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Shadowdancer

By Dracon

[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.

Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.

Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]

"A Voice From The Other World..."

----Chapter II----

James had several interesting, sometimes arousing, and always vivid dreams during the day. She felt herself starting to struggle awake, never having been a particularly early riser, but there seemed to be something resisting her movement.

She struck out, and the restraining substance shattered around her, sending pieces flying in all directions.

She stretched, yawned cutely, and opened her eyes to look around - only to realize that she stood in a pile of stone shards!

Just as that realization kicked in, she heard the sound of a footfall against the tile, and an arm reached around her waist. A voice whispered into her ear, said, "Good evening, hun. I was concerned when you weren't here at the usual time."

James felt the warmth flowing from her companion's arm, leaned into it, and started to answer, but a jolt of arousal and anger arose within her as her companion proceeded to place his other hand upon her breast.

A purplish blush rose on her cheeks, and she elbowed the amorous intruder in the gut with a quick, yet powerful jab.

As soon as the squeak of skin against slate died down, she turned to see a male... whatever he is, about 6' tall with a lithe, athletic build, knocked unconscious or stunned from the force of her blow.

The raging flame of anger died down within Jessica's heart as she sees the lusty male sprawled out from the force of her strike. Truth be told, she didn't mind the feeling his touch provoked, but he should have asked, first!

Never mind the fact that, if the old James had seen a woman with a figure as exceptionally curvaceous as her body is now, he probably wouldn't have asked, either. It's the principle of the thing.

As she walked over towards the unconscious male, a small corner of her mind demonstrated how easily little details can come to a person's mind by noting, with some amazement, that despite being mysteriously encased in stone or concrete, then having bashed her way out, her clothes still looked as good as when she put them on.

She knelt down next to him, and tried to awaken him. She shook him softly and spoke quietly to him. After a minute or two of this, he stirred, and opened his eyelids. Looking upward into hers, showing her his brilliant green eyes, he coughed softly and asked in a mellow baritenor, "Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed tonight, love?"

He saw the expression on James' face, and his expression softened. "Jessica? Are you alright? Why do you look so confused?" His voice carried an odd undertone, a low, bestial rumble.

James thought quickly, trying to figure out a way to explain without like a total nutcase. But with little knowledge of this situation, she figured that the chances of coming up with a believable story were slim, and she wasn't sure how long she would be able to keep up a deception anyway, so she decided simply to tell it how it is. "I'm not... who you think I am. This isn't the body I had a day ago, and I'm not even certain where this is."

She was startled by the fact that her own voice carried a similar undertone, but when the male started to interrupt, she shushed him, using the distraction to cover her own puzzlement. "Let me finish. I know this is the Irish Castle, but it isn't the one I know. It's different somehow. My name is James Harrigan"-the male goes boggle-eyed at this-"and when I entered the Castle, I was a human... a nerd, really."

She started to recount her story. "Several of my friends wanted to go to the haunted "Irish Castle" on Halloween, you know, something to brag about at the next party. I thought it was a bit of a bad idea, but my girlfriend went, so I went along to keep an eye on her. We decided to split into couples to find stuff for a scavenger hunt."

She spoke quickly, trying to get the tale out as quickly as she could. "Sheryl, who's my best friend's girl, and I wandered around trying to find something really interesting, but got separated somehow. Next thing I know, this weird mummy thing is chasing after me, and I'm running for my life."

James can see that she has started to lose the male with her rambling. His face had a stubby beak instead of a human-style mouth, so it was hard to read his expressions, but she thought he was trying not to laugh at her. She fixed him with a deadly look. "You think I'm making this up? Well, I'm not!"

He nodded, and she continued. "Well, I got away from the mummy somewhere along the way, and before I tried to find my way back, I decided to look at the art. To my surprise, it was almost photographic; and all the pictures were nudes, but none of them were people!

She noted the slightly offended look on his face, and hastily added. "Well, human, anyway. I went to look at one of them, tripped, and next thing I know, we've somehow changed places. My body, clothed, was on the painting, and I was in this body. I think I must have passed out from the shock."

