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Discussions - Chapter 22
By Kudara
Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in Gargoyles are
copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No
infringement of these copyrights is intended as this is a not
for profit fan fiction work. All original characters are the
property of the author.
Warning: Violence, sexual content
Notes: This is an AU story. Dominique Destine’s home, and the
character’s Candice and Gregory are from ‘The Gargoyles Saga’
world and adapted for use in this story. Michael or Nostradamus
is a character from the TimeDancer Saga: The Devil's Deal by
Kathy Pogge and The Gargoyles Saga: Prophets and Angels by
Patrick Toman with Alison Wilgus.
Historical Notes from Wikipedia: Natzweiler-Struthof was a
German concentration and extermination camp located in the
Vosges Mountains close to the Alsatian village of Natzwiller in
France, about 50 km south west from the city of Strasbourg.
Natzweiler-Struthof was the only concentration camp established
by the Nazis on French territory, though there were French-run
temporary camps such as the one at Drancy. The total number of
prisoners reached an estimated 52,000 over the three years
originating from various countries including Poland, the Soviet
Union, Netherlands, France, Germany and Norway. The camp was
specially set up for ‘Nacht und Nebel’ prisoners, in most cases
people of the resistance movements. Natzweiler-Struthof was
operational between May 21, 1941 until the beginning of
September 1944 when the SS evacuated the camp into Dachau; the
camp was liberated on November 23, 1944.
Nacht und Nebel (German for "Night and Fog") was a directive of
Adolf Hitler on December 7, 1941 signed and implemented by Chief
of Staff of the Armed Forces Wilhelm Keitel, resulting in
kidnapping and disappearance of many political activists and
resistance 'helpers' throughout Nazi Germany's occupied
territories. It was a specific punishment for opponents of the
Nazis in occupied countries and intended to intimidate local
populations into submission by denying families and friends of
"les disparus" all knowledge of what had happened to them.
Thank you: To Alliane for letting me re-use an idea from his
Demona and Darice story series.
Rating: Adult
Feedback: Always welcome, feedback is what encourages me to keep
writing. Please let me know what you like and what you dislike
about the story.
Revision History: 04/23/09
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Saturday, January 3rd 1998
Mid-afternoon – Sharon’s New Apartment, Yonkers, New York
Dominique looked around the almost bare room as she deposited
the box she was carrying in a corner on top of several other
boxes. Off white painted walls and non-descript beige carpet,
the redhead’s nose wrinkled, she hoped Sharon planned on adding
some color to her bedroom. Pieces of the bed, a sleigh style
oak headboard and footboard, leaned against the wall opposite
the room’s one window. The bed’s metal rails and slats lay on
the carpeted floor next to them, while the queen-sized mattress
rested on its side against another wall next to the dresser.
After clearing the living room of all the boxes that didn’t
belong there, putting the bed together would be her and Kendra’s
next task.
“I still can’t believe that Jon didn’t believe the Wise One.
How could you not believe her?” Dominique heard Sharon say,
disbelief and anger clear in her tone. The redhead suspected
the young Horse’s chosen was talking to Kendra or Rachael as
they moved the pile of boxes stacked in the middle of the living
room to whatever room was their final destination. They had
piled them there so they could empty the moving van as quickly
as possible and send the men from the moving company away.
Unfortunately, Margaret was not here to help Sharon move in, the
Bison’s chosen had left yesterday morning to start another
contract, having stayed much longer than she had originally
planned. Dominique knew she would miss the tall woman and her
wry sense of humor even though they had both promised to keep up
their correspondence by email and telephone. She knew it
wouldn’t be quite the same though. At least Margaret had
promised that she would make the effort to visit sometime in the
summer when she could attend some of the events in Central Park
with them. Of course, no sooner had they lost one chosen than
they gained another one, yesterday afternoon Sharon had driven
in following behind the horse van transporting her Appaloosa
mare from Arizona. Dominique still wasn’t certain she wasn’t
being irresponsible and selfish in letting the young woman come
work for her, but Sharon had insisted that she knew what she was
getting into and wanted to come work with her at Nightstone even
with the threat of Quarrymen and Weird Sisters attacking hanging
over them. Rachael would be staying with them another two weeks
to help get Robert settled in, then she had to return home as
well, needing to get back to her tribe and her duties as a
teacher.
“You can’t force someone to believe something they don’t want to
believe,” Rachael answered calmly.
Dominique’s head bowed, she closed her eyes and sighed
unhappily, Jon’s refusal to accept the spirits message weighed
heavily on her. She had hoped, for both Jon and Kendra’s sake
that the spirits would be able to get through to him and he
would stop, but the Wise One had said that he had been very
determined in his refusal to even consider that what she was
showing him was the truth. If only she hadn’t…Dominique shook
her head, both Kendra and the Ancient One had been rather
adamant that she not put so much blame on herself for Jon’s
decisions and actions. That the Weird Sisters enchantments on
and manipulation of both herself and the Canmore family were
much more responsible for that night at the cathedral and what
had happened to the three Canmore siblings there than she was
responsible for it.
Intellectually she knew that they were right, given what she had
found out about her own subconscious choices she doubted she
would have even been at the cathedral with the fake plague if it
weren’t for the Weird Sister’s enchantment on her. It was
harder however, for her heart to accept it, not after having
seen the grim acceptance on Kendra’s features early this morning
when the spirits had met with them. Her mate was afraid that
Jon would do something that would force her to kill him, and
Dominique was very concerned that Kendra might be right and what
it would do to her mate if she were forced to kill her own
cousin. At least the news had been more promising for Jason and
especially for Robyn. The Ancient One was certain that Jason
had believed, and the Wolf spirit had been very certain that
Robyn had accepted what she had seen as the truth and would give
up the hunt.
“At least his Quarrymen haven’t tried to do anything since I
left,” Sharon continued, sounding now as if she were in the room
next door, “So I guess it really wasn’t a planned attack after
all.”
“No, it doesn’t seem to have been,” Rachael replied.
“Unfortunately for Jon, no one paid attention to his efforts to
distance the Quarrymen from it. Between the attempted murder of
Dominique and Kendra, the anti-aircraft weapons in the city two
weeks ago, and the attack on the PIT meeting a few months ago
the Quarrymen aren’t looking much like the noble organization
dedicated to protecting the innocent humans of the city from the
gargoyle menace that they originally claimed to be at all.”
“So are they losing members?” Sharon sounded hopeful.
“Yes,” Dominique responded, stepping out into the hallway and
taking a few steps down it to look into the next doorway. This
room would be Sharon’s library and work room. The two women
were standing next to some boxes pushed up against one wall and
looking her way curiously. “They have lost a few members,” it
hadn’t been hard to sneak in a few people into the Quarrymen’s
meetings to keep an eye on what they were doing. The redhead
grimaced, “Unfortunately, the ones that remain seem to be the
more militant ones.”
“Not particularly surprising,” Rachael commented, “the ones that
left were probably the ones that joined because they actually
believed Castaway’s lies that they were banding together to
protect themselves and their families from marauding gargoyles.
When the Quarrymen started assaulting people and firing military
weapons off in the middle of town they probably realized that
they were not in the type of organization they originally
thought they were joining and quietly left.”
Sharon frowned, “So does that mean that the ones that are left
are more likely to try and attack you and Kendra again?” she
asked worriedly.
The redhead leaned against the doorway, letting her shoulder
support some of her weight and gave the younger woman a
reassuring look, “That’s why I have undercover investigators
inside their organization keeping an eye on what they’re doing
and saying,” she revealed.
“You have spies?” Sharon stared at the Ancient One’s chosen
wide eyed, her tone a cross between intrigue and disbelief.
Dominique chuckled, amused at the younger woman’s choice of
words and her expression, “Well, more accurately, I should say I
contracted with a company to provide the properly trained
personnel for me.”
Sharon stared at her incredulously, “There are companies that
hire out spies? Where did you find them?”
