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Shadowdancer

By Dracon

[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.

Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.

Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]

"Severed Thread"

----Chapter I----

Givens Castle

10244 S. Longwood Dr, Chicago, Illinois

November 22nd, 2027

11:36 P.M.

An outsider wandering through the Castle might believe that it was uninhabited. This outside observer might note the faint scorch marks on the walls of the foyer, or the cuts in the carpeting, and think that perhaps the Beverly Boys had been partying here at some point.

If this observer were to take the stairs to the second floor, chance might have it that he or she would meander past a slightly ajar door at just the right time to hear a one-sided conversation occur, a moderately deep voice speaking to the air about business plans. However, it is just as likely that they would not.

They might just happen to wander past an old sitting room, still decorated in the Victorian style, but only keen eyes would notice a dark figure curled into one of the overstuffed chairs, quietly reading a large, well-worn paperback. A less observant person might well believe that the figure was merely an artifact of light and shadow.

If, by the merest glimmer of probability, the spectator were to ascend the stairs once more, the chance of an encounter would rise sharply. The astute observer would note that the carpeting on this floor seemed less traveled, excepting the section immediately adjoining the stairway. Similarly, one with a keen eye might notice the wallpaper peeling in a few spots, or a faint layer of dust collected upon the doorknobs.

However, it is more likely that their attention might be drawn by a faint bubbling, echoing down the hallway. It is perhaps safe to assume that they might want to investigate this odd sound, and so, for the moment, we shall assume they do so.

Conceivably, they would have found a door thrown open, with eerie shadows creeping across its surface. A yellowish light of indeterminate origin oozed out of the doorway in the manner of a living thing, perhaps causing the observer to draw back in wonder or confusion.

Let us assume that the observer was a stalwart soul, who would quietly steal into the room. This observer might find a being of unusual size staring intently into a beaker perched atop a Bunsen burner, a thin book laid on the table beside it. It is, however, of a much higher likelihood that the spectator would be more concerned as to the creature than what it was watching.

Unless the observer was of an exceptional size as well, the first thought that might cross their mind would involve the being's lofty height and impressive musculature. The observer could, perhaps, be excused for cowering behind one of the heavy tables upon recognizing this fact.

However, the more astute watcher would examine her posture and her facial expression, which showed concern and a little worry, not rage or madness, and realize that she posed little threat to them.

After uncoiling from the metallic support they had been wrapped around, the observer might watch as she took a small vial from the rack in front of her, pouring a measured amount into the beaker.

By now, the observer would likely be looking at details, rather than the overall picture. They might note the headband she wore upon her cobalt brow, restraining the thick mass of white hair that coiled down her back, keeping it from touching the flame or getting in her eyes.

Or perhaps, they might gaze in wonder at the white lab coat she wore and ponder where one might find a coat capable of protecting a person of over seven foot tall. Maybe it would be more likely to assume that they would hope that she would have some cause to remove the coat, affording a better view of the exceptionally lush figure underneath it.

Regardless of their actual actions, it is likely safe to assume that they would remain in the shadows, not wanting to disturb the massive woman in her work.

Jamie read over the instructions again, muttering under her breath. She had filled the beaker with molten silver, as the recipe said, adding small quantities of other elements to it, but thus far, it had failed to take on the lustrous green gloss that the recipe indicated.

Kee had suggested, when they had practiced earlier in the night, that she try producing a small quantity of "mithril" and forming it into a piece of jewelry. He claimed that her spirit was essentially indistinguishable from Jessica's, but that she might have a closer tie to a focus she produced with her own hands.

It seemed like a reasonable idea to her, but this all hinged on being able to make the mithril in the first place. Jessica's notes explained that it was an unnatural alloy, involving large quantities of silver and smaller quantities of thallium, tungsten, and yttrium.

She swore softly as she read a section that had evaded her notice before. It made perfect sense, now that she read it. It was not an alloy that should be allowed in conventional metallurgy, so of course the burner wouldn't be able to properly form it. She would have to work a spell on it to properly bind it together. It was a good thing that Kee had been spending several hours a night with her for the last few days, and that she had become more confident in working magic, because this appeared to be a tricky process.

The notes suggested picking up the hot cauldron (or beaker, in her case) with bare hands and speaking the provided spell over it. The spell itself did not appear to be overly difficult, but channeling it while also maintaining a spell to protect against the heat would be interesting.

She glanced back into the darkened room, turning from the experiment. A confused expression crossed her face. She had thought she had heard the sound of movement, but could not see anything out of place in the lab. Shrugging, she turned back to the burner and tried to calm herself.

She'd been jumpy the last few nights, since Shang had left with Logan, seeking his Kinfolk. She could only pray that they were keeping themselves safe, and she disliked feeling helpless in any eventuality, even when the task truly was not her own.

She began chanting from memory, drawing symbols in the air in time with her cadence. It had taken her a good deal of practice to learn the pronunciation, since she was quite unfamiliar with Welsh. The mithril thread inlayed on her leggings began to glow softly as she spoke the final words, "Ddioddef mo 'r boethi chan gof s ffugia , na 'r chlydwch chan cegin s aelwyd."

The symbols that she had traced burst into flame, hovering in the air in front of her, before drifting towards her skin. They stretched and blurred as they approached, forming into planes of red-glowing energy that hovered above the surface of her clothes and skin, sharp angular corners defining the area the spell enclosed. Her vision took on a red tone as the field encased her head, and she knew it extended all the way down to her talons, as well.

She was rather surprised, though pleased, at the highly visible nature of the spell's effect. It indicated to her, as well as to anyone else trained in the arts of magic, that the armor was potent and well formed. Only a few of the spells she had cast produced visible effects so far, but this one could not have worked at a better time.

Gingerly, she held her claw close to the burner, until she had touched the surface of the beaker. She didn't feel any heat or pain from contacting it, which brought a smile to her face. She grasped the beaker in both hands, knowing that the insulating effect of her armor would also keep it molten long enough for her complete the bonding spell.

Tasking a portion of her mind to maintaining the flow of energy to the armor spell, she began chanting over the beaker. She spoke the spell's command words seven times, the rise and fall of her inflection forming a melodious rhythm. "Caethiwa ar y cyd seren s chyneua ag briddo s ced i mewn an 'n dragwyddol chyfalle."

The beaker began to shake in her hands as the liquefied metal started boiling, apparently of its own volition, a soft light emitting from its surface. After a few moments, the bubbling ceased, though the metal remained quite hot. With her color vision impaired by the armor spell, she was uncertain of the binding's success. She stared at it for a moment, and then decided that it would be best to finish the process while the armor was still in place, rather than hope she could perform the spell again.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled a heavy metal pan from the table behind her and laid it on the workbench, pouring half of the newly minted mithril onto its surface. With deep breaths, she blew upon it to try to cool it down, and began molding it with her claws. Jamie knew that she had no real experience with sculpture, so she had decided ahead of time to try something simple at first.

Folding the metal inward upon itself, she started to twist it, working the quickly cooling metal like clay. The thin barrier of her protective spell made her hands clumsier than they should have been, but she possessed grace enough to twist the metal into an elegant arc, wrapping the center section into a four-fold diamond knot.

After forming the torc, she slowly slipped it onto her arm, feeling it slide over the planes of muscle and sinew. When she could push it no further, it rested upon her bicep, glittering brilliantly against the azure tone of her skin.

A smile twisting her purplish lips, she poured out the other half of the material, working it to match its sister, the faint clattering of metal against metal the only sound filling the room.

