow between two widely spaced lampposts, catching her breath before her next dash. She winced as the barely formed scabs on her arms and legs pulled and split, sending fresh trickles of blood down her limbs.

Her mind flashed back to that moment of abject fear in the limo, when she was certain the next instant would bring a bullet through her head. Then that split-second of opportunity had presented itself and somehow, somewhere she had found the courage to seize it.

Once in the park Marian had melted into the evening throng of last-minute park visitors, most of whom took one look at her disheveled condition and avoided making eye contact with her. Then a good Samaritan, an older man with a kindly, concerned face tried to help her, but fear of her pursuers made her pull free from his grasp and dart back into the crowd. She saw a mounted officer and for an instant considered approaching him for help, but her fear turned the few rotten police officers who were purchased by the Family's money into an army waiting to betray her; she passed him by.

Now she was safe, but she knew it was a momentary illusion. The crowds that had hidden her in the first terrible minutes of her escape were gone, evaporating with the passing of daylight. John was in the park hunting her, and he had his men with him. She had seen him up on that bridge in the instant before the suddenly lit lamp had blinded her. She had heard him shout, and knew she had been seen in turn.

Marian got back to her feet, stifling a gasp as a pulled muscle in her calf tried to cramp. There was safety ahead, she was certain of it; the knowledge had come with nightfall, and grown stronger as she proceeded. She could feel it ahead of her, whispering, drawing her on. All she had to do was reach the castle and all would be well.

It never occurred to her which castle she needed to reach.

ooooo

"Hudson, wait up!" Broadway called as they soared above the park.

Hudson glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes dimming as he saw the pair trying to catch up to him. Instinctively he adjusted the angle at which his wings caught the air, braking just enough for Broadway and Angela to come up on either side of him. "I suppose Goliath sent you two to act as nursemaids for an old gargoyle," he grumbled.

"Not at all, Hudson," Angela answered. "Father knows how fine a warrior you are, but even the best warrior can be overwhelmed if the odds are too great. We're just here to help if you need it. Besides," she pointed out, "three sets of eyes are better than one. Finding Marian's the most important thing, isn't it?"

"Aye, yuir right, lass," Hudson admitted. "And these old eyes aren't what they used to be. Glad I am of yuir aid."

Broadway's gaze traveled across the park, looking for any sign of movement. "Any idea where we should look?" he asked. "The park's a pretty big place to find one person, especially if she's already trying to hide from someone else."

"It's just a feeling I have," Hudson admitted. "I know she's down there, somewhere ahead of us, but where exactly I dinna ken."

"Well, why don't we start by asking them?" Broadway asked, pointing out two trenchcoat-clad figures moving purposefully along one of the paths. "I've busted enough of Tony Dracon's goons to spot the type by now. Those two are enforcers, or I'll eat my Sam Spade fedora."

"Aye, he wouldna be brave enough to hunt her alone, would he?" Hudson replied, snarling. His wings closed with a snap as he dropped into a stoop.

"Oh, brother," Broadway groaned. "I've got a feeling it's gonna get messy ..."

ooooo

"So did Tony say how they lost her?" Guido asked his partner as they worked their way across the park, scanning for their target.

"Only that Johnny got careless -- again -- and she gave them the slip," Larry replied.

"Uncle Frederico's not going to be too happy," his partner replied.

"Yeah, I know," Larry agreed. "Between you and me, no matter how tonight turns out, I think John-Boy's had it; the Family's tired of cleaning up his --OOF!" The rest of his opinion was cut off as something slammed into the two thugs from behind, sending them sprawling.

"What the hell was that?" Guido shouted as he tried to get to his feet, drawing his pistol as he did so.

"I don't know," Larry gasped, trying to catch his breath, "but I've heard about his park at night. We'd better --"

"You'd best be about saying your prayers," a voice growled out of the dark. The two thugs spun around, pistols ready. A solid cable of muscle and bone lashed out, knocking the guns from their hands. Hudson appeared out of the shadows, eyes aflame and wings spread.

"Holy shit!" Guido cried, "it's one of those gargoyle things from the news!"