“Mr. Mayer recommended them to me actually,” a crooked smile
curved the redhead’s lips, “it’s run by his older sister.” That
had been an interesting conversation with the human male. The
tips of his ears had turned slightly red as she stared at him in
surprise after he responded to what had been an offhand
statement that it would be useful if they had some eyes and ears
inside the Quarrymen organization. She certainly hadn’t
expected an answer, and definitely not the one he had given
her. That hadn’t stopped her however from contacting Mrs. Levia
D. Roth and arranging a meeting with her to work out the details
of a contract for her company’s services to keep an eye on what
the Quarrymen were planning.
“The Mayer family seems to possess an interesting range of
skills,” Rachael commented dryly, “His older sister and her
husband run an investigative service company and Azarel, who I
believe mentioned he was the youngest of six, runs a protective
service company. I’m starting to get rather interested in
finding out more about his family history.” The Wise One’s
chosen asked Dominique, “Did you ever ask him about the gargoyle
he said saved his mother and father?”
Dominique frowned, “No, I didn’t want to seem too interested.”
“What’s this?” asked Sharon, staring at the two of them in
intent curiosity.
Dominique glanced at her in surprise for a moment before
realizing that the younger woman hadn’t been around any of the
times they had discussed the subject. “When we first set up the
contract, Azarel told me one of the reasons he decided to take
it was because I was supporting PIT. His parents were saved by
a gargoyle when they were children, but I don’t know what the
circumstances were or anything about the gargoyle that saved
them.”
“I don’t think it would really be too odd for a PIT supporter to
ask him about his families experience with gargoyles,” Rachael
pointed out.
The redhead’s eyebrow rose slightly as she considered it, “No
probably not I guess. Perhaps I’ll see if I can’t work it into
a conversation with him then next time I see him.”
“Hey,” Kendra came up next to Dominique and wrapped an arm
around her waist, “We’re discussing Azarel’s family and the
gargoyle he mentioned? I’ve been curious about that now that
things have quieted down some. His answer might point towards
the location of a clan that could use some help.”
Dominique straightened, she hadn’t considered that possibility,
“I’ll ask him the next time I see him.” Becoming a true
protector of the remaining gargoyles in the world was the second
of the two tasks the Ancient One had asked of her. She had
claimed so loudly to be just doing that over the past nine
centuries in her private war with the humans, only to realize
that it had all been a lie. At most, she had stopped leading
the hunters to other gargoyles when she stopped seeking out
others of her kind. Now that she was supposed to do what she
had claimed but had never succeeded in doing, she wasn’t quite
certain exactly how she was supposed to manage it.
She supposed that her aid to Goliath’s clan technically counted
towards fulfilling her task, but she was doing that more for her
daughter than because of her promise. Neither freeing Lexington
and Brooklyn nor preventing Goliath from killing Egon Pax had
made her feel as if she were fulfilling her promise, and she
definitely didn’t feel as if she had done anything that compared
to the things she had done toward fulfilling her vow to be a
wise steward and protector of Nightstone. Perhaps Azarel’s
family could give her the clue she needed to find a clan that
truly needed her aid.
Monday, January 5th 1998
Evening – Between Nightstone Unlimited HQ in Manhattan and
Destine Manor, Forest Hills Gardens, Long Island
Dominique leaned back into the thick cushions of the limousine’s
seats, looking up from the reports in her lap to glance out the
window at the crawling traffic. It had been a very productive
and very long Monday and she hadn’t left Nightstone until almost
six in the evening. It was dark outside and the traffic was
very heavy; it would probably take Gregory another thirty
minutes or so to reach her home. She would have ridden back
with Kendra instead of making Gregory wait until she was ready
to leave, but Kendra had needed to go over to her condominium
and change her service arrangements now that Margaret was no
longer using it.
The redhead stared at the red and amber colored taillights of
the slow moving cars in the other lanes, letting her mind drift
back to the beginning of the day. At eight o’clock this
morning, they had all been sitting in the Family Court courtroom
waiting to hear Judge Taylor’s decision on Robert’s petition.
The human woman had granted it, Robert was now an emancipated
minor, legally entitled to make his own decisions about his
future. As far as the Trust Fund was concerned, the preliminary
accounting report was still not completed, but there had been
enough evidence of misappropriation and mismanagement of the
Trust’s funds for the judge to remove control of it from
Robert’s aunt and uncle. Judge Taylor had assigned management
of it over to Robert’s lawyers until she made her final decision
on whether they would remain in control of it until Robert’s 21st
birthday, when his parents had intended him to take control over
it, or if he would take control of it immediately.
Of Robert’s family, only his Aunt had shown up at the courthouse
this morning. Nancy Collins had gotten over some of her shock
and had recovered enough to stare at them disapprovingly,
especially at Kendra and her. It had angered Dominique, this
woman who had stood by and let her husband steal from her
sister’s son and tell the young man he was worthless because of
his injury, daring to think she was worthy of judging them
because they loved one another. Fortunately, the woman had
enough sense to limit herself to condemnatory looks and didn’t
actually say anything to either of them.
After their meeting with the Judge was finished, his aunt had
stopped Robert in the hallway outside the courtroom, ignoring
everyone else to ask how he was doing. Robert had told her
about putting in his application to MIT, and playing chess with
Professor McDuff. Dominique wasn’t surprised that he didn’t
mention all the gifts he had received for Christmas; it wasn’t
in the young man’s nature to be unkind. The conversation
between aunt and nephew had been short and awkward, Robert
noticeably uncomfortable with the way she was ignoring everyone
else with him. To Dominique’s surprise, the uptight woman had
managed a terse, “Thank you for taking care of Robert,” to her
before leaving. By that point, the redhead had expected the
woman to walk off without saying anything to anyone.
Outside the court building, their group had split. Gregory
taking Sharon, Robert and Rachael in the limousine van to the
boarding stable so that they could see Sharon’s horse, Bree,
while she and Kendra drove to Nightstone in Kendra’s Jaguar.
This afternoon she had met with David Xanatos and signed the
final paperwork to form their new joint subsidiary, Aegis Armor
Manufacturing. She had been very pleased with the results of
the negotiations between her company and Xanatos’, each would be
providing equal startup funds and key management and scientific
personnel to the new company. After all the paperwork was
completed, she had waved the lawyers out of her office and asked
Xanatos what he thought of creating some lightweight body armor
specifically for the clan to use.
Xanatos had initially looked surprised, and then he had narrowed
his eyes and grown thoughtful. “It would have to be very
flexible and lightweight, more flexible and lightweight than the
body armor we are currently planning on making. I’m not sure if
we can do it and still make it protective enough to make it
worth wearing,” he had finally replied.
Dominique remembered she had smirked then, provoking Xanatos
into eyeing her distrustfully as she picked up a folder from her
desk and handed it to him. His suspiciousness had amused her
even more and her smirk had grown wider. He had stared at her
warily for a moment longer before opening it and reading the
paper on top. It was a research progress report by one of her
scientists who would be moving over to the new company,
detailing how the nano-manufacturing techniques developed at
Nightstone could be applied to the manufacturing of ceramic
armor plates. The new technique modified the structure of the
ceramic so that it was lighter and thinner than the current
ceramic, but when formed into armor plates and fired still had
the same impact absorbency rating.
“He needs a few more weeks to finish his research. I believe it
will be best if the new company applies for the patent,” she had
stated, leaning back in her chair and feeling triumphant as he
looked up at her, his surprise apparent for just a few seconds
before his customary control returned. It wasn’t often that she
managed to shock Xanatos enough for him to show it. She was
starting to understand why Kendra did this so often, it was
amusing watching people mentally scramble to keep up with her,
especially when they were so convinced they knew her. Perhaps
they had known the old her, Dominique had acknowledged to
herself with an inward twinge, but they didn’t necessarily know
the new her and she intended to keep reminding certain people of
that fact.
Xanatos had only stared at her for a few more seconds before
returning his attention to the report in his hands, “It will be
good for the new company to have a major patent to its name so
early,” he commented when he finally looked up from the report.