---

12:42 A.M.

Wood scraped against wood as Jamie pulled out a chair by the family room table. Trent was already seated, his sword drawn, and he examined its edges for flaws. Branson sat behind his chair, waiting for everyone to be seated before taking his place.

Elayne was setting up a large flat-panel display on the wall, attaching a Network adapter to it. Jamie cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "So, what'd you find, Elayne?"

Still puttering with the connection, Elayne replied, "Well, I was gonna check that IndieVision competition, y'know, the one YouTube was running? Ya might find one of the acts... interesting."

Seeing the connection light flash on, she grinned. "Alright, folks. Sit back and enjoy the show!"

She hopped lightly into one of the chairs, working a remote. The screen showed the smoky interior of a bar, with a large stage wrapped around its back wall. A large drum set, a high-end keyboard, two trombones, and an electric cello rested on it, the musicians nowhere to be seen.

A well-dressed M.C. walked onto the stage. He spoke, gesturing broadly, his voice amplified by the subtle microphone on his lapel. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and pleasure to introduce our star performers to you

on this lovely night. I give you... Ayers' Watchmen!"

The crowd began cheering as the M.C. bowed and walked off the stage. Fabric began rustling behind the stage as six figures walked out from backstage. A spotlight was turned on, highlighting the Gargoyles as the crowd continued cheering and clapping.

A sparely built, muddy brown-skinned male walked over to the drums. He wore black jeans and a faded, comfortable looking t-shirt, a headband drawn tight against his hairless scalp. Lines showed on his face, a sign of age, but his smile revealed that he was pleased with his life.

A plump, though short, female sat in front of the keyboard, her lavender skin contrasting with the stark black-and-white of the keys. She wore a homespun tie-dyed shirt over loose, knee-length breeches, her inky black hair cascading down her shoulders.

Two sisters, both possessed of a willowy build, picked up the trombones. They both had manes of brown hair, which one wore long, the other in a ponytail, and their facial features were very similar, but one had skin of pale gold, the other a burgundy tone. They wore matching black suits, sunglasses, and hats. Belying their stern appearance, a keen eye would see that they had joined wing-hands, gripping each other tightly.

Walking to the front of the stage, past the instruments, a small, stocky female began stretching. She wore a green tunic, laced tightly in the front to produce a dramatic cleavage, emphasized by the deep, blood red of her skin, and a long, flowing white skirt. Her hair, an even darker red than her skin, was bound in an elaborate braid behind her.

Finally, an exceptionally large male picked up the cello, cradling it against his shoulder with care. He seemed large in every way, the teal tone of his skin well filled by his mountainous form. He was significantly overweight, yet moved with grace, and his face seemed lined more by good humor than by sorrow or age. He wore a long beard, matching the black of his short hair, and dressed in denim overalls, but his shirt bore a legend in binary, providing an amusing contrast.

The crowd stopped cheering as the cellist raised his bow, motioning for silence. He began playing in a minor key, his bow the only movement on stage. His song evoked images of an empty, desolate land, filled with emptiness, and the spotlight dimmed as he played. When the spotlight finally went out, lights came on atop the stage and the rest of the band began to play, the song taking on a more upbeat tone.

Elayne skipped past several of their songs, allowing a few to play out. Jamie glanced around at the other, seeing that Branson was stunned into silence at the sight. To her surprise, Trent looked like he was almost ready to break into tears.

For her own part, Jamie was very pleased to see such a positive reaction from the Human audience, despite the relatively odd appearance of the performers. She was enjoying the show greatly, since they were quite good.

Her tastes tended to run more towards power metal and techno in general, but she didn't mind listening to the performance in the slightest. The trombone players were excellent, their sound neither shrill nor sharp, and they provide a great contrast to the organ-styled sound of the keyboardist. The cellist and the dancer provided the lead vocals, often performing the songs as duets, with the rest of the band coming in on the choruses. Their harmonies were quite interesting, as they worked the rumbling of their false vocal chords into the mix.

They performed a somewhat offbeat style of ska in general, drifting towards rock or dub on some pieces, covering a wide range of musical territory. Several of the pieces were covers or folk songs, and Jamie was happy to hear the crowd joining in on the choruses.

Finally, after skipping past two more numbers, Elayne said, "Okay, watch this. Last piece."

After the applause for the previous number died down, the cellist spoke to the audience, sounding overjoyed at the reaction. "It's gettin' a little late. We don't have anywhere we're needin' to be, but I'm bettin' you lot do. You've been a great audience!"

He turned back to the band and said in a stage whisper, "How about showin' them that new piece we've been workin' on?"

Seeing them all nod, he turned back to the audience and said, "Hold on to your seats! You're the first ones to hear this cover, so we'll need a whole lotta noise to let us know how we're doing!"

Grinning at them, he raised the cello again as cheering started up again.

Jamie stared at the screen, recognizing the initial bars of the song, her jaw hanging open slightly. It was an entirely different sound from the version she knew, but it worked!

The cellist began singing as he played, sadness coloring his voice, "So we're different colors/and different breeds/and different people/have different needs/It's obvious you hate me/though I've done nothing wrong/I've never even met you/So what could I have done?"

The dancer, the drummer, and the keyboard player joined in for the chorus, harmonizing in a barbershop-like arrangement, chanting, "People are people/so why should it be/You and I should get along so awfully/People are people/so why should it be/You and I should get along so awfully."

The drummer took the bridge as the dancer motioned a few members of the audience onto the stage, smiling at them, "I can't understand/what makes a man/hate another man/help me understand/I can't understand/what makes a man/hate another man/help... me... understand!"

The dancer, contrasting her words with her actions as she placed her arms around the audience members she'd called up, took the second verse. "Now you're punching and you're kicking/and you're shouting at me/I'm relying on your common decency/So far it hasn't surfaced/But I'm sure it exists/It just takes a while/To travel from your head to your fist."

The keyboard player took the bridge the second time, then the entire band chanted the chorus, the trombone players stopping their playing to join in. Most of the crowd joined in as well, and the band performed the chorus a second time for the sheer enjoyment of it.

When they finished and began moving to the front of the stage to take their bows, the audience's applause and cheering reached a thunderous crescendo. Many of them rose to their feet, giving a standing ovation. The Gargoyles locked hands and wings as they bowed, taking the Human volunteers in hand as well.

At this point, Elayne stopped the playback, looking at the other members of her clan. "Well? Whaddya think?"

Branson spoke first, sounding shaken, though also very pleased. "Where did you say you found this? I need to get in contact with them. They may well have placed themselves in grave danger, but this could be an unparalleled PR opportunity, too."

Trent raised his head, and Jamie could see tears glistening in his eyes as he said, "That was wonderful. I didn't think I would live to see a day like this. Thank you, Elayne."

Jamie nodded, adding, "I'm sorry to say it, but they're very brave, performing in a public venue like that. But, they're really, really good. That Depeche Mode cover was a great way to end the performance."

Elayne smiled at them, her eyes twinkling. "And, I'm bettin' none of ya would expect them to be #4 in the competiton, right? That's their only performance available online, and they're still takin' the world by storm."

Sighing, Jamie took the position of devil's advocate. "Yeah, but how many of the viewers think they're just special effects?"

Shrugging, Elayne replied, "That's beside the point, ain't it? Even if people think it's a publicity stunt, they're still acceptin' a Gargoyle band. And not just the Aussies, either, there's a whole bunch of folks Stateside that like 'em, too."

