Copyright 1997

All Gargoyles characters are property of Disney and Buena Vista Productions and are used here solely for pleasure, not for profit! Oz and Michael Scott, Laurie and Arthur Hawke, and other minor characters copyright Carolynn Marie, 1997. Rated PG-13 for language and violence.

The paragraph in Una's spell book is an excerpt from Good Faeries/Bad Faeries, by Brian Froud (copyright 1998, Simon & Schuster Editions, used without permission, but for entertainment and not profit).

All comments greatly appreciated and can be forwarded to me at C4arobin@aol.com (and there will be a lot of them; I certainly took long enough to finish this piece *L*). Brownie points to anyone who can pick out all the in-jokes! :P

***

"In fear I hurried this way and that. I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other..."
Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf

***

Soho district, London...

Steam wafted through the pantry, imbedding the worn walls with an aroma of roses. It was the smell of tea that Una had loved ever since she was an adolescent.

Like living in a bloody air freshener factory, Griff had once complained. She smiled at the memory. It seemed odd to have him sitting in his old place at the pantry table, laughing and carrying on as if he had never been away. She sniffed and waved the steam away as it billowed up from the stove into her face.

A teacup clattered onto the kitchen table. "Ah, Una, your herbal blend!" Griff exclaimed through watering eyes. "Always did a job on my allergies."

"Or your heart condition," Leo said gruffly. Una put her teapot to good use with a playful smack to the back of his skull. He cradled his head protectively and gave her a toothy grin. "I always thought you looked best when angry."

"Enough out of the both of you," she said sternly, then softened. "After half a century, you still both get on like hatchlings."

"Oh, several months of not having Una's prized tea has made me half-mad," Griff added before slurping the rest of his tea down. His eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates as he exploded in a fit of coughing. He pounded the table, jiggling the teacups and plates.

"Goes to show you," Leo said gruffly while Griff gagged. "Every time you try to impress a female, you end up either out of breath or embarrassed." He leaned in close to him. "In some situations, both." He winked. Una tried to suppress a cry of disapproval, but all that came out was a queer little sound. It was cross between a giggle and a growl.

She rebounded with a quick placing of a claw to her lips. "Not now, my love." She gestured upstairs.

"You have other company?" Griff wheezed as he reached for the water pitcher. He sloshed it down and pinched his eyes shut. Despite the water, his beak was a brilliant shade of crimson.

Leo frowned. "You're not the only one with a human companion, you know. Human pets are borderline trendy, I believe." He clicked his teeth and smiled, his fangs protruding between his lips like a bulldog's.

Griff barked a laugh and raised his teacup high into the air. "Arthur, my pet! If I ever suggested that, Excalibur would have me in several pieces!"

"Or fixed. The hard way." Leo snickered while Griff gave a plaintive moan and crossed his legs.

Both males snapped their mouths shut at sudden thuds from above, causing the rafters to tremble. It was followed by a crash from the stairs.

Griff stared at the other two gargoyles, an appalled expression on his face. "Surprised the ol' shop is still standing."

"That'd be a bloody sight," Leo muttered. "Survived the Blitz to be shambled by a klutz." He ducked upon seeing Una readying her pot again, only this time she had a far more dangerous glint in her eye.

"Get along with both of you," she growled finally and stalked off to the front of the shop, pulling the curtain closed with a squeal of metal rings as she went.

***

A few seconds passed before Griff cleared his throat. "I see you and Una have had a fine time while I've been away," he teased, eyeing the curtain warily. He cleared his throat, and his tone turned serious. "You usually didn't fight so much in the past."

"We still don't." Leo sighed, inspecting his cup. He sipped the rest of it dry and leaned back in his seat. "At least, I try not to. Most important thing you need to learn before you take a mate, Griff chap, is you never anger the female preparing your food."