“Investors will be wondering when or if we will go public with
the stock.”
“As I said before, I’ll think about it,” Dominique had replied
firmly after a long silent moment, it wasn’t the first time they
had discussed this. She didn’t like the idea of letting the
stock go public and possibly losing control of the company and
Xanatos wanted the influx of cash into the fledgling business.
She understood his point but she had plans for this company, and
investors interested only in increasing the worth of their stock
holdings and dividends could ruin them.
“We’ll need to make some changes and additions to the
manufacturing equipment we’re purchasing to take advantage of
this, but that shouldn’t be that difficult,” he said, letting
the subject of going public with stock offerings drop. “As for
body armor for the clan, this might make the difference. I’d
have to see the actual tests on the material before deciding.
What researchers claim is one thing,” Xanatos had remarked,
“sometimes reality turns out to be rather different.”
Dominique dipped her head, “True,” she had replied, sometimes
these reports were…overly optimistic. “I suspect though that
his estimates won’t be far off, Mr. Pierre, my Research and
Development Division Manager, went over those figures himself
and approved them. He’s not in the habit of signing off on
reports that he doesn’t feel are accurate.”
Xanatos’ eyebrows rose ever so slightly, “I wasn’t aware that
you thought so highly of your employees,” there had been the
slightest edge of sarcasms in his tone.
Dominique’s green eyes had immediately narrowed in anger, and
then something…the look in his eyes or perhaps the expression on
his face had made her certain that he was baiting her. Instead
of snapping out an angry reply, she had stared at him intently
for a long moment. “I value all of my employees Xanatos. Mr.
Pierre has more than proved his worth to me over the years, if
he hadn’t he wouldn’t hold the position of Division Manager,”
she had finally replied, her voice cool with her displeasure.
The dim light coming in through the limousine’s windows became
darker, distracting Dominique from her memories of the earlier
meeting. The redhead refocused on the scenery outside, the
limousine was finally entering the tunnel. With any luck,
traffic would clear up on the other side and they would be home
in fifteen or twenty minutes.
She still wasn’t certain what Xanatos had been up to with that
baiting comment. He hadn’t replied to her defense of her
employee, instead abruptly changing the subject and remarking
that he thought it might be possible to make the clan armor if
the new ceramics did perform as well as her researcher
estimated.
Dominique shifted irritably against the leather of the seat back
behind her. She didn’t really care why Xanatos had behaved the
way he had, it wasn’t particularly important to her. At least
it wasn’t anymore, not after the news she had received just
before she had left work. She had almost not picked up the
phone when it rang, but then she had looked at the caller ID.
There was only one person in the FBI who knew her direct phone
number instead of her receptionist’s number. The caller had
been who she had hoped it was, Wayne calling her to let her know
that the FBI had just issued a warrant for Alexander Thailog’s
arrest in connection to his embezzlement of funds from
Nightstone. The FBI had also frozen all of his bank accounts
and were monitoring them for any attempt to access them.
Dominique smirked, Thailog couldn’t of course, he couldn’t do
anything right now the clone virus had seen to that, but it
should mean that in a few months the courts wouldn’t have any
issues issuing his death certificate and declaring him dead.
Impatiently, the redhead stared out the window, they were
exiting from the tunnel, she couldn’t wait to get home and tell
Kendra about her conversation with Wayne. Her mate had left
Nightstone to meet with her condominium’s service manager about
thirty minutes before his phone call. Most likely, given how
long her conversation with the Wolf’s chosen had lasted, Kendra
was already home.
Evening - Destine Manor, Forest Hills Gardens, Long Island
“Since Thailog’s locked in stone sleep, there won’t be any
activity in those accounts they’re watching,” was Kendra’s first
comment after Dominique finished retelling the conversation she
had with Wayne.
“Which should help our case and speed up the process of having
Alexander Thailog declared deceased by the court,” the redhead
woman responded. It was something she dearly wanted, to have
his name erased as one of Nightstone’s owners, to put that part
of her past even further behind her. Dominique’s green eyes
clouded, it still hurt thinking of how he had manipulated her,
and how he had hurt her, and how she had let him because she
didn’t want to be so alone anymore. Anger and shame rose, and
her jaw clenched.
Kendra took a step towards the redheaded woman, her hands
reaching out to rest on either side of Dominique’s waist. The
black haired woman gently pulled the redhead toward her, “I
don’t know what he did to you, but he’s lucky he’s locked in
stone or I’d pay him a visit,” Kendra growled. Her voice was
soft, but underlying it was a hint of steely anger.
Her mate didn’t elaborate on what exactly she would do to
Thailog, but Dominique suspected it wouldn’t be very pleasant
for the misbegotten male. She leaned against Kendra’s warm
body, burying her face into the silky material of her mate’s
white shirt and breathing in the black haired woman’s
distinctive spicy, musky scent. Strong arms wrapped around the
redhead pulling her tighter against Kendra’s body and she felt
her mate’s soft lips press against her hair at her temple. It
didn’t really surprise her that Kendra had guessed that Thailog
had been less than the perfect mate and lover, she suspected she
had given Kendra several hints as to the true nature of the
relationship over the past month or so. Dominique turned her
head and pressed her lips against the smooth dusky skin of
Kendra’s neck, “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Kendra’s hand stroked along the side of her
face, fingers pushed into her red hair and combed through it.
Dominique closed her eyes at the feel of her mate’s fingers
dragging gently through her hair and against her scalp. The
tender loving gesture soothed her, driving away the bitter
memories of the past. She closed her eyes with a sigh, allowing
her body to relax into Kendra’s.
The sound of the doorbell interrupted the moment. Dominique
lifted her head from Kendra’s shoulder wondering who was at the
door. Rachael and Robert were at Macbeth’s castle, Monday
nights having quickly become her former king’s and her ward’s
regular chess night, so neither one of them was here to answer
the door. Kendra frowned, “Who could that be?” The garage
doors were lowered and locked, the fence gate was locked, and
the fence itself was six foot high. Unexpected visitors did not
walk up to Dominique’s home and ring the doorbell. “Perhaps
it’s one of the security guards?”
“Most likely, they wouldn’t let anyone onto the property without
notifying us first,” the redhead responded, “Shall we go down
and find out?”
“Ms. Destine, Ms. Canmore,” Azarel Mayer greeted them as Kendra
opened the front door. The dark haired, broad-shouldered man
was nicely dressed, as was usual for him whenever he met with
her, in slacks, coat and a red and grey striped tie. His tone
when speaking to her was always respectful, tonight though it
seemed even more so than usual she noticed with interest.
“Mr. Mayer I wasn’t aware you were on duty tonight,” the
redheaded woman replied. Azarel usually called and arranged for
a mutually convenient time to meet with her when he needed to
speak with her. This was the first time he had not done so, and
she had to wonder why.
“I’m not,” he responded, his dark eyes fixed on her, “I wanted
to tell you a bit more about the female gargoyle that saved my
parents.”
He stopped speaking after that comment, looking at her with an
intensity that demanded Dominique’s full attention. She could
feel Kendra stiffening beside her as the black haired woman
noticed his manner as well. Questions ran swiftly though
Dominique’s mind, did he suspect she was actually a gargoyle,
and if he did suspect, did he think that she knew the gargoyle
that had saved his parents? She stared at him, her green eyes
narrowed as she wavered between curiosity and caution. After a
moment she replied carefully, “Why don’t you come in?” She had
to know why he thought she knew something about the gargoyle
that saved his parents, and what he knew about her. The only
way to do that was to let him talk about what he had come to
tell her.
Azarel began as soon as they were all seated in the living room,
him in one of the chairs and she and Kendra on the couch
opposite him with the coffee table separating them. “My father,
Elisha Mayer, was born in Buhl, a small German town near the
French border in the Black Forest in 1930, and my mother, Ruth
Levi, was born in Stralsund a town just a few miles southwest of
Buhl in 1932. You probably guessed from the name of my company
that I’m Jewish, but I don’t think I’ve told you yet that my
family is Jewish on both sides.” Dominique’s green eyes
widened, that had not been a good time to be Jewish, especially
in Germany or any of the countries surrounding it.