Elayne jotted down the address of their site, handing it to Branson, who excused himself, wanting to get moving on this as fast as he could. She reached into a pocket, pulling out a disc, and tossed it towards Jamie. "I thought ya might like the show, so I took the liberty of runnin' off a copy for ya."

Snatching it out of the air, Jamie tucked it away, nodding to Elayne in thanks. The smaller woman took her leave as well, leaving Trent and Jamie alone.

Rising slowly, she quietly stepped over to Trent, who still sat at the table, lost in his thoughts. Jamie laid a hand on his shoulder, watching him. She worried about his reaction, never having seen him show this much emotion before, other than that one time he'd nearly killed her. "You okay, Trent?"

He nodded, laying a hand on hers. "Don't worry about me, lass. That concert just brought back some old memories, that's all."

Kneeling next to him, she looked into his eyes. "Anything you want to talk about? I'm here, if you need me."

He held her hand, grateful to her for giving him a chance to explain his feelings. "I wasn't always the man you know today, yeah? When I was just a pup, I had dreams."

He sighed, his voice taking on a slightly edgy tone. "I was gonna take the stage. I wanted to do Shakespeare, Jamie! I had dreamt that I was to play Macbeth."

He began sobbing softly, his shoulders heaving. Jamie squeezed his hand, letting him continue when he was ready. "That was before our kin revealed themselves to Humanity, before the Quarrymen were founded."

He chuckled to himself, a mournful sound, commenting, "Before the War, yeah? Well, I'd thought that was a lost dream. I never stopped practicing, but... It's been a long time since I'd thought it might be possible.

Jamie tried to cheer him up, knowing how vulnerable he was to depression. "I'd love to see you perform. If the Watchmen can make it, maybe you can, too. One day, we'll be accepted, I think. Perhaps your time will come."

He nodded, rubbing at his eyes, his voice softening. "Let's hope, eh, Jamie? Wouldn't that be a hell of a thing? Humans and Gargoyles living in peace, yeah? Sadly, that song sounds a little more believable right now. Ahh well, either that time will come, or it won't. We aren't helping it along by sitting here, feeling sorry for ourselves, yeah?"

He rose, releasing her hand, and began to walk towards the door when the alarm sounded, its piercing wail filling the house. Roaring, he shouted, "What's all this about, then?"

The two of them ran for the balcony over the foyer, wanting to hold off the invaders until Elayne and Branson could arrive. Their rage turned to surprise, though, when they saw three figures standing on the front step, shivering from the rainstorm, garbed in torn, ragged clothing.

They appeared to be Gargoyles, and closely related ones at that. Their faces were nearly identical, with high cheekbones, long, flared ears, and pale blue eyes. They looked half-starved, their bodies gaunt beneath their chestnut skin. It would have been hard to tell them apart had they not possessed full manes of hair. One had hair of glittering silver, one had hair of a pale gold color, and the last had hair as dark as the night sky.

Acting on impulse, Jamie leapt the railing, landing in a crouch in front of the trio. Rising, she extended her arms to them. "Come in, come in. There's no need for ceremony. Welcome to our Castle, sisters!"

They looked at each other, then stepped into the foyer, the pale-haired one closing the door behind them. The dark-haired one bowed to Jamie, speaking with an odd accent. "We thank you for the kind invitation, sister. We ask for succor, that we might regain our strength."

Branson came running down the stairs then, his pistols resting comfortably on his hips as he took in the situation. "Jamie, did I miss anything?"

She shook her head, replying, "Not much. I only just got here. They ask for aid, and I see no reason to turn them away."

Branson nodded, smiling at the newcomers. "I'm Branson. You've already met Jamie, and Trent's watching from the Balcony, and Elayne came with me. What can we do for you, ladies? Mi casa, su casa."

He turned to Elayne before they could respond, speaking in a commanding tone. "Elayne, get these girls some dry clothes. Jamie, grab some towels, would ya? Trent, get some soup on. Meet up in the family room."

A little disoriented by the ensuing flurry of activity, though pleased at Branson's generosity, Jamie hustled to get the towels, then ran towards the family room, her footsteps resounding through the halls as she passed.

When she arrived, they were changing into the clothes Elayne had brought. Jamie growled as she saw bruises along their bodies, their ribs showing through the skin and muscle of their slim forms. Moving carefully to avoid hurting them, she handed them the towels, helping them wrap up in the fluffy fabric. Clattering sounded from the kitchenette as Trent worked on a meal.

Branson stood by, ready to assist as needed, but not seeing a need to. He asked casually, "I don't think you've gotten a chance to introduce yourselves yet. What's your story?"

The raven-haired woman said, "We barely escaped the Quarrymen. I don't think the rest of our Clan made it out."

The white-haired one began sobbing quietly as the dark-haired woman comforted her, and third sister took up the tale. "We heard of your shelter and sought to join forces with you."

The brunette looked up, her eyes glowing red as she embraced her sister, and she declared in a low voice, "We shall have our revenge!"

The trio spoke in turn, the white-haired one, then the golden-haired one, and finally the black-haired one, introducing themselves as Luna, Phoebe, and Selene.

----Chapter II----

Somewhere...?

November 23rd, 2027

Daytime...?

In a white void, floored with flagstone, three shadowy figures floated. They did not speak, precisely, but speech will serve us well enough, conveying the meaning of their communion.

One spoke, so to speak, sounding disapproving. "This plan risks much. She remains with them, why must we continue the charade?"

Another spoke, or perhaps the same one, their voices identical. "The Shadowdancer's thread in the tapestry of history was cut, of that even you cannot deny. And yet, she stands with the Clan, the same and different."

The third presence answered, "It is true she styles herself differently, and it is true that tensions exist that did not before. However, does this truly jeopardize our investment? She shall not resist our urgings, I believe."

Sounding frustrated, the first one replied, "This is well and good, but must we debase ourselves by taking these pitiful forms?"

The second voice countered, "Recall the King and Queen, so long ago. You did not quarrel so when we appeared before them as hags, lest my memory fail me."

The third presence retorted, "Be that as it may, I understand the objection. Our Lord shall be displeased by our forthright meddling in this affair. Is the plan worth His wrath?"

The second voice sighed, answering, "His wrath means little if the seat of his power becomes torn asunder by the sorcerous energies of the Void! Sisters, it is not solely for ourselves that we carry out this task."

There was silence for a moment, then the first voice asked, "And what of the Spirit? His presence could jeopardize the plan. We must attend to him."

The third presence replied, "He will not be an issue. He recalls the Agreement as well as we do. Put your concern out of your mind, he shall not interfere."

The second voice cleared her throat, then said, "Alas, we must continue this argument at another time, for dusk is nigh upon us. I pray thee take the stage once more, lest our hosts grow wise to the deception."

---

Three new voices joined the chorus as they burst the thin layer of lithodermis from their frail bodies, feeling energized by a day spent in full sunlight. They had run for far too long, hiding in old warehouses and churches. While those locations offered security, they could not receive the full power of the sun's invigorating rays.

The trio of newcomers stretched as they woke up, spreading their bodies in vain to catch the sun's last dying rays. Elayne leapt across the roof towards them, checking to make sure they were still all right, that they didn't need anything.

Trent stalked off without a word, feeling grumpy as usual this early in the evening. Branson began to move towards the newcomers, but stopped when he saw Jamie standing stock-still, her face pale, her eyes wide open. He rushed over to her, calling her name. "Jamie? Jamie! What's wrong?"

