______________________________________________________________________

The sky covering the island of Manhattan and most of the city that never sleeps was completely white, no sign of any blue or sunlight poking through the opaque glaze. There were so many clouds coating the stratosphere one could not see the frayed ends of the clouds when they connected to each other. Coupled with the chilling temperature the sky was able to shed it’s thick coat in the form of hundreds of white flurries.

The tiny flakes floated down past the kitchen window of Jon Canmore’s apartment, bringing a smile to the weregoyles face as he cradled the phone to his ear. The sight of the snow falling made it seem a lot more like Christmas to him.

"It will just be the three of us and our families?" Jason’s deep voice came through the other end of the phone.

"Well there will be another party," Jon explained as he carried the phone with him and entered the dining room. The normal checkered table cloth had been replaced with one that was striped with red and pink to resemble candy canes. A large red candle, framed by holly took it’s place in the center. They had decorated nearly every nook and cranny of the apartment for the holidays. There were even Christmas towels in the bathrooms.

"Another party?" Jason’s voice carried a tone of uncertainly. "And who will that be?"

"Just Lorrie’s brother and his lady friend, and their daughter," Jon explained hoping it wouldn’t put Jason off at the thought of a warm and crowded apartment on Christmas Eve. "He doesnae really have much else t’ go since his father is still not quite accepting of his lifestyle."

"I understand. I just donae know where ye will be able t’ squeeze everyone."

"We have it all figured out," Jon pulled out a chair and sat down. His eyes were on the China cabinet where they draped a bunch of plastic cranberries on top. "We’ll have the children in Eddie’s room. Ye, Donny, Christine, and Charlene will be in Colin’s room, and Robyn can sleep on the couch."

"I see," Jason tried to sound like he knew what his brother was thinking. "Ye have us all cramped up so that we canna be intimate wi our families, and ye and Lorrie have all the room ye need."

"Na," Jon fought hard to keep from laughing. "We just donae have the room in our bedroom to provide a comfortable place fer anyone else. Cannae risk having a guest stepped on in the middle of the night, especially with my talons." He tapped the ends of his shoes against the floor. They were small and weak at the time, but hours later they would be large and strong.

"All right. We’ll be over there Christmas Eve, even though ye and Lorrie will be the only ones besides the children with huge grins on their faces."

"Ach will ye stop that? Lorrie and I never make love on Christmas eve, or Christmas day, and we’ll try ta keep ye from doing the same."

__________________________________________________________________________

Tiny white fragments swirled together in a semi violent matter before the slowly settled down. The flurries covered the serene form of the angel as crystal like bubbles floated up to the top of the liquid in the glass encased sphere. The world surrounding the small figure was large and blurry, an effect caused by the concaving glass.

Macbeth didn’t want to remove his gaze from the snowglobe on his desk until he heard the familiar knock at the door to his office. The angel within was not a cherub, nor was it a female child with feathered wings. She had the appearance of young woman, dressed in a billowing gown. Her flowing locks resembled the color of her wings, gold, bronze and copper. It reminded the immortal Scotsman of his wife and how he cannot wait to finish last minute work before he can return home.

"Professor Macduff?" The voice of Jon Canmore permeated through the door to the hallways outside. "May I come in?"

"Aye, lad," Macbeth sat back in his chair where he had draped his heavy coat for the day. He had calculated he needed just a few hours to calculate the last of his grades and send it in to the system. Headed in an extra half hour to speak with Jon.

"It’s beginning t’ feel a lot like Christmas out there," Jon took his favorite seat in front of Macbeth’s desk and loosened the wool scarf around his neck. There was still a hint of pink from the outside weather in his cheeks.

"A most wonderful time of the year indeed," Macbeth chuckled warmly. "Before we start can I offer ye something t’ drink?"

"Thank ye but I’m not thirsty,"

"I will always be offering ye something, ye know that."

"Good old Scottish Hospitality," Jon peeled the leather gloves that protected his hands from the bitter cold. "It’s the reason why I donae want t’ keep ye in yer office too long. Ye should be as free as yer students and be able t’ enjoy yer vacation."

"I understand and appreciate the offer, but I want t’ be able to stay fer as long as ye need. Now tell me about yer family."

"Lorrie has already gone nuts wi the holiday baking. She has sugar cookies cut into the shapes of holiday symbols and decorated with frostings and sprinkles, gingerbread men, a verra rich and verra moist fruitcake, nobake oateal cookies, peanut butter squares, her holiday version of Rice Krispe treats, rum balls, cookies wi cranberries, oatmeal cookies with walnuts and pecans and she insists on baking a holiday pie."

"Sounds a lot like my wife," Macbeth grinned at the thought of their kitchen filled with hand baked treats.

"I insist in trying t’ help her, but I am completely inept when it comes t’ cooking. At least me brother and sister will be over t’ help her with Christmas dinner."

"How are yer siblings?"

"The last time I talked wi Robyn she was sore from her last assignment and she has admitted t’ having feelings fer one of her coworkers. Both Jason and Christine are uncertain if this will be Pride Force’s last season. They have several movie roles offered to them."

"How are yer sons?"

"Colin is getting faster and better at gliding," Jon closed his eyes and thought about his eldest son in the air, being supported by his wings without his father’s help. "He wants to go out every night so he can fell the air under his wings."

"Well that is perfectly understandable," Macbeth nodded. "And how is yer other son?"

"He’s pretty fast at running all over the place. He’s getting to the point where we are having trouble trying t’ keep up wi him. It’s like he almost never sleeps."

"Now is there anything on yer mind? It can be about work, or the gargoyles, or even yer organization."

"Ye may judge my group harshly, but we are nowhere near as bad as H.A.M. They are only one step above the KKK."

"They are that bad?"

"If ye have a slight mutation, even if it’s due to’ an accident then they will claim ye are not human and must be wiped off the face of this planet," Jon twisted his face up into a scowl. "A few of them are even against natraul deformities such as being born with webbed toes or as an albino."

"This group does seem to be more extreme than your group," the immortal pressed his fingers against each other. "But have you ever thought that yer Quarrymen were once like them?"

Jon shook his head. "We were never that bad. We may have been against the mutates but a slight mutation was never a reason t’ want them murdered."

"Anyone who associates with gargoyles were once the enemy in yer eyes."

"I was an enraged and insane fool," Jon clenched his fists. "I see now that they have been lead astray."

"Ye still believe pure blooded gargoyles are evil? What about those like Ms Yale."

"They are not evil, only those who have hatched from the egg are as evil as the Demon."

"From what I understand there are several transformed living along the northern seaboard. They will eventually have their own breeding season. Will their hatchlings be evil?"

"Nae, it’s different."

"How will ye be able t’ tell the difference?"

"I don’t..." He never finished his sentence and instead buried his face in his hands. "I need ta think about it."

"That is almost the answer I was looking for," it wasn’t near what Macbeth wanted to hear. The immortal Scotsmen wanted Jon to admit he couldn’t tell the difference. The younger man was close to admitting the fact, but his stubbornness stalled him.

"I should be gettin’ home about now," Jon rose to his feet, trying to slip his gloves back on during the process. "Thank ye fer the time t' talk."

"I will give ye the number t’ me house," He grabbed the top of his stack of post it notes and neatly wrote down his phone number. "In case ye need t’ talk around the holiday."

"Thank ye," Jon accepted the scrap of paper and slipped it into his pocket. "If ye donae have anything planned ye are welcome t’ have Christmas dinner at my apartment."

"Thank ye fer the offer lad, but I am looking forward t’ a quiet even wi just me wife. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Jon offered one last smile before leaving.

Macbeth waited until the door had fully closed behind the younger man before he picked up the snowglobe one more time and gave it a gently shake. He was done for the day and he could return home to his wife.

________________________________________________________________________

The thick cloth of authentic Irish linen covered the top of the oak table in Macbeth’s dining room. It was the deep red color of cranberries and folded with hospital corners near the ends. Angelica had it set with green cloth place mats and golden napkin holders with a sprig of holly attacked. The elegance was complete with the slender red candles towering above their golden bases and the vase filled with poinsettias in the center. The only thing that appeared out of place was the brick like patch of a pot holder with the steaming covered pot at one end of the table.

"Angelica," Macbeth’s deep brogue purred out the name of his wife. "I have dinner ready."

"I’ll be there in a bit," Angelica’s voice sang out. "I have ta finish dryin’ me hair now."

"Ye look gorgeous even when it’s still damp and hanging limply around yer face, or if ye have it wrapped up in a towel." He used the polished copper ladle to give the colecannon another full turn before stating into the hallway. "ye don’t want yer dinner t’ get cold now."

"I’m usin’ the blow dryer," Angelica responded before she exited the bathroom. She was barefoot, displaying her new butterfly shaped toe ring and burgundy enamel that covered her toenails. Her hair that started as a shade of chocolate at the roots and paled to beige at the ends were gathered up into the back of her head and held secure with plastic hair clip. She wore a midriff baring shirt and a pair of low rider denim pants.