“Unfortunately both families were too poor to flee and they
believed the violence and persecution would pass them by,”
Azarel continued, his expression darkening. “After all, they
lived in small towns not large one’s where the demonstrations
and attacks against the Jews were taking place, like Berlin.
They thought they were safe after nothing happened to them in
the months following the Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken
Glass, in 1939. Then in 1941, Hitler decreed that Germany was
to be cleaned of all Jews. Both families were,” Azarel paused
his expression becoming even bleaker than it had been,
“relocated to work camps, the Mayer’s in March of ‘42 and the
Levi’s in June of ‘42.”
Dominique’s insides twisted and she fought back a snarl of
anger. She knew full well what work camps were, places where
the Nazi’s had forced Jews and anyone else they had defined as
sub-humans, as well as those who disagreed with their ideas of
Aryan superiority and world domination, to work until they
dropped dead of starvation, disease and exhaustion. She had
spent most of the war in Switzerland, but as soon as the Allies
had freed Paris, she had decided to make her way there. During
the journey, she had spotted one of the camps and gotten close
enough to see the starved stick-like figures of the prisoners
and smelt the sickening burnt meat smell of the smoke coming out
of the huge crematoriums. A few minutes later gunfire from one
of the camp watchtowers had forced her to flee when one of the
guards had spotted her.
“They were sent first to Auschwitz,” Azarel continued, “there my
grandfathers, Jebediah Mayer and Joshua Levi, were separated
from their wives and children. They were never reunited.” He
paused to take a breath and visibly control his emotions before
continuing, “Later, in the spring of 1943, my grandmother’s and
their children, my parents, were transferred to Natzweiler, a
concentration camp in southwest France near the German border.
A month later, they were moved to one of the main camp’s
annexes. It was just inside the German border within the Black
Forest and was only fifty or so miles south of where they had
been born and raised before the Nazi madness swept through the
country.”
“My grandmother’s, Anaya and Levia died early in 1944 during an
outbreak of cholera among the prisoners, leaving Elisha and Ruth
alone. They were fourteen and twelve years old at the time.”
He paused briefly in his narrative, his dark eyes turbulent with
his emotions. “As you probably already know from all the books
and films about them,” he continued after a moment, “life in the
camps was difficult. In addition to the brutality of the camp
guards, there was too little food, too hard work and during the
winter too few clothes. The winter following my grandmother’s
death, my father came down with a cold along with several other
prisoners. The cold went into his chest, causing him to cough.
One night, the camp guards, claiming that they were tired of the
sound of Jews coughing all day and night, took my father and
some of the sicker men out into the woods and ordered them to
begin digging their own graves. The camp guards were laughing
and taunting my father and the other ill prisoners while they
tried to dig in the frozen ground with the spades the guards had
given them when my father saw something watching him from the
woods.” Azarel stopped speaking staring expectantly at the
redheaded woman.
If she hadn’t been certain before Dominique was certain now,
Azarel knew she was a gargoyle and for some reason he believed
she was the gargoyle who had saved his parents. However, she
remembered nothing of this, nothing of stopping during her
journey across Germany and France and seeing any Jewish
prisoners digging anything at night anywhere. The year and
season were right, but nothing else sounded familiar at all.
Azarel’s expectant expression faded into confusion as he stared
at her waiting for her response, but she had none to give him,
he had to be talking about another gargoyle. Or… Dominique
sighed unhappily, feeling both angry and distressed by what she
was thinking, or she didn’t remember this, just as she hadn’t
remembered her relationship with Luach or what had actually
happened that night when she betrayed Macbeth.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dominique saw Kendra glance over
at her. The black haired woman slid sideways, closing the space
they had left between them on the couch. Their bodies touched
from shoulder to thigh, and then Kendra’s arm settled warmly
around her shoulders. “Continue please, what happened next?”
Kendra requested her tone confident and calm. Dominique leaned
into her mate’s side, grateful for the comfort and solid
strength of her body, and the support she was so freely giving.
She knew Kendra had to be suspicious that the Weird Sisters had
played a part in this tale, and that their part had been to
block her memories of this.
Azarel’s gaze went back and forth between them, his brow still
creased as he frowned in confusion at their reaction to his
statement, and then he nodded, “There was thick brush separating
them, so my father couldn’t see much, but he could tell that
what he was seeing wasn’t human. She had blue skin, and fiery
red hair, a gold crown like band above her eyes…” he fell silent
at Dominique’s sharply indrawn breath.
Dominique knew that the chances of two gargoyles that looked
alike, and wore the same type of gold band that she used to
cover her eye ridges and keep her hair out of her eyes, were
astronomical. The gargoyle that had saved Azarel’s parents had
been her, and she didn’t remember anything about it. Kendra’s
arm around her shoulders tightened for a few seconds in a one
armed hug. “Did the gargoyle that saved your parents ever give
them a name?” Kendra asked him.
“Demona,” Azarel responded to her, but his gaze was fixed on the
redheaded woman next to her.
Dominique closed her eyes, shutting him out for a few seconds
while she regained her composure. She was really getting tired
of finding new evidence of the Weird Sister’s interference in
her life. “Did you suspect Castaway’s accusations were true
when you accepted the contract to guard me?” she asked as she
opened her eyes and focused on him once again. Dominique was
careful about her phrasing, she wasn’t going to confirm or deny
her true identity to the human male sitting across from them in
her living room chair just yet.
“We suspected, but we weren’t entirely certain,” Azarel
confirmed quietly. “My father and mother said that you looked
and sounded just like her, except for the fact that you appeared
to be human during the day. Something they knew you hadn’t done
fifty years ago.”
The lengths he had taken to provide her security while short
staffed, even taking shifts himself, suddenly made more sense to
her. So did his agreeing to take on the contract the very night
Gregory had contacted him after the Quarrymen attack. “Was that
why the price you quoted me was so reasonable?”
“You saved my parents; you saved the other Jews and political
dissidents at the camp where they were prisoners of the Nazi’s,”
Dominique was taken aback by how intense Azarel had suddenly
become, his face, his tone, the very posture of his body and the
look in his eyes was passionately sincere. “You led my mother
and father out of hell itself, you protected them and cared for
them while leading them and the other freed prisoners to the
safety of the American lines. You are a hero to my family and
the others who survived because of you, if I didn’t have to pay
my employees salaries and insurance I would have charged you
nothing.”
Hero…Dominique stared at him in shocked disbelief. The
sincerity in his eyes left her with no doubt that he believed he
was telling her the truth. She was the one having problems
reconciling the gargoyle she knew she had been up until two
months ago with the gargoyle he was telling her she had been
fifty years ago. She remembered very clearly that she had hated
humans just as much then as before she met Kendra and learned
the truth of her past.
“I’m no hero,” Dominique denied, her voice taking on a ragged
edge as conflicting emotions swirled inside her.
“So you are Demona,” he ignored her denial in favor of the
unintended revelation her statement had betrayed.
She stared at him, trying to weigh the risks of admitting the
truth to him. “Your parent’s belief that I look like this
gargoyle aside, why are you so certain that I am?” She decided
to delay answering his question by asking one of her own.
He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. “I saw two
gargoyles leaving from the second story balcony of your home a
few nights ago,” he replied after a moment, “one of them looked
exactly like the gargoyle my parents described to me, and she
looked a lot like you.”
Kendra spoke up before Dominique could, “You were in the
backyard,” her comment was a statement not a question.
Azarel looked uncomfortable, “I or one of my brother’s are the
only ones that go back there at night to make sure everything’s
secure. It’s a big security gap.”
