Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something tore at Nick's mind, at his bond; at fragile threads he hadn't realized existed. A fiery rope yanked at him, wrenching like lava chains. A pull that howled, and hated, and twisted-

No!

Battle-rage flooded his veins; Godzilla, seizing what the lizard would never yield. Nick gripped him just as fiercely, the one stability in a world shattering like glass.

Mine!

Scales diving for the ocean floor; a human hand clenched on Mendel's labcoat collar. They were together, and they would not yield.

Flames roared through his mind, howling in thwarted rage. But frail threads still writhed in a fiery grip, fraying-

Mine! Nick snarled, laying hold of the intangible feel of his team. There was Mendel, all fearful determination. Randy, ever-amazed - and finally horror-struck, realizing just what they fled. Monique, strong and dangerous as an ancient katana. Elsie; bright, joyous Elsie-

Nick yanked, countering the tug of violet flame. Spent strength recklessly, stretched thin and frail as cobwebs in a forge. Old, old, this fire; ancient and pitiless as the Sphinx's gaze. What it took, it meant to hold. Eternally...

Mine. They're mine. You can't have them!

The alien power ebbed, setting the hold ablaze with indigo sparks.

Literally ablaze, Nick realized, scenting smoke. Struggling to lift a hand toward the fire extinguisher, before exhaustion slammed him into darkness. Something felt... wrong.

But his team was alive.

It was enough.

"So we believe the cup could actually be of ceasg origin, created to allow the Scottish salmon-mers to freely interbreed with humans," Egon summed up. "Many creatures find such objects valuable, but given that they must be shaped from cold iron, they cannot be created by the vast majority of supernatural entities. Sea-folk have less of an adverse reaction to iron than most, though they aren't as tolerant as the swanmays-" Egon stopped mid-lecture. "This is bad."

"This is the Turnpike, Egon. It's always bad." Peter craned his head toward the front of Ecto-1, where the physicist was poring over a wildly bleeping PKE meter. "What's up?"

"Holy cow!" Ray breathed.

Winston yanked Ecto off onto the shoulder, narrowly avoiding a jack-knifing tractor-trailer. A state trooper careened off a grass-green sedan, sparks flying from tangled bumpers. All around them traffic from Jersey to the Big Apple screeched to a halt, drivers staring at the violet light blasting into the sky.

Peter swallowed. "Containment breach?" The roaring light had been white last time, but those darting golden spheres looked all too familiar.

"No." Egon looked grim.

Violet flames rolled over skyscrapers like a wave, pushing silver mist before them. Brick and steel cascaded to the streets, dust visible even from this distance.

Then silver fog swirled into a dome, and New York was gone.

"No evidence of a dimensonal rift." Egon lowered his meter. "The city is still in this plane of existence." A brow lifted. "Though in what condition, I would hesitate to speculate."

"Spengs, you never hesitate to speculate." But Peter's heart wasn't in it. Winston had thumbed on the radio almost as soon as they'd pulled over, trying to contact Janine. Getting nothing but static.

Elisa coughed, waving away fumes as Angela sprayed foam over flames. A cabinet handle dug into her side, someone's talons clutched her ankle; a massive tangle of nine humans and gargoyles created when the side of the H.E.A.T. Seeker suddenly became the floor. "Matt?"

A groan. "Drifting?"

"Looks like." Odd; it didn't seem nearly as dark in here as it should be. There was a strange stifling quality to the air. Under her hand the hull creaked and grumbled, yet the ship was oddly still. As if the harbor waves had suddenly vanished. "Anyone know if we're taking on water?"

"I'm not sure." A ruby-eyed rustle in the dark; Angela. "I found Randy, but he won't wake up."

"Same here, partner." Matt winced. "Mendel's out like a light." He felt along the labcoat collar. "Hey - Nick's here too. He's not - no, he's breathing. Barely."

"We've got to get out of here." Elisa stepped and slid over tangled forms. "Whoa!"

"Partner?"

"I'm okay." Elisa righted herself. "Got ambushed by your trenchcoat."

"I think I've found Monique," Angela's voice echoed off metal. "Which means the door ought to be right-"

"Angela, wait!" Elisa held up a hand. "Listen."

The hull creaked and bobbed, setting her inner ear on edge. Now the boat rocked, rough and quick in waves' violent rhythm. Matt shivered. "We were underwater?"

"No leaks." Angela ran a hand along the door's edge. "I like this ship."

"We can't stay here." Matt hefted Nick's limp form. "He needs a hospital."

"Guess we'll just have to be ready to abandon ship." Elisa nodded toward Angela. "Go for it." Steel clanked, racheting open.

Rivulets of seawater spattered through the hatch. But no more. They weren't entirely on their side, Elisa saw. The boat was listing about forty-five degrees, leaning against a massive, scaled forearm. A puff of fishy wind whispered down the stairs; a slow, shallow breath, compared to those she'd last seen from Godzilla.

Godzilla took us under? She shook her head. It didn't make sense. All the news reports claimed the massive mutant fought threats to his territory. What did he care what happened to one boat?

Lights sputtered back on, leaving them blinking. "Whoa," Matt breathed.

"Elisa?" Angela's eyes were wide. "It was a spell!"

Periwinkle blue, was Elisa's first thought. Who is she, and how'd she get in here? came hard on its heels. For it was another gargoyle's hand in her gaze, slim and feminine and strong enough to tear through steel.

A gargoyle's hand... that moved when she flexed her fingers.

No. Panicked, the detective stepped back; only now realizing she stood on three strong talons. Feeling the soft sweep of air over midnight-blue membranes, as wings instinctively wrapped close.

"Obsidiana," Angela breathed. "Elisa, you look like-"

"This can't be happening." The detective touched a distinctive crest she'd last seen in Guatemala; paired horns, bisected by a ridge of three bony knobs. She couldn't be a gargoyle. Not again...

"But you look like you, too." Angela reached out a tentative hand, gripped her wing-cloaked shoulder as if afraid she'd disappear. "I saw Delilah, but I didn't realize you were beautiful..."

Like father, like daughter, Elisa thought wryly, throttling panic before it could overwhelm her. More colors were evident as she glanced around the hold; wings that hadn't been there minutes ago. Matt-

Human, Elisa realized as Angela rushed to her partner's side. But... wings?

Matt paled as he backed up, brick-red wings spread behind him. "Elisa? What-" Red membranes shifted, and Matt froze. "Oh no. Ohhh, no-"

"We've got to check the others." Elisa laid a talon against Randy's neck, feeling the steady pulse as the hacker coughed his way back to the land of the conscious. Completely human, down to the last dangling dreadlock. As was the rest of H.E.A.T. How?

"Told you not to drop the potassium iodide-" Mendel blinked. Stared. "What happened?"

"Tell me, and we'll both know," Matt quipped. He ran an appraising glance over his partner. "Good thing the Trio's out of town."

"Oh no," Mendel whispered, stepping toward them. Only slipping a little, as he negotiated the slanted deck. "Oh, no. Nick!" He rushed to the biologist, feeling the slow pulse. Swallowed. "We've got to get him outside."

First-aid kit. Elisa tore it from the wall, clawed her way up tilted stairs behind them. Stopped for a long moment, seeing the rubble-filled gaps in the New York skyline. Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn - everywhere she turned, buildings had crumbled. As if some gigantic hand had plucked skyscrapers at random, crushing them in a steely grip. "Dr. Craven, we have to get him to a hospital." Assuming there were any still in one piece.

The roboticist took bright Mylar from the kit, wrapped it around Tatopoulos' shoulders. "I... don't think they could help." He touched emerald-gray scales, wary as a cat on a hot stove. "Put him here."

Elisa gazed over the harbor, where broken vessels bobbed like abandoned toys. One was aflame; she could see the white spray of a fireboat. Matt whistled, gripping the rail. "Somebody lose a few bombs we didn't know about?"

"Trust me, it wasn't a nuke." Elsie's voice was grim behind them. "We wouldn't be here if it was." She laid her hand against the pale, still cheek, wrapped the blanket closer. "Don't do this to me. Nick," she whispered. "Not again."

"Not again?" Maza shivered. "What did he do?"

The ship lurched, sliding off shifting scales. Fingers and talons grabbed for a steel railing, held tight to wet metal. An amber eye blinked. Water ran from the H.E.A.T. Seeker's helmroom, sheeting over the deck as massive nostrils drew in a gale of breath.

Blinking slow, Godzilla righted himself in roiled water. His head ached. A lot.

And there was an ominous quiet from his parent.

He bent to his parent's ship, sniffing the still form in the redheaded female's arms. No scent of blood. No echoed pain, as he would feel if his parent were injured. But where warmth should have been... it hurt.

Rumbling gently, he nudged Nick. Licked the still face.

Echo of comfort. A sense of a tight knot uncoiling. Fear radiated; fear for himself, fear for his parent's allies. Utter exhaustion.

The hot scent of his parent's weapon, battling strangeness.

He roared. Swam for shore, tracking the prickly scent of something wrong.

Humans unleashed this scent. Humans - or things that looked like humans.

Find the source and he would find who had hurt Nick. Who had hurt them both. Who was a threat to him, his territory, and his parent.

And he would chase it away.

Or kill it.

Glass shattered, air blasting out of the Eyrie Building's forty-fifth floor. Two forms leapt out the window, odd-shaped blurs of coffee and lavender. "You sure this is a good idea-ahhhh!"

Dari Turlough swooped down, steadying Spiker in mid-air. The red-headed hacker was still shaky. No surprise, after seeing her co-workers turned into humans. She was still pretty freaked herself; no small order, for a Xanatos Enterprises security guard. "No. But did you want to stay in there?"

Spiker snorted, bronze membranes spread to catch the wind. "Do I look like a Microserf?"

Whatever that meant. "We can pay for the window later. Right now, we've got to figure out what happened. And we can't do that when everyone thinks we're the monsters."