"Now that is quite an interesting look fer ye," Macbeth felt a stirring in his pants that he tried to ignore and removed his gaze from his wife.

"If me own children and grandchildren could see me now," Angelica chuckled as she grabbed onto the back of one of the chairs.

"Allow me," Macbeth set the ladle down and pulled the chair out for his wife and waited for her to sit down before he pushed her er and the chair closer to the table. "Not too tight?"

"Just perfect," She removed the paper napkin threaded through the ring and placed it across her lap. "Smells delicious. It’s been a while since we were able to enjoy colecanon."

"With a nice and juicy pot roast and a bit of fresh baked bread on the side," He laded out the assortment of vegetables into her bowl.

"Tell me ye didn’t bake it."

"I didn’t. I picked it up on the way home from work."

"That reminds me," she accepted the bowl form her husband. "How was yer meeting with young Canmore?"

"It was almost like ever other meeting we have had," Macbeth filled his own bowl with the conception from the pot. "He is concerned and worried about H.A.M."

"Well who wouldn’t be?"

"He did admit he was once wrong about being almost like that other hateful organization," he cut a few slices of meat for his wife and himself before he carried the pots back to the kitchen and placed it one of the coils on the stove. He hung oven mitts back onto the hooks near the spice rack and rolled back the lid of the wooden breadbox where a loaf of crusty bread was waiting for him. "He feels the gargoyles who used to be human were not the enemy."

"He still feels that the gargoyles in Wyvern are?"

"Aye," he sliced off two pieces and brought them back to the dining table. "He was verra close t’ admitting he would be able to tell the difference, but he stalled."

"Ye got close. It’s a good step," she used the fork to cut of a piece of food suitable for a bite and tasted it.

"Does it need any salt or pepper?"

"It’s perfectly fine," she tore off a piece of bread and used it to sop up some of the juices and broth. "I would like some butter for me bread and something ta drink."

"Would ye like me to brew you some tea?"

"I’m in a Christmas mood. How about some of that Holiday soda?"

"That sounds like it would be a good idea," Macbeth returned to the kitchen, only catching the faintest glint of an idea in his wife’s eyes. She is planning on something, but he will not ask. If she was interested she would have told him. The only thing he could possibly think of what she may be thinking of has something to do with Jon Canmore.

________________________________________________________________________

"Robyn, you made it." Lorrie wrapped her arms around the shoulders of her sister-in-law as she stepped over the threshold. "Merry Christmas Eve."

"Merry Christmas Eve," Robyn echoed the greeting before she bent down to pick up the two pieces of luggage she carried.

"Let me help you with that," Lorrie picked up what appeared to have been the easier of the two suit cases and stepped back to let the blond woman in. "How was your flight?"

"Long and surprisingly comfortable," Robyn looked for the Christmas tree so that she would not bump into accidentally as she tried to find a place to put her things. The tree was only five feet in height and had garlands of silver and gold tinsel woven around the branches along with the lights that blinked in several different colors. There were a various ornaments including bows of red and gold, icicles made out of clear plastic, various ornaments balls in several different colors and patterns, bells that jingle, tiny angels, plastic saints, reindeer, candy canes and miniature stockings. "The tree is beautiful."

"Let me help ye unload yer gifts and I’ll show ye the ornaments the boys made," Jon carried in the last bag. It did not seem to heavy, but by the way the weregoyle carried it Lorrie could tell it was delicate and precious.

"I guess I could just place them on the couch since that is where I’ll be sleeping," Robyn set her bag down on the sofa and turned when she heard the tiny steps of children running.

"Aunt Robyn," Colin and Hunter ran up to their aunt and barely gave her time to react before she leaped into her arms. "We miss you."

"What you bring me?" the three year old boy asked. He had the same light brown hair and brown eyes of his mother, but his features resembled the photographs of Jason when he was three.

"Hunter," Christine entered the living room followed by a man that Robyn could only guess as being Lorrie’s brother. He was as tall as her and had hair the color of deep honey and bright green eyes, but the shape of his nose and chin matched Lorrie’s. "It’s Christmas. You are not supposed to say that."

"It’s all fight," Robyn could not keep from smiling at the smallest boy in Donny’s arms. The toddler had the same wine colored hair and brown eyes as Lorrie but his facial features were closer to Jon’s than Colin’s "Boys will be boys. How old are ye now?"

"I’m five," Colin declaired proudly and uncloaked his wings. "I can glide."

"I’m three," Hunter pulled his hand out of his pocket and held up three fingers."

"This little guys is about nineteen months," Donny hefted Eddie up so the child could rest more comfortably against his uncle’s chest.

"It seems that there are a few people missing," Robyn noticed the lack of her older brother and the young woman who was a good friend to Donny and mother to their daughter.

"Jason and I are both in charge of dinner," Christine explained the lack of her husband. "Only one of us could tear ourselves away from the stove."

"Charlene is in the kid’s room feeding Patsy," Donny said. "She’s about nine months old and we moved from breastmilk to the bottle."

"Patsy?" Robyn blinked. How could they have saddled the infant with a name like that.

"It’s short for Patricia," Donny shrugged. "If she wants something a bit more different I am certain she will let us know when she gets older."

"I understand."

"I should get back into the kitchen," Christine smiled warmly. "I don’t want Jason to feel like I had abandoned him, and I have to finish making the Christmas Eve salad."

"Christmas Eve salad?" Robyn had tasted several different kinds of salads in travels across the planet, but she was sure she had never tried that kind.

"It’s part of Chris’s family tradition," Lorrie explained as she grabbed both of Robyn’s suitcases. "You can keep your bags in our walk in closet. We’ll give you the privacy you need."

"Thank ye."

"Donny, could you set the table and fix up the high chairs?" Lorrie asked as she entered her and Jon’s bed room.

"Let me help," Robyn was about to follow Donny towards the dining room when she felt someone grab her hand from behind. "Colin?"

"Nae," Jon answered. "Let me show ye the ornaments the boys made,"

"I’m pretty sure they want me to see them also," She stared down at the smiling faces of her nephews and reflected their grins.

_________________________________________________________________________

The meal was complete with five minutes before sunset. The time gave Jon long enough for him to change in both clothing and form and it gave time for the food to cool. Robyn and Lorrie managed to get all the boys into the bathroom to wash their faces and hands and Donny and Charlene brought little Patsy to the high chair they had brought along. The last details involved brining out the butter, sour cream, and bacon bits for the potatoes and fill everyone’s glasses with something to drink, milk for the boys and iced tea and Coke for the adults.

The Christmas Eve dinner was not large. The turkey with all the trimmings, the stuffing, jellied cranberries would be saved for the next evening. The three Canmore siblings had grown up with having the large holiday meal on Christmas Eve, but had become more used to waiting until the next day before they were able to enjoy the turkey.

Instead of Turkey they dined on roasted chicken legs, baked potatoes, carrots cooked in butter and brown sugar and the holiday salad. Christine had made sure they used the darkest green lettuce along with cucumbers and green peppers for the Green part of the salad. The red came in the form of cherry tomatoes, radishes, and red peppers. It was smothered in a dressing made out of cranberries and chopped chestnuts.

"You have got to give me the recipe for this dressing," Charlene commented after her fifth bite of the salad. "I have to make sure we have this next year." She was a petite woman who kept her dark hair cut short. Thick eyelashes framed her hazel colored eyes.

"It looks like the holiday salad will be part of everyone’s family tradition," Christine grinned.

Jon had loaded his plate with twice as much food as everyone else. There were four legs and two potatoes in addition to large amounts of vegetables. He did not feel self conscious or even imagine several people watching him as he ate. Both Donny and Charlene grew to reconize that as a gargoyle he ate more than they did.

"Mommy?" Colin pasued in the middle of eating. Both He and Hunter were given a drum stick each along with a little bit of carrots and salad. They had split a potato between the two of them. "My carrots taste really sweet."

"Your aunt Christine made them," Lorrie smiled at Chris before she brought a spoonful of toddler carrots to the mouth of her youngest son. She had just added a tiny bit of brown sugar to the mix and it worked like a charm. Eddie practically leaned forward to bite the carrots of the spoon. He was learning how to hand feed himself and already finished his small bits of chicken. He did not have any version of salad but enjoyed some mashed potatoes.

"Thank you Aunt Christine," Colin grinned.

"I’m glad you enjoyed it," Christine couldn’t keep from grinning. "And I don’t mind sharing any of my recipes."

"We’ll probably be exchanging recipes as we are exchanging gifts," Lorrie nodded.

"I was listening to my small radio when I was bottle feeding Patsy," Charlene had a couple of bowls of solid food for her daughter. She had selected pureed carrots and vanilla custard and slowly spoon-fed to the infant who was staring at all the adults with rapt curiosity. "The Air force had given the clear fly zone for Santa Claus."

"Santa Claus is coming?" Hunter had dropped his chicken bone onto his plate. "When?"