***

Arthur Hawke wiped his shirt cuff against his nose, relieved to see there was no blood. He adjusted his glasses, curled his sleeves up, and loosened his tie before he tried to pick the crate up again. A dry crack from his spine made him grunt and drop his load with another dead thud against the floor.

'Bugger this' said the small voice in the back of his head. He was forty-six years old and with kids. This wasn't a great time to be crippled, considering he also had an interview in several hours. Yet time and time again, he found himself offering to help Una move her merchandise around the shop. And time and time again, he found himself falling down the stairs or into furniture, the same klutz he was now as he had been as a teenager growing up in Liverpool. Time didn't seem to have changed his big feet or bad coordination.

He anchored one foot against the wall, shifting his body weight until he had the crate resting tightly against his hip. A bead of sweat dribbled down the creases under his eye. His lungs burned.

"Do you need help with that?"

He almost dropped it all again, but he caught himself in time. Una stood halfway up the stairs, watching him with a concerned eye.

"May I?" Before he could answer, she latched her talons around the crate and hauled it down the stairs in a neat one-handed move. He sighed, brushing a wisp of blond hair out of his eyes, before he followed her.

She led him back into the pantry area of the shop, hidden away from the prying eyes of ignorant humans. He followed her, drawing the curtain tightly behind them to keep passers-by from seeing more than they would want to see, then stopped. They had company.

"Well, now, a human chap!" boomed a griffin-like gargoyle. His leather trappings and metal studs reminded Arthur of his own young days, gunning his Chopper along England's back-roads. Arthur was relieved to see the creature was smiling.

He decided humor played best in this situation.

"Born to be wild, huh?" He grinned, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Leo snorted. "He's the reason Una and I got so many gray hairs at such a young age."

"He still remembers the furnace incident?" the griffin asked Una. "It wasn't that bad. I healed with two nights sleep."

"And nearly lost a leg in the process," Leo added.

Una seemed to be trying very hard to control herself. "Arthur Hawke," she said, extending an arm towards him, "I give you Griff. Griff, this is Arthur, a human friend of ours. He's a historian and professor at Yale, and he's spending a few weeks here with his American students."

The griffin gargoyle gave him a firm handshake and a blow on the back that nearly ruptured his lung. Arthur clutched his chest and gagged for air.

"Arthur has been helping us around here from time to time," Una explained, ushering them all to their seats at the table. Griff and Arthur tensed as Una retrieved her teapot.

The human cocked an eyebrow at the gargoyle. "You've tasted her tea, I imagine?" Arthur meant to sound playful, but his voice came out a squeak, and he choked again. Griff had hit him harder than he thought.

"Una is a sweetheart, but her tea and my stomach don't quite get along," Griff whispered.

"So," Arthur said, audibly louder, "you're back from your trip, I see. Una and Leo wouldn't stop talking about you."

A smile played on Leo's lips. "Yes, his trip with 'King Arthur'."

"They still don't believe me," Griff said sulkily. "I'll have to stop by with him some night. He's really quite an amiable chap. Right now he's up in Wales, looking for his tutor, Merlin. I wanted to stay here a few nights and catch up on old times, you know." He stirred his tea but didn't drink any of it. "I didn't know Leo and Una had taken a human friend while I was gone."

"It wasn't really a matter of choice," Arthur said, pulling nervously at his shirt cuffs again. King Arthur? This new chap was bats. "I was doing a report on London's history for the holidays, including it's older buildings, and stumbled in here."

"And into my merchandise." Una kept her face bent over her teapot. Arthur thought it was an attempt to hide her smile. "He set some of the trinkets off. After the smoke cleared, well, we had to tell him. Luckily, he took it quite well."

Arthur cleared his throat, causing her to stop. "Well, I was a bit disturbed by the magic, and I wasn't sure what the Church would make of it all. But they proved to be quite charming hosts. And I've been here ever since, whenever I'm in London, to help out and chat."

"Doth turns the world," Leo quoted, raising his teacup in a toast.

