Part two: Gargoyles characters are property of Disney and Buena Vista and are used here solely for pleasure, not profit. Oz and Michael Scott, Laurie and Arthur Hawke, and all other minor characters copyright Carolynn Marie, 1997.

I'm certainly glad to hear folks are enjoying the tale so far, and I don't plan on letting you guys down :) Once again, kudos to anyone who can pick out all the in-jokes!

****

Autumn was coming. Mothers bundled their children up in woolen scarves and coats from the GAP before shooing them off to school.

Lex saw them in the early mornings when it was still dark out: the herds of giggling little ones, carrying notebooks and X-Men lunchboxes, and their older brothers and sisters, who strained beneath massive backpacks and fumbled to wipe the sleep from their eyes. The teenagers descended into the subway stations, grim-faced and tightlipped, acknowledging summer's end.

For once, Lex felt their depression. He wandered around the city for a few nights, alone. Broadway was with Angela, and Brooklyn seemed very content at being melancholy again. Whenever he entered the room, the entire clan gave him blank looks, as if still disappointed on his performance at Elisa's. Were they ashamed of him? He didn't have the tail to ask.

So now the little gargoyle sat curled up on a Chinatown ledge, watching the small restaurants close for the night and hearing the cooks' occasional cries of "Dway-bu-chi!"

'If I wasn't so small I would have caught her instead of getting jumped by a Lazy-Boy,' he fumed. 'Then everyone wouldn't be looking at me so funny.' His face burned a deep green.

He tensed his leg muscles and shot himself off the roof with the precision of a skilled sharpshooter. There weren't too many thermals tonight; clouds overhead hadn't let too much sun down during the daytime, so the Earth was colder than usual around dusk. He twisted his pelvis around and checked the wind, searched for any tailwind that would shoot him upwards. Nothing good.

He growled in frustration and aimed for another rooftop, barely reaching a jutted outcropping as the wind died and dropped him. The world spun. Lex slammed hard against a massive wall of vertical concrete. Claws instinctively dug into the side.

The crazy valley of multi-colored roofs and ivy-choked trellises told him he was right over Soho. Perfect. That made the trip home about a mile or so. The clan might have calmed down by now. He couldn't stand another evening with those blank stares. If he traveled by way of the East River, he might get there faster. The ocean gave off perfect tailwinds.

The building wasn't too large, only five stories, its porches decorated with ferns and potted plants. Another apartment building ran adjacent to it. If he hopped across, he could get enough momentum to climb higher into the sky.

He almost missed the small flash bobbing down the street, a dark figure with even darker hair. The way she moved triggered the memory of that thief. Lex squinted. It was her. There was no mistaking the way she moved her legs, as if she didn't run but floated in one liquid movement down the street.

'She's not getting away this time,' he thought. The entire world flamed red. He clamped his arms and legs together and shot downward like a bullet.

***

"Full house?" Brooklyn threw down his cards onto the parapet. "Are you sure you've never played before?" He nudged Bronx away with his knee. The beast had been slowly inching his mouth toward the gargoyles' dinner, cartons of Kung Pao chicken and steamed vegetable dumplings.

"I didn't mean to win!" Broadway declared. "I just have rotten luck."

"It wouldn't be that rotten if I could somehow sneak you into a casino."

Lex crash-landed along the stone tiles, dumping his load as he went, a trussed-up human. Despite her blindfold, she promptly whirled and kicked him across the rump. Lex roared.

Brooklyn balked. "Lex!"

"Hey, you're the chocolate addict from Elisa's," Broadway said. "Thievery's a capital offense, you know." Bronx growled.

The girl snarled back. "So is kidnapping."

Brooklyn made a fist. "Lex! What do you think you're doing?"

Lex tottered to his feet. "Elisa's not at the station," he mumbled, rubbing his scalp, "and it'd look suspicious if I dumped her off. Owen can call the cops without too many questions being asked."

"I've got a couple," the human said. A blast of heat melted the wires Lex had bound around her wrists, and she tore the blindfold from her face. Her eyes widened. "Oh, man, not the Terrible Trio again."

"Lock, stock, and barrel," Brooklyn hissed, eyes flaring. He flared his wings and inched towards her.

