Disclaimer All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended and nothing but the utmost respect for their creators is implied.
I've gotten a lot of help from Icicella. Although she doesn't know from any solid resources what some stuff is, she got the information regarding Blasnar discipline from the internet. This is unconfirmed information, and was vague, but we both enjoyed the concept, so we used it.
This story involves adult content. Mature readers only.

Previously, on Gargoyles:

Elisa: "Third Race?"
Broadway: "Yeah, Humans, Gargoyles, and Oberon's Children."
Lexington: "I thought everybody knew this."
"The Mirror"

Odin: "This is Odin who speaks to you!"
"Eye of the Storm"

*****

The young man held his leather jacket tight against him as the wind continued to blow relentlessly against him. It was getting a lot colder than expected. He glanced down an alleyway. It was a shortcut to home, but in Manhattan, dark alleys are usually avoided at all costs. He shot a look around, and then, pulling his brown jacket close to him, he stole away down the alley.
He was about halfway when a feminine voice made him stop, "Excuse me, I seem to be lost."
He turned to see a woman, a little shorter than him. She had a hooded, black velvet cloak around her, which cast a shadow across the top of her face.
"Where were you looking to go?" he asked.
She smiled cryptically, and then removed her hood, to reveal her eyes. They were completely black, with no sign of any iris or pupil whatsoever. Her hair was an incandescent blue colour. And sprouting from beneath her bangs were a pair of bat-like wings folded at the side of her head.
He gasped and backed away.
"Shh," she said soothingly, and touched his face with her pale arm, "It's all right, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to love you." She put her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her. Then she lifted her deep red lips and gave him a long kiss, full on the lips.
"Oh, you're freezing," she noted. Then she reached into her cloak, and withdrew an obsidian chalice, filled with a deep red liquid, "Have some of this, it'll warm you up in no time."
He backed away a little more. But her dark eyes seemed to bore deep into his mind. He felt suddenly very trusting, and reached out to take the cup.
"Have a long drink," she encouraged.
He never even got to long; the moment the drop of liquid passed his lips, he convulsed, dropped the cup, and fell to the ground, writhing uncontrollably. She knelt down beside him, cradling his head in her arms, "Shh . . . I'm only here to love you."

"Robert Cullinghan was found dead this morning by police," Nicole St. John, WVRN reporter, informed from her desk, "Even though he had an unidentifiable hallucinogen in his system, rape is suspected. Police are looking for a short, white female in her early twenties."
Hudson flicked off the television from his comfortable room deep within castle Wyvern, the gothic, Scottish castle perched high atop the Eyrie Building in downtown Manhattan. The old gargoyle turned to his friend, Bronx the gardog, "Ach, 'tis only news at six o'clock e'ery evening. Come on, boy," he said, getting up from his chair.
The big, blue dog scratched his collar a moment, and then got up and followed his faithful master out the door and down the hall.
He stopped at the first open door; the library. He glanced inside.
Goliath, the gargantuan, lavender leader of the gargoyle clan, was sitting beside his friend, Elisa Maza, a human detective. They each had a mug of steaming hot chocolate in their hand. They were muttering things to each other, and every now and then would giggle or laugh.
Hudson smiled, and continued onto the next open door. Futuristic sounds of lasers and metal came from it. He glanced inside to see Lexington, the small, green, and bald gargoyle, playing a video game against Brooklyn, the dark red, white-haired second-in-command of the clan. They were veering this way and that with their controllers, laughing, and talking.
Hudson gave a sigh of contentment, and continued down the hallway until he reached the spiral staircase. He descended, to come to the kitchen. He glanced in there, too.
Angela, who matched her father, Goliath's colouring, was sitting on a counter next to Broadway, they were looking at the oven.
"When's it going to be done?" she asked.
Broadway checked the clock on the wall, "Fifteen minutes."
She smiled, and snuggled in under his chin.
Young love. Hudson loved seeing it. It had been a thousand years since things like this had been going on in his clan.
He didn't want to interrupt them, so he and Bronx walked down the hall some more.
"Shh," he heard a woman sooth. He glanced in the open door to see Fox Xanatos sitting by her son's cradle. Alex wasn't wailing, but was moaning considerably. Owen Burnett, the family's major domo, stood by her side.
This was the door Hudson decided to go into.
Fox started when she saw him, and held her chest, "Sorry Hudson, you startled me."
"Sorry, lass," Hudson replied. He glanced in the crib at the restless baby, "May I?"
"Be my guest," said Fox, "we've been trying for half an hour."
Hudson reached inside and lifted the little baby out.
"Mind his head," said Owen.
Hudson shot him a glare, "I know how to hold a baby, if y'don't mind." He smiled as he turned back to the baby in his arms. Alex was smiling, and waving his hands, "Thar, little one," Hudson said gently. He tickled Alex's chin. The young boy giggled and grabbed Hudson's finger. He examined it a moment. And, seeing nothing wrong with it, began to gnarl on it.
"Alex!" Fox made for her son.
"It's okay, lass," said Hudson as the boy chewed frantically with his gums, just beginning to sprout teeth. "Ooh," Hudson winced, "good, strong jaws this lad's got."
Fox smiled fondly and sat down.
Hudson smiled at the bites became less enthused and more lazy. He beamed with pride as Alex stretched, yawned, and curled up into a ball in Hudson's arms, sucking his thumb.
Hudson lay Alex quietly back in his crib.
Fox hugged Hudson and kissed him on the cheek, "You're a miracle worker, Hudson."
"Bah," Hudson scoffed modestly, "'Tis only from a long life of raising wee ones for a clan."