Dominique frowned, she had told him specifically not to patrol
in her yard especially at night. He had protested vigorously
for just this reason. It was a security gap, one that he and
his family had, against her direct orders, taken upon themselves
to secure to preserve her secret. She stared at him for a
moment longer before turning to look at her mate. Kendra met
her gaze and nodded. Dominique took in a breath and turned to
face Azarel once again, “I am Demona, but I have no memories of
your parent’s or anything you’ve talked about,” from the
surprised look on his face, that was obviously not the answer he
had expected. “Something happened to me that caused me to have
gaps in my memory,” she continued, being deliberately vague.
She didn’t want to get into explaining magic and the existence
of a powerful third race to this human.
He stared at her puzzled, “An injury?” he finally asked.
Dominique laughed bitterly, “You could say that.” As his eyes
widened at her tone, the redheaded woman cursed herself for
letting her anger get the better of her. Before he could ask
any of the questions she knew had just risen in his mind,
Dominique held up a forestalling hand. “I don’t want to talk
about what happened to me, I just…” she sighed, still irritated
with herself for her betraying flare of temper, “wanted you to
know that I do not remember saving your parent’s or anyone
else.”
Azarel settled back in his chair, his expression showing his
dismay as he contemplated what she had told him. Finally, his
eyes refocused on her, “There is no hope of you regaining your
memory?”
Dominique’s initial impulse was to reply with a definite no, but
then she hesitated, remembering how the Ancient One had
reconnected the pathways in her memories to allow her to recall
her memories of Luach. If the Weird Sisters had done the same
with her memories of Azarel’s parents’ as they had with her
memories of Macbeth’s son, and the memories were still present
in her mind only currently unreachable, then perhaps the great
stag spirit could help her as he had before. “I don’t know,
perhaps there may be a way,” she commented. “I’ll have to
consult with,” she hesitated for a moment, she could hardly say
Ancient One or spirit, “a friend of mine about the possibility.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kendra turn her head to
look at her, then the black haired woman nodded, “That is a good
thought, he might be able to help.”
“A doctor?” Azarel inquired with a quick glance back and forth
at the two of them.
Dominique smiled, “No, though he probably knows more about the
human body than most doctors.”
A puzzled expression flitted across the dark haired man’s face
before he nodded his acceptance of her words. His expression
shifted to one of unease and, as she stared at him curiously, he
shifted in his chair and then clasped his thick, square-palmed
hands together in front of him. Azarel cleared his throat,
“There is something else. My parents want to meet with you,
though none of us had anticipated…” his clasped hands opened,
gestured his lack of preparedness for her lost memory.
Dominique stared, uncertain how she felt about that, especially
as she couldn’t remember them. She offered quietly, “I’ll let
you know, I want to talk with the friend I mentioned first.”
Azarel nodded looking relieved, “I’ll let them know Ms. Destine,
just contact me when you wish to meet with them.”
The redhead hesitated for a moment before assuring him, “I
will.” Dominique wasn’t sure when that would be, but no matter
what the Ancient One’s answer she was feeling more and more
certain that she should meet these people. If the spirit
couldn’t help her regain her memories, then they could at least
fill in this piece of her past. She did want to know what had
happened, no matter how uncomfortable it made her to think that
she had done something like what he claimed and didn’t remember
it.
He straightened in his chair, “Well if there’s nothing else, I
should leave you to the rest of your evening.”
“Wait,” Kendra said before he could stand, “What happened after
your father noticed Demona watching them?”
Azarel’s gaze shifted from Dominique to the black haired woman,
“They stared at one another until one of the guards noticed that
he was not working and started yelling and prodding him with his
weapon, threatening to shot him right then,” he replied settling
back in his seat. “My father started digging again and didn’t
look back at where he had seen you, he didn’t want the Nazi
guards to notice you,” Azarel looked back over at Dominique.
His attention unsettled her; she still didn’t remember any of
this. “The guard kept harassing him, calling him names and
poking him with his weapon. Then you attacked from the trees,
the camp guards were caught by surprise. There were five of
them and you killed all of them in very little time, my father’s
very certain that it took you less than a minute.”
His description of the events still wasn’t evoking any memory of
what he was talking about at all, and every time he looked at
her and said ‘you’, Dominique felt more and more disconcerted.
At least the part where she killed all the guards sounded like
her.
“You took one of the weapons for yourself,” Azarel continued his
story, “and then told the other prisoner’s to arm themselves
with the guards’ weapons. After cutting the telephone lines out
of the camp so that they could not call for help, you took out
the guards in the two nearest guard towers and then you led my
father and the other freed prisoners’ in an attack on the
camp.” His dark eyes were fixed upon her unwaveringly, “There
were a perhaps forty French resistance prisoners in the camp who
took the opportunity to attack the guards as well. While they
and the prisoner’s outside kept the guards busy, you destroyed
the camp’s generator and then helped them kill the rest of the
camp guards.”
Dominique stared at him incredulously; his story sounded so
unbelievable to her that she was starting to think that this was
some type of twisted joke on his part, only the dark haired,
dark eyed human male appeared entirely serious. More
disconcerting was the awed, respectful look in his eyes as he
regarded her. She didn’t want to classify it as hero worship,
she didn’t want to even think that word, much less use it in
reference to past actions she couldn’t remember.
He took in a breath, released it in a loud exhale, his
expression hardening, “Almost a quarter of the prisoners died
during the attack, most of them from a few of the guards going
into the prisoner barracks and killing everyone they could,
probably thinking that an allied scouting patrol had found the
camp and was about to free it.” His expression softened, the
hero worship returning, wiping out the anger that had just been
there. “The survivors you lead across country to the American
lines. They were almost there when a Nazi patrol spotted them;
you told them to keep heading toward the Americans while you
lead the Nazi’s away.” Dominique thought he was done then but
after a moment he added, “That was the last time any one of them
saw you until Castaway’s accusation and my parents realized how
much you looked and sounded like the gargoyle that had saved
them.”
Her tone quiet and serious, Kendra inquired, “How many were
saved?”
“One hundred and ninety men and boys and sixty-two women and
girls,” he answered but his gaze was fixed upon the redheaded
woman sitting next to her.
That was almost two hundred and fifty humans, Dominique thought
to herself faintly. It was a much larger number than she had
imagined and more than a little overwhelming. She had dealt
with her past in part by putting it behind her, telling herself
that now that she was free of the Weird Sisters’ spells she
could begin again, recreate herself. There had been little,
besides her memories of Macbeth, Gruoch, Luach and Michael that
she really wanted to remember. Certainly, nothing worth
remembering in the past few hundred years since Michael’s
death…at least that was what she had believed before tonight and
Azarel’s tale.
Night - Destine Manor, Forest Hills Gardens, Long Island
“Don’t!” Dominique hadn’t meant to say it so loud or so
angrily, she just couldn’t take Kendra looking at her the same
way Azarel had looked at her. He had left only ten or fifteen
minutes ago, and she was still trying to sort out her emotional
reactions to his story. That she was finding it very difficult
to accept was the only thing about which she was certain.
The black haired woman’s face showed her surprise, hurt and
confusion, “Don’t what?”
Dominique clenched her fists, looking away from her mate’s
distressed expression, “Don’t look at me as if I’m something I’m
not,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I did that, but I hated
humans then just as much as I did before you met me. It makes
no sense,” she added talking more to herself now than to
Kendra. One would think one would at least know who you were,
good or bad, and why one would have done something whether or
not one remembered it or not…but that was the thing. She really
had no idea why she would have stopped to help Azarel’s father
or why she had cared enough to kill the Nazi’s threatening him
and the other sick prisoners. She certainly had no idea why she
had gone even farther and led the prisoners she had freed into a
successful attempt at freeing the entire camp and then guided
all those humans across France to the Americans.
“Oh, Demona,” Kendra’s voice was soft, gentle; the redhead
looked back at her. Confusion and hurt had been replaced by
sympathy and understanding. “I’m certain you had your reasons
for doing that and if you could remember you would understand
why you chose to help them.” Kendra reached out and placed her
hand on her shoulder and then the black haired woman took a step
forward pulling Dominique into her arms.