"Get back!" she yelled, knocking him backwards with an invisible blast. Brooklyn felt the curled ends of his hair burn against his shoulder blades. She turned on her heel and bolted down the stairs.

Bronx howled and took off after her.

***

The auction had gone off without a hitch. David Xanatos wasn't overly fond of clinches, but at the moment he was too preoccupied to care.

The stockbrokers had been a little surprised at first. XanCorp and all affiliates had pulled funding from Nightstone Unlimited well over six months ago, and Xanatos himself had ceased all interaction of any kind with Demona.

But sometimes it was a good idea to dabble in territory usually left alone.

Xanatos peered at the new acquisition to his collection. "Well, what do think, Owen? Is it feasible?"

His servant didn't even look up from the clipboard. "At this point in time, it is rather difficult to say, sir." Pale blue eyes flickered upon the monstrosity before him, a tall mirror intricately inlaid with a silvery metal. He frowned at several hairline fractures marring the polished surface. "If I may be so frank, Mr. Xanatos, I believe it may take some time before Titania's mirror is able to function again. Demona has damaged the mirror to an extreme extent."

"I would have thought magic would hold up better than that."

"Engineers on Avalon did not expect a two-hundred pound creature would attempt to bench press it, sir." The derision in his servant's voice was unmistakable. "Illuminati funds might be enough to finance a reconstruction, but I'm afraid science will only take us so far. Alexander is still young. I wouldn't chance using him."

"We have all eternity if necessary," Xanatos said. He rapped his knuckles against his office desk. "And yet ... the Illuminati will be interested in the mirror's components. Do you have any other knowledge of the mirror, Owen?" He walked up besides his servant and ran a thumb over the metal frame. "It looks like some sort of silver."

"The truth is much more complex than that, sir. The Fey have always been adept at metal-making from pure moonlight."

"Hmm, fascinating. And wasn't Excalibur forged by the Fey as well?"

"Fantasy is often rooted in fact, sir. If I may be candid, I believe I made quite an impression at Nightstone Unlimited's auction. It is well known that you have severed all ties with Dominique Destine."

"The Illuminati are interested in anything that concerns them, Owen, even if it means an occasional visit with rivals. It's hardly what I'd call a social call."

The answer must have satisfied Owen, because he tucked the clipboard under his arm without another word. "If you will no be requiring my services, sir, I believe I should get to work on these figures at once."

"Of course." He waited until his servant had made a few steps before adding, "And Owen, nice touch on the sarcasm. Very human."

The pale man turned around. "I try, sir."

"Just don't do it again in my presence."

Owen blinked and considered this. "Understood, sir." A sudden beeping from a wall panel drew his attention to a monitor. "Excuse me, sir, but there appears to be a disturbance in quadrant two."

"Heading towards the nursery?"

Owen pressed his thumb against the monitor, and an aura of colors bloomed on the screen, taking on a three dimensional view of the castle. "No, sir. They should be arriving here within a few min-"

The door exploded in a shower of wood. Always nimble, Xanatos threw himself to the floor tiles as the remains of the doorjamb crushed his computer. He rolled across the floor and righted himself in time to see the remains of his desk demolished. The heap fell apart as a familiar blue ball of teeth and tongue poked its way out.

Xanatos frowned. Bronx. It figured. The dumb beast had already gotten stuck in the ventilation shaft that week. The cost to save him from the rotary blades had been exorbitant.

The Trio skittered to a halt in the doorway, trailing behind a girl with close-cropped hair and a hysterical expression. They all tackled her at once, and the group rolled across the floor in a tangle of arms and claws.

A hot nimbus of bright white light engulfed the mirror. Xanatos shielded his eyes against the radiating illumination with his arm. Heat burned his coat sleeve, and his entire field of vision glared white through the thin membranes of his eyelids. It was as if the sun had exploded in his office.

Suddenly, everything went dark. He blinked the spots out of his eyes and looked up. The gargoyles were gone. The mirror was unharmed, but the surrounding floor was scorched black. Steam rose in curling tendrils off the mirror's surface.

Bronx rose and loped drunkenly over to him, confused.

Something out of the corner of his eye moved. It was Owen, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and readjusting them on his head. In normal circumstances, Xanatos would have found it rather funny that his servant's hair was ruffled and his tie askew. Not now. No, now he felt more like committing corporation homicide.