"And what did happen, oh mistress of the chrome baton?"

Dari rolled her eyes. "I don't know that. Yet." She'd always wanted to be a P.I., but this wasn't how she'd planned her first case. "But I know who might."

"Yeah?" Spiker soared over her, getting the feel of the wind. "A whole building gets turned into humans - who'd know about that?"

Fangs gleamed as Dari grinned. "Who ya gonna call?"

"...And stay out!"

Smoking neutrona wand in hand, Janine watched for any more traces of that eerie violet fire. Dark lines charred the walls, remnants of the conflict between blue-white proton beam and purple flames. Half the day's paperwork smoldered on her desk, caught by a stray burst. A green vapor hovered behind her shoulder, burbling in panic. "Sorry, Slimer."

Wide eyes opened. "Janine okay?"

The secretary smiled, lowering her wand. "Yeah, spud. I-" Janine cocked her head and swore. Without the crackle of a proton stream, the blaring alarm was suddenly clear.

Slinging on her proton pack, she pelted downstairs to the containment unit. Didn't sound like a breach. That alarm haunted her nightmares.

No; the towering unit looked fine. But a small console across the room was bleeping like crazy.

Janine trailed a red nail across the display, absently munching tasteless gum as she noted the enormous spike in the local PKE. Fading now, but something had set off a psychokinetic blast equal to a four-fold cross-rip.

The redhead whistled, rubbing the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. No wonder she'd felt a sudden urge to grab her proton pack.

It wasn't the first time a Ghostbuster had grabbed a pack with no evident reason. Egon and Ray theorized that constant exposure to low levels of PKE from the fireball nexus, coupled with the occasional high blast from an annoyed spook, was increasing the strength of their auras. Dr. Venkman thought they were just getting more subconsciously attuned to the existing clues detectable by the five conventional senses. And Winston said years of practice were honing their reflexes.

Whatever the reason, Ghostbusters learned to pay attention to their hunches.

"Bad magic," Slimer whimpered behind her. Odd; usually this was the one place in the fireball the little ghost wouldn't go. Aside from the lab in the middle of Egon's experiments. "Bad, bad magic."

"You're telling me." A few keystrokes, a quick grab of Egon's handwritten manual, and she was looking at a snapshot of the last minute's PKE readings. Frequencies definitely in the hostile end of the spectrum. With black overtones that indicated someone calling on Powers best left uncalled-on. Ugly. Very, very ugly.

Janine shivered. Good thing she hadn't let those flames touch her.

Saving the file, she grabbed a printout and ran back upstairs. She could read the charts, but when it came to subtle implications, she'd rather grab a tall blond.

"Central to Ecto-1." Static. Switching frequencies, Janine tried again. "Central to Ecto-1. Guys, come in!"

Nothing.

Tossing her gum in the wastebasket, Janine ran through the emergency frequencies. Okay; fire, ambulance, police bands all up and running, full of voices ranging the gamut from professional to hysterical. Harbor, CB radio-

Hello. Something about a wall of mist? Right across the Jersey Turnpike, Janine realized, snatching out a map of New York. And between that, and the New Jersey frequencies she should have been getting...

Nothing outside New York was getting through.

Okay. Janine pushed the queasy feeling in her gut aside. So she couldn't contact the guys. But a blast like that would've tripped PKE meters in Maryland. Sure as blazes, they'd be heading back here.

So hold the fort until they do get back. No reason to believe there wouldn't be another blast coming. The containment unit had held up to one. It might not survive two.

Not without help.

Pulling out some of the more interesting gadgets in her desk, Janine started shoring up the firehall defenses.

"Monsters!" Cherry-red talons clung to Delilah's shoulders as if to the last life-raft off the Titanic. "They've all turned into monsters!"

Wincing at her shriek, Delilah tugged the transformed woman out of sight. The Labyrinth was half a breath from riot; wings, tails, and shrieking people of two races diving for cover. Talon and Maggie were in there somewhere; she could hear the mutate clan leader's roar cutting through the chaos. Brentwood had left her side a few seconds ago, rescuing a bully from his suddenly much stronger victim. Magic, the hybrid thought, remembering the burning tingle that had swept through her veins. It has to be magic. "Laela, calm down. Talon's not a monster."

"Not them, them!" Black hair flipping over her motorcycle jacket, Laela Kozakura pointed at the untouched crowds. "They've all turned into humans!"

But you're a- Delilah shook away the protest. Magic could warp the mind, make you think things that weren't true. And this time they didn't have Nick here to break it.

Not here, she realized, watching near-riot start to calm as Talon and her brothers physically separated the most terrified victims. But H.E.A.T. was in New York. Mendel had left her a message just last night. "Come on."

Dropping to all fours, Laela followed her down the tunnel. "Where are we going?"

"To find a phone." Mendel. She had to know Mendel was okay.

And if she found Mendel, she'd find H.E.A.T.

Coughing, Sevarius scrambled out from under fallen ceiling tiles. Rubble was thinner than he'd expected; apparently the explosion had tossed him clear of the main damage. "This was not covered in my contract," the geneticist complained. Not that he expected an answer. Whoever that hawk-nosed man had been, his aim had been quite accurate.

Not that it would do him any good when Demona revived.

Dusting himself off, Sevarius grimaced. Wrecked. The samples, the lab - the entire complex, from what he could see in the light of sparking cables - all so much ruins. One of his employers was temporarily dead on the floor, the other appeared to be buried in a half-ton of plasterboard, and whoever they'd so thoroughly annoyed was coming around with a groan and a spate of swears he'd not heard the like of since Talon's rants.

Still, something could be salvaged from this fiasco. So long as he could reclaim his computer files-

The ground shuddered. A puddle of water rippled.

Sevarius stood very still. Laughed once, uneasy. "Surely not."

More ripples. Faster. Closer.

Footsteps like accelerating thunder.

Sevarius ran.

Demona sucked in air, feeling the bullet wound close. Straight through the heart, she noted, touching puckered flesh as it smoothed. Blinking dust out of her eyes before she clawed her way clear of shaking rubble. If I'd been human, at least.

But collateral damage had done the job. As that hastily-thrown burner had, shattering the poison she'd meant to fuse with human cells. She plucked her spellbook from the wreckage, snarling. Dragon alone knew what-

A falcon's shriek split the air, and Demona's fangs gleamed. At least that much of her spells had gone right. She felt feathered, furry strength bend to her will. My gryphon. Mine!

Clambering free of the outer walls, she raised a hand to the silver-domed sky, beckoning like a falconer. "Come!"

Slate-gray feathers. Ebony talons. Smoke-blue fur. A shape of myth, magic and vengeance. The gryphon banked overhead, preparing to land and greet its mistress-

Black scales knocked it from the sky.

Fangs bit. Talons raked. Obsidian and gray fell and swooped, membraned wings constricting the feline form. A howl of distress and rage blasted feathered ears, a black neck coiling on itself to savage slate feathers.

"A wyvern," Demona breathed. "Here?" But how? Why?

Roof-shattering roar; the gargoyle clapped hands over her ears, twisting toward the harbor. Asphalt shook under her talons, vibrating to the tread of multi-ton feet. A mountain of emerald-gray scales hurtled through shattered buildings, heading her way faster than an Apache helicopter.

Demona was a New Yorker. And no fool. If Godzilla was in New York, then Dr. Tatopoulos had been. And if her spell had slain, as she'd meant it to-

Attack it! she willed her gryphon, clawing her way up the nearest building. There was still one place in Manhattan which might have resisted her spell; one last place to destroy, before the humans had a chance to strike back. Kill it now!

Godzilla snapped at gray fur, scenting the same wrongness that had attacked his parent. A birdlike call mocked him, soaring up and out of reach, its wounds flowing like mist into unmarred flesh.

Not quite out of reach. Eyes flashed amber, green flame gouting out to sear and destroy.

Fur and feathers shattered into ash. But the bird-cat flew away, feathers growing out of silver mist.

Healing, Godzilla realized. Faster than he ever could. This was one threat that needed more than flames. Nick!

Distress. Fear. Deadly exhaustion.

Obsidian scales landed in a tattered coil. He snarled at the winged stranger, more than willing to continue the fight.

Red eyes met his, gleaming crimson against black. Ducked away, bending in deliberate submission. Ebony membranes shifted with a plaintive whine, the strange creature angling its glance toward piled rubble.

Godzilla rumbled, curious. Settling dust carried human scents. One was an enemy. He didn't know the others.

But from the slow, deliberate movements the stranger made, ignoring its own wounds to tear at the rubble, it did.

Tilting his head, the mutated lizard took a delicate step toward the ruin. Reached down toward the pile, one claw testing its stability. Snorted.

Gently he butted the stranger aside. This was going to take an expert.

"Don't tell me what you can't do! Get me a satellite view of New York, or find someone who can!" Major Tony Hicks hung up his phone with a snarl, running fingers through disordered brown hair. Soldiers in cammo and clerical staff in more formal greens dashed back and forth through the command tent, compiling updates on the ominous mist that had claimed New York. "Look. I appreciate the offer," he told the four agitated men in jumpsuits. "But this is a heck of a lot bigger than a walking marshmallow."

Phillipe Roache watched from shadows near a mud-spattered truck as soldiers overflowed New Jersey's Sandy Point military base, a wall of steel and olive drab against what lay across the river. A wall that might as well be paper, for all the good it would do against magic. Seirian, if you knew...

No. The French spy reined in his suspicion. If Mailli had known, she would have spoken. Those of Clan Wyvern had no skill at lying. At best, they could avoid the truth.

Horrible for a spy. But for those who dealt with the great beasts, perhaps it was as well.

Phillipe clamped down on growing anxiety, the sure knowledge of what might occur were he to be discovered here. What little he knew of magic was enough to outweigh caution. For anything that could so strike New York, with all its defenders, would not stop until it had destroyed the United States... and perhaps the world.