"Tonight," Jason raised his glass. "After we had all gone to sleep."

"I can’t sleep," Colin shook his head. "Santa Claus is coming."

"You are going to," Jon explained. "After we all have dessert you children will be allowed t’ open one gift and then it’s bedtime."

"Aww. Do we hafta."

"not straight to bed," His Aunt Christine explained. " Right after you had brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas."

"And right after I tell you a bed time stories." Lorrie hoped the suggestion would pacify the boys.

Dessert turned out to be home baked gingerbread cookies with more milk to drink it with. Lorrie made sure to warm up the milk in the hopes that it will help tire out the boys. After everyone had their fill Jon, Robyn and Donny piled the dishes to a stack and brought them to the sink and dishwasher to be cleaned.

"Who want’s presents?" Lorrie asked from his place next to the tree. "Santa had sent me an e-mail and in it he said I can pick out the gifts for you to open tonight."

"Presents," It almost seemed like Hunter had magically appeared by her side and almost as fast as the three year old appeared he was pulled back by Colin.

"Girl’s first," the five year old explain. "Patsy goes first."

"That is very mature of you," Charlene had carried her infant daughter over to the edge of three tree and accepted the gift Lorrie had selection." Look Patsy." Charlene tried to show her how to open it up, but Patsy was more interested with the paper that was peeled off and grabbed some of it. Charlene lifted the lid of the box . A pink infant sized night gown was in the box. "She is going to wear it tonight."

Eddies gift was a plastic dump truck. The toddler giggle as he pushed it around. Hunter received a Mr. Potato Head and Colin unwrapped a stuffed dragon.

"Is that the one you wanted?" Lorrie asked. She had remembered when she took Colin to FAO Shwartz and he pointed at the dark blue dragon.

"Yeah," he gave the toy and squeeze and giggled in delight when it growled. "We have to go to bed now?"

"Bath time first."

__________________________________________________________________________

The small cascade tumbled out of the silver spout and poured into the small clear pool, surrounded by a thick white cloud of suds, courtesy of Mr. Bubble. Lorrie placed her hand into the warm water to determine if it was too hot or just right. It wouldn’t have been warm enough for her, although it was probably warm enough for the boys. "There are two wash cloths, Colin can you show me you are a big boy and show your cousin how you take a bath?"

"Yes mommy," Colin had crawled into the bathtub first and sank until his bottom touched the porecelain tuh. "I cant wash my hair. It gets in my eyes."

"It’s the no tears stuff," Lorrie hosted a naked Hunter and placed him in along with his cousin. "We washed your hair yesterday. You want to have soft hair, not a bird’s nest."

Okay," Colin grabbed onto the second wash cloth and threw it towards Hunter. Lorrie kept an eye on the two boys while dipped a wash cloth into the sink and used it to scrub Eddie clean. There were two reasons why she didn’t place Eddie into the tub with the others. Colin explained he didn’t want to take a bath in pee and the second reason occurred when Lorrie was towel drying her baby.

"Bubble ball!" Colin shouted before he hefted a handful of suds and threw it at Hunter.

"Oh yeah?" Hunter splashed more suds and water at the older boy.

"Okay bath time is over," Lorrie placed a dry diaper onto the counter and placed Eddie on top of it. "Colin pull the plug."

"You never let me have any fun."

In less than ten minutes Lorrie had all three boys dried and dressed in their pajamas. She placed toothpaste onto the brushes of the older boys and while they shared the step stool she brushed Eddie’s teeth.

"When do we get a story?" Colin asked the second they left the bathroom and entered Eddies room. The large crib was big enough for Eddie and Patsy to share. The older boys were going to camp out on the floor where Jon had opened up a sleeping bag and laid it flat.

"When you are all tucked in," Lorrie placed Eddie at one need of the crib and covered him with several layers of sheets and blankets. At the other end Charlene had finished tucking in her daughter. Charlene had used one half of the kitchen sink to wash her daughter and clean the few teeth that had come in.

"Her first slumber party," Charlene chuckled. "And the only one she will attend with boys."

"You are welcome to stay while I read to them a classic tale."

"How can you read dad’s tail?" Colin and Hunter had crawled onto the sleeping bag bed. The older boy had set his new stuffed toy in between them so they could both share it for the night.

"Not that kind of tail," Lorrie fought hard to keep from laughing while Charlene gave in and laughed. "It’s a story. I have the book all set up."

"Can we see pictures?" Hunter asked as he tired to pull the blankets over him.

"Sure you can," she and Charlene both helped tuck in the boys. Lorrie had waited until they were comfortable before she opened up the book to the first page of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas."

________________________________________________________________________

The freezing temperature clung to the air that blew through the city, biting through the clothing and sitting the very skin of Angelica until she adjusted the temperature that surrounded her and did not fact the snow as it fell onto the cement balcony and dotted her hair and melted into droplets of crystal.

She had untied her hair and let it hang loosely around her shoulders shortlyafter she had arrived to the apartment balcony of Jon Canmore and his family. It wasn’t just his family, but Also her family. Her great geat grandchildren and their children. She felt a strong tie to all three of the Canmore siblings even though Jon was the one who married Lorrie, maybe it was because she had cursed their ancestor, or maybe it was because she was married to their great times a hundred uncle. It was the feeling of connection and the fact Jon had invited her for dinner the next night that brought her over. She did not want to intrude on the comfortable setting and peered into the glass door that separated the outside from the dining area.

Even from outside Angelica could make out the silver hairs that dotted the dark curls crowning the eldest Canmore sibling. Jason appeared more than comfortable dressed in a pair of pants and red sweater. A glass of a cream colored liquid was in his hand. For a half second it appeared that he could see her standing outside, but it only took a second for Angelica to realize he was seeing past her at the snow falling.

"I don’t blame ye," she stared over her shoulder at the snow falling towards the streets below. "It’s a perfect Christmas Eve outside with the snow.

"Robyn!" Jason glared at the beverage in his hand. His lips were turned into a small scowl of disgust. "Ye put too much rum in the eggnog!"

"She isnae here," Jon camera had left the living room the second he heard his brother’s abrupt cry. "She has gone with Donny, Lorrie and Christine to bring up the big gifts I left with the super."

"The big gifts?" Jason blinked.

"The unwrapped ones that took us hours t’ assemble," Jon grinned as he poured himself a glass of eggnog. "The ones Santa has brought fer the bairns."

"The big wheel fer Hunter," Jason slowly sipped his drink.

"Aye, and the tricycle fer Colin and the baby gyms fer the wee ones," Jon took a sip from his glass. "Probably would be a we bit strong fer me if I drank some if it during the day."

"ye are lying t’ cover up fer her. Ye can drink more that is all."

"It’s Christmas," Jon shrugged before he took another drink. "We should be in the living room watching the movie with Charlene."

"What movie?"

"Scrooged. It’s a bit of a tradition fer Lorrie’s family t’ watch it on Christmas Eve."

"Those Irish Americans from the south and their crazy customs," Jason tried to joke but the glare in Jon’s eyes stopped him in mid chuckle. "Ah Jon, ye can tell when I’m joking wi ye?"

"I can tell, but Lorrie’s family may not have been able to."

"It might be the same fer us if someone outside the fame makes a joke about our family’s shameful past."

"What is shameful about it? We were doing the right thing in the removal of those monsters."

"Not tonight," Jason shook his head and began t head for the living room. "Let’s not talk about Demona or Goliath’s clan tonight, or tomorrow night."

"Aye," Jon stared outside for a few seconds before he followed his brother, unknowing he was being watched.

"Ye keep prattling’ on about how evil they are," Angelica said underbreath despite the fact that one can hear her. "Ye may say it, and ye may think it, but there is a part deep within yer heart that feels different." She might not be able to convince the Hunter that night, nor would she be able to the following nights. It was going to take his family to eventual make it right.

________________________________________________________________

Angelica had watched the blissful events from her place on the balcony and when the dining area had completely emptied she stepped through the glass and walked towards the living room, concealed only by her shroud of invisibility and silence. Nothing could have kept the smile from developing at the sight of the adults placing the large and colorful toys in front of the tree and she could only imagine the children when they wake up and see them. She would have loved to stay much longer and planned to hear the laughter of the boys and the soft babbling from the tiny angel when her mother carried her out, but she would not be there the next day.

The angel halfling waited until everyone had retired to their rooms for the evening and Robyn's breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm. The middle child of the Canmore siblings would be the first that evening. She did not want to focus all of her energy on Jon and selected which of the Canmore bloodline to perform her magic upon.

The pale eyelids fluttered while the soft lips parted, not a sound exited from Robyn, not a snore or a word, just her breath as she drifted into a deeper sleep. The thick blanket and afghan that covered her rose with each berth, almost pulsating like the steady beating of a heart.

"Ye may have the sweetest o dreams, but that will come a bit later," Angelica whispered as a slender beam of light projected from her forehead and struck Robyn between her eyes.