Her mate’s body was warm and solid, the arms wrapped around her
reassuring in their promise of love and support. “I’m sorry,”
disconcertingly the redhead’s voice wavered, she felt close to
tears, she wrapped her arms around Kendra and held on tightly.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Why she had snapped at the
one person she knew she could count on to be there for her,
Dominique didn’t know; she just knew that Kendra was also the
one person she didn’t want taken in by all this. She wasn’t a
hero.
Warm lips pressed against the skin of her temple, “Why is this
so hard for you to accept my love?” Kendra whispered. “You’ve
been so harsh on yourself because of what the Weird Sister’s
spells made you do and about your part the night Jon shot Jason
and went around the bend and then decided to stay there. I
would think that finding out you did something really good would
be welcome.” Dominique stiffened; her mate’s words were
entirely too close to what was bothering her. This was one time
she didn’t appreciate Kendra’s gift for discerning the truth of
her motivations. When the redhead didn’t reply, Kendra
continued quietly after a few seconds, “Or is that part of the
problem? You’ve grown so used to thinking that you only did bad
things before meeting the spirit and me that you can’t accept
that you might have done a few good things as well, and at least
one very good one.”
Dominique sighed, “I don’t feel like discussing this right now,”
she wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable and logical.
Kendra didn’t immediately reply, instead the arms around the
redhead tightened and another kiss was pressed against her
temple. Finally, her mate asked, “Did you want to go talk to
the Ancient One tonight?”
Dominique didn’t hesitate in replying, “Yes.” It was the one
thing she did know she wanted to do, and as soon as possible.
Kendra’s arms around her loosened, allowing her to pull back,
look up into her mate’s face. Kendra’s eyes were not their
usual sapphire color. Instead they were darker, taking on
almost a grey cast and clearly expressing the black haired
woman’s troubled concern. Dominique wanted to say something to
ease that expression, to lighten her mate’s eyes back to their
usual brilliant sapphire blue, but she wasn’t certain why she
was reacting this way, so how could she possibly explain it to
Kendra?
The sound of voices from downstairs was an almost welcome
distraction; Rachael and Robert were back from MacBeth’s. “I
don’t want to tell them, not until… not until I understand
why,” Dominique’s terse whisper held an undercurrent of pleading
and the redhead flushed in embarrassment as soon as she realized
it.
Kendra’s hands shifted from her back to cup her shoulders and
squeezed reassuringly as her mate responded softly, “Alright.”
The black haired woman leaned forward and brushed her lips
across her brow. “Why don’t you go to our room and speak to him
while I go down and make your excuses for going to bed early.”
Dominique leaned forward and nestled her head into the hollow of
Kendra’s shoulder, rested her hands on Kendra’s waist. “Thank
you,” she whispered as her mate’s arms wrapped around her once
again. One of Kendra’s hands slid up her back to her neck and
the redhead groaned in pleasure as strong fingers started
massaging the tense muscles there.
“Hey, that’s one of the benefits of being your mate; I get to
take care of you,” Kendra’s tone was light, even playful, but
underneath the playfulness Dominique heard her seriousness and
determination.
The redhead’s arms went around Kendra’s waist and back, and
squeezed her fiercely, eliciting a surprised sounding exhale of
breath. “I love you so much,” she declared, lifting her head to
stare into her love’s face.
The hand at the nape of her neck slid into her hair as Kendra’s
lips descended toward her own. “And I love you,” the black
haired woman paused long enough to respond, her blue eyes
staring intently into Dominique’s green ones, before completing
what she had begun. Dominique relaxed into the kiss, letting
Kendra’s hand cupping the back of her head, and the arm around
her back support part of her weight as she held onto the other
woman’s solidly muscled shoulders.
It was far too short a time when Kendra slowly pulled back and
broke the kiss. The black haired woman rested her forehead
against Dominique’s briefly before whispering, “I should go
downstairs.” With a resigned sigh Dominique nodded, she would
have rather the kiss continued, but Kendra was right.
“Chosen,” it didn’t come as a surprise to Demona that the great
stag was waiting patiently for her. Though having him in her
bedroom, even the shadowy spirit realm reflection of it, was
more than a little odd.
The fiery redheaded gargoyle looked up at where the tines of his
antlers disappeared into the ceiling, “Perhaps we should move to
the yard,” she offered, sliding off the bed and looking back
briefly at her resting body to make sure that all was well.
When she looked back, the Irish Elk sprit was already stepping
through the bedroom wall. Demona shook her head and followed
him. She stepped through the outer wall into thin air and then
willed herself to sink to the shadowy reflection of the ground
below, where the Ancient One was waiting for her.
She met his great dark eyes and moved closer, she wasn’t even
going to try and verbally explain why she had needed to talk to
him tonight. She rested her taloned hands on his muzzle and met
his gaze, falling into his eyes as she relived the night from
the moment when she had opened her door and saw Azarel standing
on her front porch. When she came back to herself, she got the
impression that for the first time she had managed to surprise
him.
The great stag stared at her for a moment before speaking, “If
the memories are still present I will need the help of the two
humans that you saved. Unlike your past with young Luach, I did
not witness any of these events. There is no way for me to find
them without their assistance.”
Demona had suspected as much, she just wasn’t sure how she was
going to manage it. With Macbeth, there had been the
enchantments that tied them together, but she had no tie with
these humans to bring them into the sprit realm. Which left
only one possibility, the same way she had first entered the
sprit realm, “How am I going to explain a sweat lodge and
drumming to them?” She asked, trying to think of how she might
possibly broach the subject to two elderly humans with likely no
knowledge or belief in shamanism.
The Ancient One lifted his head and a single ear flicked forward
and back once, “It will not be necessary for them to fully enter
the spirit realm, my chosen. They only need enter it partially,
as Macbeth did when he was shown your shared past.”
A wave of relief passed through the azure blue gargoyle. It
only lasted a moment though before she remembered a certain
lack, “But I have no magical link with them,” she commented with
a frown.
“I needed the magical link between you and Macbeth to bring him
partially into the spirit realm because there were no chosen
with him to assist his transition,” the great stag spirit
explained. “Such a link will not be needed for you to assist
the two humans when you are in the living realm with them,” the
Ancient One paused a brief moment as if to see if she had any
questions, but she had none yet. “I will teach you the
technique,” he continued, “but you will need another chosen to
assist you. I would suggest you ask the Wise One’s senior
chosen as she is particularly skilled in this.” Demona
grimaced, so much for keeping this from Rachael and Robert until
she knew more about what had actually happened.
The spirit’s next words came as a surprise to her, “It is much
more difficult for the fey to remove memories instead of
removing the pathways to them so they cannot be accessed.”
Demona looked up into his broad muzzled face, the dark brown
eyes that were focused upon her, “The Weird Sisters did not
remove your memories of Luach. I see no reason why these
memories would not still be present in your mind as well.” His
tone was both confident and reassuring, and Demona did believe
him. It didn’t make sense to her that they wouldn’t have
removed her memories of Luach, but removed her memories of this
more recent event.
“I’ll call Azarel tonight and set up the meeting with his
parents,” the fiery haired gargoyle stated. Demona wanted to
know the truth of what had happened; she had to find out why she
would have done such a thing.
Late Night - Destine Manor, Forest Hills Gardens, Long Island
“Kendra yes…,” Demona hissed in pleasure and entreaty, “Oh yes.”
Her outstretched arms trembled as they supported her weight and
her wings rested limply upon the burgundy throw that protected
the sheets of the bed. She arched her back and closed her eyes,
concentrating on the sensations her mate was creating within
her. Warm lips and tongue swirling around her wing joints, her
mate’s hands and fingers stroking her breasts and pulling gently
upon her nipples, Kendra’s warm body resting upon her back and
thrusting slowly against her tail; it was exactly what Demona
wanted, sensation…desire…want…need. She didn’t want to think
about anything other than how her mate was touching her,
arousing her.