Shaking her head slowly, she took several deep breaths, trying to clear the images from her mind. "I... I had the dream again. It's getting more intense... and that's the third time I've had it in the last week."

She looked at Branson, her face haunted, speaking softly. "Branson, you can't understand what it's like. I've heard all of Humanity screaming in terror and pain five times now. I've watched destruction beyond that of any of the World Wars five times."

She swallowed, looking at him wide-eyed. "I've watched the world that I love die before my very eyes, Branson... five times. And I... don't know how to stop it."

She slammed the stone crenellation with her fist in frustration, sending chunks of limestone in all directions. She gasped in surprise, staring at her hand as Branson placed an arm around her waist. She began to apologize, but he shushed her, saying, "Don't worry about it. Not the first time that's happened, heh."

As Elayne led the trio downstairs for a bit of a snack, Branson and Jamie stared at the cityscape, watching as it glittered in the darkness. Branson spoke softly, but his voice was heavy with conviction. "Jamie, I trusted Jessica. Unfortunately, I also trust her to be mysterious to a fault. I don't think she even told you whole story in that letter. She may have traveled to your world for her own purposes, but I think it was no accident that you were brought here."

He turned to her, holding his hands on either side of her waist, and said, "I have faith in you, Jamie. You'll find out what you need to do. But for now, what we need to do is to help out our new Clanmates."

She nodded, feeling calmer, her heart rate having returned to its normal, steady tempo. "I pray you're right, Branson. If not... we may all be doomed. I can't be sure, but my dreams showed Them attacking cities. Chicago may well be a target."

He closed his eyes, hanging his head. "Look, there's not a whole lot I can do to defend against an attack from space... but I'll do what I can. C'mon, let's go."

They found the newcomers busily consuming a large pot of thick chowder Elayne had whipped up. She waved at them from the kitchenette, saying, "Help yourselves, there's another pot on the way."

The newcomers had garbed themselves in matching, flowing purple robes that Elayne had dug out of her closet, and they seemed more calm than the previous night. Phoebe looked up at Jamie and Branson and said softly, "I thank you again for welcoming us into your home. It has been many weeks since we last saw such kindness."

Branson closed his eyes, visualizing images from his own past. "I know how you feel. My own clan was lost to the Quarrymen. It's why I started this shelter in the first place."

Selene looked up from her soup, saying, "As soon as we have regained our strength, we must return and strike back against them. It will be a voyage of many weeks, as my sister said, and it would not do for them to escape."

He shook his head, speaking quietly. "No, there's little concern of that. Once they infest an area, they're unlikely to leave anytime real soon. Take all the time you need to rest up."

Luna pushed her bowl away, sated, and looked at Jamie, as the other Gargoyles left for a grand tour of the castle. "Mayhap you would be willing to tell me of what you dream? What troubles your sleep, my sister?"

Jamie sighed, having tried to put the nightmare aside. But, she was unwilling to deny the wishes of a Clanmate. "I dreamed of how this world would end. A great craft of purest shadow will come to this world, disgorging smaller craft to level the works of Man. I watched helplessly as they vaporized the Great Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal."

She trembled as she spoke, "I listened to the screams, and there was nothing I could do to stop it!"

Luna reached across the table, laying her hand on Jamie's arm in sympathy, barely covering the larger woman's forearm, "I know this dream of which you speak. It haunts my mind as well. Doth... do you have any ideas on how to stop the vision from coming to pass?"

She shook her head sadly, "I haven't the faintest idea. I have been trying to learn the ways of sorcery, but... I don't see how I'll be able to shoot down a dreadnaught with a fireball."

Luna thought for a moment, then asked, "Perhaps not alone, no, but with the aid of others?

Jamie shrugged, sounding resigned. "Maybe you're right. But, unless you happen to know where I might find a whole bunch of mages in the immediate future, I don't see that being much of an option."

She stared away, thinking about Jessica's letter. "Luna, you said you've seen this vision. Is this... the first time you've dreamed the future?"

Luna hesitated, then answered, "Well, no. It has happened before, from time to time. Why do you ask?"

Jamie jumped in her seat, clasping the smaller Gargoyle's hand in her own. "Then tell me! When will this happen? How many weeks do we have before the shadow vessel arrives?"

Her voice almost failed as she begged, "Please... please tell me that you know!"

Luna frowned, shaking her head. "I know not, milady. 'Tis a mystery to me, as well. But, I believe it will be more than weeks. Perhaps, if you do not know of any other magi... perhaps it is your calling to create them."

Jamie nodded, feeling a certain roundabout irony. "Yes. That would make sense. I only wish I knew where to start. I barely have any control over my own magic, how am I supposed to teach others to use it?"

Placing her other hand on Jamie's, Luna answered, "I feel that you will have the time you require. A vision is never given without a reason. Would that you were unable to act to stop this coming shadow, the dream would not have come to you."

Narrowing her eyes, Jamie pulled her hands free, and asked, "Then what part will you play in the coming battle?"

Luna smiled, a glitter shining in her eyes. "Time shall yet tell. As you have yet to truly learn your own calling, mine has yet to reveal itself in full."

She glanced around the room, squinting as though looking through a fog. "Alas, I should be returning to my sisters. Would you be willing to lead me to them?"

Jamie nodded, but asked for a moment. She poured some of the chowder into a thermos and tucked it under her arm, then took Luna's hand. She asked, conversationally, "You know, that's an odd name. Luna, that is. Um... two of my friends swore by a "Luna", like a saint or something like that. You wouldn't happen to know Shang Hua or Logan Starr, would you?"

Luna shook her head, saying, "No, I'm afraid not. It is pleasing to know of such a namesake, though."

They quickly found Branson, Elayne, Luna, Phoebe, and Selene as Branson delivered a running patter about the history of the house and the Clan. Branson waved to them as they approached, and Luna embraced her sisters in her wings.

Elayne asked, "You gonna join us for the tour?"

Jamie shrugged, "Sure, why not? Branson showed me around a little before, but I never did see the whole place."

She was surprised to learn that many of the rooms were in mothballs. Granted, the three-story manor seemed rather large for four people, but with all the business dealings the Clan was involved in, she had assumed that the rest of the volume would be used to store merchandise and materials, if nothing else.

That would explain the dust in the third floor, and why she'd had to clear a workspace on the third floor for her experiments.

She did see some new living areas, though. They kept a few extra bedrooms opened up, which worked out well for the trio. Surprisingly, they chose a single large room for their den, but Jamie figured that after surviving what they went through, maybe they wouldn't want to be alone any more than necessary.

They also toured the large kitchen on the first floor, which was kept open for special occasions, a woodworking shop, the central security room, a large library, and a few other locations.

Branson leaned against the wall outside the gym, looking toward the sisters. "You seem comfortable enough here. This place remind you of home?"

Selene answered, placing an arm and a wing around the shoulder of each of her sisters. "Our Castle is far different from yours. Or it was, I guess I should say. But home is a thing not of mortar and stone, it is built of love and companionship, and in that... yes, your Castle does remind me of home."

Branson beamed, grinning at the three of them, and Elayne smiled softly, wrapping her arms around them. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home, huh? You three'll fit in fine here, with an attitude like that."

Luna yawned loudly, then flushed in embarrassment. "My apologies. This has been fascinating, but I still feel weak. Our flight was most arduous, and never has my stamina been the greatest of our Clan."

