Gargoyles Fan Fiction ❯ Of The Night ❯ Invitations ( Chapter 8 )

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Of The Night

Eight

“If you’ll excuse me,” Xanatos spoke first, “I’ll leave you two ladies to talk.”

As he headed towards the doors, he touched Fox once on the cheek, a move that Lydia found herself envious of. Hell, she was even more envious of the smile Fox gave him in thanks. Her mood, already in the gutter, soured further. The moment the doors shut, signaling Xanatos was gone, Lydia burst.

“What did you want me for?” she all but snapped.

Fox gave her a mildly surprised look. “That’s some gratitude you have, girl. But straight to the point is fine.” She draped a towel around her neck before continuing. “We’re having a Halloween party here on the thirtieth. Since you’ll be staying with us past then, you’re invited.”

Past then, Lydia repeated mentally. “When exactly is my court date?”

“November twenty-seventh. You’ll be with us for Thanksgiving, too,” Fox added sweetly, as though her words were a gift.

Lydia exhaled harshly with her displeasure. “Halloween party,” she said.

Fox had a sly smile now. “Yes. You can dress up like anyone you like. Or anything,” she clarified. “David and I are going to publicly announce that the Gargoyles are all invited as well.”

“It’s the tenth,” Lydia pointed out. “Halloween isn’t for three weeks.”

“Oh, I know. You’ve been given advance warning,” Fox told her, “because I’m sure you’ve never had a dance lesson.”

Lydia frowned. So that’s what this was about? “You want to give me dance lessons to go to a party I haven’t agreed to attend?”

“I know you have natural talent,” Fox countered. “If you’re anything like every other girl in this world, then you would love to dance, if given the chance. Well, I’m giving you the chance. Do I need to keep explaining?”

Lydia’s mind was racing, visiting a thousand thoughts a second. “What if I don’t want to dance anyway, regardless of the party?”

“Lydia, I don’t think you realize this, but you are attractive.” Fox sounded exasperated at having to explain. “You’re cute, you have big eyes and soft hair, and like I said before, you have natural grace. At some point, there’s going to be a man in your life, and he’s going to want to dance with you.”

Lydia bristled. “Sounds like pity to me. ‘Oh,’” she mocked, “ ‘you don’t know how to dance. The only way to impress a man is to dance. How sad. How about I pity all over you so you learn to dance?’”

Fox’s eye twitched. “You’re unusually offensive. What happened this evening?”

For someone who looked so ridiculous with a tattoo on her face, Fox was perceptive. Lydia found herself respecting the older woman just a bit more. She scoffed. “What makes you think you could make it better? Do you have some kind of Tai Kwon Do spiritual band-aid skill?”

“Mental,” Fox corrected.

Lydia stared blankly for a moment, then turned on her heel. “Bullshit,” she quipped, taking quick steps to the door.

“You’ve got a messed-up way of showing gratitude,” Fox snapped. “David went out on a limb for you, to keep you out of prison until your court date. He’s going to hire a great lawyer for you. Do you realize the full implications of this?”

Lydia stopped after the first words, and now she thumped her head against the doors in defeat. “Are you going to keep waving this over my head?” She turned to see Fox. “At no point did I ask for help. You guys just keep spilling charity on someone who doesn’t want any. Find some other sob story, would you?”

“David’s been accused of adultery by the press,” Fox swept on, heedless. “It’s not enough to be investigated, but now he has to explain, over and over, why he’s doing so much for a girl he never met before four days ago.”

Lydia looked away, having nothing to say to this.

“The least you could do is show courtesy for all this,” Fox told her. “And maybe, if you’d stop trying to reject everyone around you, you’d learn a little something about being accepted.”

That caught Lydia’s attention. She glanced up, wondering exactly what Fox knew about her past. The couple hadn’t been eavesdropping via camera on her and Brooklyn’s conversation, did they? She wouldn’t put it past them, but how could she know for sure?

She shook her head. “Alright, you made your point.”

“Just be friendly,” Fox advised. “That’s all we ask.”

Lydia exhaled hard. “Fine. And. . .you’re right, about the dancing,” she added with reluctance. “I used to copy ballerinas. From movies, I mean.” She couldn’t look up now, after confessing that last bit.

Fox smiled wide. “I was hoping you’d come around. Now, for the next three weeks, I’m going to be instructing you on a number of different dances. Agreed?”

Instead of giving a direct answer, Lydia mumbled at the floor in front of her boots. Seeing the boots reminded her, though --

“And thanks for the clothes, too,” she said. With a smirk, she went on, “It’s a wide selection you provided me with.”

“I told David you’d be impressed,” Fox told her. “He’s charming and intelligent, but he doesn’t know girls like I do.”

Right then, Lydia had never felt so young. Her entire life, she’d been older than her age, by force or by choice. In point of fact, it felt nice to be considered a teenager, allowed to be a kid for once. She could easily see a great relationship between her and Fox. Sort of like sisters.

“What’s that look about?” Fox said now, laughing.

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring so intently. Embarrassed, Lydia offered a sheepish grin. “Just thinking how much like a big sister you are, is all,” she answered honestly.

For a moment, Fox looked to be in total shock. She recovered well, though, shaking her head. “Well, then, if I’m your big sister, then I think it’s time for you to meet your nephew.”

“Alexander?”

“Yes. Brooklyn told you about him?”

“He’s six now, right?”

“Right. Now come with me.”

- - -

Brooklyn wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Judging by Lydia’s explosion, it was probably a bad idea to follow her. This reasoning was the only thing keeping him where he was. After a few minutes of indecisive thought, he turned his attention to her abandoned sketchbook across from him. He was actually surprised at what he saw.