"What happened?" he demanded. He almost pounded his desk, then realized he didn't have one anymore.

"I believe, sir, that your mirror just got fixed," Owen replied succinctly, fingering the scorched tips of his hair.

He found his own hair brittle, like hay left too long in the sun. "That's a hell of a way of going about it."

Owen approached the smoking mirror, but stopped two feet in front of it. Xanatos appeared next to his servant, surveying the ancient relic. The mirror's surface reflected a frustrated David Xanatos and next to him a pale, lithe Puck, his arms folded in a pose that connoted deep thought.

"Fascinating," Xanatos whispered, touching the surface. "Agh!" He clutched his hand in pain. The glass radiated heat like a car engine. Owen moved forward, but he waved him away with his free hand. "I'm fine. After everything else, a little scratch won't kill me."

"I believe Titania's mirror was activated by a great source of energy," Owen commented, nodding his head at the mirror. In the mirror's surface, Puck nodded his head in unison. They both looked concerned at their employer's condition.
"When I was called by Demona, she activated it in a similar manner, only her energy source came from sorcery."

"Then the question is, from where did it come this time?"

"We can easily rule out the gargoyles, sir. The only plausible theory left is that the young target of their hunt was the culprit."

"Hmm. I didn't know sorcery was such a trend. Kids nowadays."

Bronx cocked his head at the mirror's reflections. Puck stuck both fingers into his spiked ears and poked out his tongue. The beast gave a low whine.

"It wasn't sorcery, sir." Xanatos gave Owen a blank stare. "I can confirm that. She was alarmed to such an extent, she 'exploded', much like Fox did in her attempt to protect Alexander from Oberon." He pressed his flesh hand up against the mirror. His long-eared reflection did the same. They both smiled an eerie little half-grin at each other, as if they shared a private joke. "I suggest we find them before anything else happens."

"I suppose you know where they are?"

"I could make a few conjectures." He offered his clipboard and pointed at a specific address.

"You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, never, sir."

"Wonderful." Xanatos kicked aside the remnants of his desk and found the phone receiver, knocked off its hook by the attack. "Well, this is certainly a new variable to the equation. If the Illuminati calls, stall for time." He dialed a number and cradled the phone to his ear. Bronx curled into a ball, his eyes lingering distrustfully on Owen as if sensing something supernatural was about.

The pale man raised an eyebrow at the beast, then turned around. In the mirror's silver face, Puck winked and wagged a scolding finger at him.

Xanatos frowned but didn't say anything. "Yes, operator? London, please. Yes, I'll hold ..."

***

A supernova exploded in his face. He was airborne, flying through space until a slab of concrete broke his fall. A moment of calm followed, broken suddenly by dead weight landing on his head. Broadway moaned.

He blinked the spots in his eyes away and the world filtered back into his vision: a world illuminated by foggy little yellow stars. He blinked again, and the stars melted into more distinct little shapes. They were streetlights framed by the night's dewy fog.

The ground was smooth and chilled when he touched it. Pavement.
A side street curved and led to a main road, enveloped by tall stone buildings on either side. It was like a miniature version of Manhattan, but the architecture was different. Gone was the art nouveau and sculpted limestone. Here were the iron grates and ivy-infested brick. Perhaps there was more to see, but he couldn't be sure. After several feet, the fog swallowed up the rest of the street in one gulp.

Something sharp and smooth rubbed against his shoulder blades. A familiar olive green blob crawled off his back. "Thanksh for breaking my fall." Lex's voice was slurred.

"Thanks for breaking my head."

Brooklyn pulled both of them to their feet. He hugged himself, shaking from the damp in the air. "Smells pretty rank," he commented. "Like river water." Planting his fists on his hips, he shot his brothers a funny look. "What just happened?"

Lex seemed to shrink. "The last thing I remember was chasing that human and-"

All three froze.

"Hey, where is she?" They jumped as something howled from the distance. Brooklyn snorted at the air and nodded at his brothers; she'd been there. Muttering, he caped his wings and headed inland.

Broadway cast his smaller brother a curious side-glance. Lex shrank even further. "You know," the portly gargoyle started, "it wasn't your fault this happened-"

"I know," Lex answered quickly, but his temple throbbed.