She paused to consider what more needed to be said, but decided the tale has gone on long enough to bring it to a close. She decided not to mention her illicit computer use, however. "I tried to find my friends and get out of this place, but felt drawn to this one room. I saw the name "Jessica" on the door, went in hoping to ask someone what was going on, didn't find anyone, and decided to borrow these clothes. Then I felt an urge to watch the sunrise, fell asleep, somehow, and I think you know the rest."

The male chuckled, winced as the motion jostled his side. "Yeah... I know. That's quite a story, though. It doesn't seem as surprising as you think it is, though."

James raised an eyebrow. "Our people have great faith in our legends, and two of our most poignant legends involve a leader of one of our clans traveling through time. Travel to another world? Not so hard to swallow."

He looked her over, appraisingly. "I know our Jessica wasn't a leader, though, and it sounds like you weren't one, either. Still, strange things happen in our world."

Getting himself up, he held his hand out towards James. "By the way, I'm Branson. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier, but I guess I didn't figure it was needed."

He rubbed his stomach, lightly. "You've got a mean jab, lady. You said your name was James, but, uh, that doesn't fit you well anymore. Why don't I call you, um, Jamie?"

She pondered the name for a moment. "I'm not sure. The name Jessica just feels more right... and that's weird, I mean, why should I like a girl's name so much? I'm so mixed up; I'm just not... thinking like I'm used to, but it feels so natural. I guess Jamie would be okay." She shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs.

Looking around, Branson suggested, "This is no place to be having a discussion like this one, though. Why don't we head inside, to someplace more comfortable?"

He led her through the halls with an oddly fluid gait, and arrived in a somewhat small, well-furnished sitting room that appeared original to the Castle, which dated back to the 1880s or so.

Motioning for her to sit down, he walked to a cabinet and opened it up, revealing a mini-fridge. Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of sodas.

As he reached the table by Jamie's chair, he paused for a moment, and looked into her eyes. "Umm... Jessica always liked 7-Up, and I guess I sort of grabbed one by habit?" Jamie looked at it, said "That's my favorite, too. Hand it over."

Looking at the bottle, and how tiny it seemed in her hand, Jamie thought for a moment. "You know, I haven't had anything to drink since I got to the Castle... why aren't I thirsty?"

Branson grinned at her from across the table, sprawled in a recliner that complimented his pale green-grey skin, and put his talons on the table, toasting her with his bottle as he does so. "That's because you won't be. Gargoyles aren't like humans, hun. We make most of our own energy by photosynthesis. Hence the whole, y'know, 'stone by day' routine. It's not like how a human can pull an 'all-nighter' and just be a little tired the next day.

His voice became more grave as he spoke, "We'd probably die if we didn't sleep through the day, though I don't know of anyone who's tried and succeeded. Usually the youngsters try it a few times, but they always fall asleep when the sun's rays touch them.

Smiling, he added, "The other big thing is that we heal pretty quickly when we sleep. Not so much to set broken bones or fix broken limbs automatically, but it's better than nothing."

He sipped, and grimaced a little. "'Course, there's a few downsides, too. I guess we don't really turn to stone during the day, just some sort of substance that's similar, but organic. Point is that a gargoyle that's shattered in the daytime ain't getting up at night. And, well, that means that the outer layer of stone is the... waste of the photosynthesis."

Branson's mouth twisted into a frown as he spoke, "It's pretty much inert, and tends to melt away with UV light the following day, but it's still a little distasteful. Bottom line is that you don't need food or water, but," he took a long drink at this, and sighed softly, "that doesn't mean they can't be our guilty little pleasures."

Jamie mulled that over. "Okay, I guess my next big question is, who is this Jessica I look so much like? I, uh, looked through a text file on her system last night, and she writes so much like I would. And I think we're both from the same part of Seattle. But there's got to be some differences, too, and I just don't know them."

Branson looked at her, a little agape. "You don't mess around, do ya, hun? Coulda asked something easy like, "Are all the Humans Gargoyles here?" or "How do I get back home?" But naw, you started with that one."

Jamie smiled back at him. "For your first, I checked the paper, so I know that one. And how would you know so much about Humans if they didn't exist in this world? I'll get to the second later. And isn't that something Jessica would have asked?"