Subways were all but deserted at this time of night. The young man in the car read the paper nervously. He hated riding the subway late, but with the late shift, and a salary that couldn't afford a car from a decade of savings, he had no other alternative. Except for taxis, of course, but this was New York. The Manhattan reputation of taxi drivers were . . . less than encouraging.
He looked up from his book a moment, then back at the text.
"Good evening."
He practically jumped out of his seat. Just across the aisle was a pale woman with a black velvet cloak around her. He nodded, "Same to you," and averted his eyes to the book again. He could've sworn she wasn't there a second ago.
"Good book?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "It's Moby Dick."
She shook her head, "Never heard of it."
He raised a skeptic eyebrow, "You've never heard of Moby Dick?"
She thought a moment, then shook her head, "Afraid not."
He shrugged and returned to the book.
"You look thirsty," she noted.
"I haven't had a drink since lunch," he replied wryly.
She got up and walked over to sit beside him, drawing an obsidian chalice from her billowing cloak. Inside was a dark red liquid, "Here," she offered.
He smirked, "It looks like blood." Then he glanced up, to see that she had removed her hood, to reveal her shining, almost white green hair, pointed ears, and black eyes, completely lacking iris or pupil.
"Drink it," she said.
He hesitated, but then her eyes caught him. He trusted her suddenly, as if she had known him longer and better than his own mother. He nodded and drank. He spewed it out across the aisle in a fit of convulsions. He began to tremble violently and fell to the floor, still writhing and sputtering the thick red juice from his mouth.
The woman walked to him, her cloak draped across his convulsing body. She put her hand behind his neck and lifted his head up to hers, "Shh," she whispered, "I'm only here to love you."

Odin chatted on with Echidna. He couldn't believe what a bore this woman was. The half-serpent ranted on about how she was so forsaken with the death of her children, and how she had vowed revenge, and how she was still trying to get it, even though the murderer of her children was long dead, his descendants were long dead, and his entire family was probably six or more feet under.
He finally found his freedom when his servant, Sváva, came up to him, "Father Odin," she said, bowing respectfully, "Hugin and Munin wish to speak with you."
Odin followed the Valkyrie back to the entrance, "Sváva, you're a life-saver."
"I'm sorry, Father Lord," she apologized, "but I think that you'd enjoy the snake-woman's company better than this news."
Mist and Hrist, two other Valkyries, waited at the doors of Oberon's palace with a raven on one shoulder.
"Hugin, Munin," Odin called. The ravens glanced at their master and flew to perch on his shoulder.
"Master," Hugin whispered, "It appears that the succubi have managed to resurface on Midgard."
"Oh?" Odin glanced at the Thought Raven, "How?"
"Perhaps by the same right that they have poisoned their victims," Hugin replied, "Blasnar discipline is abroad."
"What?" Odin demanded.
"It's true, Odin," Munin chimed in sadly, "so far, two humans have felled not only the lust of the succubi but also to their unholy medicines."
Odin thought a moment, "I should tell Oberon."
"That is not of his concern," the Memory Raven shook her head, "he couldn't care less for humanity."
"Perhaps," Hugin agreed, "but still, so find out that Blasnar is still alive would give him cause for anxiety. If that has taken root, then Vendaal, Nakyrae, or the Baal could come back to haunt him."
"True," Odin agreed, stroking his beard. Then he nodded, "I believe that I am best suited to handle this situation."
"Oh?" Munin asked, her beak curving into a smile.
"Yes," he said, "I'm going to ask Oberon about it."
"Not advisable, Master," Hugin shook his head, "Oberon has commanded that the third race remain on Avalon until the Gathering is complete."
"If I inform him of the circumstances, he'll have to send someone," said Odin, "I don't trust that trio of servants he always calls on. I'll ask that I take care of it myself."
"He'll probably turn you down," said Hugin.
"Probably not," said Odin, "where there's one, there's a million. And I have the Valkyries at my disposal."
Mist, Hrist, and Sváva's ears perked up at the mention of their race.
Hugin swaggered a bit, "Perhaps," he spread his wings, "Come sister." And the pair of ravens flew out the door and off to the sea.
Hrist watched them fly away and then turned to Odin, "What is your bidding?"
Odin looked to the throne, where the blue-faced Oberon sat, "Come with me," he ordered.