________________________________________________________________

Robyn awoke when she sensed a presence right next to her. After opening her eyes she had to close them again. The light that flooded the room was too much for her and she had to shield her eyes.

"I am sorry," the soft voice sang out in a tone that Robyn found pleasing. "I will tone it down now that you have woken up."

Robyn parted one eyelid open by a thin crack, then slowly rose her eyelid all the way before she opened her other eye. There was still a brilliant glow radiating off the figure standing right next to her, but it had toned down to where Robyn can look at her without squinting.

The woman standing before her was breath taking. Her shimmering white gown billowed at the bottom as if it were an actual cloud that had wisp shifting around by an invisible breeze. A golden belt, dripping with tiny gold bells was wrapped around her waist. Her sleeves hugged against her arms until they reached the wrists when the spread out with more bells hanging from the ends. More bells dangled from the necklace she wore and even more crowned the top of hair and kept her pale gold hair tamed.

"What are ye?" Robyn forced her mouth to form the words. "Are ye an angel?"

"No I am not, Robyn Canmore." The being spoke in the sweet tone she had first used. "I am a spirit."

"Ye are the spirit of Christmas past?" Robyn asked. She had to wonder why the ghost had selected her of all people to visit. She knew the true meaning of Christmas and was more than willing to help the less fortunate.

"I am the spirit of the past," the being answered. "It is not always Christmas, but all the past."

"Why have ye come t’ visit me?"

"I have come to help you and your brother. Jon needs the seeds of hope to be planted in his heart, so that he may some day turn around and forget his vengeance, forget his hate."

"Then why havenae ye gone to him?"

The Spirit turned towards the door leading to Jon and Lorrie’s bedroom, the tiny bells jingled and tinkled as she moved. "He needs his family to help him. The key is in his family and not just him."

"I have already spoken t’ him," she hung her head. "And he wouldnae listen. He still won’t listen when we try t’ convince him."

"To help him understand better, you must understand better," she held out her hand, causing more of the light music to be heard.. "Come with me."

"To where?"

"Not where, but when. We are going back to the beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

"Of the Hunt, of why your family has hunted Gargoyles for so long."

"To learn of the true begging?" Robyn sat up, her sheet slid down her body. "Won’t anyone notice I am gone?"

"Not if we return a few seconds after you have left," the spirit clasped her fingers around Robyn’s wrist.

________________________________________________________________

The brilliant light surrounding Robyn had faded, leaving only darkness to surround her. High above their heads the mortal woman could see the stars. Around her all she could see was nothing save for a familiar castle in the distance and the tops of the trees. That brought her focus to what was beneath her. She could see the ground, but from several feet below from where she as floating.

"Do not worry," the spirit had assured her. "You cannot fall. We are both ghostlike in a way while we are in the past. You can fly and move through objects. You do not have to worry about being seen or heard.

"This isn’t real?" Robyn still held onto the Spirits hand even though she did not feel the force of the earth try to pull herself towards it.

"It is real. This really happened. We just cannot affect or be affected by what happens tonight."

The familiar cougar like cry of a female gargoyle brought Robins attention to the barn beneath them. The familiar flame of untamed redhair and cerulean skin of Demona raced out from the back entrance. Her arms were loaded with various fruits.

"My face!" the youth that exited from the opposite end of the barn couldn’t have been a day over thirteen. Robyn was certain she would have known the exact age of the boy if he hadn’t kept his face covered with his hands. She had to strain to see the crimson droplets seeping through his fingers.

"Can we get closer?" Robyn had asked when a middle aged man, possibly the youth’s father ran towards the boy.

"Certainly." Guiding the human by her hand, the Spirit was able to bring the two of them lower to the ground until they within a few feet of the man and the youth. From where they floated both females could tell the man appeared disappointed.

"She was a demon," the youth tore away from his father and glared at the sky, opposite from where Robyn and the Spirit was. ""She shall pay for what she did, she and her evil race."

"That is a wee bit erratic," the father folded his arms. "Donae ye think so, Gilcomgain. Now get back t’ the barn and donae come back till ye filled a bucket with milk."

"Ye donae even care," Gilcomgain pointed towards his face. The gashes were no longer just oozing blood, but opaque droplets of pus as well. "Ye donae even care that I am injured."

"I had injuries far worse than yes. Ye are too old t’ be crying like a wee boy. Yer a man now, ye should act like one."

"Those scratches," Robyn didn’t speak until they both had floated backwards. "They are almost like the red streaks in the mask I wear."

"We are about to travel four years into the future," the spirit warned her and took a firmer grasp of Robyn’s hand. Her soft glow grew in brilliance and size until it covered both her and Robyn in a blinding flash.

________________________________________________________________

Robyn kept her squeezed shut until the light seemed to fade. Even with the shade of her lids the light almost burned and the first time they had traveled back she kept her hand over her eyes as a second shield. She was becoming even more used to it, despite the fact she hoped they did not have much more traveling to do.

The rustling of the leaves was the first sound Robyn heard when the light had faded to the point where she could safely open her eyes. This time they were standing on the ground, not that it mattered since they could float or fly. Almost everywhere Robyn turned she could see trees, thick families of trunks so close together she couldn’t tell which one ended and the other began.

"When and where?" Robyn asked and was answered by the sound of an arrow wizzingthrough the air and meeting it’s target.

"Four years later from the last place," the spirit had turned towards the back of the youth holding the bow. "We are in the woods near the farm house."

"Is that the boy who was scratched?" Robyn was not sure if was the same youth or not. His hair was the same color but cut shorter and he was taller by a foot and a half. When he reached to pull another arrow from the wooded quiver strapped to his back she could see muscles bulge.

"Gilcomgain," the soft voice came from behind the two women. Robyn turned around in time to see a young sixteen year old maiden and crossed in a simple gene gown walk through them. Her cheeks were tinted pink, not by any form of ancient cosmetic but were a natraul color caused by working outside. Her strawberry blond hair was kept in a braid and she was carrying a bundle of what appeared to have been a blanket made of very fine material folded over several times.

"Aye," the young man turned around, still holding onto the arrow he had drawn out. Even if the girl hadn’t called him by name Robyn would have been able to tell it was Gilcomgain. He had the same color of eyes as they youth from the past and the same features, the most extinguished marking on him were the three long and jagged scars running down his face.

"It is finished as yeah have asked," the maiden held out the cloth before her. "Your hood and cloak has been completed."

"And the mask?"

"The mask as well," she pulled out mask that would have neatly fit over Gilcomgain’s head. The material was as dark as the sea at night with two holes cut carefully in for his eyes. Three distinguished lines of crimson covered the front of the mask.

"Hold onto it until I am finished," Gilcomgain turned toward the target and drew back on the bowstring. The muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled back as far as he could go before he let go. The arrow shot through the air and struck the tagged in the center. The arrow’s shaft as only a hairsbreadth away from touching the shaft of the previous arrow.

"Another perfect mark," the maiden breathed. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. "If it was any closer ye would have been able to split the other arrow into two."

"That was my main goal," Gilcomgain clenched his jaw as he pulled another arrow out. "I cannot hunt the demon until I have reached perfection."

Robyn was ready to comment when she felt the Spirit grabbing her hand again, signaling they were about travel through time yet again

________________________________________________________________

"Scratches," Robyn spoke while the light faded. "The whole hunt began because Gilcomgain was scratched by Demona. I can understand why he wanted vengeance on her, but not why he made war wi the whole species." She opened her eyes to see they were within stone walls of a castle, by the size of the room along with the lush curtains and aesthetically beautiful tapestries hanging on the wall she could tell she was in the room of a noble man, or possibly a king.

"His father’s harsh treatment of him helped fueled the anger," the spirit explained while she floated closer to the large arm chair set in front of a fireplace. "His father respected and even admired gargoyles. Gilcomgain already had a resentment towards his father before he was struck. I did not show you Gilcomgain killing his own father."

"He murdered him?" Robyn was silenced by the spirit running both her index finger across her mouth in the keeping the lips sealed motion.

Both women had materliaized into a large room made out of bricks of stone fitted together. Large tapestryes hung from the walls and thick carpt clothed the stone floor. A long table was in the center of the room with a few chairs.

A youth stood with his back facing the women. He was dressed in clothing that depicted royalty for the time. His dark hair was long enough to reach his shoulders.

"Your highness?" A man stepped into entrace. "The Hunter is here t’ see ye."

"Let him in," the youth was only a few years lder than Gillcomgain was when he was injured by Demona.

The door had only closed behind the servant for a few seconds before a tall man strode forth. He was a tall man with an athletic built and light brown hair coifing his head. He would have been considered quite attractive if it were not for the three jagged scars covering his face.

"Gillcomgain." The youth turned around to face the scared man. "I have heard ye had a bit off trouble wi the one gargoyle ye always hunt?"

Gillcomgain kneeled before the youth on one knee. "She and her kind have robbed more food storages. They were gone before I wa able t' even arrive."