***

Griff twisted his left wing a tiny increment, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, and he immediately shot upward thirty feet. He took a deep whiff and sighed happily. He loved London's unmistakable scent, a tang of fog and river water mixed with car exhaust. It smelled entirely of home.

"Well, well," he said softly as he dipped low over the river. "Everything's the same as I left it." His reflection in the water grinned up at him. "And still the roguishly handsome fellow as I left, too."

He slapped his wings against the wind and shot off over the city. "And much nicer without Nazis shooting up the place, I imagine."

The leafy green canopy of Hyde Park rose in the distance. A thin fog had formed over the streets tonight, veiling the city like cobwebs.

Far below, from under the trees, a howl erupted. It rose higher and higher in pitch, then stopped. Griff was so startled that he nearly fell.

"If it's not Nazis, it's something else," he said and pulled his wings back into a dive. "Well, old boy, let's go see what's up, shall we?"

A shaggy dark mound was the first thing Griff saw upon landing behind a tree, safely out of sight of the dirt path that ran through the park. At first, it looked like a horse. But horses didn't sit on their haunches or snarl.

"Bugger off!" A young human clambered up a lightpole out the creature's reach.

"Certainly not Nazis," Griff mused. The creature heard him and swiveled its head, showing off an impressive array of fangs. Seeing him, it turned its body full circle, reared its head, and roared.

Griff sprang out of hiding, eyes blazing. "My turn."

He cocked his fist and boxed it in the jaw, promptly leaping out of reach as it snorted and shook its head in confusion. It gave him a split second to take this picture in. It was a wild dog, the size of a horse, with claws meant for some serious tearing. Growling, its eyes glowed crimson along with the glowing eye-shape on its forehead.

The wolf recovered quickly. It snarled and landed Griff a blow that sent him beak-first into the dirt. He struggled to get up, but a paw slammed him back down again. Hot, sticky breath growled down on his neck.

Griff whipped his tail across the beast's snout. It screamed and pawed at its face in pain.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Griff, my boy." He skittered out of reach and bolted up the lightpole. The girl had dark close-cropped hair, silver hoop earrings, and scuffed leather boots. Very punk. When he held out his hand, the human's only response was to stare at him as if he had two heads. "Take my hand!"

"There's more of you?" Her tone was blank. "You guys should form a club."

"Take my hand! Unless you want to stick around here," he added hurriedly. She squealed as he pulled her into his arms and leapt into the air. "Hold on. It gets bumpy here."

"Let me go! It's been such a-Aggggghhh!" Griff moaned as he pushed off the lamp pole and into the air; she had screamed right in his ear.

"Sorry." She turned bright red, just like Griff did whenever he had Una's tea.

The wolf's eyes cleared in time for it to notice its prey making a get-away. It roared its anger and stalked off into the woods' undergrowth.

Griff was starting to contemplate all this when something soared over his head. Three gargoyles fell into line beside him. The human almost jumped out of his arms.

"Ah, you Yankee chaps!" he exclaimed, and motioned down below. "If it's not one surprise, it's another! And how is Goliath?"

"Home, safe and sound, which is where we should be," the one called Brooklyn said. He poked the human in the shoulder of her coat. "You have something which belongs to us."

"Hey, I don't see a property sign," the human snapped, recoiling from his touch.

"How'd you find her?" Lexington interrupted eagerly, eyes locking with the human's.

Griff laughed and flapped his wings harder against a sudden gust of wind. "She fell into my lap. C'mon, chaps. I have a few friends back at the shop who'd be dying to meet you!" He looked grim as a howl echoed down below.

"And from the looks of things, we'd better leg it indoors."

***

Darkness wrapped around him like a death shroud. It was so dark, but his eyes were too crusted over to bother opening them. Crisp flakes caked his lower lip. God, his mouth stank. It felt as if he had eaten something dead and rotted.

Oz ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth to wash away the bitter taste. It was awful, much worse than Jack Daniels and too thick to be drool. His eyes shot open and he leaned over the side of his bed in time to vomit onto the shag carpeting.

All he remembered was Michael dragging him into the street, but nothing more.