Dr. Venkman leaned forward, all charming self-confidence. "Major, I can see you're running the show here. And I have to admit Dr. Spengler is a little upset... like anyone else who's got friends in New York. All we'd like to do is offer a little helpful advice, some information-"

"Didn't help you see this coming, did it?" Hicks' glance was seriously skeptical.

"We were out on a call," Dr. Stantz tried to defend the foursome, ignoring Venkman's subtle hints to hush. "And now Janine's in there alone-"

"With eight million other people." Hicks shook his head, taking a clipboard from a saluting sergeant. "The minute a major U.S. city disappeared off the map, it became a matter of national security. Your five minutes are up, gentlemen. Good night."

"But you can't!" Dr. Stantz protested.

Hicks' lips were a thin line. "Watch me." He waved an impatient hand. "Get them out of here."

"Major-"

Brisk MPs escorted the protesting Ghostbusters from the tent.

"Can't go telling a Major he can't. Ray," Mr. Zeddemore said in an undertone. "Just makes things worse."

"But the man has no concept of the potential danger," Dr. Spengler complained. "PKE readings are fully consistent with someone unleashing a multi-level curse. If whoever's casting it should go unchecked-"

"Save it for the press," the MP sergeant snarled.

"If you would only listen-"

"Ah'll take them from here, Sarge," Phillipe said, secure in Elvis Presley's accent and the lieutenant's bars on his cammo. "If y'all will follow me?"

Green eyes slid over him, seeing just another soldier; sharpened. "C'mon, guys," Dr. Venkman said, carefully casual. "Let's let the nice Army guy show us out."

"From which I deduce you are not, in fact, a member of the armed forces," Dr. Spengler said thoughtfully, once they were past the gate and out of casual earshot.

"E-gon," Peter groaned.

"That would depend on your definition," Phillipe said levelly, removing borrowed insignia as they headed for the Ghostbusters' - unique - vehicle. "Come. We have much to discuss-"

"Roache!" A clatter of safeties; a horde of wide young eyes, as Hicks' men emerged from spotlit darkness.

Digging, Nick thought, feeling the echo of a tug against his fingers. He could almost see the chunks dislodged, judge exactly which one had to be moved in order to keep the whole pile from crashing down-

Something hot and far too sweet filled his mouth. He swallowed reflexively. "Gaah-"

"You had us worried there." Elsie held sugary coffee away. "Nick?"

"Hurts," he managed. Not physically; though the roar of the engine seemed far too loud, and Mylar felt like a rasp on his skin. But inside, where frail threads hung, half-burned. "Cold. Team?"

"We are - intact." A hint of hesitation in Monique's voice.

"More or less," Elsie allowed.

"A little less than more." Mendel appeared, rubbing a sore neck. "There's water everywhere."

Randy shook damp dreadlocks. "And check out the Goth chick."

Blue and red wings caught Nick's eye. A dark-haired gargoyle held the helm, wearing Maza's face. "Um." The biologist rubbed his eyes, sipped more coffee. Only to find Elsie had switched cups. Hot and spicy, just a hint of raisin; Randy's beef and pasilla bajillo pepper stew. Blanket, sugar, caffeine, protein, capsaicin, Nick ran down the checklist; Monique's terse instructions on what to do when a psychic overextended himself. Right after she said not to do that... Ow. His head felt like someone had taken an anvil to it. Repeatedly. "Problem."

"Your grasp of the obvious never ceases to amaze."

Sarcasm was good. Sarcasm meant Monique was willing to fight. He blinked at the silver fog shrouding the horizon. "Explosion." Nowhere else they would be heading; not if he knew his team.

"G-man beat us there." Randy pounded on his keyboard. "Man, something's seriously twisted. I can't even hook up a satellite!"

"The fog seems to be some sort of EM barrier," Mendel reported, reading Nigel's sensors. "It's blocking all transmissions, in or out."

Nick tried to think past the pounding headache. "So no one knows we're still here." Oh, joy.

Elsie followed his gaze toward New Jersey. "You don't think Hicks would-"

"I hope not." He tried to stand; reconsidered when his knees folded. Where are you?

Relief. Soothing warmth, tiptoeing gentle through the wreckage in his mind. Shards of color and sound flitted through their bond; a scaled shape of wings and night, sparking cables, someone's low swears. "Someone's caught in the rubble. I think he's digging them out. I-" Clamping his lips shut, Nick glanced wildly about.

"Easy. Easy!" Elsie rubbed his shoulder. "They're driving." Her arm wrapped around him. "It's okay," she said softly, wiping away one lone tear. "You're safe."

"Tired," Nick mumbled, burying his face in scarlet tresses. Vanilla, a touch of seawater, the warm scent that was just Elsie. "Hurts."

Monique nodded. "What else?"

Nick reached for Godzilla; winced. Ow. "He missed whoever set it off. But there's something else." Gray feathers, black scales, coupled with feelings of anger and acceptance. "Two creatures. One got away. The other doesn't want a fight. I think." Hard to be sure. Everything ached.

A phone shrilled. "Dr. Craven," the roboticist answered. His face lit. "Delilah! What -where-" He listened intently.

"Aw, they're so sweet," Randy grinned.

Mendel hmphed. "For your information, this is important." He bent back to the phone. "You're sure? Everywhere?" A soft whistle; he knelt by Nick, beckoned the rest of the team in. "Guys, you'd better hear this..."

"They're hiding something," Elisa growled. "I can feel it."

"Leave it alone, partner," Matt said firmly. "We're alive, right?"

Angela leaned near him. "Are you all right?"

The redhead managed a shadow of a smile. "As long as I don't think too hard."

Elisa's phone trilled. "Maza," the detective said, after a moment's fumbling with the buttons. "Captain! Ah, we're sort of in the middle of - what?" Elisa stared at the receiver. "Turned into humans," she said slowly.

"What?" Matt made a grab for the phone.

Elisa dodged, then held it so both could hear. "Yeah, Matt's with me. No, he didn't get turned into a human... exactly. Is the precinct okay?" Dark eyes narrowed. "Captain, we've got some concerned citizens heading for the blast. H.E.A.T., a few others. Should we-?" A nod. "Okay. Got it." She hung up. "Guess what, Angela? You're legal."

"Chavez and Morgan?" Matt shook his head.

"And who knows who else."

Rubble shifted above Frank Parker, a fragment ticking against his aching skull. "Ohhh..."

Somewhere in the chaos, he heard Donovan mouthing insults worthy of a Marine drill sergeant. "Donovan! Olga!"

"Here." Donovan coughed, something rattling off to his right. There was a painful gasping near him; Olga. "Can you move?"

Frank's fingers met piled plasterboard. "Not much. You okay?" They were alive. That much of the timeline had changed. But they weren't alone. "Seirian? Ms. Mailli?"

"Not... so loud..."

Frank scrabbled at the rubble to his left, trying to get closer to that pained whisper. Something in that tight voice shouted broken ribs. "Just hang on, lady."

"I'm... getting too old for this..." Hitch of breath. "Try to... stay calm. Help is coming."

Help? "Lady, this place and who knows how much of Manhattan just got blown to smithereens. What kind of help do you think's-"

A low rumble shook his bones; like a passing freight train, like oncoming thunder. But too alive to be either.

Pressure lifted off his legs, concrete and plasterboard swept away by a massive shadow in the night. An amber orb hung above him, set in a shape of darkness-

It blinked.

Merde. Phillipe gauged distances; then shrugged, and raised his hands. If he was known, he was known. So little, so very, very little against the frantic fear of Dr. Chapman's last radio call, the burning knowledge that Monique had missed her weekly report.

He'd lost so many of his people. He would not lose another.

"Insurance get old?" The major's eyes were cold and angry. At his glance, a determined youth gestured with a rifle. "You men want to step back."

"No, I don't think we do," Winston said thoughtfully. Dark hands were raised like the others, but there was a stony stubbornness in brown eyes. "Case you hadn't noticed, we're off the base." The ex-soldier stood his ground. "Which makes this out of your jurisdiction."

"Winston?" There was a world of caution in Venkman's voice.

"Trust me on this one, m'man." Winston lowered his hands. "You two want to work this out?"

Hicks' nostrils flared. "I ought to bury you so deep it'd take the French a miracle to find you," he bit out. "If you think I'm going to let one more U.S. citizen take orders from you like Tatopoulos does-"

That slight could not go unanswered, no matter the cost. "If you believe that any man could give Dr. Tatopoulos orders, M'sieur, you know less of him than I had thought," Phillipe said softly.

Be alive, my friend. For Nick, for H.E.A.T., he had risked this. As he knew the scientist would risk all for him; a gift he had never expected, that rainy afternoon in New Jersey.

A gift Hicks had spurned.

At times, he could pity the man.

The major looked as if he wished nothing less than to pull the trigger. "What do you know?"

A Gallic shrug. "Information reached us that someone... or something... intended to strike New York, by means unknown. And that if these gentlemen remained within its boundaries, they would not survive." Phillipe met the shocked eyes about him. "My source is skilled in dealing with the darker side of the arcane. Unless we receive information to the contrary, we must believe that those within the mist have not perished."

Egon cleared his throat. "That would be consistent with our readings," the physicist said quietly. "Is your source a sorcerer?"

Phillipe shook his head. "One who counters sorcery, when the need is great." He glanced toward the mist. "Those efforts were not entirely successful." A hand opened, dismissing the matter. "You could pierce the wall?"

"If we had our destabilizers." Ray's shoulders slumped. "There's got to be some way."

"Oh, I think there is." Peter studied the spy casually.

Phillipe hid a smile. A pity the man was not French. He would have made an excellent agent. "Indeed." His gaze flicked to Hicks. "It will not allow the passage of many."

"The heck-"

"One must have the right tool for the task at hand, Major. They do." And you do not.

