He turned to Owen, "How do we get the scythe from Lester?"

            "Prying it from his cold dead fingers, I would guess."

Xanatos was about to debate that point when he saw the shadow of a man passed in front of them. Employer and employee exchanged glances and immediately went after it.

*                              *                               *

Brooklyn didn't know when the fight had finished and the mud wrestling had begun. With a broken beak, aching knees, swollen wings and his whole body begging to faint, he was fighting a creature without any sense of reason.

            "Goliath!" Brooklyn was pleading, "It's me!"

            "I know it's you!" Goliath sneered sarcastically, "Stand still and let me kill you!"

Back in the courtyard, the fight was still on. Messy, confusing, clear like the mud they were drenched in, fighting the bad copy of their beloved dead leader.

Brooklyn knew in his heart of hearts that it wasn't really Goliath, but he had to try, had to have the truth shoved into his face, because fighting him was so absurd, so wrong for Brooklyn.

It wasn't until he grabbed Angela by an arm that Brooklyn realized it was hopeless. "Father, please!" The creature didn't blink before he snapped her arm in two and Angela let out a scream that rose up to the heavens, made the earth tremble and broke Broadway's heart in two.

            "Angela!" Lexington gasped, but Broadway was already by her side.

            "Get her out!" Brooklyn snapped, "Hudson, get them both out!"

Without questioning him, Hudson immediately left with Angela and stopped Broadway from going after Goliath. "Not worth it, lad! Help your mate first!" Grumbling, Broadway obeyed.

It soon became fairly obvious that this Goliath was merely Lester's puppet and that his cards somehow served as strings. If anything, he was less like Goliath and more like Thailog. But there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment.

It was so that the gargoyles were down to two. Lexington, none worse to wear, and Brooklyn, who was pretty messed up. He was wondering if Xanatos and Owen would dignify themselves into lending a hand. He shot them a look, but they were already gone. And so was Lester, for that matter. Sneaked out, most likely. At least those two were making themselves useful.

"Honestly," the false Goliath was saying as he was wiping his brow, as the three gargoyles circled each other like hawks, "What was I thinking when I left you in charge, Brooklyn? I bet you let Lexington download all the porn he can get."

Lexington's eyes flashed white, but he didn't attack. "We don't have to listen to you, you're not Goliath! And Brooklyn happens to be a great leader!"

"But he'll never be Goliath either, will he?" the fake one told Lexington, though his eyes were set on Brooklyn as he spoke, "You know I'm right, young one… pity you had to hear it from this mouth. Pity it had to be this body and this face who spelled it out for you… let us go, Brooklyn, or die trying! There is nothing for you here! Let the halfling do his task or I'll be forced to kill you!"

"No deal, demon!" Brooklyn spat back, "The humans are out there looking for your master and when they get him, he will die!"

The false gargoyle let out a laugh, "You idiot! The ones of my sort do not die! Even Lester Kramer himself is a pretense, something that has been many things since time began to matter in this universe."

"What sort of things do you mean!?" Brooklyn cried. "What are you!?"

"Nay but a servant of the creature that is my general. He still sleeps, but he will wake soon. For now, Lester Kramer is my captain, and I do what he says. Walk away, Brooklyn, he says, for the odds are against you. It's very likely the judge will rule against you, he says, so you must stop him from even starting the trial."

"Forget it!" Brooklyn yelled back, "Tell your 'captain' he's proven himself evil and corrupted, and that I'd rather take my chances with his wicked judge than hear his counsel!"

The false Goliath growled. "So you have chosen death, I see! Then there's nothing stopping me from ending your life right now!" he sneered, and decided to attack him.

Having caught his second wind, Goliath's mighty fist the size of a football finally landed on Brooklyn's face, the fist he had managed to avoid all night because of its power, because it had been infused with all the swing its owner could muster.

Brooklyn couldn't help it. He saw a white wall and went down and the world began to dance wildly all around him.

Lexington had leaped to his defense, but Brooklyn saw none of it.

