It promised to be a night like any other for the gargoyle leader, apart from the briefing with Rody Daniels. Ever since the Manhattan clan began its official cooperation with the NYPD, his visits to the headquarters have become regular, if not frequent.

Detective Daniels, a brusque, broad-shouldered black man, was taller and wider than anyone in the department under his headship, but still he was a stripling compared to Goliath. He got up from his chair and shook hands with the gargoyle chieftain, then motioned Goliath to sit down, which he did gingerly, for the rickety office chairs were not made to support weight such as his.

"I suppose you will want to hear what we've been up to in the past month," said Goliath, but Rody, to his surprise, shook his head.

"Tonight we have a heavier chunk on our plate," he said, "in fact, we are working in cooperation with the Interpol."

"I'm afraid I am uninformed," said Goliath.

"Of course you are. I knew nothing myself until this morning. It appears that what we have on our hands is a route of world-wide illegal weapon trade, its source being Russia, from where the smuggling goes on via several borders, and one of the final targets, it appears, is here in Manhattan."

"Anyone we know involved?" asked the Leader.

"Actually, yes," said Daniels, extracting a photograph from a thick file on his table, "I personally have not come across this one in the time I've been head of department, but Elisa already told me about him today, and appeared most concerned about his resurfacing. He was believed to be dead, I understood. You have not talked with Elisa yet, have you?"

"No," said Goliath, "I came straight here after we woke."

"He looks…" Daniels shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "just – well, just like you."

"That would be because he is my clone," Goliath explained wearily.

"Your… clone?" Daniels looked stunned. "Elisa had not mentioned this. I believe the very act of creating him was illegal."

"I assure you my permission was not obtained."

"No, I should think not. So you are not surprise to hear that he is dabbling at illegal weapons?"

"Not in the slightest."

"There is someone else," said Daniels, pulling out a second photograph, "someone in the area who might be working with him, but we cannot be sure about her yet."

Goliath looked at the photograph. Well, he shouldn't be surprised about this either, he told himself as he observed the image of a certain azure, red-haired, slender gargoyle female.

"Do you know her as well?" prompted Rody when the silence lingered.

"We've met," replied Goliath, keeping his voice expressionless and his face blank. Just how well he knew her was completely irrelevant to the present case, and there would be no need to mention it.

"So, I thought you and your clan would be fittest to deal with those two. Elisa was actually a big enthusiast of the idea, you'll go over the details with her later. I mean, since you are of the same race, it will give you certain advantages. You can move in ways no human can, which can potentially be of tremendous value in tracking them… but of course," Rody noticed the uncertain expression on Goliath's face, "if you think you are not quite up to it, I…"

Not quite up to it. Well, that's one way to put this. Heaven knows it is better if I never see her again. But certain accounts were still kept open. Whether he felt angry or resigned, this was naught to the matter in question.

"Of course we'll do it," Goliath said abruptly.

… To start with, he discussed this only with his elderly mentor and his Second – the two who were already home when he returned. Their reaction was hardly unpredictable.

"Bloody hell," said Brooklyn. "So much for hoping Demona and Thailog are out of the picture. Illegal weapons… bloody buggering hell, can you imagine what a disaster – "

"Watch your mouth, lad," Hudson said sternly, "there was a breach between her and Thailog. Could it be she is working with him again?"

"If she is, she has learned nothing," Goliath replied darkly.

"And that shouldn't surprise us one bit, because she never learns anything," added Brooklyn, "I will step out, alright? Broadway, Lex and Angela should be back any moment, I'll tell them to go see you the moment they are here."

Goliath was left alone with his mentor, and by Hudson's unmoving silence, he knew the Elder was deep in thought.

"Do you disapprove of us being a part of this investigation?" asked Goliath.

"I am not sure," Hudson replied, "but Angela, she won't look kindly on us crossing paths with her mother in such a manner again."

"My daughter knows her duty."

"Certainly," sighed Hudson. "Lad, you are all grown now, and as great a leader as this clan ever had, but I remember you as an egg. Her as well. It saddens me that a child of Wyvern should become an enemy and an outcast."

"That was her choice," Goliath said in the same blank, flat voice he used earlier.

"Perhaps if she was made to see the error of her ways…"

"I have tried to make her see the error of her ways more times than I care to count," said Goliath, and it was clear from his expression that as far as he was concerned, this discussion was at an end.

"So you would have us go through with this."

"They must be stopped."

Hudson fixed him with a beady stare. "You appear to be taking this to heart."

"It is a matter of grave importance."

"Because of Thailog?" asked the Elder. "Because of her? Or because of him and her, joining together?"

"I don't care three straws…" Goliath's teeth were clenched so hard it was a wonder his jaw didn't snap.

"Of course you don't," nodded Hudson sadly, "I am getting too old, and my tongue is growing far too loose. I shouldn't have…"

"No matter," Goliath said stiffly.

… He didn't think it prudent to continue lingering on this, and went to the library to pick up a book or a scroll and take his mind off certain things, but it was too late. The seed of a thought was planted, and unbidden, unwelcome, scenes of the past flooded him, overpowering his resistance.

It was a night when he was paired for patrol with the graceful blue-skinned lass who had by then already enchanted his soul. All his life he had known her, so there was no pinpointing the moment when he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. All he knew was that, although no word of understanding has yet passed between them, he felt that his whole future happiness, his life, his very being, depended on her.