Arthur smiled and clinked his teacup with the gargoyles'. He raised an eyebrow towards the stove, where Una added more tea bags and pulled down some crumpets in a very quiet manner. "Oh, Una. You've worked hard enough all night. Come, come. Sit down and relax. No more tea, already." It was a request the male gargoyles looked eager to hear fulfilled. Griff's beak was already another frightful shade of red.

Una sighed and walked to the table, stirring her own cup of tea as she went. "I suppose," she said softly, then took a sip. She made a face. "Oh, dear. I believe I did something wrong." She noticed the nodes of affirmation from the table. "Well, then, why didn't you tell me?"

The males exchanged glances. "Well," Griff finally started, "we didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Leo grabbed her wrist when she turned back to the stove. "No, no, Luv. No more tea. Sit down and relax." She sighed again and plopped into a chair.

"Something ailing you?"

"No, not really," Una answered. "Well, somewhat. My magic books say there will be a full moon in a few nights, and it says a very odd time will occur that same night. Two very powerful nights in alignment. I don't like it."

Leo snorted.

"You of all souls should know how odd the night time can be," she added. Leo gave a gruff 'humph' to save face.

"I suppose staying indoors will be the word of the day," Griff said. "Er, night."

"I suppose." She looked worried. "Oh, I must just be getting silly in my old age. All the odd things that have been going on, with those Quarrymen over in the States ... it makes you wonder."

"Everyone's gone loopy," added Leo. "Even the bloody delivery boys can't do their job. Several things were missing from our last shipment, but when we called the shipping company, they swore the crates hadn't been touched."

Arthur frowned. "What was missing?"

"Just some books," Una replied. "But we can always get more books. It's a missing talisman that's bothering me. Some old Celtic talisman. I can't imagine where it's gotten to. Between taxes and that leak in the roof to be repaired... oh, now I'm getting too concerned about money, and that should just be a human concern. And humans are the last creatures I want to worry about right now. Other humans, I mean." Arthur gave a boyish grin.

Una returned the smile, though with effort. "It's the first time Griff has been home in several months, and the most we should be concerned with right now is how long the tea will last." Leo gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I still think your tea is wonderful, Luv," he added softly, and Una blushed with pleasure.

****
Manhattan

"Anything yet?"

Lexington looked up from his binoculars and gave Brooklyn a questioning glance. "No. Anxious?"

The brick-red gargoyle shifted on his stone perch uncomfortably. "I'm just getting bored. We've been here since sunset, and nothing's happened."

"Yeah, and without breakfast," Broadway muttered, rubbing his stomach. He poked the binoculars dangling from Lexington's neck. "You sure these things work?"

"I'd like to see you put together something from spare toaster parts," the olive-green gargoyle countered, putting the binoculars to his eyes again. Nothing came up in his field-of-vision. In the distance, Elisa's apartment stared back at him through its dark windows as if mocking the fact that they had been sitting there for several hours.

Something inside moved. His leg muscles tensed, but it turned out to be Cagney rubbing up against the window over the sink. He sighed and let the binoculars bang against his bare chest.

"Nada, zilch, zippo, does not compute," he finally said. Broadway clapped a meaty hand on his head and muttered something about lunch. Lex wiggled free; he hated how everyone always gave him the 'baby of the family' treatment, especially the head noogies and the sitting on their haunches to get down to his eye level. "Would you mind not doing that?"

"This doesn't make sense," Brooklyn said. "Things start moving around in Elisa's while she's out, and usually someone's responsible."

"Some thief," Lexington murmured, rubbing his arms as a cold ocean wind whipped through them. "They've been taking lessons from Houdini."

"What did they take?" Broadway asked.

"So far, nothing," Brooklyn said, keeping one wary eye on the apartment across the street. "It's real weird. There was a sign of entry, but it's like they entered then left. Just one night running so far, but they might come back. Elisa's got shift tonight, so that's probably why Goliath made us come."