Elayne held them closer, nodding, "That's okay. You'll be fine in no time, trust me."

The sisters looked at each other and separated. Phoebe stepped toward Branson, asking him, "In our old home, I was known as something of an artisan. Would you be so kind as to give me a closer tour of your workshop while my sister rests?"

He held his hand out to her, bowing slightly as he led her to his shop. Elayne wrapped a wing protectively around Luna, the dark skin of her face paling from fatigue, and led her to the den they'd chosen.

Selene turned to Jamie, her eyes glittering. "By the way you hold yourself, I would judge you to be a mighty warrior, even amongst the others of the Clan. Show me how a protector of the city fights, Jemie."

Jamie looked at her, judging the smaller woman's condition. "Your sister seems like she's feeling pretty rough. Are you sure you're up to it?"

Nodding, Selene flexed her arm and growled, smiling at her. "We're not all as frail as my sister. For myself, I shall not be content to rest until our Clan has been avenged. We were defeated before, but with your help, perhaps the next encounter shall end differently."

With a resigned sigh, Jamie nodded, "Head for the rooftop. I'll meet you there. I'll go get some gear."

Metallic clattering announced her presence a moment before she poked her head outside of the stairwell. She wore her Keris sword on her hip, its smaller sister tied to her ankle. Elayne's boffers were tucked under one arm, a suit of gel-plate armor clutched in her other.

Selene's attention was focused elsewhere, however, as she stared at Trent. He had stripped to the waist, the short hair of his pelt rippling in the wind. He held his broadsword, flowing along the roof in an elegant dance. Clutching it with his right hand, he had laid the left along the flat of its blade, twisting it through the air in a whistling melody.

Jamie could understand why Selene was so fascinated. His control was incredible, never seeming to be either on offense or defense, simply in motion, and there was a surrealistic air due to the fact that he moved in utter silence, save the whistling of the blade. Nor was it at all unpleasant to watch him. They could both appreciate the rippling of densely packed muscle under his pelt, the way he took a widened stance to accommodate his maleness, though the expression of total, blank focus on his face was a little disturbing.

Selene looked on in a trance, mesmerized by the canid's motions across the deck. Jamie called to her softly, but the smaller woman either didn't hear her or chose not to answer. Shrugging, she left the gear at the top of the stairwell, in case she might like to practice with Trent.

She returned to her den, feeling a little uneasy. The sisters seemed to be getting along well enough,

though she worried about Luna. The soft-spoken woman had not looked well at all, and it wasn't as if they had been doing anything too strenuous.

Elayne would take care of her, though. The young woman was still something of a mystery to her, but she guessed that Elayne had once had a long voyage of her own.

These insights still confused Jamie. Perhaps they were inherited memories, but she didn't think so. They seemed... live, more like flashes of intuition than anything she actually remembered. Besides, memory wouldn't explain the feeling she'd had about Shang or Logan. She'd just known she could trust them, and hadn't really questioned it.

Thinking about it, it was odd that she had not felt any such intuitive reaction to the newcomers. Certainly, she felt pity for them, and a sense of rage at their story, but she didn't truly know anything about them.

To be fair, though, she hadn't spent much time with them yet, and she did nearly split Branson in two when they'd first met. Maybe it just took a little time for her to get enough of an impression.

She began to study the tome on Warding, a subject that had so far eluded her. It was the reason that Kee had suggested she try the mithril bonding ritual, since they both involved imbuing a physical object with mana instead of producing a free-standing effect.

He had warned her that a few of the castle's lesser wards had already given way, and that the more powerful wards were weakening from neglect. Try as she might, though, she found it difficult to focus properly on the process.

It was ironic, really. Shouldn't it be harder to produce a shield that floated in the ether surrounding her body than to tie it to a line of chalk or mithril? She figured it would just take practice, but found it hard to squeeze in with everything else that required her attention.

A thought occurred to her as the words swam upon the page. Maybe she was trying to do too much. Maybe she just needed to unwind a little, and take some time for herself. Branson had showed her how to use the simulator after his history lesson, after all.

She recalled the night of the Gen-U-Tech raid, and those insect... things... that had attacked them. She'd blown apart several of them, but they were just too fast for her unpracticed aim.

A grin crossed her face. Maybe there was a version of Unreal Tournament loaded into the simulator. She could take an opportunity to practice her aim and do something she liked, at the same time. Closing the book with a slam, she rose, boxing at the shadows with a smile as she walked the halls.

As she headed towards the simulator room, her ears perked up. She halted, listening carefully. She thought that she'd heard a cry from another part of the house. Leaning forward, she dashed off at top speed, going to all fours for speed and stability. It seemed to be coming from... Branson must be hurt! Had someone attacked him?

Powersliding around the corner, she noticed a strong, acrid smell in the air. What if Gen-U-Tech had attacked, using their nerve gas? Heedless of the danger, she dove forward through the door of Branson's den, roaring as she slammed into it, her eyes spilling out an intense, blood-red glow.

Surprise and shock registered on her face as she took in the scene. Far from being under attack, Branson and Phoebe lay in his oversized bed. She was straddled atop him, taking both of his members within herself, a faint ridge showing through the skin of her belly. Her head was thrown back, and Jamie realized that the moan had come from her, not Branson.

His eyes were wide open as he stared at Jamie in shock, his hands still placed upon the slender woman's breasts. His jaw worked up and down as he tried to speak, too stunned by the abrupt entry to do more than gape.

Jamie rose to her full height, roaring, "Branson! What madness possesses you? These sisters have just lost their family, their home, nearly their lives, and all you can think of is hopping into bed with one of them?"

Branson began to speak, but Phoebe laid a finger across his lip, turning to address the furious woman, still impaled upon Branson's pluralized endowments. "If you seek to direct your rage anywhere, it is rightful mine. I was the one who sought his company, and I was the one who requested the gift of his comfort."

Jamie was the one now struck dumb, the glow in her eyes fading with her uncertainty. Who was really to blame here? Or, was blame even the right word? What business was it of hers, truly, what they did behind closed doors?

Concern showing in his voice, Branson spoke, "It is our way, Jamie. There should be no shame in one warrior asking for the comfort of another."

Jamie looked at him, speaking quietly. "You never offered such a gift to me."

Placing his head upon Phoebe's shoulder, he sighed, "Not for a lack of temptation. But you never asked, and I didn't want to force myself on you. Besides, I knew that it was not the way of the Humans, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

With a wry grin, he held up his head and asked, "You want to join us?"

Jamie spun on her talon, then turned back to regard the two of them. "No, Mr. Bond. I am afraid that I must decline."

He called to her, "Well, if you change your mind... we should be here for a while."

She spoke quietly, coldly, forcing as much venom into her voice as she knew how, and narrowed her eyes to slits. "Branson... why don't you go 'comfort' yourself."

Not waiting for a response, she marched out of the bedroom, leaving the shattered door in her wake. Her thought of a quiet read erased by her quietly raging fury, she decided to head towards the roof and try to calm herself in the open air.

Passing by the room that the sisters had chosen, she poked her head around the doorframe, intending to check on Luna. She saw Luna sprawled out asleep on the unfolded futon, but gritted her teeth when she say Elayne laying next to her, the two of them clasped in an embrace.

Neither of them looked up, since Jamie had approached so quietly, and Jamie felt her anger turn to quiet resignation. As peaceful as the two of them looked, she couldn't bring herself to scream at them the way she had gone off at Branson and Phoebe.