He had to concede that one to her, "Good point. Fact is, that is what she would have asked, if nothing else than to throw everyone else off their stride. But cut me a little slack, too. She... well, she's everything to me. And I do mean everything."

Steepling his hands, he leaned back, looking contemplative. "Alright, let me backtrack a little bit. I'm not sure how much our worlds diverged, so pardon me if I tell you anything you already know. Gargoyles organize their society around the unit of the 'clan', which is self-charged to protect the area it settles in."

Frowning, he added, "Unfortunately, this can make them vulnerable, too. Humans... to put it bluntly, don't generally like us. We're guilty of the crime of being too "different". There's a group, nation-wide, that tries to drive us out... or even kill us, when they can."

Jamie could see that this is a hard topic for him, but didn't stop him. Branson continued, a little unsteadily, "I watched my clan get destroyed before my very eyes. I was only 20 at the time, and I only survived through sheer luck, I think. I sort of wandered for a few years after that, before I found the Irish Castle. Rumor had it that it was haunted, and I figured by then that I could handle a few ghosts and ghoulies. I set up shop here, and tried to find other orphaned gargoyles, y'know, build a clan of my own. That was ten years ago."

He paused, "You do know what year it is, right?" When Jamie shrugged, he says, "It's 2027. I figured after that last World War, humans would figure out that crusades don't work. Bad call, huh?"

Broadsided, Jessica struggled for words, stunned into silence by the proclamation. Finally, she forced out, "What World War? And it was 2007 when I came to this place!"

Branson chuckled softly, and said, "I'm guessing it was in your world, but not here. And yeah, War. Blew over, what, 12 years ago? Let's just say the Middle East's seen better days, and leave it at that. You're going to have enough shocks today, I reckon."

Jamie swallowed, hard, and said, "Just to check... where are we?"

Branson laughed and said, "Now you're getting it. Well, not to worry. We're still in Chicago. Nice, centrally located place for an outlaw orphanage, huh?"

Jamie sighed, with a most delightful effect on her bosom, and spoke, sounding relieved. "Good to know something's still the same around here."

Branson chuckled, raked a hand through his flowing, flaxen hair, and then continued, "Well, since I took over the Castle, I've taken in a few strays. You'll meet them later, they're probably just getting ready to face the night. Jessica, though, she was something special. Alright, as you can guess from looking at the two of us, there's a fair degree of variability within our species."

He gestured as he continued, "Skin color can be just about anything you can imagine, though it tends towards the darker tones. Horns, dewclaws, even the number of fingers or toes can vary. But there are some standards, and one of them is the phenotype, or caste if you will."

He motioned with his bottle for emphasis, "There's folk like me, average height, average build, though a little taller and huskier than humanfolk. If gargoyles gathered in crowds, we'd blend in. But we're also regular old jacks-of-all-trades. Then you get folks like you, that tower over the rest, and have the brawn to..."

A twinkle shone in his eye, "...say... knock smaller folk across the room with a single blow. Then there's the shorties. They tend around four foot to four foot six, and while they don't have the physical power, they have a knack for fixing things, breaking things, staying unseen, and generally getting into trouble. Handy to have around, though."

He leaned forwards, looked into her eyes. "Do you believe in magic?"

Jamie snorted, shook her head. "If that's a pick-up line, forget it. And if you're serious, not a chance. The supernatural is just what science hasn't gotten around to explaining yet."

Branson chuckled, "In your world, maybe. In this one, though... you'll have to open your mind. That's about the first thing I've heard you say that proved you weren't Jessica, though. Few gargoyles can use, or more likely, choose to study magic, and coincidence has it that most of 'em are the physically average ones, like me."

Jamie smiled, took in his wiry build and wide shoulders, and tossed out, "If you're average for our species, I could get to like us."

Branson smiled at the compliment. "Well, Jessica is the exception. She's a fine sorceress, the most powerful I'm aware of. And she's quite the asset to this clan, because if she can't magick something unpleasant away, she can probably beat it to death with her bare hands. But that's not what I meant, before."

His voice grew hoarse as he spoke, "She's my mate, my love... my angel of the night. I grew pretty self-sufficient after my clan was shattered, but I can't imagine life without her by my side. I suppose that's why I was a little, ah, free with my hands this evening, when I thought you were her."