"Aye," Duncan nodded. His face did not show any expression. "I have sought you out for an assignment. I will reward ye richly?"

"Anything me lord."

"I want ye t' kill Findelaech, the high steward of Moray?" Prince Duncan’s lower lip curled into a cruel smirk. "and his son, Macbeth."

Macbeth? Robin mouthed the real name of th man known as Lennox MacDuff. She knew he was a friend of the clan and the name was also the king from the tragic play. She was told that he was nearly a thousand years old and partly inspired the play.

"Yer Uncle and Cousin." Gilcomgain's voice did not ring any emotion of shock, just curiosity.. "Is there a reason?."

"I am the first born grandson of Maol Chavim  and son of his firstborn, but my uncle is his firstborn son. When my grandfather dies there is a high chance the crown may be passed over to my uncle." His eyes narrowed. "I cannae risk that chance."

"I will slay them both tonight."

"I know ye will," Duncan nodded at him. "Ye may go now."

Robin waited until Gilcomgain had left the room before she addresed the spirit again. "Duncan and Macbeth were characters from the play." She glancedback at Duncan. "Our father had told us we were descended from royalty. I do not see how we became the hunters."

"You shall soon see," the spiritt old her before the light engulfed them again.

_______________________________________________________________________

1032 A.D

The light weakened to reveal the same room they had left. Not much had changed except for a few new mounted saords and the rearangment of tapestries. There was a large chair in one corner of the room. It Had a high back and was covered in thick velvet.

The spirit ran her finger across her mouth and pointed towards the chair. She made her way around until she could see the man seated. He appeared to have been and older form of prince Duncan. He had grown a few more inches and filled out in musclemen. A beard covered his chin, but his dark hair was styled the same.

"That is  Duncan," the spirit had affirmed what Robyn was thinking even though the spirit was not looking at the man but rather the sleeping infant in his arm. The infant was so young he was still pink and wrapped in a white blanket.

"Yer Majesty," one of Duncan's guardsmen burst through the double doors, looking as if he had just run a marathon.

"Silence," Duncan hissed without even tearing his gaze from the infant. "My son is asleep."

"Forgive me," the guard’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I have brought great news concerning yer cousin and yer late Uncle."

"What be of it?" Duncan scowled.

"Macbeth has slayed Gilcomgain and brought Justice t’ yer Uncle’s murder."

"Send an invitation t’ my cousin. We shall treat him t’ fine food and drink. He must still be rattled from the ordeal."

"Aye yer lordship," the guard stepped back, slowly closing the doors behind him.

"And one more thing," Duncan's command caused the servant to pause in his tracks. "Bring me Gilcomgain's mask."

"I will send forth the message." The servent closed the doors behind him.

"I knew one of them would be killed," Duncan’s scowl did not fade from his face. "A bit surprised that Macbeth is the survivor." He carefully reached up to brush the side of his son’s cheek. "Donae ye worry, Canmore. The people bow t’ me, and they will bow t’ ye someday. We will punish that demon who caused  Gilcomgain t' miss his chance at killing Mabeth years ago."

"Canmore," Robyn was taken back. "I knew Duncan was me ancestor. I still donae understand how we kept the hunt going. Just t' hunt Demona for his selfish needs?"

"The people loved Macbeth and Duncan resented it. He blamed the fact his cousin is still alive on Demona. The hatred kept going through the family line," the Spirit held out her hand. "We have only one more time period to visit, and then you can return home."

Robyn fought back the tears that were brimming as she accepted the Spirit’s hand.

________________________________________________________________

The only sound Robyn could hear then the light had begun to fade was the soft and melancholia sound of a child sobbing. She almost didn’t wait for the light to completely fade when she opened her eyes. Once again they were within stone walls of a castle, but instead of a large room they were in the middle of a hallway.

The crying came from a small boy sitting on the ground. Robyn wanted to run towards him and provide comfort, weather he was injured of if he was just sad. He was about the same age of Colin and by the deep purple edges of his tunic and trouser she could tell his parents were the owners of the castle at least.

"Caleb," a handsome man in his early thirties raced towards the boy. His dark brown hair reached his shoulders and had a bit of a wavy curl at the edges. He was dressed in cloths that were as fancy as the youths and had a cloak secured to his chest by a jeweled pin. "What has happened?"

The little boy lowered his hands. His eyes were the same shade of green as the man standing in front of him. "I fell down and hurt me knee."

"Ye did not fall too hard," the man bent down and rubbed Caleb’s knees. "Ye are not bleeding and ye did not tear the cloth of yer trousers. Think now does it still hurt?"

Caleb wiped away the last of his tears and shook his head. "It dosnae hurt."

"Ye see, ye are growing up t’ be a big boy," the man reached down to help the child back up to his feet.

"Yer highness," two of the guards stormed in. A state of panic was painted across their faces. "Yer Uncle is in trouble."

"In trouble?" Caleb’s father raised his eyebrows in concern.

"He’s being attacked by a gargoyle. The one called the demon."

"The demon is real?" the young prince shook his head. "We must not waste anymore time." He pointed towards his son. "Keep Caleb within your sights while rounding up the guardsmen."

"Aye Prince Edgar," the man bowed before grabbing onto the boy,

Robyn watched after the adult Prince as he ran down the halls. She turned towards Caleb when she felt the hand of the spirit grab onother wrist.The worried look in the boys eyes was the last she saw before the scenerey melted away.

The scene shifted to outside. The stone floor was replaced with a carpet of fresh green grass. Robyn examined the atmosphere they had arrived in. There were a few trees next to the stone wall that was the bottom half of the castle they were still in. There was a smaller building next to it. The panicked whinnys from spooked horses were cleary heard with the stone walls, letting both wome know that it was the castle stable.

The cougar like roar lured Robyn’s attention to the familar figure standing several yards behind the women. Azure skin stood out in the moonlight, the slight contrast of the creatures pale gray halter top and loin cloth appeared almost white. Wild hair, the color of freshly spilled blood, flowed down from the creature’s head like flame. The same color matched the light within her eyes as she held onto the struggling and bleeding from King Donaldbain.

"Demon," Donaldbain managed to choke out. He had long gashes on his arms and his middle where the gargoyle raked her talons across his flesh.

"Hunter," Demona nearly spat out the name. She was bleeding from the deep cut in her wrist and from the tear in her left wing. "This is for stabbing me." With one twist of her hand she jerked his head suddenly. The sound of bones snapping was loud enough to have been heard by both Robyn and the Spirit.

The sleek arrow sped through the air and imbbedded itself into Demona’s shoulder. The imortal gargoyle released a cry as she released the king's lifeless body to the ground.

"Father," Caleb’s father’s stern face wilted to the expression of pure grief. The emotion lasted only a mere secodn before it flickered to pure rage. The prince set forth another arrow. "This is fer me father, king Canmore."

Demona dropped to the ground, too late to miss being shot by the other arrow. The stone head tore through her wing and countinued through until it was burried halfway. She gritted her teeth as she pulled the first arrow from her body, the arrow head tore through her flesh, spraying a small surge of blood from her wound. She wasted no second before she bounded towards the Prince.

The prince dripped his bow and pulled out the sword from his hilt before the gargoyle was apon him. he used the broad pat of the blade to shiled himself from her claws as she nearly tackled him. He swung down, the edge of the sword cut through the palms of hands. The pain was enough for him to jump back. He swung forward the pointed ege of his weapon cut through the side of the gargoyle.

"Evil monster," The prince raised the sword over his had as he came for the gargoyle. "And this is fer me brother, and me uncle who ye have just slain."

Demona’s tail brushed against his feet, sending the prince flying towards the ground. She would have continued the battle until she had murdered him if she hadn’t heard the sound of the gaurdsmen rasing towards them.

"Monster," The prince garbbed onto the hilt of his sword.

"You can die another day," Demona spoke calmly and smuggly as she climbed up the side of the wall. She released her grip and allowed the wind to carry her wings as the gaurdsmen spilled out and surrounded both the prince and his father.

"That is why it had continued," the spirit interuppted Robyn’s thoughts and grabbed her hand once more.

________________________________________________________________

Robyn didn’t wait for the light to fade for the last time before she spoke. "She might not have even attacked my family, If Duncan had never sought her out this hunt would have never happened."

"It was not entirely Duncan’s fault," the spirit pulled back the covers for Robyn to lay down on the couch. "His paranoia was increased by prophets. The future came true only because he helped fate for it to become true. Don’t forget about Gilcomgain and Demona."

"Demona did attack first," Robyn pulled the covers back over her. "There were so many factors. It’s like the butterfly effect."

"Yes it is," the spirit placed her hand veer Robyn’s forehead. "Now sleep."

________________________________________________________________

Angelica stepped back from the sleeping women the second her dreamless ended. The in beam that had connected between their foreheads had dissipated. She had stepped back from the sleeping woman. Her gaze never left Robyn’s face, how her eyelids continued to flutter and tears trickled down her cheek.