"Yeah," Larry said with false bravado, eyeing Hudson's grey hair and beard, "but it's an old one. Come on, we can take him." He leapt forward and tried to grapple with the elder gargoyle. One of Hudson's wings snapped out, throwing him with stunning force into a nearby tree trunk. Guido managed to get an arm around Hudson's neck, then screamed in pain as four razor-sharp talons buried themselves in his forearm.

Hudson dragged the whimpering thug around to face him, then shifted his grip to Guido's throat, lifting him one-handed into the air. "You get one chance, boyo," he snarled as Broadway and Angela landed behind him. "Tell me where to find your craven master, and maybe you'll live to see the dawn."

"I ain't sayin' nothing without a lawyer!" Guido choked past the fingers on his throat, his hands scrabbling at the arm suspending him on the balls of his feet.

"Wrong answer, laddie," Hudson snarled, his eyes flaring white.

"Hudson, wait --!" Broadway shouted, trying to stop what he saw coming.

Hudson was beyond listening. His fist clenched, talons punching cleanly through the enforcer's larynx. The front of Guido's throat separated with a wet, ripping sound, the thrashing body collapsing to the ground. Both Broadway and Angela turned green as Guido gurgled and kicked, blood spraying from the severed arteries of the neck, lungs trying to work through the ruined trachea.

"Hudson, how could you?" Angela cried, shocked at the sudden brutality of the elder gargoyle's actions.

"Lass, lad, I'll only say this once," Hudson growled, his expession grim. "It's all fine and good to let the human's law handle the rogues we confront normally, but there will always be some that canna be dealt with in the normal way. Marian's husband and those who do his bidding are such; Elisa's admitted herself they're beyond her reach. They're willing to kill to achieve their ends, just as the Vikings were who attacked our home, and her law canna stop them. Now they've come after the lass who is under our protection, intent on murder, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Do ye understand me?"

Broadway and Angela nodded, shaken by his vehemence. Hudson stared them down for a moment more, then turned to the second thug.

Larry groaned and shook his head, untangling himself from the base of the tree and crawling back to the path. One hand landed in something hot and wet. His eyes focused on Guido's distorted features, his face twisted in a rictus of pain and fear above the ruin of his throat, his body still twitching in the center of an ever-widening pool of blood. "Oh, shit!" he screamed.

Something gripped the back of his trenchcoat and yanked him to his feet. "Yuir turn, laddie," the bearded old gargoyle said.

"Whaddaya want to know?" Larry babbled. "Anything you want, anything!"

"Where be yuir boss?" Hudson demanded, "and what do ye know of Marian FitzWalter?"

"We're -- we're supposed to meet up with him at Belvedere Castle, if one of us doesn't find his wife first," he answered earnestly. "She's somewhere near here in the park, but there's half a dozen of us circled around to make sure she doesn't get away."

"What are your orders if you find her?" Broadway interjected.

Larry's eyes darted between Hudson and Broadway, looking for permission to speak. "Answer the question, laddie," Hudson growled.

"We're supposed to hold her for Johnny; he wants to take care of her himself." He started to shake as Hudson's face darkened. "Hey, it's nothing personal to me, really! Just orders! You can't kill me for following orders!"

"Oh, I could, laddie, I could -- but I won't." Hudson tossed the enforcer aside. "Unless, o'course, I set eyes on you again." The thug took the hint and ran off into the dark. "Belvedere Castle," Hudson murmured. "She's there, hiding; I know it." Moments later the three of them were back in the air, gliding towards the towers rising in the distance.

ooooo

Marian sat in the corner of the alcove, tucked away from the light from the castle's exterior floodlights. She'd reached Belvedere Castle without running into any more of John's henchmen, though there had been a narrow scrape or two. Now, however, she was at a loss how to proceed. Her instincts told her the castle meant safety, but now that she was here they were silent as to what exactly that safety entailed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. "She's in here somewhere," she heard John's voice say. "Where are the others? We need more help to search this place."

A voice she recognized as Tony's replied, "Eddie and Vince said they'd be here in a couple of minutes. I can't reach any of the others."

John's voice became angry. "Are they goofing off? Because if they are --"

"They wouldn't do that, boss, they know better. It's this park; I told you it wasn't healthy in here --"

"Never mind, we'll find her ourselves," John interrupted. "You take the other side, I'll start here. Call Eddie and Vince and tell them to keep an eye out in case she makes a run for it."