They came across two men who were in all likelihood Viking scouts – the Scottish shores teemed with Viking longships in those turbulent years. It was her stealth that allowed them to surprise the invaders, but he fought them almost single-handedly, and was about to corner them, bind their hands with a length of spare rope and lead them back to the castle when he heard the unmistakable, deadly strum of an arrow. The moonlight wasn't very bright, but some men had night vision that wasn't bad at all, and they were often picked for archers. It was for his rookery sister that the arrow was meant, but he leapt forward with a roar of rage, and the arrow merely grazed his arm.

He stumbled and fell, and in the commotion, the raiders managed to scarper.

"Fljótt!" He heard from a distance. He didn't understand the word, but that was Norse, and there was no mistaking the tone of urgency. "það gæti veriðmeira af þeim!"

She helped him to his feet. That embarrassed him. It would have been more impressive if he was in a position to lift her in his arms and carry her to safety…

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"A scratch." A painful scratch, but that was nothing. Luckily, the Vikings were not in habit of using poisoned arrows like certain Scottish clans.

"You fought very bravely," she said, evidently aware of how he felt about the outcome of the encounter. "You sent them running, and that arrow… you shielded me."

"I am Second," he said, "a time will come when I lead this clan. It is my duty to protect you."

She laughed softly, not unkindly. "You are being modest, brother."

"No," he stopped abruptly on the path back to the castle.

"What?" she didn't understand.

"I…" he struggled for breath and for words, "I would not have you call me brother – not anymore – you –"

They stood face-to-face on the narrow path, and he took hold of one of her hands and placed it on his bare chest, over his forcefully, loudly beating heart. "Have not you seen?" he asked, an almost desperate edge to his voice.

"I have seen a great many things lately," she said with a sly smile, "such as your outline behind those bushes by the forest stream where I come to bathe."

If he could blush, he would have, but he could not; his color darkened, though, and the heat coming from his face was almost palpable. A sudden thought fed his courage. "You… you still came," he said, "you came and lingered, even though you knew I was there…"

"No," she whispered, "no, because I knew you were there."

All of a sudden, the world was spinning around him, and she was looking at him in a way he had scarcely dared to dream of. Her hand rose to touch his face, and came away sticky with blood.

"Your head!" she exclaimed. "Was there another arrow?"

"No, that was when I fell," he said, gingerly feeling his brow. The injury went hardly noticed until now. The gash didn't appear to be deep, yet quite a lot of blood was streaming from beneath his thicket of black hair and down his left cheek.

"We should still patch you up, at least until one of the healers can tend to you. You can't walk all the way back like this, and I don't want to risk gliding and becoming a target for more Viking arrows."

Without hesitation, she slipped out of her halter top, tore it into a long wide strap, and tied it around his brow with deft hands. He went, if possibly, even a deeper shade of purple.

"Your – your clothing… you shouldn't have…"

"No matter," she said lightly, "we'll go back to the castle, and I can cover myself up with my wings until one of my sisters lends me some spare garb."

She was in no hurry to cover herself up, though. She stood in front of him, almost unearthly in her beauty, and her eyes were like pools of liquid coal in the faint silvery glow of the crescent moon.

"Too shy to look when I know you're looking?" she teased. And then, almost without being aware of what he was doing, he took a step forward, and her smile disappeared, and the look on her face was solemn and earnest. Then, just like that, she was in his arms, and her lips were touching his, and all was sweet confusion.

Kissing was a human custom, but he was not at all slow to take to it, and her tongue was hot and moist as it slid between his lips to taste his mouth. His arms enveloped her, hers clung to him, and when his mouth became familiar she moved hers down to nibble at his ear and his neck, which sent a delightful shiver through him. They were both very young, both on fire, and every touch was an explosion of discovery.

"My brother," she panted, and the way she said it now, he didn't mind it so much anymore, "my sweet brother, you have seen all of me, but some things you failed to notice for too long."

She guided his hands to her breasts, and he felt her nipples stiffen the moment his fingers brushed across them. Her hand, meanwhile, found its way underneath his loincloth. Her touch, like his, was inexperienced and clumsy, yet its effect on him was immediate. It was a wonder he had found enough presence of mind to catch her wrist.

"Wait," he exhaled. She shot him a puzzled glance.

"Wait? What for? We nearly died tonight, unaware of what could have been. Death might be lurking close even now, and we need to seize the moment."

"Not… not like this," he said firmly but tenderly, "I… you are all I want in this world, but matches must be approved by the Leader. I am his Second, I cannot…"

"Surely you don't need anyone's approval to make me yours and give yourself to me?"

There was her brave, reckless spirit which he admired, sprinkled with arrogance and disdain for the law. Back then, he was not yet aware of how this combination might turn out lethal.

"I will speak to the Leader," he said, "This very night, if he will find time to hear me. I am sure he will approve, though perhaps he will say we are too young."

"I am not too young to know my own heart," she said in a quivering voice, her chest heaving with emotion.

He gathered her hands in his and squeezed them. "Will you take me, then? Will you take me for yours, and be mine, for now and all time?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes shining. "Yes and yes and yes."

No, Goliath told himself fiercely. No and no, he will not think about it any longer. The only thing that matters now is that he is going to find her and stop whatever she and Thailog may be up to. He will make her sorely regret ever associating with the likes of Thailog; for good and all, he will make her see that he was right and she was wrong all along. Once and for all, he will do justice.