Jamie shook a tear from her sculpted cheek and nodded, "That changes things a great deal. I overreacted, and I want to apologize for beating you up."

Branson took her hand, kissing it lightly, "Apology accepted. Now, I have to assume somehow that you and she switched bodies, because she would have been here by now."

His beak twisted in a wry grin, "I know her habits quite well by now. I'm going to have to level with you. I would do anything, no matter what it takes, to have her back. That said, you're a very charming woman yourself, and I've got nothing against you. And, well, our legends have it that the world takes you where you need to be, so you can do what you need to do. I'm not sure whether you or Jessica were summoned, but I can't see there's much I can do about it."

He slammed his fist into his other hand, "Milady, if there's anything I or my clan can do to assist you, you have but to name it. I'll show you around the Castle, and help you familiarize yourself with Jessica's duties and possessions. I know she would want me to aid you any way that I could, and in her name, I will."

Branson took Jamie's hand to escort her around the Castle, but before the two of them can leave, the door opened, and in walked a most unusual creature.

While apparently built on the same template as Branson, he appeared quite different, owing to the fact that he had a more animalistic cast of features. While Branson (and Jamie) looked somewhat like a mix of human and reptile, this newcomer had a distinctly wolfish cast of features.

His face projected outward in a stubby snout, and the two upper fangs projected over the lower jaw. His head was capped in a crown of slightly coarse, black hair, but it was cut short above the shoulder.

His build was somewhat camouflaged by the bushy grey fur he possessed, and his wings appeared more bird-like than bat-like. He wore a white coat with cutout panels for his wings and several large pockets, with a dark grey, v-necked shirt and pants combo underneath.

Branson waved at him, and said, "Howdy, Trent. Have a seat, we've got to talk."

Trent seated himself, looking slightly abstracted, as if he wasn't fully awake yet. "What now? You two cooked up another harebrained scheme, I assume?"

Branson looked solemn. "I wish that's all it was. Have you seen Jessica around this evening?"

Trent was startled by the question. "Have you gone addled on us? She's standing right next to you."

Jamie smiled, a little wistfully. "No, Trent. I'm not who you think I am. Depending on how you look at it, either two days ago or twenty years ago, I was human."

Trent gaped at the two of them. "Eh? Please tell me you're joking. I think I know my own clanmates, yeah? And human? Awfully funny looking one, if you ask me. Two days or twenty years, what are you, some kind of Rip van Winkle?"

Branson and Jamie quickly retold the story from their perspectives, which did little to alleviate Trent's confusion. "So, you're telling me, that this 'Jamie' is some kind of, what, extradimensional version of our Jessica? And she doesn't have the first clue of how this world works?"

He snorted disdainfully, "Fantastic! Next you'll be telling me, eh, that you're from lost Atlantis and that the Martians are invading. Pah, it's too early in the evening for this. I've got work to do, when you two get your heads back on straight, let me know." With that, he stormed out of the room.

Jamie turned to Branson, looking puzzled. "What was that all about? Does he normally act like that?"

Branson shrugged, "He's not from 'round here. Those Brit gargoyles have a style all their own. But he's normally pretty calm, pretty down-to-earth... But he doesn't like surprises, especially so early in the night. Give him a little time to get used to the idea, and I think he'll come around."

Pointing towards the door, he said, "Come on, I need to introduce you to Elayne. Now, most folk don't come to the Castle, and we can generally redirect them without any hostilities. But sometime times trouble comes a-knockin', and when that happens, you've got to knock back, right? And like I told you, we try to protect the area, even if most of the humans don't care for us, and all that means that you need weapons sometimes. Elayne keeps us armed. She's quite the artist, actually."

Jamie pondered a point she had been wondering about, and asked about it. "Is the Castle actually haunted?"

Branson shook his head, "No, but it's a handy rumor. Jessica couldn't find anything unexpected about the place, but we try to keep up the appearance. Keeps out nosy neighbors, heh."

He pointed to the door, "Well, standing around here won't take us anywhere, so let's get moving."

Branson led Jamie through the Castle once more, and she asked, "I know you've been here for ten years, but this place is huge! Do you have a map or something that I can use?"