The screen had been ripped clear out of his bedroom window. He struggled to remember something that would make sense, but no images came. He couldn't even remember scaling the two stories to reach the window.

'Find Michael,' he thought. 'What's this?' Something stained the carpet. It came up slick and oily on the soles of his feet. His heart froze as the realization finally registered in his brain. Tears pricked his eyes. 'Oh, God ...'

Oz scrambled back over the bed, ignoring the mix of puke and tears, and knocked the phone off the nightstand as he snatched the receiver. Michael would be at the dorms. He had to be. Normally, Oz would have chosen any other person than him. Even when Michael was still living at home, both brothers had never gotten along with each other. But now wasn't a time to get picky.

He hopped from one foot to the other, too anxious to sit down and too frightened to leave the house.

Michael picked up on the twelfth ring. "Hello?"

"Michael, it's-"

"Oz! Are you okay? What the hell happened? Because of you I'm nursing a bloody nose and a bloody head-"

"I don't know, I don't know, okay?" Oz wanted to scream, but the room's sudden rocking forced him back onto the bed.

"Where are you?"

"Lying in a pool of blood in my room." Oz rambled on and ignored the stunned silence from the other end of the line. "I just woke up, my room's trashed, and I'm hanging all out in my birthday suit if you get my meaning, and I don't remember what I've been doing all night. Michael," Oz sobbed. "I think I ... I killed something-"

"Get a grip on reality, Oz. Throw some clothes on. I'll drive over and pick you up. If anything's been killed lately, the bobbies will know."

"Bobbies?" Oz shrieked. "You know what they do to blokes who go around eating cats?" 'I hope it was a cat.'

"Oz, chap, c'mon. We'll figure this out. Just leg it. I'll be over in a minute. Okay, Oz? Oz?"

But Oz wasn't listening. Something lay on the floor, glistening under a crimson sea of blood and drool. He flipped it over with his toe. A black jeweled eye stared up at him, blood already seeped between the cracks. If he hadn't felt so buzzed, he could have sworn the thing was crying. Water dripped down its sides, but that couldn't be. It had to be his own tears.

Jewelry pieces didn't cry.

"Oz? Oz, you there? Don't play jokes on me now, bro..."

He couldn't resist. Gingerly, he pulled the jewel from the gore and shook off the excess. It promptly glowed a bright green. He grinned. It was ... pleased. Now that didn't make much sense, did it?

The crunch hit in his back. Oz screeched and clutched his head as the throbbing returned in full force. His spine ripped right out of his tailbone, and his thighs twisted into hind legs just as the claws started forming. 'The claws?'

"Oz? Oz? Who's that screaming? Pick up-"

He whipped his muzzle around, ripping the phone from the wall.

***

"The best charm for protection from the faeries is, undoubtedly, cold iron. Pins in a pincushion hung behind a door or a knife in the doorjamb will bar their entry, just as a smoothing iron under the bed prevents abduction during the night. When entering Faeryland it is wise to stab a knife into the door so it cannot be shut again; then you can return home safely. A pocketful of rusty nails can also protect against pixies who would lead you astray. When an animal dies, a nail stuck into its carcass prevents its flesh from being gnawed by sharp little faery teeth."

Una slammed the book shut, wrinkling her snout as dust flew upward in a thick cloud. Her workroom had always been dusty. Half a century's collection of leather books and parchments, while a sorceress' dream come true, was not so for a maid's.

She neatly filed Faeries Among Us away in its spot on the shelf, next to a hanging bunch of dried hazel and rowan leaves.

"Can I get you something to drink? You've been up all night." Arthur leaned against the doorframe and yawned. His business tie was undone and stubble already dotted his chin.

"I'm quite used to it, Arthur," she reminded him as she pulled another book down from the shelf. "Perhaps you should get some sleep."

He laughed. "I've just downed a pot of coffee. I'll be up for a while, I assure you. Leo's already brewing another pot."

"Hmm. He never liked coffee."

"He doesn't. He says it tastes like chalk." He chuckled. "Supposedly, he needs the caffeine to stay awake. There've been a few weird stories in the paper he's poring over. What is it you're so interested in, anyway?" He leaned over her shoulder and stared at the musty leather-bound volume, it's pages torn and folded from many generations' eager hands. Superimposed beneath the text was a naked humanoid female with ears and hands far out of proportion of her body, giving her an alien appearance.