"I am sorry," the halfling whispered before she turned around and headed straight through the door of Jon and Lorrie’s bedroom,like before she just walked through, melting through the wood grain and stepping out onto lush carpeted floor.

The sleeping couple brought a small smile to Angelica’s face. Lorrie was stacked underneath the several layers of the blankets and was sleeping against her husband. Her crimson hair blended against his green skin for the perfect holiday combination.

Jon was on his side but was not sleeping under as many layers as his wife. He had only the top blanket covering him. His wings were folded under his back, in a way that would provide him with the least discomfort while he slept.

"I will only visit you once for this evening," Angelica whispered at her lowest voice out of fear Jon could hear her with his acute ears. She watched as both their bodes rose and fell at the same rhythm before she projected a thin beam of light at his forhead.

________________________________________________________________

"Jon," the voice that nudged Jon Canmore out of his dreams was warm and rich and inviting. He couldn’t quite place what kind of tone it was but it made him think of a kind woman slipping a warm sweater over his head or spooning warm stew into a bowl. "Jon." The voice sang out for a second time.

"Don’t want t’ wake up."

"You have to. We have a short journey to complete."

"Journey?" Jon mumbled as he fooled over to his side. The tender arms of his wife rolled off him as he turned.

"Open your eyes."

"Sure," Jon raised his lids. He was expecting to see Robyn stand by his bed, not a plump woman dressed in soft red gown with golden and orange flowers embroidered into the material. The wide collar was trimmed in lace and she had a grown of leaves resting in her curly brown hair. "Who are ye and how did ye get in me apartment?"

"We spirits have our ways," the plump woman grinned. Her face was covered with freckles.

"Spirit? Ye mean ye are like ghost?"

"That close to what I am. I am the Spirit of the present." She bowed politely. "I am here to take you on a journey."

"Ye are the ghost of Christmas present?" Jon slowly sat up. "Why are ye visiting me? I know the meaning of Christmas and I have donated greatly during this time of year. I even sent out Donations in October so that the homeless could have a Thanksgiving meal."

"Your generosity is not the reason why I have come, and I am not the Ghost of Christmas present. I am just the spirit of the present. There is no relation to any holiday. It just seemed convenient that I am here." She held onto his wrist. "Your generosity has been noted and smiled upon, but it has nothing to do with why I am here."

"Where is the first one?" Jon turned towards Lorrie. His wife apparently didn’t hear either of them and continued to sleep. "The Sprit of the Past?"

"She went to visit someone else. We do not always work together. I came to show you how the city appreciates the creatures you seek to destroy."

"How many of ye are against me?" Jon glared. His anger was not strong enough for his eyes to light up. "And how do I know ye are not sent by that Angel who cursed me t’ be like this." He held up his other hand and flexed his wings.

"I was sent by the Powers that Be and no one else," the Sprit only blinked when Jon had accused her. "Or perhaps I’m a dream caused by your self conscious. Now let us go before the clock strikes Midnight." Her eyes glowed with a bright orange light and clouds of glitter surrounded the two of them.

________________________________________________________________

The clouds had disappeared and Jon had found himself sitting on the cement floor of a structure with a low roof and cement walls. There was something familiar about their location but he couldn’t quite place it. He couldn smell the combination of damp cement, mildew, and the stench of a urine.

"We are in the Labyrinth," The Spirit had noticed his confused expression. "Home to the homeless-"

"And the mutates and the clones of the gargoyles." Jon finished for her. "It does look like it, and it does smell like it.."

"That is because we are not quite corporal here," the spirit explained while grabbing onto Jon’s hands. "While you are with me you are invisible to everyone and you are inaudible as well. You can walk through objects and not worry about being hurt, but you can feel he heat and cold and be able to smell the scent of the air"

"When will I be returned t’ normal?" The end of his tail had begun to twitch. He didn’t know what he disliked more. The fact the spirit appeared in his home, the way she feels she has to correct him, the way she just grabbed him and teleported him to another part of the city, or the fact she made him ghostlike.

"When we return back to your apartment."

"And when will that be?"

"When our journey has ended," she grabbed onto his hand and pulled Jon towards the nearest wall.

"That is not quite the answer I was looking fer," Jon snarled as they both passed through the concrete.

The exited the thick layers of subterranean wall and entered a large room that reminded Jon of dorms. There were two single beds occupying the opposite ends of the room. A few posters that were probably ripped off the walls decorating the sides of alleys made up the only form of art. Wooden boards were used to create shelves and were filled with books and few knick knacks. There was a single television and a radio, both on old card tables that were smaller than the cable spool as the main table.

One of the beds was occupied by a young man in his early twenties. The owner of the other bed entered the room accompanied by the sound of a toilet flushing. The second male appeared to have only been slightly younger than the other man and wore a ragged pair of sweat pants on his thin legs

"Dude, are you going to sleep?" The older man asked. His voice came out coherently, yet he did not open his eyes.

"I don’t know if I can," the younger of the two sat down on the edge of his bed. "I got too much on my mind."

"Are you wondering what kind of gifts the volunteers manage to get us?"

"No," he lowered himself down to his bed. "I’m not going to think of something as shallow a that. We are still better off than most of the homeless in the rest of America."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Annie," he closed his eyes even though he might not get to sleep for a while. "She’s been through a lot."

"What about Clea, or Jerome? They got drained so some freak can feed off them. What about Kevin? We don’t know what exactly killed him."

"I was kidnapped along with the rest of them. I sat back with Clea and Jerome. They have regained their strength. Annie is still depressed."

"She was the one who found out Edgar has been killed. You would have been depressed too."

"That’s not the only thing," Weasel turned to face him. "She found out another secret in that crazy house. She only told me and her mother. She hasn’t told Talon or Pops or anyone."

"You can’t tell me?"

"Only if she tells you."

"I hope you don’t mind the fact I cant stay up with you and talk all night," the other man turned towards the wall as he felt himself drift further into a land of slumber.

"Don’t worry man. You weren’t taken against your will to a large house by an eight year old faerie." He rolled over towards his opposite side.

"Eight year old farie?" Jon broke the sudden silence, unsure at first if the other people could hear. "I think I may have seen such a creature. What I remember most was her pale skin, pointed ears, the bat wings on her head and the fact she could fly."

"She was the same one who kidnapped several people from the Labyrinth last month. The young man named Weasel was on of them."

"The ones were drained by the Sidhe who stabbed Margot Yale with her claw?"

"That is she," the Spirit grabbed Jon by his hand again and raised her other hand. "They were looking for people like Weasel and his friend because they were homeless, Nobody seems to care if they went missing."

"Someone obviously cared," Jon paused the second the cloud of glitter formed over them. "They were rescued."

"They were rescued by the gargoyles and mutates. Horribly things have slinked through the tunnels of the Labyrinth and the homeless who dwell year would have been in worse shape if it were not for the gargoyles and the mutates."

"I have nothing against the mutates," Jon could see the glitter had begun to fade and they were in a different place. He was going have to wait unit the sparkling dust had fully dissipated before he could see things clearly. "They may have their gargoyles under control, but it won’t be long before they turn against the humans and mutates."

"You may think differently before the night is over," the cloud of glitter had fully settled and they found themselves standing in the middle of a posh living room.. The Large screen television topped with a VCR/DVD combo was on one side of the room. The matching couches and chair were covered with velvet like upholstery the color of plumbs.. The coffee table appeared to have made out of brass with a polished wood surface. One of the two lamps remained on. The soft glow coming from behind the crimson shade bathed half the room in a rich light.

"Who’s apartment is this?" Jon asked as he stared out the window. The snow was still falling in light drifts.

"Shhh," the sport brought her finger to her mouth as the sound of door being open infiltrated their ears.

"I can’t leave until I have kissed her one last time," five foot ten of dusky pink skin entered the room on high arched talons. A pale green blouse and skirt ensemble clung to her hips and breasts. A pair of dark green wings were cloaked across the gargoyle’s shoulders. "She seems so peaceful."

"They are always peaceful when they are about to fall asleep," the man following behind her was tall enough to stare into her eyes. He wore nothing save for pair of silk boxer shorts and a dark blue bathrobe with a golden edge. "Probably dreaming of Santa Clause."

"It’s a pity I wont be able to see her face in the morning," Margot cast a sad gaze on the Christmas tree and the doll house underneath it.

"We can always wait till sunset to open presents. We could have opened them tonight."

"I don’t want to ruin this holiday for her," Margot approached the nearest window that would have been wide enough for her to squeeze through.

"It wouldn’t be ruined for her," Brendan followed his wife. "She is old enough to understand. We’ll open gifts at sunset and then ejoy dinner. She can open the gifts in her stocking after she wakes up and then play with her new doll house for the rest of the day."

"You don’t have to keep making sacrifices for me,"

"I don’t mind," he took her hands into his. "You mean the world to me. You and Penelope."

"I will be thinking of you all night while I’m on patrol," Margot placed a soft kiss against his mouth.