Her spirit lifted as she heard the sounds of a scuffle on the roof. If Selene and Trent were sparring, maybe she could join them and blow off a little steam. She'd just have to be careful not to get too caught up in the moment. Trent might be able to take a few of her blows, but she didn't want to hurt Selene.

She abruptly changed her plans as she stepped onto the roof. Trent and Selene had stripped, and she found it hard to tell whether they were trying to kill each other or make love. Currently, they rolled about on the floor, grabbing at each other, but she watched as each blocked and parried the other's advances.

Shaking her head, she turned her back to them, placing a talon on a crenellation, and hurled herself over the edge, spreading her wings to their fullest extent to catch the updrafts that surrounded her home. As large as the Castle had seemed earlier, she was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic.

----Chapter III----

She circled around, gaining altitude quickly, thoughts rushing through her mind as quickly as the wind blowing past her body as she tried to focus on more important matters.

Did it matter, really, what her Clanmates did on their own time? She winced, the vision flashing through her mind in an instant. That was what was most important. Who was she to deny her friends whatever pleasures they could muster before the coming invasion?

Remembering what Luna had said, she began to wonder what would happen if she could form a new order to defend this world, a mirror to the one Jessica was forming on her original world. Or perhaps, only a mere... shadow, given that Jessica was so much more powerful than her.

And yet, there was a certain irony present in that. Both she and Luna referred to the alien vessel as a shadow. Create a shadow to hold back the greater shadow... her lips crept up into a smile as she began to appreciate this idea.

Something else made her think, too. If there were two people who had received this vision, might there not be more? At least it proved that she wasn't insane, something that had worried her. True, Jessica had seen it, but if there had been some biochemical disorder present in her brain, that probably would have carried over to the new Jamie persona.

She realized that she had winged her way towards Chicago's downtown district, not really paying attention to where she was going. With a grin, she began to climb. She'd always wondered what the city looked like from the top of the Sears Tower. As a human, she'd visited the Skydeck several times, always feeling inspired by the tremendous view.

Now, as she flared her wings to lose airspeed, she was even higher than that, some fifteen hundred feet in the air, if memory served. The tower loomed in front of her, and her spirit soared as she confirmed that its sky-scraping roof was below her!

She came down in a tight spiral, bleeding off speed, and landed with only a pair of soft footfalls, not wanting to damage the building in any way. She stared at the landscape sprawled out below her, and briefly wished that she had brought a camera along. Chuckling at herself for acting like a tourist, she watched the pulsing highways below her, and felt like she was watching the heartbeat of a living creature.

This was why she needed to train others, why an order of mystic protectors was needed. A thought bubbled up from the recesses of her mind, and she whispered it aloud, knowing it to be true. "A Gargoyle can no more stop protecting the Castle than breathing the air."

Where had that come from? She felt it resonate with something deep in the core of her being. Perhaps it was something she'd inherited from Jessica's memory. Wherever it originated form, it summed up the feeling well.

Looking around some more, she smiled. If she was going to be 'protecting the Castle', they didn't come much more grand than this. But, what was her domain, anyway? Givens Castle? Beverly? Chicago? Where did the world's concerns become 'someone else's problem'?

Staring into the night sky, she realized that it hardly mattered. Maybe Chicago would withstand the invasion, maybe not. But Mankind would fall, and its brethren would fall with it, and it wouldn't make a great deal of difference whether her protectorate remained standing.

With a sigh, she began humming Kee's signature tune. Maybe he would have some answers for her. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise, but she did not see him materialize.

A presence worked its way into her mind, and she smiled as she "heard" the faint, echoing tones of his telepathic voice. ~You called for me, milady?~

Concentrating, she closed her eyes, trying to slip into her "true sight", as he called it. Her mind was too cluttered to allow her to do so, and she gave up with a sigh. "Yeah, Kee. I don't need you to do anything for me, I just wanted someone to talk to."

He chuckled within her mind, commenting, ~I trust you will not be offended if I stay within the Shadows. What troubles you?~

She bit her lip softly, trying to think of how best to phrase her questions. "No, that's fine. No sense wearing yourself out, though I hope you can see the view from there."

He hesitated for a moment, then answered, ~Not the way you see it, milady, but it is a most inspiring sight nonetheless. Try to use your true sight. I believe you will find it rewarding.~

She looked down at the floor, seeing the accumulated dust, and quickly fanned her wings, blowing the worst of it away. Afterwards, she sat down, cross-legged, and began breathing in a measured tempo, calming herself. She meditated for a time, then tried to access her true sight again. Looking around, she saw the rooftop as a construct of darkness, with faint lines of lambent energy snaking through it. Standing, she leaned over the edge, and gasped as she examined the city.

The streets she'd just glanced at were invisible to her now, but she could see the sparks of life riding across them, weaving like distant fireflies. She saw a closely packed constellation of energetic flecks shooting through the air and realized she must be seeing through the windows of a jumbo jet.

She turned and saw the blazing flare of Kee's true form standing before her, but it wavered for a moment as if blown by a breeze. "Hey, you okay?"

He shrugged, his back to her, arms clasped behind his back as he watched the city. ~I am well, milady. Why do you ask?~

She opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated. Perhaps it was just an artifact of her enhanced vision, or her concentration had wavered. "Eh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it. I can see why you feel so uplifted by the view. It's... beautiful."

He said nothing for a moment, then turned his head to her. ~It is... different, perhaps. I remember the old woods, from Jessica's homeland. Once, long before I was bound to her will, it lay untouched by the hands of Man.~

His voice trembled, ~The whole forest glowed with light of spirit. When spring came, and the souls of the newly born shone in the crystalline night... Ahhhh...~

Jamie looked towards him, puzzled. "Isn't this the same thing? They call it the urban jungle, after all."

He shook his head, speaking softly. ~I mean no disrespect, Lady Jamie, but you wouldn't understand. It is a part of your nature, just as my longing is a part of mine. It is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things.~

Seeing an opening, she casually asked, "You speak of our natures. It appears to be in my nature to protect this city, for good or ill. Can I count upon you to aid in its defense, even in its... changed state?"

He turned to her, frowning. ~Lady Jamie, have I given you cause for distrust? I know not what might provoke you to ask such a question of me.~

Jamie stepped forward, holding her hands out to him. "It's not you, Kee. But my thoughts weigh heavily tonight, and I must be sure of my allies."

He nodded, a faint smile upon his lips. ~You need not be concerned about my loyalty, milady. The world of my past may not be the world laid out before us now, but I would be a poor Spirit of the Land if I shirked my responsibilities.~

She smiled, telling him, "Thank you. That lifts a weight from my shoulders. In the name of this world's defense, I lay a task before you, if you are capable of carrying it out."

Sensing the formality in her words, he knelt before her, leaning forward slightly, as if to accept her sword upon his shoulders. ~As I have told you, anything that is within my power is yours for the taking.~

She knelt in front of him, realizing that she had come off far too much as his master for her own tastes, and said, "I know that you spend much of your time watching us from the Astral. I just want you to expand that watch."

She hesitated, then explained, "You know about my dreams. I've begun to think that I need to find other people who can use magic. I need you to help me look for them. Is there any way that you can tell a mage by their spirit?"