"Faeries?" he asked, tone awash with skepticism. "Another item for sale, I imagine?"

"Hardly," Una said. "Remember that missing talisman I mentioned several nights ago? It just occurred to me it wasn't of human origin."

"You mean, sorcery."

"Correct."

"And what's this about that talisman?"

"Here, I've marked a section you should take a look at." She flipped to the back of the book. On one page was the dazzling image of a woman with flowers braided into her hair. A brilliant halo of light burst forth from her feather wings and lion's feet as if she was on fire. "Her name is Epona. The Celts worshipped her as the moon goddess. I was thinking it odd that the trinket we purchased was believed to have been given to the Celts by the goddess herself."

The bags under Arthur's eyes seemed to be growing by the second. "What does this have to do with a botched shipment?"

Una sighed and rubbed her temple. "It means," she said, "that we could have a very serious problem on our hands. You majored in history. Have you ever heard of the Celts?"

"Of course. They performed pagan rituals in the first millenium BC in the West, over in Dorsetshire. Stonehenge was one of their creations."

"They believed," Una continued, "that the moon was a living force, and that it gave direct contact to the fifth element, moonlight. There is an old tale I recall from my youth that my elders relayed to us. It said that once upon a time, a woman not of this Realm appeared to the human clan known as the Celts and offered them a great gift, Epona's Tear. It was said to have been made of pure moonlight, worked by the Fey themselves, and it gave whoever held it the power of the moon. They could cast aside their animal furs and grow their own. The story isn't very specific on how this 'gift' worked, but I have reason to believe it's one of the first tales of lyncanthropy in the world."

"A gift?"

"Or a curse."

Arthur no longer looked perplexed. Now he gave her a look as if she were deranged. "What?"

She rubbed the spot between her eyes in exhaustion. "Think on it, Arthur. Epona's Tear goes missing, even though the company says everything was in order when the crates were shipped. Two nights ago there's a full moon, and since then local pets go missing and humans claim to see a wild dog in London. It can't be a coincidence."

He opened his mouth to argue but hesitated as a thud overhead announced an arrival. The frustration on Una's face melted away. "It does seem like old times. I swear, Griff never did learn how to use a front door." She rose from her chair. "Come, Arthur. I believe the others should know of this."

She froze as his hand touched her shoulder. "Una, I know you believe in all this magic, but there must be a line to cross. I mean, think of this scientifically. Werewolves and faeries? You are speaking of something science has never addressed. It's the impossible."

"You are looking at the scientifically 'impossible' even as you speak, Arthur," Una said softly. She gently disengaged his hand and walked out the door, leaving him alone.

***

Faeries? Arthur shook his head. That was inconceivable. Everything he had been taught went against that: science frowned upon children stories and the church would have been horrified at magic.

"Homo-sapiens and gargoyles, but a third race ... never," he muttered as he stalked out the back door. He would never accept it, even if one flew in front of his face. Never.

***

"Just like the Little Shop of Horrors," Lex murmured as Griff led the four downstairs, the human trailing distrustfully behind the gargoyles. He turned a corner and jumped as a large black face leered down at him, eyes diamond-slits and mouth open in a gruesome shriek. It took him a second to realize it was just a strange tribal mask.

The human gave him an impish grin at his startled reaction. "Feeeeeed meee ..." she said softly and crooked her fingers as if some hungry monster.

Lex only gave her a stony glare before turning away. He heard her sigh.

In the dim candlelight of the shop (the electricity was left off, for some reason), he made out rows and rows of dusty leather books set into the walls. Perched on little cherry-wood tables were crystals, Tarot decks, and Aleister Crowley paperbacks.

A water-damaged book lay forgotten on a shelf. Beneath the silky blanket of cobwebs, the cover read 'Elf Infestations: protection against (this part was unintelligible) of natures amorous and hostile against Man, his ladie wyfe, and home'. The title was embossed with a curly gold script, and when Lexington opened to the title page, it read 'Third printing, Bristol Publishers, June 1603'.

"Somehow, this makes me feel right at home," Brooklyn commented, poking a mask which seemed to scream at the sight of him. "At least these don't run away from us."