Marian scrambled to her feet and headed deeper into the castle; it had been years since she had been here, but the memories of pleasant afternoons exploring the sun-warmed stones came back to her. Soon she was at the interior stairs that led up to the battlements. Behind her she heard the movement of her pursuers entering the building. John's voice called out, "Oh, Lu-u-ucy, I'm ho-o-ome!"

Up on the battlements she felt the panic starting to set in again; she was running out of places to run. John was behind her, his steps getting closer, and Tony was blocking the exit ahead of her. Marian reached the end of the walkway and tried the door leading to the wrought-iron spiral staircase that ran lead to the top of the tower, only to discover a padlock and a 'Closed For Repairs' sign.

"What's the matter, Marian, out of places to run?"

She spun around; John stood there, smiling that cruel smile she'd learned to recognize so well, a pistol in one gloved hand. "Nothing to say, Marian?" he continued. "No last minute pleas? No telling me I won't get away with it? You can speak; you can even scream if you want. It won't help, of course, but you can if it makes you feel better." He grinned, and she realized for the first time just how much pleasure he got from her fear, how important it was to him that she be terrified of him. At that moment something snapped inside of her. The iron bands he had forged about her spirit, weakened by the weeks of freedom while she stayed at the Eyrie Building, shattered into a thousand pieces. A feeling of peace washed through her; for the first time in years, her soul was her own again. He might kill her, but he would never enslave her again.

Marian stepped away from the door and squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes levelly. "Hello, John," she said quietly as his eyes narrowed. "You aren't looking too well; have you been getting enough sleep?"

"What are you playing at?" he snarled, waving his pistol at her. "Did that jump from the car rattle your brains? Don't you understand what's happening here, you stupid cow?"

"I understand perfectly, John," she replied. "I'm a loose end, and the Family hates loose ends. I also defied you, and you can't forgive that. So you're going to make me disappear -- or perhaps I'll be the unfortunate victim of a mugging. Either way, you're planning on killing me."

"That's right, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to enjoy doing it! Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?" He stalked towards her, his anger growing as she refused to cower. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to be so difficult? Why couldn't you just stay where you belonged?"

"It's no use, John," Marian said calmly. "I understand you now, and I'm not afraid of you anymore. I'm not your property; it took me a long time to remember that, but now that I have, I'm not going to forget it again. You can kill me if you want to, but that's just my body; my soul is my own, and you'll never put your shackles on me again."

"You really are crazy," John replied, his fury reduced to a cold rage. "Keep your soul, damn you. I was tired of you anyway. Once I get rid of you I'll be back in Uncle Frederico's good graces, and I'll be able to have any wife I want, one that will give me *sons*, and won't forget her place." He raised his pistol, the tiny .22 caliber bore of the silencer lining up on her forehead. Marian closed her eyes and braced herself for the shot.

There was a roar and the stone shook under her feet as something heavy struck the castle. She opened her eyes to see a winged form looming over John's prostrate body, a sword raised in one muscular arm. Oh, my god!" she gasped in shock.

The wings dropped aside and she saw the creature's face for the first time, saw the glowing white eyes return to the kindly, concerned ones she remembered from her dreams, saw the weathered face filled with kindness and wisdom, saw the neatly trimmed, grey beard that had reminded her of an old testament prophet. "You -- you're real! You're the angel who saved me on the bridge!"

"No angel, lass, just an old gargoyle concerned for yuir safety and well-being," he replied in a gruff voice that suited him perfectly, so perfectly that she couldn't imagine him with any other. "You are all right, lass?" he asked, his voice growing worried as she paled. "He didna hurt ye, did he?" He threw a look at John that sent him cowering back against the flagstone.

"No -- no, I'm fine," she answered, steadying herself with one hand on the stonework. "It's just a surprise to have one's dream drop out of the sky. You're ... a gargoyle, you said? One of those creatures that have been in the papers?"

"Aye, though you must not believe what you read about us there," he said. "We're nae monsters, lass, whatever those fools on the television might say; we're protectors, and we've taken Manhattan as our protectorate and our home."

"'We'? There's more of you?"

"Aye, lass, a few more, but you need not be afraid of any of us. Only those who prey on the weak and helpless have anything to fear from my clan."