He shook his head, his shaggy mane rippling, and replied, ~I cannot, milady. None can tell by Sight, as far as my knowledge extends. I believe I may be of some assistance, however. I may not be able to tell a sorcerer by Sight, but I can identify their works. Should that I find another in the act of performing magic, I will advise you.~

She sighed. This was going to be more difficult than she had hoped. "Well, that will have to be enough. I'll figure out something. Thank you, Kee. We have a long road ahead of us, and all of our efforts will be needed before the end."

He nodded and rose, turning from her to regard the city again. As Jamie reverted to her standard senses, she thought she saw a flicker as the shadows cleared, but nothing revealed itself to her sight. That's twice now, and never before. Perhaps she was just too distracted by her thoughts tonight.

She realized abruptly that the Sight had obscured her perception of time, that nearly an hour had past since she had left the Castle. She had not lost more than a few minutes, but it still disturbed her.

Chuckling, she sat on the edge of the Tower, gazing at the city again. That she could see the spirits of those around her was perfectly normal, but losing track of time was not. Or being able to fly to the top of a skyscraper to speak with a spirit, for that matter. Obviously, she needed to consider what exactly she considered normal in this strangely alien world.

Feeling calmer, though still irritated at Branson, she figured it would probably be best to return home, before the others became too worried. She realized now that leaving without telling anyone what she was doing was a phenomenally bad idea. Not that she'd known where she was going before she left, but if she'd run into trouble, she figured it would be unlikely that anyone would come for her tonight.

She thought about just flying off as she had done before, but decided to try something different this time. Wrapping her wings around her bosom, she dove off the Tower roof, leaning into the fall like a swimmer, her arms held in front of her head. After several moments, and a few hundred feet, she spread her arms, throwing out her wings, the tendons snapping taut against her weight, and soared off towards the southeast.

It occurred to her that it might not have been too wise to do that maneuver alone, but it certainly proved that the injury to her wing had not weakened it.

It was an amazing feeling, being supported by nothing more than the wind rushing under her wings. As a human, she'd always wanted to get a pilot's license, but not even an ultralight would capture the feel of truly flying with one's own wings.

The roof of the castle was deserted when she arrived, though someone had removed the gear and clothing that had littered it when she left. Not wanting to face the others yet, she returned to her room. A thought had crossed her mind on the flight home. Jessica might have known of other magic-users, and might have kept notes about them. And if she hadn't, certainly the Pentagon had!

Time had been against her recently, and she had not had the time to examine the database given to her by Lancelot and Guinevere, but there just had to be something of use in there.

It took some work to find, since Jessica had quite sensibly concealed the file, but she had collected information on others who could use magic. Surprisingly, she noted several of the "Moon Children" in the file, some of which were even local! It seemed odd to her, since none of her Clanmates seemed to know about them, but Branson had said that Jessica was secretive by nature.

Smiling, she began to examine the Pentagon file. One heading caught her eye, a dossier on the "Children of Oberon". Jessica, it seemed, had not had contact with them, but the government had.

Driven by some whimsy, she began to read the file, which appeared to be organized by 'threat level'. She knew some of it already, from the lesson Branson had given her, but her gaze was drawn to an entry about a third of the way into it. It was a short description of a group calling themselves the "Weird Sisters". Little was listed about their nature or their true intentions, but there were sightings listed from across the world.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scrolled down to the attached images. They appeared in several guises, as police officers, as workers, even as bikers, apparently. But all the pictures showed them traveling in a unit of three, always as hauntingly beautiful women, and each member of the group possessed a mane of long, flowing hair - silver, blonde, or black!

She stared at the screens in shock, a sense of slowly dawning horror forming in her mind. If you change the skin color... the ears... added brow ridges...

Her breath came in a series of gasps, shock interfering too much for her to think straight. She had to alert her Clan! If the Pentagon thought they were a high threat, no good could come of their presence here. She tried to think of a clever plan to separate her Clanmates from the Sisters without revealing her knowledge, but nothing came to mind.

She still wore both of her Keris blades, and a quick search of her closet revealed an iron bell that she could only hope was cold forged, but they would have to suffice if the Sisters chose to become violent. Fey might be vulnerable to cold iron, as the Pentagon brief mentioned, but surely having a thirty pound blade stuck through you would give some pause for thought.

She made a series of printouts, hoping they would be enough proof. Keying the intercom, she took a deep breath,

steadying her voice, and said, "Could everyone come to the family room? I have urgent news. I repeat, please assemble in the family room."

With a heavy heart, she marched towards the room. One way or another, she had sealed her clan's fate. It was her hope that they could find out what the Sisters wanted without conflict, but even if it was nothing more than an experiment, driving them away would undermine the Clan's mission as a refuge for any in need.

Not wanting to explain her findings more times than she had to, she stalked the halls to waste a little time, trying to compose her speech and arguments. Did she even want to ask the Sisters to leave? What if they really were in need?

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, she headed for the family room. A part of her wanted to delay as long as she could, fear weighing heavily upon her. But, another part of her raged at the delay, imploring her to get the conflict over as soon as possible.

Wanting to get everyone's attention quickly and efficiently, she threw open the door with a slam, clearing her throat loudly. She could see she had waited long enough, the Sisters and all three of her Clanmates stared at her, seeing how tensely she held her body. A brief sigh of relief came to her lips as she sensed Kee's presence, as well, feeling pleased at his support.

Meeting the eyes of each of her Clanmates in turn, she stepped into the room slowly, confidently, and began to speak. "Brothers, Sister... I bring information of the gravest import. I ask only that you hear me out."

She passed the hardcopies out to Gargoyle and Fey alike. She had debated doing this, but felt that she had to be fair to the Sisters. If there was any hope of avoiding a battle, she needed them to know exactly what she knew about them.

They began to read in silence, realizing the gravity of the situation. Gasps sounded from the Gargoyles, while the Sisters showed no reaction beyond a faint hint of amusement.

Branson looked up from the sheet, glancing at the sisters, then at the photos. He sighed, then asked them, "Is this true?"

He watched them closely, and Phoebe nodded, saying, "Jamie is correct. We owe you a debt of gratitude for alerting us to this breach."

Jamie blinked, surprised how calmly they were taking this. Trent still seemed stunned by the news, a solemn look on his face.

Elayne, however, had thrown the hardcopy onto the table and kicked back her chair, leaping back and drawing her wrench in the process. Her face was contorted by fury, her eyes glowing red, and a wordless scream tore itself from her throat.

Jamie pulled her sword from its scabbard and dove across the table, seeing Elayne raise her weapon to swing at Luna's head. The wood groaned under Jamie's weight as she desperately raised her blade to parry the swing, sparks and paint flecks striking off the wrench's surface as metal scraped against metal. "Elayne, no! Do not do this!"

Trent jumped to his feet, still looking stunned, but acting without thought as he grabbed Elayne's arms, trying to pin them behind her back. Driving a knee into his gut, she broke free of his grasps, snarling at him.

Her freedom was short lived as Jamie tackled her, sword cast aside, and the larger woman ripped the wrench from Elayne's grasp. Elayne gasped as they hit the floor, the wind knocked from her lungs. She struggled against Jamie's

grasp, but could not dislodge the determined Gargoyle.

Throughout all this, the Sisters merely watched. Selene smiled at them as they struggled, but that was the only reaction they showed. Trent lay sprawled on the floor, trying to lever himself up, and Branson stood, but did not engage, allowing Jamie to handle the problem herself, seeing this as a good, if unexpected, opportunity for her.

Pinning Elayne under her shoulder, she stared into the slender woman's eyes. "What madness has taken you? Why do you fight me?"