His mind was knocked back into those misty hills of his past, back in Scotland, when everything was so simple and Goliath was his big brother and Demona his big sister and he knew nothing about cities or cell phones or magic, just hills and castles and night and stars.

Goliath, helping him tame a horse. Goliath, teaching him to glide. Goliath, sending them to the rookery, while the rest of his kind died.

Brooklyn blinked and unwrapped himself from the tangles of nostalgia. And he saw Goliath with his hands around Lexington's neck.

"Three down, two to go!" the false Goliath was screaming, as he tightened his grip on Lexington's sleek green neck and he began to choke. The young gargoyle couldn't possibly get away from someone ten times his size.

For a moment, Brooklyn froze. He looked at them and for a moment, he forgot what he was going to do. He stared at the two of them like it was a tableau of emotion frozen in amber, knowing that this was a sight he could never see again, if there was justice in the universe.

Goliath, dead in the hands of that blue king. Goliath, why the hell did you have to be a hero? Goliath, in the pyre of his remembrance ceremony. Goliath, who is dead, and this travesty taking his place.

Brooklyn leapt to his feet.

PART FOUR

The only things he knew about magicians came from the mass media. If Dennis had his comic book lore right, the sorcerer was probably trying to take over the world or something. And according to the numerous fantasy games he'd played in his youth, hand-to-hand combat was probably a bad idea. The huge magic staff wasn't a good sign either. Other than that, he didn't know much.

Guided only by the words of the beautiful lady, Dennis took upon himself the quixotic quest of stealing the magical staff of a sorcerer that had been wiping the floor with a clan of gargoyles a few moments before.

He wasn't sure why he believed in the lady to begin with. The only reason why he stayed was because he had promised himself to get to the bottom of this; because he had no choice if he wanted his life back. He was determined enough about it that he was willing to risk going against the guy in the courtyard, who performed all sorts of deadly pyrotechnics against the poor gargoyle clan. It never stopped being absurd, however. Ten years of med school and here I am, fighting demons. Under other circumstances, it would be hilarious.

He needed help and he knew nobody was available. He settled with looking for weapons, something for defense. With that in mind, he sat in the stairway and searched through his bags. There had to be some easy way to get that staff without much hassle.

The only useful thing he could find was the stun gun he had wisely brought in case of trouble. But the stun gun alone wouldn't do. He was forced to use more mundane ways to deal with the mad magician. In the nearest maintenance room, the only thing that sparked an idea was a box of matches and a can of air freshener. At least he had the element of surprise on his side; nobody knew he was here. It would be a matter of using it for his advantage—

He's coming

Even though he didn't know it and couldn't possibly notice, and even though he didn't posses any kind of super hearing or special sight, he knew that somebody was coming this way.

It wasn't a divine revelation. It was like remembering an insignificant fact or trivia, like remembering what he had for lunch, especially as if it had been a particularly unusual lunch in a place he hadn't visited in a long while, that it had stuck in his memory longer than usual, and had been triggered by something as intangible as a feeling.

It was a sentiment that was absurd for its sheer simplicity. He had always known he was here. Only now he remembered that he had always known. And it stirred nothing but a small tingle of morbid curiosity, as if it was just a very interesting trinket with lots of movable parts that belonged as an oddity on his desk.

Odd, was the only thing he could think, How very odd…

He placed the air freshener and the matches back in the closet. He put the stun gun back in his pocket. Ten years of medical school and science were gone down the drain. Screw weapons and defenses, because he wasn't going to get hurt.

He liked feeling like this, even though he was aware that Dennis Anderson wasn't supposed to know this.

But it didn't mind.

*                               *                                 *

It hadn't been as difficult as Lester expected. While the gargoyles were tearing each other apart, he took the opportunity to gracefully make his escape. Not so graceful, the scythe was incredibly heavy and bulky and very eye-catching to say the least. Not every day you see a guy run around with the Grim Reaper's favorite weapon.

Okay, so his plans had gone down the tube. There was still the matter of dealing with the key. He didn't care who the snotty fey thought he was, he was pretty damn sure Oberon's black sheep was the one he looked for. Really, who else could it possibly be?