Griff smiled. "The store gave me the willies as a hatchling," he said. "Leo, Una, and I got the job of running it. You grow to love the place."

"Griff? Is that you?" a voice called from the back of the store. It was soft in tone, clearly female, with the throaty murmur of an elder.

"I'm out in front, Una!" the griffin-gargoyle called back. "Bring Leo! We have guests!" He flashed them a jolly face. "Won't they be surprised, eh, chaps?"

The sound of footsteps came from the backroom. From behind the curtain, an elegant middle-aged gargoyle appeared, dressed in a brilliantly colored pink loincloth and bodice. A sleek horn twisted up from her forehead, setting off the dazzling blue of her eyes.

Her eyes widened at the crowd. "Who...?"

"... bloody stuff is going to give me a flippin' heart attack someday," a great lion gargoyle growled as he walked up behind her, holding an empty coffee mug. "I don't see how Americans can down this-" It wasn't until he bumped into Una that he bothered to look up.

They stared for a moment, confused. "Griff, what have you been up to?" the leonine gargoyle demanded.

Griff laughed. "Leo, Una. I give you the New York gargoyles, Goliath's clan! Brooklyn, Broadway, and Lexington. They popped over for a little vacation, I imagine. And they brought a guest!"

"Courtesy of Titania's mirror."

Lex looked at the floor, too chagrined to speak.

Una rushed to the front door and flipped the Open sign to Close, then promptly turned the lock and pulled the curtains down. She twirled around and shooed everyone back into the private quarters. The human girl was turning even greener than Lexington by now.

"Oh, we're not going to hurt you, Luv," Griff said. "We settle more for saltines and tea than humans."

"Speaking of which..." Una pulled a teapot off the stove and filled some cups as everyone took a seat behind the table.

The girl leaned against the wall and folded her arms. "I'll stand, thanks," she said. "The name's Laurie, and I want some answers. What are you, why am I here, and why did YOU-" She snapped at Lexington, "-snatch me?"

"Trying a different method for picking up dates, Lex?" Brooklyn asked innocently, but was met by Lex's hostile stare.

"It's not too hard to figure out, Little Miss Klepto," he snapped. "You break into a friend's apartment and chuck a Lazy-Boy at us-"

Brooklyn caught Lex on the shoulder. "Look, we'll work this out later with Goliath and Elisa; it's her apartment, anyway. Right now, we've got bigger things to worry about. And you." He looked at Laurie. "Sorry you're caught up in all this, but for the moment you're here for the ride. Titania's mirror doesn't exactly have a round-trip plan that I've heard of."

"Great." Laurie dumped her backpack on the floor and slumped in a chair, her face carved into a sulky expression. Lex watched her suspiciously. Everyone else settled into the alcove's table.

"That reminds me!" Griff exclaimed, accepting a steaming teacup from Una. He cautiously inspected it before taking a sip. "There was this bizarre thing over in Hyde Park where I picked them up. Unless something's gotten loose from the zoo, I'd say it's right up your alley." He looked pointedly at Una. "Looked like a mutt on steroids."

"How's that?" Una nearly dropped her teapot.

"A wild dog? Then you've seen it?" Leo frowned and unfolded the evening paper from under his arm. "Good. That means I haven't completely gone stark raving mad."

The Trio leaned over the table to see. There was a big article on page five. Right next to it was a grainy photograph of something with needle-sharp teeth and red eyes. Probably taken by a night camera, Lexington mused. Whoever took this must have gotten a nasty surprise.

"Red eyes," Una murmured, also looking the article over. "You know, red eyes and ears are a characteristic trait of faery animals-"

"Faery animals?" Broadway commented. "You mean, the Third Race?"

"Whoa, wait a minute," Brooklyn broke in, making a T sign with his arms. "Time out. Are you saying that thing out there is just Oberon's prized pooch going walkies?"

"The ultimate pooch," Una said witheringly. "Volkodlak, loup-garou, call it what you like. It's all the same thing. Several nights ago, a Celtic artifact disappeared while in shipping. Epona's Tear was infamous among the Celts in their moon rituals. They considered it a gift."

"There you go again, Luv. What is this gift?" Leo inquired gently.