"If there is an active sorcerer in there, your men would only be more targets," Egon stated flatly.

"No offense, but I'd rather not be ducking bullets the same time I'm dodging spooks," Winston added. "Bullets and protons just don't mix, know what I mean?"

Hicks finally waved off the guns. "You're not going in there alone."

"No. They will not be."

The major stared at him. "You're not serious."

Phillipe lifted a gray-flecked brow. "Nick," he said deliberately, "Is my friend." I will not abandon him. I will not betray him.

Not as you did.

A flicker of give in hard brown eyes. "I have my orders."

"As do I." Orders Nick had never held against him; even when he'd been sent to destroy Godzilla. The scientist had simply never given up trying to prove the creature's innocence.

As he had, once Winter's chameleon was revealed.

The French agent smiled. "So. Shall we see if they might intersect?"

"What was this place?" Angela asked, talons flexing nervously as she clambered through the ruins.

"Solstice Technologies." Rifle in hand, Monique covered their advance toward the blast center. "One of Cameron Winter's research facilities."

Leaning on Elsie's arm, Nick smiled grimly. Scents were a dense miasma in his brain; shattered concrete, sparking wires, the lingering stench of the enemy. "I wonder if Cam was in."

Maza shot him a dubious look. "You don't hope he was in there."

"Why not?" Elsie wove past leaning ceiling tiles. "I do."

"Ditto here, amiga."

Trenchcoat over a wing-cloaked shoulder, Matt eyed H.E.A.T. warily. "What is with you people?"

"Practicality." Dark humor flickered in Monique's tones.

Angela's gaze narrowed. "I thought you helped people."

Mendel sniffed, guiding Nigel around a puddle of something gooey green. "After the third explosion, the milk of human kindness tends to sour." He tapped his readouts. "Massively fluctuating EM. This is it-"

Gunshots split the night.

Annoyance crashed through the fragile shield Nick had pieced together, followed by the feel of a thrashing body pinned under a massive talon. "Son of a-" echoed weirdly through his mind, from two sets of ears.

Somehow Nick made his way to familiar scales. "Stay still!" he ordered the dark-haired stranger Godzilla held so delicately down. "He doesn't like guns."

"You're telling me," came the airless gasp.

"Mr. Parker?" A woman's voice, flavored with tones he'd last heard in Chernobyl. A half-burned lab manual slid off a pile of rubble.

More fragments slid. "Frank, you okay?"

"Depends. You're the doc, Olga." Frank managed to lift his head an inch. "Anybody ever die of embarrassment?"

Olga coughed out dust. "If they did, you would be quite immune, Mr. Parker."

Nick ignored the byplay, fixed on obsidian scales. Small, much smaller than Godzilla, though between coiled neck and tail it might be as long as the H.E.A.T. Seeker. Ruby eyes narrowed at him; the wyvern hissed, digging at the pile of twisted metal near Frank.

Godzilla snarled.

"Elisa, look out!" Matt drew his revolver.

"No!" Nick held out a warding hand as Maza dodged right back out from behind her partner. "No, that's defensive behavior! Stay back!" He could feel deadly heat building, about to break free-

"Okay, Nick." Matt's aim was steady, straight at a ruby eye. Red wings curled, ready to leap at the enemy. "You know these things. What do we do now?"

I don't know this one. But he had to try. Godzilla had been willing to work with it; that argued for intelligence. "Easy," Nick said softly. He held out an open hand, projecting calm, peace. "Easy."

Dark nostrils sniffed his fingers. Curiosity trickled in, swamped by a stronger flood of protect. Faint image of a silver-haired woman, of strength and laughter and blood.

Nick's breath caught. It... wasn't like Godzilla. Feathery wisps of emotion, not a crashing torrent. Pictures faded, yet as full of intricate detail as an ancient tapestry.

But the burning gaze eased. A plaintive whine echoed from the dark-scaled throat. Talons peeled back one more shattered lab shelf, unearthing a bloodied hand.

"'Vaen." A bare whisper as shaky fingers reached up, stroked obsidian scales. "Old friend."

"Nick?" Elsie, knuckles turning pale on his shoulder.

"Help her," Nick said, sinking to a clear patch of floor. "He won't stop you."

"How do you know that?" Maza pounced.

"Color pattern's consistent with male reptiles," Nick said, deliberately misunderstanding her question. "Randy, Mendel-"

Sneakers skidded through debris. "If it's got data, jefe, it's ours."

"Good." Nick leaned on gray-green scales. When this was over, he planned to sleep for a week. "Elsie-"

"Sample anything that looks suspicious." Hands on her hips, the paleontologist shook her head. "Think we can haul off the whole place?"

Nick chuckled. You okay?

Amused wuffle. A wall of scales nudged his chest. Scratch?

A smile bent Nick's lips. Closing his eyes, he dug his fingers into scaled armor, relaying the touch to that warm mind. A few minutes rest wouldn't hurt.

So this is H.E.A.T., Frank thought, dusting himself off. Resisting the urge to shake, as he noted the dent one giant talon had made in his leather jacket. Funny. I thought they'd be taller. "Olga, you okay-" Words died in his throat.

A pale jade form emerged from under a shattered lab counter, muttering rough Russian curses. She had Olga's scarlet hair, Olga's high cheekbones, and she wore the physicist's neat - if dusty - suit-dress. But spikes pierced red locks, taloned feet were bare, and one moss-hued batwing splayed open to reveal membranes the ephemeral green of sunset.

Frank rubbed his eyes. No change. Except that now Donovan was in view, too; another spiky, six-limbed shape in cammo, brown and black. "Oh, this is not happening."

"What's not-" Olga caught a glimpse of herself. Shrieked.

Humans clapped hands to ringing ears. Even the gargoyles winced. High and shrill, somewhere between a Siberian tiger's roar and a sea eagle's cry, it rattled down loose bits of plaster.

"Aaughhh," someone moaned. White hair lolled out of a pile of debris, glasses bent askew.

Godzilla rumbled, low and menacing. Nick's head snapped up. "Cameron."

Frank's hand moved toward his holster; closed, as he remembered his gun was a hunk of mangled steel. Tatopoulos' voice was deadly even, tones he hadn't heard since the last time Talmadge grabbed hold of an officer who'd sent his people into an ambush.

Dark eyes blinked behind glass. Focused on scales, then the angry scientist beside them. The white goatee bristled. "You!"

"Me."

A slim hand slammed into the side of Winter's neck.

Nick sighed.

Monique dusted off her hands as the billionaire collapsed. "He would not have given us useful information in any event."

Elsie's grin had a definite vicious edge. "You don't hear me complaining."

"Easy, ma'am." Matt brushed a few last pieces of rubble off Seirian. "We're with the police. You should stay still until we can get somebody out here."

"They're... cracked, not broken, young man. I'll be well enough." A quiet cough. "Assuming I don't pull any more damn-fool heroics."

"Maza, 23rd Precinct," a blue gargoyle said briskly. "Who did this?"

"Don't suppose Demona means anything to you." Frank put an arm under Seirian's shoulders. "On three. One, two-"

Seirian sucked in a breath, and the wyvern snarled. But she was on her feet, even if she did lean heavy on her cane.

"Mother." Angela looked bleak. "Where is she?"

"Somewhere under there." But drops of blood led away from shattered concrete, and Frank's gut knotted. "Or she was. Seirian, that's a monster-"

The monster was currently rubbing its scaled cheek against white hair, almost purring. "There, now," Seirian said softly. "I'm all right, 'Vaen. Shhh." She stroked the dark mane.

Tatopoulos was white as falling snow. "Seirian. Seirian Mailli?"

Frank glanced from black scales to emerald-gray, seeing the same slight frame, the same air of wide-eyed wonder. What must it be like, the orphan chrononaut wondered, to run into family you never knew you had...

Seirian's smile was a faint thing, a shape of shadows and starlight. "I'd planned this wonderful first meeting. I know Rhedyn had her heart set on a grand gala, all the clan invited; lights and feasts and dancing into the dawn." Her smile strengthened, touched with a glint of wry amusement. "It's good to see you."

Wordless, Nick could only shake his head.

Green eyes winced. "Demona?"

Donovan was studying dripped blood. "Something walked away from here."

"Gargoyle," Monique declared.

"Heading toward-" Mendel paled. "Delilah's going that way!"

Someone was pounding on the door like the NYPD SWAT team with a hangover. "It's open!" Janine called, setting the proton pack out of sight on her chair. She kept the neutrona wand ready. Night like this, you couldn't be too cautious.

A cocoa-hued figure of wings and spikes yanked the black door open, tossing a cherry red creature in biker's leathers over the threshold. "Help-"

Something grey and feathery struck.

A scream lingered in empty air, angry and afraid. "For goodness' sake!" Slinging on her pack, Janine ran for the howls.

The groaning red tangle of wings sure looked demonic. But demons generally didn't come to the Ghostbusters for help.

And when they did, only an idiot ignored them.

Shrieks split the air; a rainbow of membranes and talons, slashing at a mist-edged gryphon. Three creatures, Janine registered, taking aim; cocoa, and a new pair of security-uniformed blue and t-shirted coffee. "Get clear!"

Wings dove away as protons crackled through the air. The gryphon caterwauled, mist searing in the blue-white beam.

Not a ghost, the secretary knew, watching the effects of her stream. Over her shoulder she saw two of the winged creatures bolt through the door, bruised and bleeding.

The cocoa one stayed beside her. "Come on!"

Firing one last shot, Janine dove through. The white-haired female gripped the door as a huge body crashed into it; held it, fangs gritted, as Janine slammed the bolts home.

The gryphon battered at solid wood, claws scraping down with a screech to put chalkboards to shame. It chattered at the lock, like some darkling cross between a falcon and an Abyssinian cat the size of the Library Lions.

Snap! ZiiiIIING - KA-POW!