"This just in," Travis Marshall pulled a piece of paper from off screen, "Another sexual assault similar to the one early this morning occurred just half an hour ago in a subway car. Once again, an unidentified hallucinogen was found inside the corpse. Authorities have confirmed that the victim, Hal Walsh, was the only scheduled passenger on the subway, so have come to the conclusion that the killer must have entered while the subway was moving. The gargoyle task force is looking into the possibility of gargoyle involvement."
Hudson threw the remote down with a low growl in his throat, "Damn those bastards!"
Lexington and Brooklyn joined Hudson, Goliath and Bronx in the TV room, "What's going on?" asked Brooklyn.
"Another rape," Goliath growled.
"Like the drugged guy this morning?" Lexington asked.
Goliath nodded grimly, "They think we did it."
"But those are guys . . ." said Lex hesitantly. He shook his head vigorously, "That's disgusting."
"Why would they start suspecting gargoyles now?" asked Brooklyn, "They said this morning that a woman was a suspect."
"Apparently not," said Goliath. He turned, his wings, folded across his chest, billowing behind him like a skin cape, "We must put a stop to this," he said firmly.
Lex glanced at him leave, "Now that is not the kind of gargoyle you argue with."

Elisa met Goliath on the landing of the stone, spiral staircase, "Matt's doing everything he can to prove them wrong," she said, "but practically everyone else in the task force is running against him. They've found some unidentifiable compounds in the blood on him. They say it doesn’t look human at all. Let's face it, Goliath, you're pretty much the only non-humans in town nowadays."
"Not the only ones," said Goliath, glancing beyond Elisa.
She turned to follow his gaze. Owen Burnett was examining a plant at the other end of the corridor. He rubbed the leaves with his fingers, made a disapproving shake of his head, and walked on.
Elisa sighed, turning back to Goliath and pointing at Owen over her shoulder, "The rod up that man's butt must have a rod up it's butt."
Goliath laughed aloud and put an affectionate arm around Elisa's shoulders. When he was with her, he found that he never could be unhappy.

Brooklyn glanced at the moon's position in the deep blue sky, "It's about midnight," he said, "so we should be back here in five hours. Lexington, you should go check out the scenes of the crimes, listen in on police and find out if there's something the media doesn't know, Broadway, you, Angie . . ." he hesitated after a growl from the lavender gargoyle, "Angela and me will go on a regular patrol. Lex, once you're done, see if you can catch up with us."
Lex nodded and hopped off the castle edge, only to float up on an air current a few seconds later.
Brooklyn, Angela and Broadway ran towards the castle edge. They systematically hopped onto the battlements, flicked their wings to full length, and vaulted off.
Brooklyn was a fairly fast glider, second only to Lexington, and he didn't need to exert his authority to stay in the lead. Even if he wasn't faster, though, the pair muttering whispered conversations behind him slowed them down a considerable bit.
Brooklyn was going to say something, but decided against it. He wasn't going to ruin his friends' relationships with him.
He was doing one of his periodic checks to make sure they were still behind him when he noticed a figure standing on a rooftop. She was dressed all in black, with a velvet cloak and hood. She was staring right at him. She wasn't pointing, or talking, just standing, and staring. Brooklyn narrowed his eyes at her, not noticing the couple behind him.
Brooklyn winced as his rookery brother's head spikes drove into his back. All three rolled around in the air a bit before spreading their wings and regaining their airborne balance.
"Watch where you're going!" Broadway said, annoyed.
Brooklyn sniffed, "You weren't exactly a hundred percent focused yourself," he said, rubbing his back. He looked around, at every rooftop in the area, but the figure was gone.