"I didn't say I was afraid," Marian replied, "just surprised. And my name's Marian," she finished, smiling.

"Aye, I know," he said, "and I thank you, Marian, for allowing me the use of it," he gave a small bob of his head.

"And do you have a name?" she asked, bemused at how comfortable she already felt with this strange being.

"Before we came here we didna use names, it wasn't the gargoyle way," he replied, "but times change, or so they keep telling me. I'm called Hudson, after the river of the same name."

"After the river from which you saved me, you mean," she laughed, amazed that she was able to joke about it.

"Ah, well, as to that --"

"Look out!" she cried suddenly as she caught a glimpse of her husband starting to his feet, his hand emerging from under his coat with a revolver clenched firmly in its grip.

Old he might be, but Hudson's battle-trained reflexes were as sharp as ever. He whirled on one clawed foot, his sword following a flat arc guided by instinct and experience. There was a meaty thunk, followed by the sound of something bouncing along the ramparts. The rest of the remains of John DiTagglia slid bonelessly off the battlements.

"Oh, my ..." Marian gasped, stunned by the speed of events.

"Lass ... Marian, are ye all right?" Hudson asked, tactfully keeping the bloody sword from her view.

"I'm fine, Hudson, really," she said as she regained her breath. "It's just all been a shock; five minutes ago I was about to be murdered, at the hands of a man I've feared for years, and now I'm safe and he's --" she gestured towards the hidden sword.

"I'm of the mind he died too easy," Hudson growled, "but at least he'll not trouble you again."

"No, I can see that," she agreed, her eyes drawn in horrid fascination to the lump that rested in the shadows along the ramparts. She sighed tiredly. "Now there's just his uncle to worry about." At Hudson's puzzled look she outlined John's family relations. "But at least with Uncle Fred it's only business," she concluded as Hudson frowned. "I think if I leave town and disappear, he won't look too hard for me."

Hudson's frown deepened. "I dinna think I like the sound o' that," he stated firmly. "Perhaps there's another way ..."

What he was going to say was interrupted as a whoosh of wings heralded Broadway's and Angela's arrivals. "All the others are taken care of," Broadway announced proudly. "Goliath's in touch with Elisa; she's arranging for them to be picked up."

Hudson noticed Marian's stare. "Marian, allow me to introduce two other members of my clan," he said, trying to put her back at ease. He waved the two younger gargoyles forward. "This be Broadway, a fine young warrior, though perhaps a bit too fond of the trencher," he smiled.

"Hey," Broadway mock-huffed, "I resemble that remark!"

As Marian laughed Angela stepped forward, extending her hand. "I'm Angela," she said, "Broadway's mate."

"Aye, and daughter of our clan's leader, Goliath," Hudson elaborated.

"Oh, my," Marian said, taking in Angela's long mane of dark hair, her classic features and her perfect figure. "Why, you're beautiful!" Marian enthused as Angela blushed. "You know, there are some photographers who would kill each other over the chance to work with you."

Hudson cleared his throat. "we'll have time to talk of such things later, if you wish," he said when he had their attention. "For now, we've other work to do. Broadway, do you have one of those communicator whatsits with you?"

"Sure, Hudson, here it is," he replied. extending the headset.

"You know I've no knack with those gadgets," Hudson said. "Just get me Lexington on the thing. Angela, can you give Marian a lift home?"

"Gladly, Hudson," she agreed, stepping forward and extending her arms. "You'll be perfectly safe, I promise," she coaxed at Marian's uncertain look.

"Hudson? Will I see you again?" Marian asked before letting Angela pick her up.

Hudson's voice softened. "If you wish, lass, aye, I'll see you again. I can think of nothing I'd like better."

"I think I'd like that, too," she replied with a small smile as Angela lifted her up, mindful of the scrapes on her arms and legs.

As the two women glided off Hudson turned back to Broadway, his manner grim. "Have ye got Lex on that thing?" he asked.

"He's standing by, Hudson; here, just press this button ..."

Hudson fumbled for a moment with the unfamiliar device. "Lexington? Lad, can ye hear me?" he half-shouted into the transceiver.

"Ow! Hudson, you don't have to yell!" Lex's tinny voice came back.

"Sorry, lad; I'm not overfond of these things. Now then; do you have a way of linking up with yuir machine back at the castle?"