Janine closed her eyes in relief, hearing the electrical crackle as Ray and Egon's defense system kicked in. A peregrine's screech, and the gryphon decamped in a thunder of wings.

Breathing hard, Melnitz could only stare at the four creatures who'd taken refuge with her. She'd seen things out of Ray's books turn up before, but the guys had been sure these were extinct. Holy - are these gargoyles? Man, Ray's going to be sorry he missed this...

"Delilah!" The red gargoyle shrieked. "She's a human too!"

"Laela-" Delilah threw up her hands. "Thank you, Ms. Melnitz." Favoring a bruised leg, the white-haired gargoyle gave her a painful smile. "Mendel was right. You are kind."

"Mendel." She didn't know any Mendels, except- "You mean Dr. Craven?" And the guy faints when he sees Slimer, Janine thought at her nod. "You gotta problem?"

"Can't you tell?" Laela flung out clawed hands. "You don't have any wings!"

"No," Delilah groaned, knuckling her horns as if to rub out a headache. "I told you. You're supposed to be human!"

The blue-skinned blonde shook her head. "You're kidding, right?" Turlough, read the nameplate on her uniform blouse. "Lady, I know you're confused, but Spiker and I really need to talk to the Ghostbusters-"

"They're outta town," Janine interrupted. "An' unless you know somebody who can make a radio sit up and beg, we can't call 'em." She pointed at Delilah. "They're not supposed to be gargoyles?"

Delilah shook her head. "I think it's a spell," she stated, rubbing a sore, spiky knee. "It just hit a little while ago." She hesitated. "Mendel knows radios."

Right. If he could stay conscious long enough to cross the circuits. "Thanks f' the offer, but-"

The ceiling shuddered. Dust filtered down; chunks of shattered brick dropped past the window.

Janine swore under her breath. Just because the gryphon couldn't cross the threshold, didn't mean it couldn't get them. All it had to do was-

Crash. More masonry thundered down.

Flatten the building, the secretary finished the thought.

"Screw it," the Bronx native said flatly. "Call 'im."

Touching down on a half-crumbled roof, Demona laughed. Sirens, wailing alarms, the shrill shrieks of human panic - oh, what wondrous music!

But her target still stood. Streams of blue-white fire shot from shattered windows, holding her gryphon at bay.

Only two. The gargoyle sorceress smiled grimly. Most of the Ghostbusters must have been struck down. Whoever remained should be easy prey for one last curse.

And then there would be no one to shatter her spells. No one at all.

Fangs glinting, she raised Aimerigot's spellbook high. A green glow misted around her hands, wrapping her in a coat of verdant flames. "Omnes audite-"

Zzzap!

Across the street, Janine blew smoke away from her neutrona wand.

"One, two-" H.E.A.T. and Donovan heaved the white-painted Solstice Labs SUV upright, backing off as it rocked on black wheels. "Get Nigel in," Nick ordered, prying at the back door lock. Know there's a way to do this-

"Stick to handcuffs, jefe," Randy advised, slipping the screwdriver from his grip. "This needs an expert."

Stabbing a crowbar through steel, Monique yanked it open.

"That works," the hacker acknowledged.

"Technically, this counts as grand theft-" Matt started.

Nick wanted to pound his head against sheet steel. Not now! Godzilla was crouched and ready, tail lashing, battle-rage rising like an oncoming storm. The threat's scent beckoned, an alien taunt in the wind.

The gryphon wouldn't yield to fire. The biologist clung to that knowledge like the last anchor in a hurricane. Godzilla couldn't do this alone.

Wait, Nick tried to convey. Please wait. We're coming.

Frank held up his badge. "As a duly authorized agent of the NSA, I hereby commandeer this vehicle for the duration of the emergency." He grinned.

Olga sighed. "You've always wanted to say that, haven't you, Mr. Parker."

"Well... yeah."

Monique plucked out a dive knife. "Randy, your assistance," she directed. "Lever the casing off in this direction..."

Elisa winced as plastic popped free, exposing wires the French agent expertly twisted together. Sparks snapped; the engine revved. "We could just glide there."

"Maybe you could." Donovan blew out a breath, wrapping ebony wings a little closer around himself. "Rest of us are a little new at this."

"I can talk you through it." Grabbing a wall, Maza started climbing.

Angela smiled shyly at Matt. "You might like it."

The redhead blushed. "Ahhh..."

"You'll never keep up," Elsie called out, as she helped Mendel lift Nigel into the SUV. "Have you ever seen Godzilla move?"

"From a distance," Seirian said softly, leaning on the borrowed vehicle. "I think Gwydrfaen can come close. And if he were flying level, gargoyles could use the backdraft..." Wrinkled fingers beckoned. "Could you give me a hand, Frank?"

"Yeah, sure - whoa!"

Gleaming fangs plucked the NSA agent off the ground, deposited him just forward of Gwydrfaen's wings. The wyvern sniffed him over, tongue flicking at dark hair. "Hang onto the mane," Seirian advised.

"Hang - oh, sh-"

Spans of silky black swept wide, the boom of air cutting off speech. Rearing back, Gwydrfaen launched.

H.E.A.T. winced at the scream.

"Well, I can't ride him," the elderly woman pointed out, one arm hugging her side as she got into the SUV. High above, colored wings were swept up in the wind from Gwydrfaen's flight. "And we'll need some eyes in the air."

"I can see the family resemblance," Mendel muttered, following.

What?! "Excuse me?"

Randy thumped his shoulder, got behind the wheel. "Face it, Nick. You, problem, bulldozer - what can I say?"

"Which isn't a bad thing," Elsie gave him a smile as she climbed in. "As long as you're not the problem."

They had to be kidding. "Floor it!"

"Try an' pick your shots," Janine called up the firepole to Delilah. The characteristic crackle of a proton stream sounded, followed by an earthshaking thump.

Gryphon tryin' to flatten the firehall, the secretary thought. Buildings down all over the five b'roughs, a gargoyle's using my spare pack, an' H.E.A.T. still has t' find a car... She fired again, clipping ivory talons. Outside a' that, the day's just fine.

"Gryphons aren't ghosts," Dari blurted. "Shouldn't a blast scare it off?"

"Blasted it already." Zap. Crash! "Think it's a - what'd Egon call 'em - a construct. Zap it, an' the mist keeps puttin' it back together."

"It's Demona's," Delilah panted. "She's after me-"

"Jump out that window, an' I'll fry you, Del!" Janine yelled. "Laela, set up there an' stop her from doin' something stupid-"

Thunder cracked.

Green lightning danced around a gargoyle's hand, emerald sparks flying between the gold points of her headdress.

"Guess we found the sorceress," the secretary said dryly. She got up? Full-force blast- an she got up?

Lightning flew, scorching its way along the building. "She's trying to take the place apart!" Spiker cried.

Dull roar; the wall of the firehall exploding, Janine realized, brushing brick dust out of her face. Streetlights shone into the lab, a few throwing scatters of sparks.

The gryphon screeched, hovering over the street. Circled, arrowing toward them.

Heart sinking, Janine raised her thrower for one last stand. "Guys' Get down to the basement. An' lock the door!"

Multicolored wings vanished down the hole. Delilah dropped down the pole jumped clear to stand side by side with her. "I said get outta here!" Janine snarled. The defense systems could cover broken windows. But not a hole you could drive a truck through.

"No," Delilah said quietly. Standing rock-still, pack almost jarring hers. "You need someone to watch your back."

Janine abandoned the argument, firing at misty flesh. But the gryphon wasn't stopping, no matter how many holes they punched in it. Lion claws swooped toward them, gleaming knives of ebony. Funny. Never thought I'd go out like this...

Boom. Car alarms squealed. Boom. Glass rattled.

An SUV's engine revved into hearing range, screeching around a corner.

A slatey beak snapped shut bare inches from her arm. Janine caught a blur of black, a sweep of tail-

With a squawk, the gryphon wasn't there.

"Wah-hoo!" the secretary cheered as gray feathers drifted down. "Guys, I think the cavalry just got here!"

Speeding down the avenue, Godzilla watched for the gryphon's attack.

It knew fire couldn't kill it. It knew teeth couldn't break its spine. And it wasn't bound to the ground.

Pausing near a seared brick building, Godzilla stopped. Sniffed the air, though the gryphon earned little more scent than the mist of wrongness that formed it. Glanced about.

No sight of the enemy.

Careful, Nick wished, worry like a gray haze.

Godzilla snorted. Clawed into asphalt, digging fast and furious, rubble flying in a dark cloud.

Wind whispered through feathers.

Godzilla leaped aside, talons raking blood from the side of his neck. Teeth closed on misty feathers.

Crunch.

Man oh man. Frank rolled onto the rooftop, trying to keep his breathing quiet as Gwydrfaen soared upward. Not easy, after that pulse-pounding ride over the rooftops, Manhattan spread under him like a frayed, jeweled tapestry.

But the glowing figure on the roof-edge was enough to cut off breath entirely. A chained book was in her arms, electricity had charred her halter to almost nothing, and she was laughing. Demona.

"Yes, come, humans," the sorceress murmured as H.E.A.T. and Olga all but fell out of the SUV, diving behind rubble as lightning struck around them. Particle beam fire lanced up at the roof, green bolts of science splattering against magic's shield. "Make it easy for me to kill you." She drew in a deep breath. "Omnes audite... omnes oculae-"

"Now!" Elisa yelled. Four sets of wings dove from the sky, tackling the sorceress to the roof.

"Who dares-"

Frank dove into the taloned heap, dodging blows that could punch holes through steel. Book, he thought, grabbing for iron chain. Have to get the book...

Godzilla worked teeth over misty flesh, listening to bones snap and crunch. No taste of blood flowed. No scent of death. Only an endless, ongoing flood of mist into broken flesh, reforming whenever his grip loosened.

A toothed beak bit hard into his lip.