Broadway looked worried. "He didn't sound too happy about it."

"Yeah, after that other little incident tonight, he gave me that speech," Brooklyn said. "You know, the one that goes 'I will deal with you three later'." He winced at the memory.

"That counts our 'little incidents' at two this week, doesn't it?" Lexington asked. "Like it was our fault Bronx got into the ventilator shaft and chewed up the fan. He probably saw the metal blades and thought it was a really big bunny with really sharp fangs or something."

Broadway pointed to the apartment. "I saw something move."

Brooklyn squinted his eyes. Then he saw it: a small figure unlatching one of the ceiling's skylights. He flared his wings and scampered to the roof's edge. "Let's go."

***

The window's latch gave way easily. Laurie dropped the ten feet onto the carpet. Picking herself up and dusting herself off, she flicked on her flashlight. The familiar adrenaline rush returned, causing her head to pound. The apartment was standard New York fare: sunken living room, skylights, and balcony overlooking the Upper West Side. The ultimate kleptomaniac's fantasy.

Thievery was so underrated.

Not a klepto, Laurie reminded herself. I'm just here for the rush. Sweaty dark hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away.

She found the jewelry box easily, and she brought it into the living room's better light. Hardly able to control her excitement, she flipped the minute catch. Her eyes widened at the ruby ring nestled in its perch. Its surface burned with an odd light, like liquid fire. "Sweet. Wonder what I'll get for this?"

"A cell at the juvenile center, with a good view of the park if you're lucky."

Laurie spun and smacked right into a hard surface, and hands trapped hers in a vise grip. "Hey! Stay cool! I was going to put it back!" The dark face in front of her opened, showing a cavern lined with tiny white teeth. She jumped. "What the-"

Two others appeared from the apartment's shadows, forming a circle to deny escape. The room spun. This was worse than the cops, who often thought her cropped dark hair made her look like a punk, and thus a threat. At least the cops played by certain rules. These guys probably didn't.

She hardened her grip on the flashlight and tried to wrestle her hands free.

"Alright, I give up," she said, smiling. Stalling. The energy building up in her hands tickled, almost like when sticking hot hands under a cold faucet. She felt the flashlight's batteries throb from the added electricity.

The grip tightened. "Release whatever you've got in your hands."

"Sure thing." It was then that she hit the flashlight's switch. A halo of white light exploded, aided by her supercharging the batteries. The light fell across her captor's face, illuminating a recoiling red beak and blazing white eyes. It took her a split second to realize it wasn't human, and even less than that for her to scream and ram it in the stomach.

The creature, too blinded by the light, hit the floor easily. Laurie shot for the window, but found herself blocked by another one. It was smaller than the others, about her size, which was still sufficient enough to hurt her badly. Its leathery wings formed a net between the legs and arms, strangely resembling Rocky the Flying Squirrel.

Rocky's eyes blazed. "Dead end." She backed up into a Lazy-Boy, heart pounding.

The familiar, comforting tickle of energy formed again, flowing through her body like a circulating river. There. The chair. Grab the chair, whispered a little voice of reason.

"Leave me alone!" She balled her hands into fists and arched her back. The Lazy-Boy jumped into the air with a life of its own and shot forward. Rocky hesitated a moment too long and was caught in the chair's path. He flew into the other two creatures, and together they landed in a crushing heap on the coffee table.

Laurie gawked. That had never happened before. Little things, like electric appliances and flashlights gone haywire, perhaps. She couldn't have forced the chair like that. One of them must have. Who knew what freaky superpowers they had?

'You'd better leave before they re-orient themselves.' Laurie grabbed her flashlight and scrambled for the skylight. She didn't want to stick around for when the Three Stooges woke up.

***

Lex groaned and kicked the remains of the chair off of them. "Are you guys okay?" Between the exploding flashlight and the flying chair, he was terribly confused. He tried to stand up but tripped and fell onto Elisa's coffee table. The table's legs buckled and fell in on themselves, and he crashed to the ground again. The room swam before his eyes.