Branson patted at his pockets, then shook his head. "Not on me. I'll get you one later, though."

Elayne's workshop was in the basement, in a section that was apparently excavated out of the underlying stone, and never finished. The bare stone made for a foreboding atmosphere.

Jamie asked, "Did you dig this area out?"

Branson shook his head again, saying, "It was here when I got here. I think it was an addition, but not our doing. Elayne likes it for her work, though, because the shop has some great acoustics. Helps her concentrate, she says." His voice echoed off the stone walls, merging into an indistinct din ahead.

The workshop itself looked almost like a body shop, with the ubiquitous red cabinets of tools, and several workbenches against the walls. But most body shops didn't have scorch marks along the far walls, or target dummies.

A large object, like a vertical potter's wheel, provoked Jamie's curiosity. There were also several bubbling pots against one wall, providing a certain spooky atmosphere to the place, and a strong, acrid smell filled the room. A boombox on one of the tables pounded out a disco beat that bounced off the walls like a rubber ball.

Elayne had her back turned to the duo. She was working with something, but also danced a little to the music, as a ponytail of fiery red hair bounced against a nondescript denim jumpsuit between her mahogany colored wings, her tail waving in time to the beat.

Branson raised his hands to his beak and shouted, "HEY, ELAYNE!" She waved toward the boombox, stopping the music and plunging the room into a still silence, and turned around.

Like Branson and Trent, she fell into the middle phenotype, standing about five foot five. The jumpsuit she wore concealed her figure, by virtue of the many filled pockets scattered about its surface, but she appeared slim and toned, with a pleasing array of curves lying beneath her brown, tanned looking skin.

Jamie was a little surprised that Elayne was not as lushly built as she was, having assumed that was just a fact of life among her people. Truth be told, by human standards, she was still quite well endowed.

In fact, were it not for the wings, tail, and talons, Elayne might well have passed as an exceptionally attractive and exotic human. Her face was partially obscured by a pair of protective goggles, lending a certain wild-eyed look to her appearance.

She put down her tools, pushed up her goggles, and waved at Branson, "Hoi, big guy. What's up? I've almost got your order finished." Her voice was a little perkier than might be expected, with a hint of a Bostonian accent.

Branson smiled, nodding. "Thanks... but I've got to talk with you. Can we sit down?" Jamie and Branson told the story again, having gotten their patter down pretty firmly.

By the end of the story, Elayne's eyes were almost as large as when she had been wearing her goggles. "That's wild! So you're you, but you're not you, and you used to be someone else? Wicked! Well, pleased to meet ya, Jamie. Um, I'm not sure how I can help you get home, really, but if there's anything I can do, you just gotta ask!"

They chatted for a few minutes longer, then allowed Elayne to return to her work.

After they left the workshop, Jamie felt more positive about being here than before. "I guess I was starting to assume that you were the only one who was going to accept me, and that only because of how I looked, but I'm glad Elayne was so willing to accept me."

Branson smiled at her, "Yeah, it takes a lot to get Elayne riled, she's pretty easy going. Trent just has a very firm idea of how the world works, and doesn't care to have it shaken up."

Branson shrugged, and asked, "Well, what do you want to do now? You've met the residents here. There's a few other places you need to know about in the Castle, but that can wait. Or if you've got some more questions?"

Jamie nodded, saying that she has something she needed to ask.

Branson nodded, and said, "Follow me. I'll take you to my office."

He guided Jamie to the second floor, and took her to a well-appointed office. All the furniture was made of wood, looked handcrafted, and was polished to a mirror sheen. He asked, "Do you like the decor, Jamie? It's a pet project of mine. I like working with wood, I find it very exciting."

Jamie chuckled at that statement. When Branson looked confused, she told him it was just a funny comment. He shrugged, and motioned her to an oversized, fullback chair with thick padding. She settled into it, tail draped down one side.

He sat in an engraved chair behind the desk, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a map for Jamie. "Now, what did you want me to ask about?"

Jamie hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase her question. "Okay. I'm assuming you run some sort of business from here, right? What do you do?"