Lexington found that sometimes, being small was a very rewarding feature when you were sneaking around. He smirked with a little self-delight in the fact that the one who most wanted to be a stealthy spy in the clan, Broadway, was also one of the biggest in the clan.
Policemen were standing around, and people were taking pictures of the crime scene in the subway and taking notes.
"Look," said a woman in a green jacket, pointing to blood splattered all over the floor, "some of the blood's evaporated, just like in the first murder."
Lexington glanced from his vantage point in the shadows of the subway tunnel at the pools of blood. He could easily tell the difference. There was a little bit of lightly coloured red blood, but all around it was a dark pool of blood. He automatically assumed that the dark blood was human, because there was so much more of it.
A police officer knelt down and tapped the dark pool, "So this blood seems to have a maximum exposure to the environment of about five hours."
Lex's eyes narrowed. How come there was more blood of the killer than of the victim? He crawled away contemplating this.

Maria Chavez, clad in her usual lavender dress suit, led a woman in a blue sweater down the hall of the rebuilt Clock Tower. She knocked on the open door of the coffee room, "Bluestone!"
Matt Bluestone glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, "I'm on break, Captain," he said.
"I've got someone looking for you," she said, "This is Colleen Callahan."
Matt took another look, and then got out of his chair and walked over to them, his cream-coloured trench-coat billowing behind him.
Maria nodded and left back to her office.
"Hi, Miss Callahan," he said, "did you find anything?"
"I found a lot, Mr. Bluestone," she replied, "come with me."
Colleen led the redhead down the hall towards the main doors, "I studied the blood sample you gave me, and I came to some interesting conclusions."
"Oh?" Matt raised an eyebrow.
She nodded, "The rapist is a woman, but she never shed any blood. It looks as if there were two different blood types mixed together. I had to work relatively quickly, parts of the blood began to evaporate. Mr. Bluestone, this is definitely not the blood of one person."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean millions. There were just singular blood cells from different people. It looks like it was made up of two different species, both non-human, and only one species evaporated after about five hours of atmospheric exposure. I was going on a hunch, but I checked that hallucinogen in the victims. It's the same stuff."
"Are there any records of this before?" Matt asked.
She shook her head, "Nope."
Matt nodded, then thought a moment, "I gotta go. Thanks a lot."
Colleen stopped him, "Wait. I just thought you should know, one species, the one whose blood didn’t evaporate, is about sixty percent human."
"What? I thought you said it was all non-human."
"It is, but each creature that this blood was taken from wasn't fully human."
"I gotta go," Matt said, and ran out the doors to call a taxi.

David Xanatos escorted a suit-clad man down the hall, "If I can just be a moment, Neil, I have to get some papers, and then we can get down to business."
Neil began to cough. Xanatos glanced at his associate, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he replied between coughs, "I just need some fresh air. If you can excuse me." He walked towards the courtyard in the centre of Castle Wyvern.
He shivered considerably, and covered his mouth as he coughed again.
"Sounds like you've got a bad cold."
He turned to see a velvet-robed figure standing near the shadowy south entrance to the courtyard, "Oh, Mrs. Xanatos, you startled me," he said, "and yes, I think I'm just getting over the flu."
"I've got just the thing," the assumed Mrs. Xanatos replied, reaching into her cloak. She withdrew an obsidian chalice and pushed it forward to him.
"Thank you," he said, taking it. He noted her arm, "My, you're deathly white. Are you all right, Mrs. Xanatos," he said, glancing at her as she removed her hood. She had incandescent blue hair, a sheet-white face, wings folded across her forehead, and rosie lips. But Neil didn’t notice that, all he could see were her eyes, completely lacking colour whatsoever. No iris, no pupil, nothing. Just black.
"Drink," she said, "It's good for you."
He held back a moment, but then looked again at her eyes, "Shh," she said, brushing his bangs away from his forehead, "I'll never hurt you. I'm only here to love you."
He couldn't resist anymore. He put the cup to his lips, and took a gulp.
The woman shielded herself with her velvet cloak as he vomited up blood, and fell, writhing on the stone ground, his forehead bulging two small lumps. His skin took on a reddish tinge and his nails and hair went black.
She smiled as she knelt down beside his violently quivering body, setting the spilled chalice upright again, "I'm only here to love you."