"That poor woman," Jon breathed. "Her life was ruined when she was transformed."

"Her life wasn’t ruined," the spirit corrected. "It just had been turned around, like your life has."

"I still have half of me humanity left," Jon hugged himself. "I can still enjoy the feeling of sunlight on me skin."

"You sympathize with her even though she is part of a race you see as the enemy."

"She is not the enemy. She once was human and that means she still has a soul."

"Do you still feel the same about the others who were transformed like her?" The sprit grabbed not his hand, ready for a nether trip. "And what about their children? Will they be soulless when they hatch."

"They will have souls because their parents had souls."

"But how will you be able to tell the difference?" She released more of the cloud of glitter over them. "How can you tell?"

"That is exactly what Macduff asked." His eyes widened. He tried to say something, but all the words that were on the tip of his tongue faded.

"Can you give me an answer?"

"I can’t," the cloud dissipated. They were in small and dark office. Two filing cabinets were placed against one wall. A waist high bookself was against the other. It did not contain much books as it had binders. Thick binders that Jon had seen in he Mulligan home, belonging to Lorrie’s mother. "Here you are completely corpral, except you are still invisible."

"What are we doing here?" Jon’s nostrils twitched at the exess amount of dust and scent of insect spray that had been used hours before. The weregoyle fought hard to resist the urge to sneeze.

"Look around," The spirt spread her arms. "This is the office of your enemy."

"My enemy?" Jon blinked as he studied the walls. They were naked save for a clock and a single plaque. "I doubt that Goliath has an office."

"Keep looking."

Jon stared at the plaque. It was carved out of wood and polished till it shone like glass. Golden lettering was across the center of the plaque. The initals on the top of the plaque clearly stood out: H.A.M.

"Humans against Monstrosity."

"There is more," she pointed at the desk.

"What am I supposed to see?" Jon approached the table top and grabbed a few of the papers that were spread out across the surface. "This is a mess."

"Read what you have."

The weregoyle stared at one of the forms in his hand. It was the H.A.M mission statment. "T’ hunt down all sentient beings that are not humans, because they pose as a threat. This includes all gargoyles, New Olympians, weregoyles, mutates and humans with a slight mutation. Even those who who were once human are a threat because their souls were vaproized in the transforming process." Jon’s voice rose a the end. "Bullshit." He crumpled up the form and threw it on top of the desk. He didn’t care if the owner returned to the office and found the form like that.

"I knew you would have been offended," the cloud materialized around them once more. "Does it remind you of anyone?"

"It rings close to the Ku Klux Klan,"

"It doesn’t remind you of anyonelese?" She narrowed her eyes. "Not of your own organization when you started out?"

"We were not that bad."

"Yes you were." The cloud’s had dissapaited. they had returned to Jon’s bedroom. Lorrie was still sleeping soundlessly from when they left her.

"Crawl back into bed," the Sprit sighed. "Maybe you will someday learn."

"I can never give up the hunt," Jon climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over his body.

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Angelica stepped away from the bed, her eyes never left the sleeping form of Jon. The weregoyle was not crying as his sister was in his sleep, but there wasn’t the peaceful image that was on his face when she had first entered the room. A serious crease had formed in his forehead and eyelids twitched in rapid session.

Two down and one to go and Angelica did not have the complete heart to cast a dreamless on the last person on her slit, but she must if she wished to eventually convince Jon what he was doing was wrong.

Angelica barely looked at the couch where Robyn was still asleep. The blond woman was and her face turned towards the back of the coach and one arm resting upon her side. Angelica could not see if the dreams of the past still was taking their toll on the woman or if her subconscious had shifted towards images that were much more pleasant. She had hoped for the latter.

She continued her way through the house and materializing through the door of the baby’s room. She floated towards the smallmake shift bed and paused at the side where Colin was sleeping. "Ye must be careful," she cautioned herself. "He is just a boy and shouldn’t be exposed ta too much of the future, and no images that are too violent." She couldn’t allow him to see his new present, or the exposed gifts of his brother and cousins as well.

Colin yawned, causing Angelica to freeze even know he couldn’t see her. If he woke up she wou;d have to wait for him to fall back to sleep before she can cast the dreamless onto him. To Angelica’s luck the five year old just rolled over to his side, his bronze wings smacked against his new stuffed toy.

"I’ll be gentle," Angelica whispered as a slender beam of light shot out from her forehead and sand struck Colin’s head.

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There was someone in the room with them. Colin could hear the sound of heeled shoes on the carpet. To him it meant one of two things. Either it was one of the adults coming in to the room to check in on them and there were more hours to sleep before Christmas, but it didn’t make much sense for them to put on shoes if they were going to just check on them. That meant that it was the second reason, it was morning and Santa Clause had arrived.

"Santa Clause," Colin sat up only to find to his disappointment that the room was still dark save for the nightlight. The sky outside the window was still dark, meaning that it wasn’t morning.

"I’m not Santa Claus," the voice belonged to the woman that approached the side of the sleeping bag he was lying on. She wore a black dress with what appeared to have been a purple cloak pinned to her chest. The woman was a grown up, but she didn’t look as old as his parents and she had silver skin and dark purple hair. Her lips were tinted with a dark blue shade. "I am a spirit of the future."

"Sprit?" Colin tried not to look afraid. "Those are ghosts, right?"

"You are partly right," The spirit smiled. "I am a good ghost, In a way I am more like an angel."

"Angels are good guys," the tops of Colin’s wings relaxed a bit. "My mom says that Eddie and I have both have some angel blood."

"That is true," the spirit extended her hand and waited until Colin placed his own hand on top of hers before she pulled him back up. "What other kind of blood do you have?"

"I have human and I have gargoyle blood."

"Do you think gargoyles are evil?"

"Uh-huh," the child gave a firm nod. "My father says they are evil monsters and it’s up to him to stop them and that someday me and Eddie will hunt them."

"Your father turns into a gargoyle at night. Does that mean he turns evil?"

"Nope," Colin gave his head a firm shake. "He’s a weregoyle."

"You are part gargoyle, does that mean you are part evil," the spirit frowned as soon as she asked the question. "I don’t think you are evil."

Colin reached up and grabbed onto his ear and stork the pointed bit. "No," was the first word that came to his mind. The spirit was going to ask him why. "My mom and daddy are good people."

"That will have to do for now," The Spirit reached down to pick him up. "We are going to watch some special TV."

"I can watch TV now?" Colin didn’t care if he was being carried around. The angel was going to let him watch TV when it was real late.

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The first thing Colin loaded for wan they entered the living room was the tree. It still stood out with it’s bright ornaments and the tinsel and a few of the more shiny ornaments reflected the shimmering moonlight. To his disappointment Santa had yet to vista and there were no special gifts under the tree. The second thing he looked for was his Aunt Robyn. The blond woman was still sleeping on the couch with her back towards them.

"Won’t we wake up Aunt Robyn?" Colin asked as the Spirit set him down on the floor in front of the television.

"Only you and I will be able to watch and hear the TV shows," she reached into a pocket in her gown and pulled out a black remote with glowing blue buttons. "This is a magic remote control." She pointed it at the television and pressed the on button.

The once silent and gray screen became illuminated with a woman dressed in an outfit that Colin pegged her as one of the boring people. She had her hair cut short to where the ends were just past her ears. She was dressed in a blue and white jacket and suit ensemble with a pair of pink earrings in her news.

"We have lost several friends here at WVRN. Good colleges and friends, and we are not alone. Over a hundreds of lives were lost and people are still searching for their loved ones. Not many know what caused the catastrophe that had encountered the city and already people still don’t know what to believe. Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and temples have blamed it on demons and several versions of the devil’s handywork.

"Demons are attacking the city?" Colin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had seen boring people in the movies, but they were fake and he was almost sure this had to have been from a movie. "This is a movie? A TV show. It’s a not a real boring show is it?"

"It’s the news of the future," the spirit explained.

"City’s across the world had reported similar attacks by different kinds of monsters. We are not certain the threat has been diminished and we can thank the many brave men and women in the armed forces around the world for standing up and defeating the threat," the corners of the woman’s frown turned up into a slight smile. "They are not the only ones praised to be heroes. For over a decade the citizens of Manhattan have known about gargoyles and through the years the people have argued whether they are a threat or a savior. Now more groups or clans of gargoyles have made their presence known around the world and it’s almost unaminous of how we feel about them. Mayor Bloomberg has already made it known that a monument shall be raised in the honor of the gargoyles of Manhattan and soon I will be able to interview the leader known as Goliath."

"What do you think of that?" the Spirit raised her remote and pressed the button to mute the news.

"It’s not real," Colin told her. "The real gargoyles wouldn’t attack the monsters. They wouldn’t be considered heroes."

"I knew that might not be enough to convince you," she turned the television off mute and changed the channel to an image an elementary school playground, where a ten year old boy walking towards a group of swings.

"This looks like a good show," Colin said. It was a lot better than people in suits talking about stuff that was true.