“Please,” she bent her arms, lowering her upper body toward the
bed and drawing one leg up, opening herself, “I need to feel you
inside me.” She both heard and felt the rumbling growling purr
her mate made at hearing her plea, and then Kendra shifted, her
hands leaving their teasing of Demona’s firm breasts to rest on
the gargoyle’s shoulders. The next thing Demona felt was
arousal slick intimately soft flesh grinding and rubbing against
the base of her tail. “Uhh,” an incoherent sound of pleasure
escaped as she tilted her hips into the contact, a shiver
running through her at the evidence of how aroused her mate had
become simply by touching her.
The sensual contact didn’t last nearly long enough before Kendra
shifted again. Lips brushed between her wing joints, sending a
bolt of pleasure through her as the black haired woman slid
further down her body. A warm hand smoothed down her thigh to
her knee and then slowly slid back up her inner thigh toward her
sex. Demona sucked in a breath as it drew near its goal and
held it, waiting in aching desire for Kendra to touch her.
Slowly…much too slowly her love’s fingers slid closer. Her dark
red lips opened and the breath she had been holding in escaped
in a wordless cry as Kendra’s fingers slid full length into her.
“Is that what you wanted,” the black haired woman whispered as
her fingers withdrew and then thrust forward and twisted.
“Ah,” Demona moaned her pleasure and thrust back, grinding
herself hard against Kendra’s fingers inside of her. “Yes, but
I need more,” Dragon she needed so badly, her ache was an empty,
yearning presence coiling and twisting inside her that only her
mate could satisfy, “I want you to fill me completely.”
She heard Kendra’s sharply indrawn breath at her words; her
lover knew what she wanted, what she needed. “You want my hand
inside of you,” the black haired woman’s voice had dropped,
deepened.
“Yes,” Demona hissed, the need inside her coiling tighter at the
words.
She felt Kendra’s warm body press against her rear and lower
back, and then, exactly midway between her wings and the
sensitive spot on the upper side of her tail, teeth bit into the
muscle running alongside her spine with very deliberate
pressure. The bite sent bolts of pleasure racing both up and
down her spine into both her wings and her tail. At the same
time, Kendra’s fingers inside her thrust and twisted. The two
sensations wrenched a desperate cry out of her. Afterwards she
panted open mouthed, fighting for some control over her body so
that she at least did not literally shake with the desire she
was feeling. The exquisite pressure of Kendra’s teeth on her
eased, disappeared. A soft pressure and warmth ghosted over her
skin where teeth had just been. “You need to turn over,” Kendra
whispered and then pulled away from her, leaving the skin where
she had pressed feeling the coolness of the air in contrast to
the heat of her mate’s body.
Demona drew in a breath, and fought against whimpering in
disappointment when she felt the fingers inside her withdraw.
She knew Kendra was right, on her back would be so much better
for this, for her mate to fill her, her hand twisting and
thrusting inside her. The fiery haired gargoyle tucked in her
wings close against her, shifted to her side and then her back.
She watched as Kendra leaned over, pulled open the drawer of the
nightstand beside the bed and pulled out the bottle of their
favorite lubricant, perfectly smooth long lasting slickness and
a complete lack of taste. Her insides clenched in anticipation
and Demona spared a moment to acknowledge with amusement that
just the sight of it was arousing to her now. That she would be
somewhat of a connoisseur of the texture and taste of personal
lubricants was certainly nothing she could have guessed only a
few months ago, Demona wryly reflected.
Kendra turned around to face her, their eyes met and with an
anticipatory breath, the blue gargoyle spread her legs,
providing a space for her mate to kneel. Kendra’s eyes were so
intensely blue as she moved into place that Demona felt as if
she were gazing into the depths of the ocean when she looked
into them.
Tuesday, January 6th 1998
Late Morning – Nightstone Unlimited HQ in Manhattan
Dominique stared out the window. Nightstone’s building wasn’t
that tall compared to some of the other nearby buildings, but
she still had a decent view of the city. She had been starting
to think that things were slowing down, that the changes and
realizations were done, or at least going to come much slower
than they had been over the past month and a half. That she had
time to catch her breath and get used to how things were now--to
get used to how she was now.
Thank goodness things had been quiet and predictable since her
conversation with Angela. That had been nerve wracking when she
realized her daughter was finally asking what her relationship
with Kendra was and then it had gone much better than she had
ever hoped. Angela had accepted her, accepted her and Kendra’s
relationship and seemed to be happy for her.
Then there had been last night and Azarel, and tonight Elisha
and Ruth Mayer were coming over with him. Azarel had been
surprised when she called him; she suspected that he had barely
gotten home from talking with her when his phone rang. She
hadn’t said anything about the Ancient One, only that she had
contacted the one she had thought could help and he had agreed
to make the attempt. Dominique wasn’t certain yet how she would
explain things to them. She was hoping that they would accept a
simple explanation without wanting too many details. Dominique
suspected that was probably naive of her though, in her
experience things seldom worked out that simply or easily.
The redheaded woman drew in a deep breath, looking over at her
desk and the work that was waiting for her. She let the breath
out in an audible sigh; she still had quite a bit to do today if
she didn’t want to take her work home with her and Sharon wasn’t
ready to help yet. The younger woman was still taking reports
home every night trying to learn enough about Nightstone to
start taking on some of Dominique’s more routine work. The
Horse’s chosen was currently with Kendra and Robert in New
Jersey, meeting with the senior management of Alternate Energies
LLC and doing a walkthrough of their manufacturing floor. The
company was one of the three companies Kendra’s team had
identified as desirable acquisitions for Nightstone to expand
into the fuel cell manufacturing field. Alternate Energies LLC
had only been in existence for five years. They had an
impressive research and development team that had made some
intriguing theoretical advances in the field, but unfortunately
had not attracted enough interest in investments to leverage
their research into useful manufacturing advances.
It had been easy to get Robert permission to leave school early;
his engineering teacher had even given him the opportunity to
earn extra class credit by writing a report about his
experience. Robert had been very excited about the trip this
morning, and Dominique hoped he wasn’t finding the reality of it
too much of a letdown. If they had any sense at all Alternate
Energies would assign someone who was capable of talking up the
companies worth, while being careful not to reveal anything the
company didn’t want made public. Robert, Kendra and Sharon
doubtless wouldn’t be allowed to see anything particularly
interesting, at least not at this time.
Her desk phone rang, drawing her attention, turning away from
the window she crossed over to her desk. “Candice?” she
inquired, picking up the handset.
“Ms. Destine, there is a Mr. Jason Canmore here to see Ms.
Canmore,” her secretary stated, completely stunning her. “He
says he’s her cousin?”
The spirit’s visit…it had to be why he was here, Dominique
realized. “Did you inform him that Ms. Canmore is not
available?” she was impressed by how calm and steady her voice
sounded.
“Yes, Ms. Destine. He insists on waiting,” her eyebrows rose as
it finally dawned on her to wonder exactly why her secretary was
informing her of this. It wasn’t as if she would be interested
in whether or not any of her other employees had family members
visiting them. Of course, she also hadn’t ever been
romantically involved with anyone else in the company, Dominique
realized, and Kendra and she hadn’t been discrete at the company
Christmas Party at all. Everyone at Nightstone knew the two of
them were together by now, and evidently, her secretary had
decided that meant that she would be interested in Kendra’s
visitor.
Candice was right she was interested. “Ms. Canmore will be at
least another hour or two,” she paused to draw in a breath, not
certain at all if this was a good idea, “I’ll speak to him.”
“Yes Ms. Destine, should I send him in now?”
Dominique hesitated, “Give me five minutes, and then send him
in,” she responded after a moment. She needed some time to
decide what to say to him and to prepare herself for any
hostility on his part. After all, he had found out that she and
his family had both been pawns in the Weird Sister’s games only
a few days ago.
The redhead still wasn’t quite ready when Candice opened the
door to her office and stepped back so that Jason Canmore could
roll his wheelchair into her office. Dominique rose from her
chair and stared at the one Canmore that she hadn’t met during
her battles with the three siblings over a year ago. She could
see a family resemblance in the brown haired human male’s jaw
line, chin and nose, but his eyes weren’t nearly as blue as
Kendra’s and they definitely did not hold the warmth and love
that was always in her mate’s gaze when the black haired woman
regarded her.