Snarling, Godzilla flung the gryphon into the rubble pit. Bones shattered.

But the gryphon launched itself back into the air, wings pumping desperately for altitude-

Obsidian scales struck it from the sky.

Gwydrfaen snapped feathers, tore fur, coiled a tail to break magical bones. Held the creature in the pit, while Godzilla shoved and clawed asphalt up around it.

The piles were high enough. The mutated lizard began to inhale.

Donovan hit the roof edge hard, flung by blue talons. Matt collapsed in a smoking heap, barely breathing. Elisa and Demona were clenched in a bloody deathgrip, fang to bared fang.

Green bolts slashed past Frank's head, holing the sorceress' wings. Angela leapt from Matt's side, tears streaking her cheeks as she sank claws into the immortal gargoyle's tail. "I won't let you do this. Mother!"

Now! With Demona's arms and tail fully occupied, Frank dove in after the book.

"You won't stop me!" Curling on herself, Demona whipped a foot toward him.

The chrononaut saw starlight gleam off knife-edged talons. There was just enough time to dodge-

Frank grabbed the chain instead.

Ribs gave way under the razored blow. The roof was suddenly gone, and the street loomed large below. I think this is going to hurt-

Jade arms caught him, talons screeching against concrete. Olga lifted him one- handed to the ledge just below the roof; clawed her way up to huddle against the wall, gasping.

Leaving the book in her shaking arms, Frank climbed toward the caterwaul of the world's worst catfight.

Brick shrapnel nearly took his head off. Elisa shook off the blow, rolling under Demona's punch in a neat cartwheel of wings and tail. Bleeding from a dozen gashes, the detective blasted a fist into Demona's solar plexus. "That's for Parker!" Stomped an instep, tearing with blue talons. "That's for Angela!" Shoved a spiked elbow up into Demona's throat, hands linked and pushing hard. Blood gushed down her arm. "That's for Matt!"

Once again, the light died in green eyes. Elisa snarled, picking the immortal up bodily. "And this," she gritted out, stepping to the roof edge, "Is for me!"

Demona hurtled past him like a half-ton brick.

Black scales leapt away from the humanoid bullet. Tearing out a misty jugular, Gwydrfaen scrambled clear.

Godzilla breathed fire.

Asphalt melted, a tarry torrent of black. Dark liquid flooded the pit, covered misty and blue flesh in impenetrable ebony. Head and claws shoved stone and brick over the pool, burying thrashing tar.

Steaming silence.

A high, rattling cry shook the air; the wyvern spread silk-black membranes wide, displaying with thrashing tail.

Godzilla roared in answer.

Sniffing black tar, he snorted. The threat wasn't dead. Not yet.

But this ought to keep it busy awhile.

"We've got an opening for insertion," Hicks said sharply. Ranks of green lined up behind him, glancing nervously at the Ghostbusters. "We should head in now."

"We cannot bring so much mass across," Phillipe stated. "To proceed without tactical information would be foolish."

"There's no way this'll work-"

"On the contrary." Egon Spengler held the transistor case as Ray soldered a last circuit, firmly ignoring the panic shuddering in the back of his mind. Behind them all stood the wall of mist around uptown New York; as close as they could get to Manhattan. Janine. "It's quite clear. Inverse phase amplification, powered by nuclear acceleration, coupled with the PKE frequency filters to remove the worst interference from the spell-"

"He's sure," Peter interrupted. "So - which button do we push?"

Egon shot him a dark look. Sometimes he was halfway convinced Peter deliberately ignored the fundamentals of mechanical engineering. "Flip the toggle switch to your right. Not the button."

"Egon, you mad scientist, why not?"

And other times he was sure. "It would be bad."

"Tres mal, oui?" Phillipe looked amused.

"Une explosion tres magnifique," Egon replied wryly.

"I heard explosion in there," Winston pointed out.

Ray flipped the switch. "Janine? Janine, come in!"

"We should be contacting the city authorities-" Hicks started.

"And what do you think they will do with a sorcerer, Major?" Studying the mistwall, the French agent stepped back. "Throw red tape?"

Static snapped. "-Out of here," came over the speaker. The characteristic thud of the firehall doors sounded in the background. "Ray! Ray, is that you?" A snarl of voices muttered nearby. "Are the guys all right? Egon?"

The physicist let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "We're fine, Janine. And you?"

"There's buildings down all over the five b'roughs, we got a construct an' a gargoyle sorceress buried in the street, an' there's a thirty-story lizard blocking traffic. Outside a' that..."

Monique flipped a page. "What have you discovered?"

Nick rubbed his eyes, leaned back from the microscope. Focusing on samples in someone else's lab wasn't easy. But he'd done it before.

Just not with a seriously ticked off lizard in his head.

Breathe. He couldn't lose it now. Not with Dr. Vukavitch watching; even if she was frightened half to death at what had happened. Not with a bloody agent of the NSA huddled in the corner, refusing to go to the hospital until they knew whether those affected could be cured.

Not with Seirian Mailli in the streets outside.

She knew who I was. It ached, sharp and bitter. She knew.

Intellectually he knew there might be good reasons why the elderly woman hadn't simply shown up on his doorstep. The main reason being that dark-scaled creature currently helping Godzilla keep watch on smoking asphalt. No sane person would bring a possible threat into Godzilla's territory. And given what he'd sensed from Gwydrfaen, there was no way the wyvern would have let Seirian go anywhere without him.

But intellect wasn't working that well right now.

First things first. Let go of the focus knob before it breaks.

"First off, the affected samples are normal," the mutation biologist managed. "At least as normal as Delilah's."

"Yet we know Delilah is half human." Monique nodded at Olga's four taloned digits, where Delilah had five.

"On the basis of which, I would say some of their human DNA is being suppressed." He glanced toward yellow metal. "Mendel?"

"According to what we have on record-" The roboticist looked up. "All Elisa's DNA is still in her cells. It's just - something else is there on top of it."

"And right now, it's acting as a matrix of dominant polygenes," Elsie added, tapping a pen on her readouts. "A lot of human proteins have been replaced by gargoyle homologues. Don't ask me how."

Nick waved it off. They could work on how later. Right now they needed to know what.

"What about Detective Bluestone?" Olga asked. Jade hands shook; she patted her clothes in an ex-smoker's absent search for nicotine. "He's still..."

"Not as human as you might think." Brown brows lifted. As a person, he ached for those affected. But as a biologist, it was absolutely intriguing. "Results fall somewhere between Delilah and regular human biochemistry."

"Area effect?" Elsie suggested.

"Looks like."

Olga abandoned her search. "Effect of what?" Her hand gestured out at New York. "If this has affected the entire city..."

"Not Demona's phenomenon." He was not going to call it a spell. "Apparently nonphysical phenomena... don't work as well around me. Sometimes."

"Which falls under the general category of good things." Randy pressed the key that triggered a password-cracking program. "Not that it couldn't be cool," he added hastily, glancing toward Olga. "Gliding, tossing cars around like phonebooks the whole Goth look. Flush..."

Monique took pity on him. "Seirian also has such effects," the French spy stated. "They are limited in area, and work best on those whom one has associated with for some time." The agent turned another ancient page. "Mam'selle Mailli and I should be able to decipher which spells Demona used."

"Sure. Let loose some more funky phenomena." Elsie slanted a sardonic glance her way. "That's just what we need."

"Seirian cannot use magic."

Nick lifted a dark brow. "You seem to know a lot about her." More than I ever did.

Was that a hint of understanding in dark eyes? "I encountered her in a meeting with Phillipe. She was instrumental in providing us with information on-" Her gaze barely flicked toward the NSA agents. "Certain neurolinguistic techniques."

She's an empath. Fihr's letter had hinted at it, but... "Shielding?"

An infinitesimal nod. "Her work with the Maquis was the basis of much of our research."

"The French Resistance?" Olga shoved her predicament aside, looking up with renewed interest. "Is she really a hundred and seven? She barely looks seventy."

"It runs in her family."

A hundred and seven, Nick thought. So often H.E.A.T. worked from day to day, moment to moment. The prospect of years, possibly decades of working with the giant mutant...

Crocodilians can make it past a century. You knew you were in this for life.

It'd just never seemed so permanent before.

"Check this out." Randy pointed to files opening on his screen. "We got El Mad Doctor's research results." A few keystrokes. "Manhattan clan, Guatemalan samples..." The hacker frowned at scientist-ese, sounding out the words. "Method for extraction of deoxyribonucleic acid from petrihibernation remnants?"

"Gargoyle skin," Olga stated. "Or so Isaac's records called it." A brow ridge lifted. "The source of the DNA, I'd imagine."

"Results of viruses on mutant lizard samples-"

Nick snarled. "That egotistical, megalomaniac-" There weren't words harsh enough. "I should've dumped him in the East River!"

"It will be arranged."

The agent's matter-of-factness hit like a splash of Arctic water. "Ah, Monique-"

A slim hand stopped his protest. "His interference becomes hazardous," the French spy noted. "It is unlikely we will have the satisfaction of dealing with him ourselves."

"Artificial cell organelles..." Randy shrugged. "Looks like it-"

"Open that!" Nick stalked over to examine the shot of purple liquid, coupled with magnifications of sausage-shaped vesicles and a diagram of ribosome complexes. "Elsie, take a look at this."

The paleontologist frowned, tilting her head to peer at the results. "Mitochondria aren't exactly my field, Nick." Her breath caught. "But they aren't, are they?"

"Carrier agents." The thrill of the hunt surged in his veins; a cooler, more intellectual reflection of the hot joy Godzilla felt on sighting his prey. Got you! a dark corner of his mind snarled.

Predatory interest. He felt the massive body uncoil outside, preparing to rush in to fight the intruder.

It's too small. Labwork, Nick tried to convey. We found out what happened to Elisa. "We should check the listed compounds against your analysis..." He felt the surge of battle-rage, tried to ride it.