The older boy looked a lot like Colin,ecept for his height and age. He had the same brown eyes and the same blond hair. He even had pointed ears and wore a large coat.

"There he is," two other boys ran ahead of the blond boy and blocked the swings. The shorter of the two boys was dark skinned and wore a jacket around his waist. The taller boy was wide in girth , had messy hair that hung over his eyes and large hands.

"I don’t want to deal with you guys today," the blond boy tried to shove past him, but the larger boy grabbed his jacket and held fast. "Let me go."

"Sorry," the shorter boy spoke in a tone that implied he wasn’t the lest bit sorry. "The swings are for humans only."

"There is no sign," the blond boy tried to slip away from the taller boy. "And I swung on the swings a few days ago."

"The new rule starts now."

"Who says, you?" He continued towards the swing and allowed his arms to slip through the jacket, leaving the material in the hands of the taller boy. The jacket wasn’t used to try to keep the boy warm. It was used to cover the bronze wings that were cloaked across his shoulders.

Colin’s eyes grew twice their usual size. "He’s got wings like me. He looks like me."

"That is you," the spirit explained. "That will be you five years from now."

"You don’t belong here," the shorter of the two boys grabbed onto the older Colin’s wings. "Your a freak. Freaks don’t have the right to live with us normal humans."

"I have every right," the older Colin turned around and pushed the boy until he fell backwards.

"You monster," the big boy struck out against Colin and managed a hit across his arms.

Colin snarled at the boy, the schlera of his eyes lit up and he raced forward with one strike he slammed his fist into the larger boy’s stomach.

The boy tried to stand up but already two other students had him pinned and a large group of children were begining to gather around them.

"There will always be bullies," the spirit changed the channel yet again. "There are grown up bullies as well. The main question is will you be one?"

"I’ll never be a bully," Colin shook his head. "I’ll make sure Eddie will never be a bully either."

"I will try to be hopeful and I hate to show you the following, but it must be scene." the spirit pointed the television with the remote.

The vision on the screen changed to a another outdoor scene. The school buildings appeared closer. There were pathways connecting between the buildings. Awning placed on poles stretched out across the paths.

A trio of young girls were walking together, laughing about something Colin did not understand. Their giggles stalled as they passsed by two young boys who were the same age as they were. One of the boys grabbed onto one of the girls back packs and pulled it off her.

"Hey," the girl spun a around. Colin thought she as pretty. Her soft reddish brown hair was kept in braids. "Give that back.."

"Why should I do that?" The boy with the bag asked. His hair was the same dark red color as Colin’s mother. He looked like an older version of the big boy Colin.

"Because it’s mine."

"How do I know it is yours?" He held the bag high above his head. "Your a demon. All demon’s steal things."

"I’m a weregoyle," the girl tried to swipe for her bag. "Just like your father."

"Don’t you even dare," the boy smacked his hand against her arm. "Dont you even try to compare my father to you."

"Eddie!" Another teenager rac up to the red head. stood taller than hte red head and was older. The youngman was dressed like the red head, he even wore the same cloak.

"He looks like my daddy." Colin’s eyes widened. The older boy looked exactly like his father except of the shape of the chin and the color of his eyes

"That isn’t your fahter," the spirit corrected him. "That is you."

"Me?" Colin couldn’t help but to smile at himself when he was a teenager. He was going to be tall and strong, just like his father.

"Do you know who the boy with red hair is?"

"He’s a bully."

"That is your brother, Eddie." She frowned as she told him

"The bully is my brother?" the child frowned. "Why?"

"I wish I could explain. She turned it off of pause.

"Colin?" Eddie paused when his brother ran up to him. "The highschool is that way."

"And the injustice is right here," Colin pulled the bag from his brother’s hands. "What is wrong with you?"

"She’s the enemy," Eddie pointed to the girl. "We have to fight the enemy."

"We fight at night," Colin handed the bag back to the girl. "We do not bully anyone. Mom told us not to draw attention to ourselves."

"I wasn’t drawing any attention to myself," Eddie crossed his arms. "Only to the demon’s spawn."

"We can save that language for tonight," Colin watched as the girl and her friends had walked off. "I got to get going to my chemistry class. I don’t want to see any more trouble from you." He jabbed his finger into his brother’s chest.

"That sill be enough,"the spirit raised the remote and turned off the television. "Time for you to go back to bed and have sweet dreams."

"I’m going to stop Eddie from being a bully in the future?" Colin was not looking forward to returning to bed, even though his eyeids dropped.

"That is right," the spirit smiled at him.

"I’m going to teach him that being a bully is bad, now."

"You are such a good boy," the spirit picked Colin up "Wait until Christmas is over." She carried him back to his bedroom where she set him down next to his cousin. "You will try to remember what you have seen here tonight?"

"I will try."

"Good now sleep," she placed her hand on his forehead and didn’t remove it until he had closed his eyes.

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"That wasn’t too harsh," Angelica stepped back and away from the child. hopefully the seeds or hope had been planted in his mind and he will someday grow to be less hateful man than his father.

She stepped toward the window and glanced back at the nursery. The two baby’s still slept peacefully and both Colin and Hunter appeared to have been engaged in dreams with strong images. May those sweet lambs have a merry Christmas and she wished she could stay until the next day and watch them open their gifts, but she can’t. She has to be with her husband and had to leave immediately. His bed must be cold without her keeping him warm.

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Robyn did not want to leave the comfort of the couch. She could sense the sunlight pouring in through the windows and hear the wailing of both Eddie and Patricia, but her body did not want to move.

"Merry Christmas," Charlene's voice cried out through the halls as she ran towards the nursery.

"Coming, Eddie, Colin," Lorrie left her before, leaving only a yawning Jon in her wake.

"Merry Christmas," Robyn mumbled as she sat up.

"Did ye sleep well?" Jon stopped by the back of the couch. He had paused in his path to the kitchen, not to help with breakfast, but to set the table for everyone. "I wish we could have provided a better place fer ye."

"It is good," Robyn stared at the coffee table, trying convince herself there was no Spirit of the Past waiting or her. It was all a dream. "Me body slept well, It was just me dreams that were unsteady."

"Ye want t’ talk about it?"

Robyn turned towards the hallway at the sound of her nephews squealing in delight." Nae, I don’t want t’ ruin anyone Christmas wi me depressing dream." She watched as both Colin and Hunter ran towards the Christmas tree. Their eyes were lit up at the bright red tricycle and the orange yellow plastic big wheel.

"Big Wheel!" Hunter didn’t stop running until he was right next to the plastic vehicle. His hands grabbed onto the vinyl streamers that Robyn knew will eventual be worn out after years of use. "I got a bike."

"Me too," Colin slid into the seat and grabbed onto the handles. Robyn wanted to run to her suitcase and grab her camera.

"We’ll get him t’ sit on it again and pose fer pictures," Jon knew what she was thinking. "We’ll do that right after breakfast which I have t’ help wi."

"Don’t ye scare me like that," Robyn narrowed her eyes.

"I’m only going t’ sett he table. Jason and Donny are taken care of breakfast," Jon smiled at the boys as Christine madder her way towards them. "Why donae ye help Chris get the boys t’ the table and hand them their stockings."

"Jon have ye ever regretted anything recently?"

" I regret the fact that I Diane donate enough this year."

"What are ye talking about? Ye have always donated at least fifty dollars t’ several different charities each year."

"Sometimes I don’t even thin that is enough, why do ye ask?"

"You don’t regret the fact that ye may be counting a foolish tradition?"

"Robyn," Jon’s tone told her he didn’t want her to start with him.

"Sorry," Now was not a good time to talk to him about her dream.

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"You still won’t tell me what you have done to young Canmore," The Scottish immortal said between bites of his breakfast. He was still dressed in the navy colored pajamas with his initials written in fine silver stitching above the pocket on his chest. "I know ye have done something."

"What makes you think I have?" Angelica used the edge of her fork to cut off the edge of her fried egg. Her husband had cooked two eggs for each of them , along with two slices of French toast topped with creamy butter and rich syrup. The breakfast was complete with a mixture of blueberries, strawberries and raspberries on the side. "And which Canmore are ye speaking of?"

"For a while you had this mischievous smile on yer face, and today it’s gone," he dabbed his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "You have done something to Jon and I want to know what it was."

"I have only guided the dreams of Jon and his sister and eldest son."

"Why?" His silver eyebrows lowered. "His sister has seen the light and ye shouldn’t mess with the dreams of a child."

"Jon will have t’ learn someday and he is going ta need the help of his relatives. The dreams of Colin were the most mild. He was still smiling when I had left his side.

"I still donna like it."

"I would never harm a child. Children are the future, they represent hope, and I hope Colin will not embrace his father’s ways. I will steer our child in the same path, to one who will try ta unite humanity and gargoyles."

"What do you mean by our child?" His eyes widened as soon as he asked the question. "Are ye wi child?"

Angelica nodded. "Merry Christmas, my husband."