Fleece-lined bomber jacket--check. Leather riding pants--check. Riding crop (just for looks, Bob would throw me off if I dared use it)--check.

Bob sticks out a leg and I climb up and settle between his wings. He's vibrating, he's so excited. All the gargoyles gather on the balustrade on the edge of the roof, wings spread. I wonder if anyone notices down on the street.

"Air Squadron--chocks away!"

I hold on tight as Bob drops from the roof, wings spread. Stone creatures need a lot of speed to get lift. If I die, my friend who visits in the middle of the night said he'd bring me back.

Twenty feet from the cobblestones, Bob hit lift, and we began to climb. God, I love to fly.

Who the hell has a flying dog?

I take a sip of my red wine and watch the Gargoyle squadron fly off the roof of the Folly from my vantage of my office window. Emmett's at home with his Mom, and I've got the evening off. Hmmm, maybe I'll check and see if Jesse wants to go to the movies. They're playing Bride of Frankenstein and Young Frankenstein as a double feature, then all of Val Lewton's RKO horror movies: Cat People, I Walked With A Zombie et al.

Hmmm. Flying dog.

The Shadows are quiet tonight. Like every year, slowing down towards midnight ... the chaos/order balance is held like a deep breath while all sides look elsewhere.

The wolf won't come by, nor any of her litter. The silence always makes me restive, but the empty Shadow is no place for that. Let it have its peace.

I step out onto a rooftop, looking down for the parade I know must be winding its way through the streets below.

I have enough time to duck.

Flying dogs are not quiet.

Got home just in time. I managed to intercept the first batch of trick-or-treaters just as they were ringing the bell. Sent them off with nummy treats instead of herring, and nobody's throwing stuff at my house.

Of course the bird is miffed by this. He's currently sulking underneath the sink with his candied herring. I tried to explain about little kids and herring, but he's being stubborn.

Meanwhile, I keep handing out treats. Man there are a lot of kids out tonight.

Huh, flying dog. "Hey! Get away from that forsythia bush. Skat!"

I'm walking to Hec's house, figuring I can suprise him, maybe take him out for a night of fun and adventure. I glance upwards, giving an acknowledging hoot to the Air Aquadron (it's that day again)...

... when I see a flying dog. Huh.

I head down to the lobby to check with the staff and see if the boys are having any trouble. Looks quiet. An Audrey Gang comes in, all dressed in Roman Holiday. I love the Audrey Gangs.

I go to take a peak down the street and check out the revels. Big Goth Ball in Blackwood Parish tonight. Dogtown will be hopping. I think Knut was going to be opening for Liese's band.

Hey, it's s.a.!

"My darling Hecubus!" I say when I see him. My eye was caught on a member of the Audrey Gang; her hair was mussed. It was wrong like a thing that is wrong.

But my attention falls back to the present, and I ask, "How are you? Feeling revellous tonight? I think I just made up a word, didn't I."

"Revellous and frumious! But I'm not in costume. However..."

I jingle my set of keys.

"I am the man with the keys. And guess what this one opens? The costume warehouse in the basement for the touring opera companies that stay here."

My eyes light up with possibility of lavish costuming. "Let's go! We can awe the public. Or at least look damn cool."

"Parfait!"

I nod at the O'Halloran Brothers who are doormen this evening.

"I'm off to get swanky boys. No Bushmills until after midnight, right?"

"This way, darling..." and I take s.a. by the arm.