"Dr. Tatopoulos?" Olga drew back, alarm paling jade skin.

Thunder of footsteps below. "In here!"

A tall blond in pale blue jumpsuit advanced up the stairwell, PKE meter flashing and beeping. "Definite psychokinetic spike, along with a decaying otherdimensional signature..." The man shoved up red glasses, eyes traveling up to meet the biologist's gaze.

Oh... damn, Nick thought faintly.

"Egad." Dr. Spengler shut down his meter. The rest of the Ghostbusters peered past him, throwers at the ready. "Dr. Tatopoulos, I presume."

"Conundrum."

"Frank!" Talmadge let out a sigh of exasperated relief, punched the phone onto speaker. Owsley shoved his chair over with one push of a foot; Isaac approached in a more dignified walk. "The military's on full alert; we've had to do some fast talking to keep their response minimal. What's your situation?"

"Probably guzzling tequila in a bar off 42nd Street," Ramsey commented, scribbling notes for a trace.

"Actually, we're in Ghostbusters Central. Weird place." Something burbled in the background. "And I only wish I was drunk. Olga's green."

"Frank!" Dr. Vukavitch hissed.

"We're going to have to tell them sometime."

"Not like this!"

"H.E.A.T.'s fixed nastier things," Donovan spoke up. "Let's just... let it slide, okay?"

Donovan wanting to let something slide? And what was that rustling in the background; like silk curtains, slipping over each other with no sound of wind. Talmadge raised gray brows. "Frank? Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly..."

Olga huddled in the firehall stairwell, ignoring the growing clamor of human, gargoyle, and ghostly voices. All of it seemed distant, unconnected from reality. Shock, Backstep's psychologist deduced. You should do something. Find something to do.

But H.E.A.T. and the Ghostbusters were coordinating strategy, Maza and Bluestone were contacting the 23rd Precinct for the latest updates on their APB on Sevarius; Donovan, Seirian and Dr. Craven were guarding the rubble burying the gryphon... God, even the coffee had been made.

"You okay?" Frank perched on the step beside her. "Stupid question," he muttered, sneaking a comforting arm into the spiky tangle of wings and talons. "Forget I asked."

"I want to go home." Wanted it fiercely; so fiercely it frightened her. She felt she could close her eyes and walk to Nevada, and never miss a step.

Or close her eyes and soar...

No. She curled on herself, wrapping her arms about spiked knees. No. You're human. Human...

Sidelong glance from dark eyes. "Please tell me you're not planning to jump off a roof."

"If you do, remember to open your wings," Elsie said briskly, stepping down to their level. "I've been looking for you. Dr. Spengler says he needs someone who actually heard the spell."

"Duty calls," Frank sighed. He hugged the psychologist, fingers stroking over hair turned odd and velvety as scarlet down. "Keep the step warm, okay?"

"Actually, I was looking for both of you," Elsie offered a wry smile as Frank trotted upstairs. "Far as we can tell, gargoyles are instinctively territorial. Find a home area and stick to it. I thought that might kick in badly since you're an immigrant."

A voice of sanity. "Everything feels different." Olga's voice shook with it; the glide of air over silky membranes, the tap of her tail against cool bricks, the bone-shaking strength that felt so frighteningly right...

Fragile human fingers gripped her wing-cloaked shoulder. "Elisa told us she's been a gargoyle before," the paleontologist said simply. "Delilah's always been what she is. And the others weren't near anyone who could block part of the spell. They think we're the crazy ones." Fingers squeezed gently. "If it helps, I think Matt's scared stiff. And he actually went after mutant jellyfish once."

The psychologist felt vaguely comforted. "So why aren't you up there?"

Elsie snorted. "Ever watch Randy irritate someone out of a blue funk? It's not a pretty sight."

"Aimerigot's spellbook!" Ray enthused, flipping ancient pages. "I never thought I'd get to see it."

"I wish we hadn't," Nick growled. Monique, Randy, and Detective Maza, were huddled in a corner, draining Janine's coffee reserves. Roache had been and gone, declaring Melnitz' brewing quite tolerable before he left. Though he had snagged two packets of cream.

"In Sekhmet, dej medew?" Egon asked.

"Yeah," Frank agreed, hanging back by the wall. "That's what I heard."

The physicist ignored Frank's skittishness. Magical tomes had a tendency to make psychically charged individuals nervous; and from his scans. Agent Parker was carrying quite a charge. Though not nearly as high as H.E.A.T. And as for Tatopoulos... Egon shook his head. By Sekhmet, "words spoken", he transcribed from ancient hieroglyphs. Each and every not born of gargoyle, all born brave, shape each essence for eternity to my desire; establish this matter within, of the body to unite. "And you say she meant to combine this enchantment with plasmids containing Hydrophiidae venom genes. Ingenious."

"Egon!" Ray looked up, hurt.

"Thoroughly malicious," the physicist allowed. "But ingenious." He shoved back red glasses. "We should thank Mr. Roache for arranging our absence from the city. I doubt any of us would have survived."

"Bad?" Winston's hand lingered near his thrower.

"Yow." Janine leaned over Egon's shoulder, one of Ray's references in hand. "Sekhmet. Eye of Ra, Lady of Plagues. Lioness goddess an' all-around smiter of vengeance. Nasty spook."

The physicist inclined his head. "Very bad."

"So," Randy ticked off points on dark fingers. "We got a Scottish gargoyle using U.S. biotech, Guatemalan DNA, intergalactic metal, and Welsh and Egyptian spells from a Basque book." The hacker shook his head. "Is it just me, or has globalization gone way too far?"

"Welcome to the United Nations." Nick rubbed the side of his throat. An odd habit. Or perhaps not so odd, considering the man's readings.

Egon watched the young biologist from the comer of his eye, marking the predatory stride, the twitch of irritation, the overall haggard air. Tatopoulos was running on instinct and coffee.

He'd have bet two weeks of laundry duties that instinct wasn't human.

"So this is how the mimics got into our cells?" Elisa asked.

Egon bookmarked the page with a spare screwdriver. "I believe so."

"The spell was attracted to high PKE charges," Ray explained. "That's why it went after Janine."

Peter held up a wall, fingers tapping lightly. "I thought you two said that charge made us a little magic-resistant, Spengs."

Egon grimaced. "Against ordinary spellcasting, yes. Against a complicated ritual enchantment, using arcane components, bio-engineered elements, and a spell over three thousand years old..."

"Rock-through-paper time. Gotcha."

"First things first." Elisa held up a hand. "How are we going to get the mimics out?"

Nick stalked the lab. "That could be tricky."

The blue gargoyle rolled her eyes. "So we grab Sevarius. He came up with a cure for the mutates once-"

Nick snorted.

A glint of ruby appeared in Maza's gaze. "Excuse me?"

Turning, the biologist paced back. "Detective, getting foreign DNA into cells isn't easy. Getting it out - getting only selected segments out, without shattering the rest of the cellular makeup - is all but impossible." Another turn; another stalking stride. "Demona used an artificial organelle. The gargoyle DNA may be acting as a dominant, but it's outside the cell nucleus. If we're lucky, we may be able to get people's bodies to reject it. Sevarius used a virus. He affected the mutates' nuclear DNA. And as of now, we don't have any way to fix that."

"You cold-blooded..." Elisa drew back in disgust. "No wonder you and the lizard get along."

A low rumble shook the building.

Egon ignored the reptilian anger outside. Instead he marked Randy's careful grip on the biologist's shoulder, the pale fists clenched out of Maza's sight.

The deadly gaze Monique leveled his way.

"Detective." Nick's voice was tired. "I'm not a geneticist. But I am a biologist. And I've dealt with enough of Winter's creations to know exactly what we can and can't do with biotech. If Sevarius told you he had a cure, he lied." Pale fingers uncurling, he glanced at Monique. "Where is Phillipe?"

A flicker of dark amusement. "He has... how do you say, gone to tie up a loose end?"

Another rumble outside. Frowning, Nick headed downstairs. "I'll be back."

Egon glanced at Peter and Winston. Tipped his head toward the firepole.

With a wink, the parapsychologist leapt to polished metal. "Hey, Winston. Want to help me check the road crew?"

"Easy, big guy," Nick crooned, stepping near the massive head. Mendel met his gaze with a sigh of sheer relief, gripping Delilah's hand. A few blue-and-whites from the 23rd had dared to enter the area, setting up roadblocks across each end of the street. "What's wrong?"

Quiet rumble. Godzilla splayed taloned fingers over still-hot asphalt, tilting his head to eye steaming rubble. Nearby Gwydrfaen hissed, glaring at molten black.

Vibration, Nick realized, dropping to one knee to press his own hand against the street. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"I wish," Mendel muttered, fiddling with Nigel's ground-penetrating radar.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Nigel blinked, readings definitely showing a large quadraped clawing its way to the surface.

"Constructs are hard to destroy." Leaning heavy on her cane, Seirian glared at rubble.

Donovan turned a lighter charcoal. "You're not telling me they're digging out?"

"It's digging out," Venkman corrected, PKE meter flashing. "One signal."

"There should be two." Nick tried to get a good glimpse of the meter. What on earth did those blinking lines mean? "Demona's down there."

"Look, we're only reading one," Winston stated. "You guys might want to get out of the line of fire-"

Asphalt shattered upward.

"Down!" Nick knocked Mendel to the street, wincing at the high hum as two proton streams struck the screeching gryphon. Behind him he heard Donovan yelling for backup, Delilah snarling over them.

Green and yellow fire seared at the gryphon, crumbling feathers and flesh. But fast as flames burned it away, mist flowed in, layering muscle and fur over charcoaled bones.

More proton streams slashed the night. One intersected green flame.

A shard of blue-white fire snapped back, striking yellow metal with a scream and a crash of shattered steel.

"Nigel!" Mendel wriggled out from under Delilah's sheltering wings. "No!"