The first thing Brooklyn noticed as he came in for a landing was the body in the courtyard, "Look!" he cried to his comrades. He swooped down beside the body, and gasped.
His head had sprouted goat-like horns, and his arms and legs were covered in thick fur. His pants and shirt were in pieces all around him. His skin was unhealthily reddish, and his nails and hair were straight black. Brooklyn knelt down closer to look into his eyes. They had dark, black clouds running around inside them.
Angela and Broadway landed beside him.
Brooklyn lifted his talon to see that there was a thick red liquid on it. He sniffed it. It had a slightly alcoholic scent. He licked it.
"Brooklyn!" Angela screamed as he made a retching sound like he was going to vomit up a lung. She grabbed him around the shoulders. He was still convulsing wildly.
"Goliath!" Broadway shouted to the halls, "Hudson! Xanatos! Anybody!"

Elisa got out of her car and made for the doors of the Eyrie Building. Matt was leaning against the elevator doors, "Hey," he greeted.
The detective slowed down a bit, "Hey," she said, pressing the button, "something wrong?"
Matt nodded, "You could say that." He got into the elevator with her, "Colleen Callahan called back."
"Who?"
"A forensics specialist," said Matt, "she checked that blood that turned up in the subway."
"And?"
"It's a non-human," Matt sighed, "well, several."
Elisa raised an eyebrow, "What?"
"The stuff is a mixture of different people's blood," Matt explained, "she said that it's made up of two different species, both aren't human. Oh, and get this, it is the hallucinogen."
"What kind of things are we talking about?" Elisa asked.
"The blood has properties of a drug," said Matt, "but it's still straight blood, just lots of it, from different things. The blood evaporated after about five hours of exposure to the atmosphere, so she's pretty sure it's not from any terrestrial being."
"And the other?"
"Even though it hasn't been diluted, the DNA is sixty percent human," said Matt.
Elisa scratched her chin, "I know just the guy to talk to.
The elevator slowed, and the doors opened. Owen was walking quickly down the hall . He turned to the pair, "Detectives," he nodded in a hasty greeting.
"Speak of the devil," Elisa said, she signaled for Matt to follow her and walked after the butler, "What's wrong?" she said, "You've never walked this fast since I've known you."
"Brooklyn is . . . ill," said Owen.
"What?"
"It's hard to explain, detective."
"Why don't we start explaining," said Matt, "who's blood is that that evaporated."
Owen stopped abruptly, and there was a moment of silence. Then he replied, "Mine."
There was suddenly a scream from down the hall and Owen hurried towards it.
Elisa and Matt glanced at each other, "His?"
Another scream like an animal slowly dying echoed through the halls. The pair of detectives jogged after Owen to see the medical room, filled with folded wings.
Lexington had arrived, and was at the foot of the hospital bed, staring wide-eyed in silence at Brooklyn.
Broadway had his thick arm around Angela, and she was burrowed in his chest, wincing every time Brooklyn screamed. Elisa was actually very surprised to see a pair of tears running down the turquoise gargoyle's cheeks.
Hudson was kneeling down, close to Lexington, slowly stroking Bronx's ears, saying soothing "It'll be okay, boy" speeches to the agitated garg-dog. Hudson himself wasn't exactly calm, and Elisa guessed that his comforting the dog was the only thing keeping him from hysterics.
Of course, there was Goliath. The greatest warrior who ever lived glanced around at the patient, the doctors, and his clan with a look of complete helplessness in his eyes.
Then their eyes fell to the bed. Brooklyn's eyes had a mysterious black, hazy cloud running across them, and his face was contorted in horror. He convulsed almost every second, and screamed out animal cries of pain. Owen was holding his head down to the pillow, and had a wet cloth on the sweating gargoyle's horned forehead.
"Mrs. Xanatos!" Owen cried.
"I'm coming!" her voice came from down the hall. Fox arrived in her usual red shirt and black pant ensemble with a needle in her hand. She pushed the detectives out of her way to get in.
"Goliath!" Owen shouted as Brooklyn screamed again, "I need you to hold Brooklyn still, at least his torso."
Goliath regained his composure and nodded defiantly. He grabbed Brooklyn by the shoulders and pushed him down into the bed.
"Now, Mrs. Xanatos," said Owen.
Fox stuck the needle into Brooklyn's shoulder and drained the vial of the translucent, green liquid. She withdrew the needle, and nodded to Goliath. He nodded in turn and released his second-in-command.
Brooklyn continued to thrash about, but soon his screams died out into moans, and his convulsions into lazy pawing. And in a few moments he was asleep.
"What happened?" Goliath demanded.
"Brooklyn licked a drop of blood from the body in the courtyard," said Angela through tears.
"What body?" asked Elisa.
Owen turned to her, "There was another rape, in the courtyard of the castle."
Goliath reached over and grabbed the pale man by his collar, "What is wrong with him?" he demanded.
Owen sighed, "You might want to sit down, this is a long story."