They continued staring at each other silently, neither one
apparently willing to speak first…or not willing to speak in
front of a third party. With an effort, Dominique tore her gaze
away from Kendra’s cousin and looked instead at her secretary
who was standing in the still open doorway watching the two of
them with open curiosity. “Thank you Candice,” she said to the
woman firmly, “if you will close the door please.”
“Of course, Ms. Destine,” the woman hastily responded as she
took a step forward to grab the doorknob and pulled it shut
behind her.
Dominique saw Jason’s head twitch briefly toward the door at the
sound of it closing before he returned his full attention to
her. “I came here to talk to my cousin,” he finally spoke.
“Kendra won’t be back for another few hours. She’s touring a
manufacturing plant this afternoon,” Dominique responded,
pleased with how calm and in control her voice sounded. Inside
she certainly wasn’t feeling that way. She had killed this
human’s father, thrown Charles Canmore off the church roof to
land only feet away from his three children. It didn’t really
matter that the hunter had been trying to kill her at the time
and that she hadn’t known they were there, that wasn’t something
a child could forgive and forget. She met his blue eyes, “And I
believe I can answer the question you’re here to ask just as
well as she can.”
His entire body stiffened at her words and his eyes narrowed to
mere blue slits as he stared at her, “Demon,” he all but spat
out the word. Apparently he hadn’t quite believed she was
Demona until just now.
Dominique stared at him, her green eyes turning flinty in
anger. Once she had felt dark satisfaction whenever she heard
that name out of a hunter’s mouth, but no more. Finally she
snorted in bitter amusement, “Don’t you think a better name for
both of us would be fey pawns?” she questioned harshly. The
brief narrowing of his eyes, clenching of his square jaw and
thinning of his lips told her that she had hit her mark dead
center. “You know I’ve given up my own vengeance against your
family and humanity after finding out the Weird Sisters were
responsible for most of it,” she growled at him, “I thought you
had given up your own over a year ago.”
“You killed my father,” the brown haired man threw back at her.
There it was, the accusation she had been waiting for him to
make. “You threw him to his death in front of us and then you
laughed at us as you flew away.”
Regret flitted though her green eyes, “You may not believe me,
but I didn’t know that you were there. I never looked for
another hunter or anyone else after we began fighting and no
other hunter joined him in his attack.”
Jason stared at her, confusion showing briefly in his expression
before it hardened once again. “No I don’t believe you,” he
stated, his tone hard and unforgiving. “Your laugh was
gloating, triumphant. You were laughing over having killed him
in front of us.”
“No I wasn’t,” she met his angry gaze squarely. “I was laughing
because I found what I had come there to find, the praying
gargoyle. I was laughing because with it I only needed one more
thing to complete my vengeance on humanity for what they had
done to my race.”
Jason frowned in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened
in recognition, “The statue that Goliath smashed.”
“Yes,” she confirmed, “the one that was supposed to protect my
race from the plague I planned on releasing.” She grimaced,
reminded once again of the Weird Sisters interference in her
life and the fact that the plague had been hardly the threat she
had thought it was at the time. Her eyes went to the wheelchair
Jason was sitting in, a stark reminder of the fallout of that
drama. Just because the plague hadn’t been the threat she had
fooled herself into believing it was, didn’t mean that it hadn’t
had its victims.
Her eyes rose from the wheelchair to Jason’s face once again.
He was giving her a very strange look, his dark brows creased in
a frown above his blue eyes. “So what the spirit said was true,
you’ve turned away from your murderous ways,” his words were
colored with a hint of Scottish brogue and, despite the fact
that what he said had been phrased as a factual statement,
disbelief.
Dominique stiffened, both in indignation at his words and at the
implication of dishonesty on the Ancient One’s part, for she
knew it had been he who spoke to the eldest Canmore sibling.
“The spirit isn’t one to lie,” she stated quite sternly. Her
voice took on an angry edge, “and I was hardly alone in my
murderous ways.”
Jason’s expression shifted from startlement at her first
statement to scowling anger at the second, yet she noticed that
he didn’t immediately leap to his families’ defense. Dominique
took in a slow breath to calm herself and stepped around her
desk to stand in front of him. “I did not know that you were
there,” she emphatically repeated her statement.
Jason stared hard at her, the scowl on his face not easing in
the slightest for what seemed like forever. Finally, finally
there was a hint of doubt in his eyes, a slight diminishing of
the anger so visible in his expression. Abruptly he reached
down to the wheels of his chair and pushed one wheel one way and
the other the other way, spinning the wheelchair in place forty
five degrees, startling her. Dominique watched him
questioningly as he rolled the chair toward the couch with its
bracketing Dracaena Michiko plants on either side. He reached
out and touched one of the long dark green leaves and then
glanced over at the plants by the office window. “These are
real,” he commented after a moment.
Apparently he didn’t want to discuss his father’s death any
further. Well that was fine with her; she hadn’t really wanted
to discuss it in the first place. “Yes,” she confirmed, “I like
living plants rather than silk one’s, it’s healthier for the
office environment.” After she finished she waited with wary
curiosity to see what Jason would do next. Jason glanced her
way and from his expression she could tell that she had
surprised him with her last comment.
“Hmm,” was the only verbal response he made for several
seconds. When he did speak again, his next comment came as a
complete surprise to her, “You sound like you know the spirit
very well.”
It took Dominique a few seconds to gather her thoughts enough to
reply. “The spirit that spoke to you was the one that lifted
the Weird Sister’s spells from me. I owe him more than I can
ever hope to repay him for his kindness to me.” The redhead
didn’t realize how her expression and tone were so accurately
conveying her feelings.
Jason stared at her, his expression completely bemused. He
swung his wheelchair around to face her, “You really mean that,”
he finally stated in a quiet, thoughtful tone.
Dominique felt her cheeks heat in blush, but she forced herself
to continue meeting his gaze. “I do.” It took only a little
bit of willpower before she felt the blush fade, it would hardly
do for him to think he could so easily fluster her.
His blue eyes fell away from hers as his shoulders slumped, “So
it’s true, they did that to us. They put a spell on us to make
us hunt you.” He didn’t sound as if he wanted to believe it and
she didn’t blame him. She only too clearly remembered how she
had felt when she first learned that all that she had suffered
over the past thousand years had been because of the Archmage
wanting vengeance on her for betraying him. The pain the
knowledge had brought her…she was so very thankful that Kendra,
the Ancient One and the Wise One had been there for her, freely
offering their support and encouragement.
Jason wasn’t looking at her; she didn’t think he was really
focusing on anything except perhaps his own thoughts. The
expression on his face was a mixture of anger, hurt and
confusion, and Dominique felt a strong flash of empathy for him.
“It wasn’t your fault. It was theirs,” she said, her tone
forceful enough that the dark haired male in the wheelchair gave
her a shocked look. She crossed the distance between them to
stand in front of him, “They’re the ones who cared so little
about mortals that the spell they put on your family was so
unspecific that any gargoyle would trigger it instead of just
me.” Jason was still staring at her, looking stunned so she
continued, “Canmore would have never been so intent on there
being a hunter after he defeated Macbeth and destroyed my clan
if it hadn’t been for them. The hunt would have ended there,”
she paused at that, wondering if that would really have been the
truth and decided to add, “or at least your family wouldn’t have
been so driven to hunt us.”
“And my father would still be alive,” Jason responded a second
or two after she fell silent.
Dominique solemnly nodded, “If it weren’t for the spell, I can’t
but believe that your family would have given up the hunt
sometime in the past thousand years.” She was relieved that he
seemed to be willing to partially forgive her, or at least put
half of the blame for his father’s death on the Weird Sisters.
She didn’t want to be at odds with the three Canmore siblings,
they were Kendra’s clan no matter what her mate claimed, and now
in a way they were her clan as well.
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