He recoiled as his hand came down in a wet patch. Sometime during the ordeal, the ceiling's fire extinguisher had gone off.

"I think so," Brooklyn's voice warbled from the darkness. He sounded as if he just downed several Margaritas in quick succession and was now suffering a hangover. "What landed on me?"

"Broadway."

Broadway groaned. "What happened?"

"She threw a chair at us."

"How?"

Brooklyn's voice was thick. "I don't know! It lifted off the floor and sat on us."

"Ew, I landed on something."

"Yeah. My head."

"No, it's sticky and ..." There was the sound of Broadway licking his lips in the dark. "... chocolate! She must've dropped it. Ooh, Kit-Kat ... yum..."

A light bloomed over their heads. Lex hung from one of the rafters by his tail, an abandoned flashlight in his hands. "Catch!" Broadway wasn't too quick, and it ended up landing on his head with a hollow thud. Lex scuttled across the ceiling on all fours to the extinguishers in the ceiling and did something with his fingers. The water immediately stopped running.

"She must've gone back through the skylight. Hold on. I'm going after her." He scouted out the roof. All was silent. A newspaper scuttled past in the wind, and a Boeing 707 screamed overhead towards Kennedy Airport.

He frowned and stuck his head through the skylight to report. "She's gone."

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Brooklyn demanded as he and Broadway scrambled through the window and onto the roof.

Lex massaged his forehead. He suddenly felt much older than he was. "I don't know."

"Maybe she went back in through a vent," Broadway suggested. "Or down the fire escape."

Brooklyn growled his frustration. "C'mon, let's lock up and leave before the neighbors report weird sounds from here. We don't need the cops barging in right now. We'll tell Elisa."

They piled through the window and stared dejectedly at the apartment. The coffee table was in shreds from Lex's fall, and the carpet now gave off a damp, mildew odor.

Lex sucked in his lower lip. He could already hear their leader's infamous growl of 'I will deal with you three later', which would now mark the tally of mess-ups at three.

He sighed. "Goliath's not going to like this."

***

Several nights later: London

"Just one?"

Michael frowned in disapproval at his brother. Oz just stared back at him, hope shining in his ice-blue eyes.

They were nothing alike, Michael knew. Oz had Dad's wild dark hair, which fell rakishly across his face. That, and his carefree attitude, gave him such a punk look that the bobbies often stopped him on the street even when he hadn't done anything. Michael, meanwhile, had grown up a replica of Mum: untidy blond hair, tall and lithe, and a lover of the arts and the rules. The two brothers were like fire and ice, street punk and gentleman.

How could Mum and Dad expect Michael to baby-sit a sixteen year-old with rampaging hormones and a yen for clubbing? The campus coffeehouse was open that night, and he was missing it all because of the little git.

"No way. No beer."

Oz's ice-blue eyes grew even colder. "I thought Mum and Dad's going away meant some quality time with my older brother."

"Quality time doesn't mean passing out in bars."

"Who said anything about passing out in bars?" As he spoke, Oz's eyes strayed to several buxom waitresses.

Michael leaned closer over the bar counter; he didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. "The only reason I agreed to bring you to the Lion and the Unicorn was because I'd go insane locked up in the house. You know the rules. No beer, no babes, no trouble."

Oz scoffed and made a gesture that seemed to mean Who, me? but Michael wasn't easily fooled. The kid was like a wild dog: slacken the leash and he'd be all over you. Or your wallet.

"C'mon, Michael. I'm the poster boy of good behavior. It's my first visit to a bar."

A slender waitress with teased red hair and freckles leaned over the counter, pen in hand. "Can I get you gents something? I recommend the-Oz!" She bent closer and planted a fat, sisterly kiss on the young rogue's cheek. "Where've you been? Want the usual?"