"The Blasnar discipline was founded since Oberon himself," Owen explained, "When vampires were abounding. A group of cannibal sorcerers found a way to make a strong concoction called Blasnar. They captured a fae and drank his blood. Most died immediately. Then they found a vampire, and drank its blood, and began to have hallucinations that ended up killing them. A mixture of the two, however, toned down the fatal effects.
"The effects were hallucinations, and a certain amount of it will cause major hallucinations, more will cause a minor transformation of the flesh, then more will cause a major transformation of the body, and more will cause a total transformation."
"You call what just happened in there minor?" Lexington asked.
Owen glanced at the youngest gargoyle, "Yes, I do. Relatively speaking. At least he can be treated," the butler removed his glasses and polished them on his sleeve, "At least he won't be spouting gibberish for the rest of his life."
There was an audible sigh of relief from all present.
"Can you cure him?" asked Goliath.
"I can look into it," Owen nodded, "I'd like to try uncomplicated procedures first. I'm going to wait until sunrise. Hopefully, some stone sleep will burn it out of his system. He only had a drop or two, so he should still turn to stone."
"How come they're still around?" asked Matt, "the Blasnar, I mean."
"They aren't, Mr. Bluestone," Owen replied, "I'm going to look into it, but I think that pure-bred Blasnar are not responsible for these attacks. Rape isn't a usual way for them to go about."
"So what do I tell the reporters?" Matt asked.
"Tell them we're still looking into it," said Elisa, "that another body was found, but a short woman in her mid-twenties was spotted inside Wyvern."
"But Elisa," said Angela, "that's not the truth."
"We've been lying to the press about you guys for a while," said Elisa, "it's becoming second nature."
"If we match the woman to the woman suspected and give ourselves a valid witness . . ." he glanced with a raised eyebrow at Owen.
The butler stood up and straightened his suit jacket, "Of course, Detective Bluestone," he replied, "I can keep a straight face while I fib a little."
"Ach, lad. Ye keep a straight face fer everything," Hudson noted.
"Then we can divert a lot of attention from the gargoyles," Matt finished.
"But no Blasnic Disciples have ever been women," Owen said, a little disturbed, "It's a sacred code of honour. Women are the Bearers of Children, men are the Tenders of a Nation. The female gender is considered simply vessels and sex objects."
"But our forensics confirmed that it was a woman, but the way she raped him," Elisa reported.
"That doesn't make any sense either," said Owen, "the Blasnar don't rape. Sex is considered to be a religious practice, the 'vessel' has to be blessed by a Blasnar priest."
"How do you know that the Blasnar that raped them didn't bless them?" asked Lexington.
"Well," said Owen, "first of all, they put a brand on the shin of the vessel. And, second of all . . . they've taken a vow of . . . chastity."
"Vows have been broken," said Goliath gravely.
"It's quite hard to break this vow," said Owen, "Are any of you familiar with the term . . . eunuch?"
The men cringed, and Angela looked a little embarrassed. Elisa cracked a smile.
Lexington glanced around, "What? What's an eunuch?"
Matt leaned down and whispered into the little gargoyle's ear. Lexington blushed furiously, "Oh."