There wasn’t much shading beyond the soles of his feet (a part of himself he’d never seen before, himself), but the rest of him, the table, and some of the wall was sketched. On the top right corner of the page, there was a speech bubble and the words “You wish you were this cool” in it. It looked like she had written several different phrases and erased them, before adding this one.

And. . .well, what do you know? He did look pretty cool. He hadn’t thought his pose was quite that awesome when he took a seat, but apparently Lydia had noticed.

All at once his sight seemed to blank out, repeating that last thought in his mind. Lydia had noticed. . .that he looked cool? An odd fluttering feeling started in his chest, which he both recognized as and denied could be -- could be --

Impossible, he told himself. He shook his head. It would be far too ironic, if it was -- But it wasn’t. He was sure of it. He just kind of liked her, because she was fun and interesting and jalapena how she looked like that female he’d once loved. It was latent feelings telling him so, because he hadn’t quite gotten over that love just yet. They looked alike (race notwithstanding) and that was that.

And it just might have something to do with her size, too. Poor Lydia, he laughed silently. She may detest being so short, even as she exploited that fact, but it still had its effects. He’s nearly constantly plagued with the urge to hug her or carry her around, all thanks to some overpowering, protective instinct in him. She reminded him so much of a kid -- a pre-teen, even. She was cute and small. . .and she’d probably fit perfectly on his shoulders.

He shook his head. This thinking was ridiculous.

“You’re the one staying behind today?” Xanatos’ voice cut into his thoughts.

He glanced up sharp, noticing that the man was wearing a gi. “Yeah. Lydia was pretty bummed,” he explained, “and we figured I might be able to cheer her up.”

“Because you’re closest to her,” David replied smartly.

For some reason, Brooklyn didn’t feel comfortable replying to that. Instead, he said, “What are you up here for?”

“Invitations and notifications,” David answered. “For Halloween.”

“Like the year before?”

“Exactly. Can we expect to see you there?”

Brooklyn gave him a confused look. “What are you after?” he asked bluntly.

David only looked mildly surprised in return. He knew, after all, that Brooklyn was usually the quickest to catch on. He spread his hands, saying, “Just a few particular party guests. We’ve invited Lydia, too, if you’re wondering.”

Brooklyn didn’t quite like that little knowing gleam in Xanatos’ eye. “Okay,” he admitted, “so the question was in my mind. But the bigger question is: why are you so insistent?” Technically the man hadn’t exactly demanded anything, but Brooklyn knew the way he acted well enough to know when David was offering Plan A before forcing Plan B into action.

“Means to an end,” Xanatos answered. “This is going to be a dance party, specifically. So if you’re going to attend, we need to know sooner rather than later.”

Brooklyn could hardly believe what he’d heard. “Gargoyles don’t really dance,” he pointed out.

“We’re also making it a masquerade theme,” Xanatos continued, as though he hadn’t heard him. “You can wear whatever century clothing you like, as long as it’s of high quality. We can have tuxes tailored for a gargoyle’s needs.”

“Are you gonna pressure us into this?” Brooklyn asked, referring to the whole clan.

“Fox is going to give Lydia dance lessons.”

That caught his attention harder than anything else -- because of how Xanatos had just used Lydia, as though she were some kind of reward. Do this, and you’ll get her, for example.

“That’s supposed to win me over?” was his response.

“She’ll miss you if you’re not there -- and she’ll still be under house arrest here, too.” Xanatos looked so smug, Brooklyn had the sudden urge to scrape his face off with his talons. “Don’t you think it’d bother her, if she’s stuck here all alone in a party with masked strangers and you’re off on Main Street somewhere?”

“To be straight, I think I know her better than you do,” Brooklyn snapped. “And I’ve been thinking of attending since before you strutted up here to ask. The rest is none of your business.”

Xanatos lifted his hands in surrender. “Good enough. Fox and I are going to bed in a hour, so be sure to pass on the invitation to the rest of the clan.”

“Should I include the guilt trip while I’m at it?”

At that, Xanatos gave a laugh, though he moved on without a word, climbing the stairs.

Brooklyn had the urge to follow the man and eavesdrop. After all, Xanatos had a habit of conversing new developments with Owen every time one popped up, and it was a useful way of getting new information. Granted there was little Xanatos did anymore that he didn’t share with the clan in time -- well, he shared when it had to do with the clan. Still, Brooklyn’s instincts were strong on these matters, hard to deny, harder still to ignore.

But it was a party, he reminded himself. What would Xanatos discuss with Owen? That they could start ordering the gargoyle-tailored tuxes? Hell, knowing Xanatos, they were already made, just waiting to be requested.

He was reminded about Lydia being thrown into this. She was going to be given dance lessons? From Fox? As in, starting now?

The next question in his mind disturbed him even as it plagued him: Which room would she be in? Luckily, that was easy to answer. He headed down to the sparring room, knowing it was often multitasked as other rooms when the need arises.

He reached it only to find it was empty. He pouted. Then where could Lydia be?

He told himself he didn’t care where Lydia was, so much as who she was with and why. After all, he would be a horrible protector if he didn’t know these things. Especially about a girl he had, more or less, claimed as his sole charge -- if only mentally. She was his to protect, the rest of the clan be damned. It was the same as Goliath with Elisa.

He shook his head sharply. Comparing he and Lydia to Goliath and Elisa would never end well, knowing the latter two’s relationship. It would be for the best if he would just stop doing that.

Still, it didn’t help at all that he didn’t know where she was. Upstairs, downstairs, on the same level? She would be with Fox; he knew that much. Where would Fox take her? To do what? Was there another room they could use as a practice room, for dancing?

He knew the castle inside and out, he reminded himself; not the Eerie Building. In a building with thousands of rooms, how would he find one (abnormally small) human?