"Griffwn, datgorffori!" Elsie's voice knifed through the chaos. "Chwilfriwio i curlaw!"

The beast wailed like a lost soul, turning translucent in a burst of raindrops.

"Throw it!" Winston shouted. Ray's trap clinked down, snapping open in a hum and flood of light.

Shrieking, the gryphon dissolved, sucked inside in a whirl of mist and feathers.

Clunk. Striped doors snapped shut. Beep. Beep.

Suddenly free of mist, the night sky gleamed with stars.

Gwydrfaen sniffed the steaming hole. Snarled.

Seirian bit out a curse. "Gone."

"Gone?" Nick leaned on a massive talon, accepting the weird shift in perspective to see the asphalt pit with Godzilla's eyes.

The empty pit. Damn.

Godzilla snorted, moving gently away. The threat was gone, and it'd been a long night. He wanted sleep, fish, and a chance to heal, not necessarily in that order.

Stepping over the police barricade, he headed for the Harlem River.

"Whoa. You're saying someone was in there?" Winston peered down, troubled.

"An enemy to every human that walks the face of the planet." Seirian held a hand over empty air, as if feeling for unseen heat. Nostrils flared, echoing Gwydrfaen's sniff. "Hmph. Some sort of teleport, I'd wager."

Closing the spellbook, Elsie rattled iron links. "How much damage can she do without this?"

Seirian shook her head. "I'll set the clan to watching."

"We could help you with that." Venkman unleashed his most charming smile, took her hand. "You wouldn't believe how reasonable our fees are..."

The elderly woman shook him off in one swift motion. "Young man, the last time I met a human so feckless, he was being swallowed by a sea serpent." Green eyes squinched in amused memory. "Gregarinos never have had much luck with creatures of legend."

Sea serpents, Nick thought. It was almost enough to ask her to stay. Here was someone who'd met unnatural creatures long before H.E.A.T. had been more than a glimmer of a thought. Someone who could tell him about Eurielle's life, and just why his grandparents had shuffled him off with no more care than giving away an unwanted kitten.

Someone... he had absolutely no idea how to deal with.

Wrinkled fingers held a laminated card before him. "I know... you may never wish to see us," Seirian said softly. "But this is who we are, and how to find us." Passing the card to Monique, she inclined her head. "If you call, we will be there."

"I'd..." Nick hesitated. "I'll think about it."

Leaning on a wing of silky black, Seirian smiled.

Moving back towards his team, Nick drew a deep breath. "Let's go home."

"So it's not a cure." Holding the cold iron cup of spring water, Olga looked almost as queasy as Elisa felt.

"It was created by people who wanted their children to be part of both worlds," Ray pointed to the relevant paragraphs in Muircath's Guide to Denizens of the Deep. "Not just one."

"In effect, it should stabilize the imported DNA as an alternate form, achievable by voluntary transformation," Egon stated. "You could remain as you currently are, but given that these are artificially created organelles, the likelihood of their eventual disintegration is high."

"So it's this or..." Donovan trailed off.

"Total cellular destabilization," Egon supplied.

"Ouch," Frank muttered.

"It's not that bad," Angela said wistfully. "At least you could see the sun when you wanted." She gestured toward Delilah's curled, sleeping form. The hybrid was decked with myriad small bandages, but she had Ray's teddy bear in arm, Mendel's notebook under her hand, and an empty mug at her side, still dark from Janine's rich hot cocoa. "As soon as Delilah stops concentrating, she turns to stone."

"And H.E.A.T. had this?" Elisa asked, rubbing at a nagging headache. She could sense dawn coming on. Another hour, and they'd all be statues. Permanently, if they were unlucky and Sevarius' mimics destabilized in mid-change. "Why?"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to discuss that."

"This have anything to do with why Roache got your team out of town?" Matt asked.

"I'm afraid-"

"We get the point." Frank looked curious. "Who is that guy, anyway?"

"Hooter says he works for La Rochelle Casualty and Property," Donovan reported, rolling his eyes.

"Insurance? Get out of here."

Her cell rang. "Excuse me." Elisa walked out to the stairwell. "Maza."

"Elisa!" Diane's voice was light, despite the late hour. "We just got settled in. Did you want to talk to your friends?"

Oh no. "Matt!" the detective hissed. "It's my mom!"

"Diane?" Worry eased from Angela's eyes as she and Matt joined Elisa in the stairwell. "Elisa, what's wrong?"

"She's putting your father on the phone, that's what's wrong!"

"This could get complicated," Matt acknowledged.

"What am I going to tell them?" Elisa moaned as her parents handed the phone over.

"Relax, partner," Matt assured her. "You'll think of something."

"Elisa," came the familiar rumble.

"Goliath." The detective swallowed. Breathe. Just... breathe. "Hi."

"Hi!" Lex was ecstatic. "The flight was so cool!"

"Anything interesting happen while we were gone?" Brooklyn asked.

Elisa and Matt glanced at each other. "Ahhh..."

Leaning possessively on her detective's shoulder, Angela only smiled.

"You said there was one more thing, Frank?" Talmadge asked.

"Well..." Frank stroked red hair away from Olga's sleeping face. She and Donovan were both snoring away on the Ghostbusters' spare cots; a side effect of metabolic stress caused by the transformation, Spengler said. "Isaac, what's the word on Seirian's rap sheet? The real word."

Drowsing in a chair, Mailli pried open a sleepy green eye.

A sigh from Nevada. "The autopsy results are on record, Frank."

"Yeah." He'd had Hooter check that. Dead by fire, or claw, or sword. Carnage to match any jungle ambush. "But I worked with the lady, Isaac. She's one of the good guys."

A thoughtful scratch of pen on paper. "I believe the cases can be closed."

Silence across the room. But Frank felt that sea-green gaze bore into him, sharp and fierce as blizzard lightning. Something moved on the roof overhead; a black tail-tip flicked past the window. "You sure on that?"

"We owe her." A quiet chuckle. "It's not as if it will be difficult. Gunshot wound or no, the investigators were sure there was no way on Earth a woman could have traveled over a hundred miles in one hour. Only Inire's interference has kept the warrant alive this long."

"And our operation has enough pull to outweigh that," Talmadge said thoughtfully. "Thanks to you, Frank."

"Couldn't do it without you guys." He yawned, about ready to drop into a sleeping bag himself. "Night."

A soft creak; Seirian watched him from half-closed eyes. "I wouldn't have asked you to do that."

Frank glanced at his hands, thinking of Hansen's Island, and Jimmy. Even in the black pit of insanity, what had hurt most was knowing his son was growing up without him. "Yeah, well... I know what it's like, not to be able to see your own kid." He grinned at her. "So how's about that adoption?"

Seirian only smiled.

Cameron Winter struggled against his bonds, cursing as what felt like steel links stayed put. Padded cloth covered his eyes, turning the world almost as dark as the Dupres woman's fist. A musty scent hung in the air, tanged with salt air. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. I'll sue you into the next century. You, H.E.A.T., Nickels - you'll all go down! When my lawyers get through-"

"There will be no lawyers, M'sieur." Knuckles cracked. "And you are... quite alone."

Home. Leaning on the double-locked door, Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Gargoyles or not, he felt safer than he had since he'd walked into the 23rd Precinct.

"Randy, check the Internet." Looking over the docked H.E.A.T. Seeker, Nick ran down a mental checklist of what was on board, what they should load on, what they could live without. "Messages, reports... anything that was supposed to get to us and didn't."

Tapping away, the hacker nodded. "Looking for something specific, jefe?"

"Some reason to get out of town?" Elsie guessed. Chain clinked in her arms, binding a certain headache-causing tome together.

"Any reason," Mendel wished fervently, toting yellow parts. "I'd rather put Nigel back together in the middle of a tornado than deal with this!"

Monique finished sharpening her knife. "It would be wise to be elsewhere while the city... comes to terms."

Keys clicked. "We got a possible mutant shark off Miami," Randy offered.

Nick swept his gaze across them all. "What's the verdict?"

Silent glances. Broken by a quiet, thoughtful voice. "I have never seen your shuttle take off."

"Me neither." Mendel perked up.

"White sands beach party." Randy grinned. "Flush!"

"That is, if our fearless leader can see taking a day or two off at Canaveral," Elsie pointed out, leaning on a chair as she waggled red brows. "Florida, sand, sun..."

Elsie in a swimsuit. The thought had its attractions. Definitely. But-

Ring.

"H.E.A.T.," Nick sighed into the phone.

"Is anybody going to do something with this - this - thing?" a plaintive man's voice wailed. In the background could be heard a loud, annoyed squawk, as of a flock of pigeons in metallic chorus.

"Pigeon," Nick said numbly. After the rest of this night, one magnetically-charged avian mutation had totally slipped his mind. "Right. The pigeon. Ah..."

Dark-nailed fingers plucked the phone from his grasp. "The mutation is the property of the United States armed forces," Monique said briskly. "Deliver it to the Sandy Point military base. C.O.D." Click.

Nick stared, agape.

Monique gave him a small, secret smile. "Let us depart."

"I'm going to kill him." Plucking metallic feathers out of his cap, Hicks strode through the command tent like an annoyed hurricane. Staff scattered out of his way, drifts of snowy down skirling in their wake. Soldiers came to hasty attention, bits of iron-laced keratin rattling off their buckles.

Hicks glared at the electrical cage at the end of the runway; the cage some penny-pinching bureaucratic idiot had opened. Couldn't have Uncle Sam signing for some unauthorized shipment, now could they?

The idiot had run for the hills. Two helicopters had almost collided, five planes had made emergency landings, three satellite broadcast companies were calling in complaints, and Hicks' containment team had gotten one heck of a workout.

And pigeon feathers were everywhere.

"I don't know how," Hicks snarled, glaring out at Staten Island. "I don't know when. But I'm going to kill him..."