"Why, haven't you guessed? Activated by the full moon, the Tear gives the user the ability to shed their weak human skin and grow fur and fangs. In a time when people still had to hunt to survive, this was priceless. Now they could throw aside their hunting tools and grow their own claws."

He looked skeptical. "The ... Tear?"

Una sighed. "It is a double-edged sword, I'm afraid. If the user isn't careful, the animal's instinct to hunt will take over. Epona supposedly shed a tear for the pain caused if its power is consumed by greed."

"So if this thing's as dangerous as Una says it is, we've got to get it off the street."

Leo snorted. "Be our guest. Invite it in for tea while you're at it."

"Capital idea, my young beaked friend," Griff chimed fervently, "but easier said than done. Any thoughts?"

'Sure,' Lex thought. You needed bait to catch a beast. And the werewolf never ...

A lightbulb clicked in his head. They had bait. In fact, the werewolf had already fallen for it before. No wonder he still felt suspicious towards her. He turned and stared at Laurie in amazement. "You," he murmured softly. Everyone looked at him. "It was you. It followed you from the very beginning. Why?"

Laurie paled.

"Humanburger Helper." Brooklyn snickered.

"Most likely it was due to magic, to feed off of you," Una said. "The mirror, probably. Avalon's creatures recognize its place of birth easier than you would imagine."

"But we went through the mirror, too, and it left us alone."

"Hmm..." Una ran a finger across her lip. "Then perhaps there's something more..." Her gaze wandered back to Laurie, who seemed to shrink by the second.

"Hey, that's right!" Broadway exclaimed. "How'd you throw that chair at us?"

"And shoot energy?"

"Didn't you do the chair bit?" she demanded. "I figured you guys had to have freaky powers or something, because I can't do anything that big. And as for the energy, it just happens. Electrical things, but that's it! It's not like I know what I'm doing!"

Lex couldn't contain himself. "I knew there was something funny about you."

"You should talk, squirrel-boy. It's always been that way for me. Maybe I was an Area 51 test baby. You seem used to the weird stuff; you tell me."

Lex glowered.

Una shook her head. "Most likely your parents had a strain of faerie blood in them."

"Uh ... I'm not sure about the whole Tinkerbell thing, but I probably couldn't find out, anyway. Dad rents a flat near Hyde Park whenever he's here on business. Good luck on trying to get the truth out of Arthur Hawke." Una seemed to hesitate at this last comment, Lex noticed.

"Why not ask your mother?"

Laurie shrugged. "That'd be hard, considering she died when I was little."

"Are you sure?"

Lex started. Una's question was too brazen, too forward. Laurie's eyes narrowed. "You can check out the grave yourself. She's buried near Belfast." She hesitated. "What are you saying?"

A sigh erupted from Leo. "I think I understand you, Una. In many old legends," he said to Laurie, more slowly, as if talking to a miscomprehending child, "a human would appear to die, and the corpse would be buried. Or a human baby would be exchanged for a changeling, though no one would notice, of course, since the changeling would look just like a human infant."

"The point, my dear, is that the Fey are quite adept at faking their own deaths, or births, or disappearances," Una said. "To them, illusion is an art. If you exhumed your mother's grave, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd find it to be empty, or to find just a 'corpse' made of wood."

Lex edged away. From the look on Laurie's face, he couldn't tell if she was going to scream or cry. Her reaction was both. "But that's impossible!" she shouted. Her hands balled into fists. "There's no such thing as faeries! It's just a bunch of nonsense, like-"

"Like gargoyles?"

"That thing out there isn't exactly a terrier on steroids," Brooklyn added, touching her shoulder. "Laurie, we have to stop that thing before someone's hurt. Would you want that?" She shook her head. "Okay, just roll with us for a sec. Right now we need to stop this ... thing."

Brook was just amazing, Lex considered. One moment, he was more melancholy than your average soap star. The next, he was Mr. Buck-Up-I'm-In-Charge. He was better at changing personalities than Owen Burnett.

"You're going to need some serious bait to attract a half-ton carnivore." Laurie sighed and rubbed her forehead. "But where are you gonna find that?" Everyone looked at her pointedly.

Her shoulders drooped. "Oh. Great."

To Be Continued...