Elayne breathed shallowly, choking out the words. "How about I ask ya why ya defend a buncha murderers?"

Jamie looked at her in amazement, asking, "What do you mean? How do you know they're murderers?"

Luna broke in, saying, "We deny that claim. I cannot say that we have never caused harm, but we have never killed.

Our laws are as strict as yours in that respect. Elayne, come now, you trusted me, did you not?"

Elayne snarled at her and spat, struggling anew. "Yeah, I did, huh? Your act of being a poor, tired fugitive was really touchin'... and as false as those wings!"

Jamie leaned a little harder, causing Elayne to cry out in pain. "This is getting tiresome, sister. I'll let you up if you'll promise not to attack again. You've got a right to tell your story."

Branson slammed his palm on the table, a loud crack echoing like the strike of a gavel. "Then it will be Tribunal! Jamie, Elayne, rise. We'll need to hear your story, Elayne. And as for you, changelings, I expect a damn good reason for your infiltration of my clan. We'll proceed like civilized beings, so put aside your weapons. We'll have little need of them, right?"

Jamie rolled off Elayne, taking to her feet in a graceful maneuver, offering her hand to the smaller woman.

Groaning as she rose, Elayne shoved the hand away, still cursing and muttering under her breath. At least the glow had faded from her eyes, and she made no move to pick up her wrench as she took a seat on the far side of the table from the Sisters.

Jamie picked up her sword, sheathing it, and then grabbed the wrench with her tail, flipping it towards Trent, who snatched it out of the air with a frown and a quick glance toward his mate.

Stepping around the table, Jamie reflected that this was going better than she'd feared. It amazed her that the Sisters were willing to be bound by this tribunal.

When everyone was seated again, Branson rapped the table with his knuckles. "I call upon Elayne to Speak. Tell us, Elayne, in your own words, why you believe these Children of Oberon to be murderers."

Elayne cleared her throat, leaning ahead in her seat. "Okay, I'll give ya this charade if it'll make ya feel better. I can't say for sure these three are the ones I'm lookin' for, but they're as good a start as any. Any of ya ever hear of the Marie Celeste?"

Trent nodded, saying, "That was that one ghost ship off of Portugal, yeah?"

Elayne smiled grimly at her, replying, "Yeah. History has it that the ship was headed from Staten Island to Portugal with a load of alcohol when some disaster struck and the crew perished. Nine barrels were found empty, the sextant and clock were missin', and the only lifeboat was launched. Everythin' else was intact."

She stared at the Sisters, her eyes narrowed. "I know differently. My great-great-great-great-grandparents were aboard that vessel. Nine gargoyles had secured passage with Captain Briggs to take them from America, back to Europe. That number mean anythin' to ya?"

Branson watched the proceedings carefully, his eyes darting back and forth to take in the Sisters' reactions, and to watch Elayne's face.

Jamie said, "Let me guess, the nine barrels weren't empty, they were missing?"

Elayne nodded, agreeing, "That's right. When the Fey attacked the ship, my family's... accommodations were hurled overboard, along with the navigation gear. I can't say what happened to the crew, but I have my suspicions."

Phoebe spoke up as Elayne trailed off, sounding offended. "These ramblings mean little. If this vessel had been attacked by our kind, it surely would not have been found intact. And if they were stone, how could your family have learned of the attack? If they were flesh, surely they would have shattered the flimsy barrels and defended the vessel."

She narrowed her eyes at Elayne, staring at her. "And why does it matter to you what happened over a hundred years before you were born, whelp?"

Branson growled softly, but they continued staring at each other. Surprisingly, Selene appeared sympathetic to Elayne, a look of pity or understanding on her face.

Elayne spoke, not tearing her eyes from Phoebe's, "It's the word of my ancestors over these... these... changelings, Branson."

He deflected the question by rapping on the table again, looking at the Sisters. "I call upon... Luna to Speak in the stead of her kin. Tell us, Luna, in your own words, why you tried to insinuate yourselves into my Clan."

A little more casually, he added, "And you can remove those masks. Your cover's blown, you might as well show us what you really look like."

The Sister closed their eyes, raising their arms, and shimmered, their forms blurring into slender, though healthy-looking, Human forms. Human, that is, until you saw the points of their ears, nearly concealed by their hair.

Opening her eyes, Luna began to speak, looking directly at Jamie. "I apologize for our deception, but we feared that approaching in any other manner would jeopardize our plan. Jamie, we came to check upon you, or Jessica, rather."

Jamie crossed her arms, leaning back and said, "I'm flattered. But, what business did you have with her? She didn't know you, and I doubt she'd be any more pleased to see you than I am."

Luna sighed, answering, "Other than our assumed forms, and the history that went with them, I have not lied to you. I do dream of the coming shadow. I do not know when it will come to pass. And, I believe you are the one who has been called upon to assemble the arcane defenses of this world. This is all truthful. But, there is one more element I should add."

She stared into Jamie's eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "We are responsible for your visions, Jamie. Yours, and those of every other Dreamer in this world. It is a gift, or a curse, that we laid upon certain bloodlines, centuries ago. It is a terrible responsibility, and we would not have done this had there been any other option."

She hung her head, sounding subdued. "When we saw that the thread of Jessica's fate had been cut, naturally we wanted to find out what had happened. If she had simply died, you would never have met us. But seeing what appeared to be our Shadowdancer, still alive, but different, somehow... that drove us to desperate measures."

She looked into the eyes of each of the Gargoyles, pleading, "We did not mean to bring any harm to your family. We only wished to ascertain the fate of our Dreamer. If that is a crime, we stand before you, guilty as charged."

A resonant voice spoke from the hallway, "Sisters, if I might be allowed to speak?"

Selene nodded to the medicine bear that had appeared in the doorway, saying, "As you will. Our geas is lifted from you, spirit."

He nodded, then said, "Lady Jamie, I am filled with sorrow that I could not warn you. However, there are certain protocols that must be followed, and I cannot deny the wishes of one of Oberon's Children. I saw them for what they were, of course, but was bound not to reveal their secret."

Hanging his head in shame, he vanished before anyone had a chance to respond.

Branson rapped his knuckles on the table a final time. "Is there another that wishes to bring a grievance before this Tribunal? No? Very well. Speak your decision."

Trent spoke first, his voice quiet. "I don't like being manipulated. And, I can't help but trust in my love's tale. But I cannot, in good conscience, demand any punishment for the Sisters. There is too little proof."

Elayne spoke next, passion filling her voice. "I say we give 'em a chance to rat on the attacked of the Marie Celeste, and then pack 'em off back to Papa Oberon. In pieces."

Jamie was next, and she sounded uncertain. "Why should we punish them? Their goals and ours are the same. Protecting the castle, remember? My only recommendation is, Sisters, if you need to 'visit' us again, drop the subterfuge."

Branson steepled his fingers in front of his face, and hesitated before speaking. "This Tribunal sentences the Weird Sisters to banishment from our protectorate. I cannot authorize torture, Elayne, but damage has been done to our Clan, and it must be addressed. Sisters, I expect never to see you again. This Tribunal is adjourned."

Elayne stared at them and spat out her words, hatred evident in her voice. "For your own sake, sisters, you'd better not let me catch ya skulking around here again. This isn't over between us, hear me?"

She stood up, turned, and left the room, never looking back. Trent followed her out, concern evident on his face.

When Jamie turned her head back to look at the Sisters, they had vanished. Branson hung his head and sighed, not meeting Jamie's eyes.

----The End----