"Sure; I always carry a remote unit with me," Lex replied. "What do you need?"

"I'm after finding out if yuir as skilled with that computer as you say you are," Hudson replied. "I need an address, and instructions how to find the place ..."

ooooo

Frederico DiTagglia sat propped up in his bed, wrapped in his best silk nightgown, a glass of warm milk on the nightstand, his one vice, a trashy sword-and-sorcery novel, propped open in his lap. He'd read the same passage a half a dozen times, and each time it made less sense than the last. Finally he admitted defeat and set the book aside, too distracted to follow its convoluted plot.

He glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last hour and frowned; the enforcers he'd reluctantly sent along to back up his nephew had strict orders to report to him as soon as their business was concluded. However incompetent John was proving to be, the others were too professional to ignore orders like this -- unless there'd been a screw-up of monumental proportions.

Frederico reached for the phone, intending to call one of his subordinates to find out what was happening. As he did so several shadows passed across the moon, interrupting its light where it came through the glass doors leading to the terrace. He thought nothing of it until the light disappeared entirely, just before the doors burst inward, sending glass shards everywhere.

A thick, scottish accent froze him in the motion of lunging for the nightstand's drawer. "Before ye go after that pistol I'm sure ye have stashed in there," it said, "ye might want to know I don't mean you any harm -- at least not for the moment." A bulky shape crunched its way across the shattered fragments of the door.

"Very well," Frederico answered, leaning back in the bed, "who are you and what do you want?"

"As to my name, that's of no importance," his uninvited guest continued. "As to why I'm here, it's to deliver a message." The figure moved forward into the light shed by the reading lamp on the nightstand.

"A gargoyle!" Frederico gasped.

"Good, ye know of my kind; I suspected as much, the community o' thieves being what it is." The grey-bearded gargoyle smiled unpleasantly. "No doubt some o' yuir associates and I have met under ... less cordial circumstances."

The old man in the bed cleared his throat. "Let's just say I've heard of you and leave it at that, shall we?" he replied nervously. "I say again, what do you want of me?"

"I'm here with a bit of advice for you and yuir 'family'," Hudson said. "There's a young lady, Marian FitzWalter by name ..."

"Why tell me this?" the old man asked. "What concern is she of mine?"

"Now, boyo, don't play dumb with me; ye won't like the results, and I've no time to be looking for someone else to be talking to about this. Now do ye know the name or not?"

"Yes, all right, I know her; what about her? Is she dead?" Frederico asked impatiently.

The gargoyle's eyes glowed briefly. "Nae, she's not dead, nor likely to be any time soon. She has friends, you see, friends who are concerned for her health. Friends like me," Hudson smiled. It wasn't a pretty smile; Frederico blanched. "Some of yuir lads paid her a call tonight; they weren't at all respectful, and I'm afraid some of them are the worse for wear because of it."

There was a crash of breaking furniture from the floor below them. "What's that?" Frederico asked, startled.

"Just some of my own friends making sure we're not disturbed," Hudson replied, "not until we've finished our chat." He stepped closer to the foot of the bed. "Now hear me; Marian FitzWalter is under my clan's protection. Whatever word ye have out on her you will withdraw, whatever 'contract' ye have out you will revoke. She no longer is of any concern to you and yuirs. Do you understand me?"

"Why should I?" the old man blustered. "She is my nephew's wife; as such, she is my family's concern."

"Because if anything happens to her, anything at all, yuir 'family' will receive my clan's undivided attention," Hudson rumbled. "Ask Tony Dracon what it means to earn a gargoyle clan's anger; ask any of a dozen of his associates the same." Hudson's eyes glowed. "Yuir 'families' may know the vendetta, but the Scots know the feud, and they learned how from us."

Frederico grunted. "All right, for argument's sake, what if we leave her alone, what then? What do we gain?"

"Then you gone on with yuir lives, and she goes on with hers, just as if ye had never met. She says nothing of what little she might know of yuir 'family business', and you leave her be."

"Very well, I agree on principle, but I won't be held accountable for my nephew's actions. He's not rational where she's concerned," Frederico said.

"I think you'll find that's no longer a problem," Hudson replied cryptically. He set a dark-stained bundle on the foot of the bed.