Branson smiled. "A bit of this, a bit of that. Some investing, some venture capital. Imports, exports, a bit of real estate. Nothing where anyone has to see the boss in person. We do some handcrafted work, too."

Jamie was suitably impressed. "But... what did Jessica do?"

Branson frowned. "Well, she did some of the manufacturing, and had some research projects going. But her main job was keeping the wards around the Castle in place and active."

Jamie cocked her head, a little confused. "Wards? What do you mean?"

Branson pointed to an almost invisible line of silvery thread woven into the carpet. "A ward is a magical shield that prevents something from entering. I know that's vague, but they can block all sorts of thing, and I'm not exactly certain of the specifics myself. This room's warded against eavesdropping, for instance. But I do know that they work, and that Jessica had them scattered all over the Castle."

Jamie nodded, pondering that. "So if I'm going to try and do her work, I'll need to learn how to do this "magic", is that it?"

Branson looked downcast at the thought. "Well, they should hold for at least a few days on their own. Possibly weeks, if we're lucky. But, basically, you're right. Now, you can't just go to the local Community College and get a crash course in magic. I gather it's unheard of in your world, but while it exists here, most people still don't know about it. Then there's the whole 'racial prejudice" thing, of course."

He steepled his fingers, apparently lost in thought. "But... I know Jessica had a small library of old tomes and articles about magic, and she had them organized..."

Jamie interrupted, saying, "Into 'theory', 'practice', and 'speculation', right?"

Branson's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Jamie shrugged, saying, "That's how I had my programming books organized."

Branson chuckled, commenting, "Curiouser and curiouser, as they say. Tell you what, I know Jessica has a few hidden supplies in her room. I'll show you the ones I know. After that, I'm going to have to get to work, but I can do that much for you, anyway."

Not being a particularly large bedroom, it seemed even smaller with two people in it. While Branson moved around it easily, obviously quite familiar with the place, but he remained all business.

He pointed to the seam in the wall that Jamie had noticed earlier. "This would be that library I mentioned. There's a thumbprint right around... here. Jessica, Trent, and I are coded into it. You should be, too, by extension."

He placed his thumb against a divot in the wall, which proceeded to slide open in near silence. Inside was a wooden bookcase filled with hand-bound books. Many of them seemed to share a similar style of binding.

He pointed out the four shelves, which were neatly labeled "Theory", "Practice", and "Speculation", just as Jamie had guessed, with a fourth labeled "Misc.".

He pointed out a book in Theory, labeled "On The Nature of the Elseworld" and two in Practice, "Livre Blanc de Magie" and "Protective Warding I", commenting, "These were the books Jessica had me read when she tried to teach me. I couldn't grasp it, but they're probably the best places to start."

He then closed up the panel, showed her a small safe, and its combination. Inside were several bags of powders and residues, as well as a large spool of silvery thread. "I don't know what all Jessica used these for, but I know the thread is for warding. I'd assume the books explain the rest."

He showed her to the computer system, motioned for her to watch. "I know she had a couple of hidden folders on here. Some of them were pretty mundane, notes on various R&D projects, but she also kept notes on her magical research. I'll give you the passwords."

A puzzled look crossed his face, and he commented, "That's odd... one of her folders of notes seems to be missing, the one regarding her magical research. That's very strange."

He looked around, a little uncertainly. "Those are all of her stashes that I can recall... It wouldn't surprise me if she had others around, but you'll have to figure them out for yourself. There's an internal phone system, so you can call me if there's anything you need me to do. I hope that you'll be able to make use of these, for your sake as well as ours."

With that, he laid a hand on Jamie's shoulder, speaking quietly. "Let me know if you find anything. I've looked at those tomes, and while I never had any luck working with them, I know something of the theory. Trent also has some experience with magic, mainly from the receiving end, so he might be able to help out. If you can't figure something out, just ask. It'd be best, of course, if..."

He swallowed hard, "...if Jessica could teach you, but that's not an option."

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder to wish her luck, and left her alone to her studies. Jamie wondered why he couldn't spare more time to explain this world to her, wondering what he could be so busy with.

She considered whether or not he's angry with her for some reason, he had seemed rather stand-offish.

Well, if he wasn't going to give her a hand, she would just have to figure things out on her own.