Oz winced at his brother's glare. "Uh, nah. Just a Coke. How's the bangers tonight?"

She laughed. "Sausage at 11 o'clock? How's about I get you gents some whiskey mac and clam chowder? George's prepared some fine stuff tonight." She scribbled the order and flounced off before either young man could react.

"The poster boy, huh?" Michael could hear the acid dripping from his own voice.

Oz shrugged. "You can't be the only king around the pub. I've sneaked in once or twice."

"Mum said you're not allowed! God, Oz, how long are you going to break the rules? Until somebody gets hurt? Until you get hurt?"

Oz smiled. "Ain't gonna happen. Besides, when are you going to stop being a tightass and be proud of me? I'm probably the only sixteen-year-old who can sneak into a bar and get friendly with twenty-somethings." Michael didn't like the sudden glean in his baby brother's eyes. "I know what'll prove it to you. Look at this. Nicked it off a delivery boy a few week ago."

He slipped something from his pocket. The tavern's dim orange light glinted off a shined surface. The black stone was shaped like an Egyptian eye, with a slivered center like an animal's pupil. The piece was wrapped around the edges by a delicate strand of silver. There weren't any flaws in the metal or the carving. It was too perfectly made, as if by a machine.

Michael nearly fell out of his chair. "You're stealing jewelry?" he hissed.

Oz almost looked hurt. "I don't know what it is. There were a few books in the crate, too, but just a bunch of cock-and-bull, they were. This," He ran a slender thumb across the jewelry piece's gilt edge, "this is worth something."

"Is it worth going to the lock-up?"

"Gawd, you sound just like Mum."

"At least somebody does." Oz turned away, but Michael grappled him around the wrist and held tight, forcing the younger boy to look at him. "This isn't the old you, Oz. I feel like I'm talking to a ghost."

"Oh, shut up!" Oz snapped. "You've taken a funny time to start talking about bonding, Mr. High School Head Boy And College Prep-"

"Oz..."

"-and always kissing arse with Dad, you wouldn't know about me, now would you?" His ice-cold eyes burned with such a fiery intensity that Michael felt his stomach drop to his knees. "What a ... a..." He suddenly winced, sweat pouring into his eyes, and slumped over.

Michael jumped, knocking their mugs to the floor and earning an annoyed shout from the cook.

The skinny boy's face glowed crimson as he looked up. "Can't ... breathe," he gasped.

He grabbed Oz and dragged him to the door and into the deserted street. Save for his terrified gasps, his brother gave little fight. Oz would feel better once he got his asthma under control, he knew. Once outside, Michael pinned him to a nearby lamppost.

"Where's your inhaler?" he demanded, nervous now; his brother's face was still flushed. The glowing from Oz's trouser pocket caught his attention. "It's that trinket thing, ain't it? Gawd, Oz, I told you to get rid of it- is that you growling?"

A great black shape moved in Michael's peripheral vision, but he didn't move in time. Oz's arm had arced around by then, smacking Michael across the cheek and spinning him around. His nose smashed into the lamppost with a dull crack. Memories flooded forth from the dank recesses of his brain: the first day of grammar school when the sixth formers had swatted him around and broken his nose.

"Oz?" The images of the bullies swirled and clumped together, showing his brother crouched on the sidewalk, hands over his head. "Oz, what's you doin'?" His head hurt. His tongue wouldn't work. The stars dancing before him were so pretty... pretty, pretty stars...

Something was wrong with Oz. His body was rigid, and his limbs were shaking. His brand new cagoule and waistcoat were tearing apart. Hair erupted between the seams. Oz reared his head and roared a mouthful of sharp, stumpy teeth. Didn't Oz get his braces to fix that?

"You tore your coat, Mum's going to kill you," Michael murmured. "You shouldn't have done that, Oz."

The stars encircled him again. Michael sighed and let himself fall into the darkness...

To Be Continued...