"What's that?"

"Think of it as a reminder of the consequences of not taking me seriously," the elder gargoyle replied. He paused in the broken doorway. "I believe the phrase I heard on the television was, "'It's an offer you shouldna refuse'."

As Hudson departed Frederico reached a trembling hand to the package, tugging on one corner of the cloth. The bundle rolled towards him, unwrapping itself in the process. With a horrified cry he collapsed back on the pillows as the glassy eyes of his nephew's severed head stared back at him.

ooooo

Goliath and Elisa stood in the archway, watching the other couples in the courtyard. Angela sat on one of the courtyard's marble benches while Broadway knelt at her side, practicing reading romantic poetry to her -- badly, Elisa noted with a barely suppressed giggle. Not that it mattered to Angela, if the thoroughly smitten look in her eyes was any judge.

On the other side of the courtyard an unlikelier couple was still going through the early stages of getting to know one another. Goliath chuffed in mild surprise as he beheld the scene. "I believe things are going well, beloved," he said to Elisa, nodding at the distant pair.

Elisa shifted her gaze and decided she had to agree. A fidgeting Hudson sat in one of the massive wooden chairs that had been added for the gargoyles' use, the expression on his face warring between extreme annoyance and bemused happiness. Behind him stood Marian, chatting about her day while she gave Hudson's hair and beard a much-needed trim. When she finished she took away the cloth that she'd draped around his neck to catch the trimmings, giving his ear a tweak as she did so. Elisa hastily used both hands to smother a new eruption of giggles as Hudson's leathery brown complexion blushed to the color of mahogany. He burst from his chair, the very image of bruised male dignity. Marian's happy laugh drifted across the courtyard. She slipped one of her hands under his crossed arms, her slender form nudging against his sturdy one. Goliath and Elisa couldn't hear her words from their vantage point, but whatever she said was obviously the right thing; Hudson quickly lost his stubborn look, taking her delicate hand in his large, strong one. Together they walked out of the courtyard, passing through one of the other entrances to the castle.

"They make a good pairing," Goliath commented, turning from the view of the courtyard.

"You sound a little surprised, Big Guy," Elisa replied, quirking an eyebrow. "I hope I'm not hearing reservations about human-gargoyle relationships," she finished, the warning tone in her voice only half-joking.

"Not at all, my Elisa," he replied, pulling her close with his wings, a little gargoyle courtship trick she still wasn't used to. She put up a moment of mock resistance, then snuggled up to him. He breathed in the scent of her hair as he continued, "My only surprise was at the speed with which they accepted the idea, especially as Marian has had no other contact with our race before."

"Well, I'm not surprised," Elisa answered. "After all, even though she only met Hudson a week ago, she's been dreaming about her 'angel' ever since the bridge. I think accepting a gargoyle would be a lot easier than accepting an angel!" She smiled. "Besides, Hudson's kind of cute."

"Cute?" Goliath asked, as if he wasn't quite ready to believe what he'd heard. "Hudson?" It was clear that 'cute' and 'Hudson' were two words that he had never contemplated going together.

"Sure," Elisa replied. "He's got that big, blustering teddy-bear thing working for him, not to mention that sexy Sean Connery accent."

"Hudson ... cute," Goliath muttered, still trying to get a grip on the concept. Finally he shook his head. "I will *never* understand how the female mind works," he said at last.

"Well, sure, that's the whole idea, Big Guy," Elisa laughed. "If there were no surprises," she continued, slipping her arms low around his waist, "where would be the fun in that?" She punctuated her last words by trying a trick Angela had suggested during one of their 'girl talk' sessions, her hands darting down to tweak the base of his tail.

Goliath's whole body twitched in shock, his wings snapping open and his eyes lighting up in surprise. Elisa ducked out of his loosened embrace and darted for the staircase. She paused on the third step, one hand braced on her hip, and threw her hair back with a toss of her head. She smiled over her shoulder at the open-mouthed expression on her lover's face. "What was that line in that joke Fox told me?" she purred. "Oh, yeah; 'If you can catch me, you can have me ...'" She turned and ran up the stairs towards their rooms.

With a laughing roar that declared all was right in the world this night, Goliath bounded after her.

THE END

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That's the end of this series for now!