"So anyway, with Nahar dead, I had to vow revenge on his daughter, Nacris. But she died when a catapult exploded on her. She had never had any children, so I vowed revenge on her brother-in-law, Linc. Then he got drunk and had a bar fight with a centaur. We can all guess the outcome of that, now, can't we? So I vowed revenge on his nephew, Kelsn'ihar-"
Hrist broke in, "Odin, Oberon wishes to speak with you."
If Odin wasn't such a polite god, he would have jumped for joy, "Excuse me, Lady Echidna," he said, bowing, "Business."
"Of course," the serpent-woman replied.
Hrist led Odin towards the dais. Odin patted the Valkyrie's shoulder, "Under different circumstances, I would be grateful for this."
Hrist nodded and sighed, "I know, Father Lord."
Oberon sat on his throne upon the dais with an empty seat beside him.
"I see that Queen Titania hath not joined thee as of yet, Lord Oberon," Odin noted in respectful archaic speech.
"We are not concerned," said Oberon, "the Lady Titania can take care of herself without my intervention. She proved that a generation ago. This, however, does concern me. I was informed a millennia ago that the celestial gates to the realm of the succubi and incubi had been forever closed."
"That's what I'd thought, Lord Oberon," said Odin, "Perhaps they reopened."
"A gate that is obliterated cannot be reopened," said Oberon.
"Could they have created a new gate, Milord?" Hrist asked from behind Odin.
"The energy required to accomplish this is more than they have at their disposal," said Oberon, "And what is this I hear of the Blasnar?"
"Thought an Memory told us that the succubi took up the discipline," said Hrist.
"What would they have to accomplish from this?" Oberon asked no one in particular.
Odin shrugged, "What they have always been doing. Since the succubi feed on corruption, this may be simply a different approach."
"No," Oberon disagreed, "I know the succubi well enough. They enjoy their forms of seduction, they don't worry about anything but that."
"Does it really matter?" Hrist asked.
"Leave it to a Valkyrie to get right to the point," Oberon observed wryly, "Odin, I allow you to take leave of the Gathering to deal with this menace. Use any enforcement you require, but make sure that the succubi and the Blasnar are both stopped. I have no real concern for the mortals, but if the succubi can get to Midgard, they can get to Avalon."
"Well put, Lord Oberon," Odin agreed, "I will not disappoint you."
Oberon nodded, his blue, fanged face determined. He reached out to his mistress's mirror nearby. It glowed bright green a moment, "Now go, my child Odin, and may luck be with you."
Odin bowed, "Valkyries! To me!"
The twenty-seven female warriors sifted through the crowds until they were near the dais.
"Come, my warriors! Glorious battle awaits us!" and with that, Odin jumped into the mirror.
The amassed Valkyries, wearing their legendary armour which reflected the Aurora Borealis, raised their axes, swords, and spears in response, and, shouting cried of war, they charged into the mirror, until none remained. Oberon nodded, and the mirror resumed its reflection of his children staring into the depths of Titania's Mirror.

Owen stopped, glancing around.
Xanatos looked up from his paperwork, "Something wrong, Owen?"
"Yes, Mr. Xanatos," Owen replied.
"What?"
"Odin is here," Owen replied, looking out the huge glass window which served as a back wall behind Xanatos's desk, "And so are his Valkyries," the butler shuddered.
Xanatos raised a curious eyebrow, "What's wrong with Valkyries."
"I'm afraid Puck has had some bad experience with Valkyries," Owen replied, "He tried to pick up Mist a few centuries ago. She was less than pleased."
Xanatos smiled, "Do you know what they want?"
"No," said Owen, "But I hope to find out." He turned to Xanatos, "Mr. Xanatos. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a few hours of shore leave, if you will."
"Of course, Owen," Xanatos replied, gesturing towards the door.
Owen straightened his suit jacket, "Thank you, Mr. Xanatos." He turned from his master and left.

It hadn't been enough, it sill hadn't been enough.
The woman held her pale chin in thought. She had to find a way to administer enough blood so that her ambitions would be unfurled. Perhaps, if she did it with a needle or by means other than orally, the transformation would be complete. Or if not complete, enough to make her plans come to fruition. Time was running out. With the One gone, time was no longer a luxury.
Oh well, the sun would set soon, and she hadn't been . . . fed for a few hours. She lifted her hood up over her winged forehead, and sighted a young, attractive man walking down the street. She smiled, pulled her velvet cloak close around her, and walked towards him.
"Hi," she said, "I think I'm lost . . ."