"Gift of the Computer Wizard"
By Leva
leva@firefox.org
Author's Notes:
This was the first AGU story I wrote and, yeah, it's got a few rough spots. It was written in 1995 or 1996 and I really have become a much better writer than when I wrote this. But people have been asking for it ...
For the uninitiated, the Alternate Gargoyles Universe was a mailing list run by Lori and Brian Henderson in the mid 1990's. It was for stories set in the Disney Gargoyles Universe, but not featuring the canon characters except as cameos.
This is the story of how the Ladies came to the Hot Water Ranch.
* * * * *
Chapter one
"It's set then." Morgain Allsworth spoke into the phone. "December 24th, flight 203; we'll pick you up at the airport. 8:00 AM." Her voice was pleasant, cheerful, and very professional. "See you then."
The client gave a polite goodbye, and hung up.
"YES!" Morgain jumped up from the desk and hugged Sam. "OUSTANDING! I sold the Christmas package *and* the New Years package to Dawn Bornadi! 25 people, all five vans, a whole sixteen days!"
"The music agent?" Sam grinned. "Excellent! Sasha, we sold all the holiday packages!" He leaped to his feet and swung the secretary around in an impromptu dance.
Sasha laughed, ducked free, and waved as she went out the door. "See you Monday, bosses!"
Sam glanced at his watch. "Damn. It is quitting time!"
"Been so since about 5:00." Morgain said, in amusement. It was almost 7:00 PM. She snagged her sweater off the back a chair and hit the light switch on her way out, leaving her partner in the dark.
"I take it that's a hint!" He shouted after her, as he looked for his coat in the dark office. He found it by touch, and ran after her. She was waiting by his truck.
Sam sat down on the tailgate of his new Ranger 4X4 and leaned against one of two spare tires locked to the frame. "Morgain, I can't believe it. We're finally making it big-time. "
"I can." A mellow voice drawled, "She's an Allsworth."
Morgain jumped and whirled around. "Uncle!" She yelped and tackled the slim man who had walked quietly up behind them.
He returned her enthusiastic hug, chuckling. "Hey, kiddo."
"What are you doing back in the valley?" She asked.
"Can you believe a friendly visit?" He countered.
She planted her hands on her hips. "Right."
"Okay, okay, I had some business to take care of. I thought I'd pop up and say hello. Hey, Samuel, how are you doing?" Allsworth high fived him.
Sam smiled, "Okay, Uncle Allsworth."
"This guy still hanging around you?" Uncle Allsworth whispered in a loud undertone to Morgain.
Morgain whispered back, "Yeah. And I think he has cooties."
"Morgain!" Sam protested.
She ignored his mock outrage. "We're going to dinner. You want to come?" She asked her uncle.
"Dinner? You two?" Uncle Allsworth wolf-whistled.
Sam and Morgain crossed their arms in twin gestures of disgust. "Uncle Allsworth, grow up." Morgain snapped. Her eyes were laughing; she was used to being teased. Sam and Morgain had been born on the same day at the same hospital; they had grown up next door neighbors. They had gone to the same school, high school, college and then, five years ago, gone into business with each other.
Despite rumors which had plagued them since kindergarten, they were *not* in love. Not, as Sam would say, "that kind of icky-gooey love". Rather, they were best friends -- their families and friends referred to them as "the twins". They called each other "sister" and "brother", sometimes jokingly but sometimes not.
He laughed, "Easy, kiddo. Sure, sure, I'll come." He glanced around the lot. It was full of tour vehicles -- vans, jeeps, trailers, motor homes. Their company sold packaged tours of the Arizona back country. "You have built an impressive operation here. I remember when you two had that one jeep from World War 2."
"Thanks." Sam leaned against his truck. "We've been busy."
"So, uncle, what kind of business brings you up to the Valley, anyway?" Morgain asked, mirroring Sam's stance.
"Umm." He looked around quickly and then said softly, "Interesting business."
"Yeah?" Morgain queried. "What kind of interesting?"
He glanced around theatrically again, to check for eavesdroppers. "Oh, I found another gargoyle."
"Not another! You're starting to run a damn menagerie!" Sam threw his hands up in mock amazement.
"Another...!'" Morgain stared at him. "Where?"
"At an antique auction in Britain."
"That's incredible."
"Here, come have a look." Uncle Allsworth led the way out to the curb. He'd parked his battered van on the curb.
"Is it alive?" Morgain asked.
"I think so. But it's enchanted. Feels like a similar spell to what's on the Ladies."
"Lovely. What does Harold think?"
"Harold says it's nobody he knows." Allsworth shrugged, "I faxed a polaroid to him first thing this morning from my hotel room."
He opened the van's hatch and propped the door up with a broomhandle. He had a flashlight on his keychain, and the little maglight cast a strong beam into the back of the van.
"Wow. Impressive." Morgain studied the statue, which was secured in place with ropes and heavy cloth padding. "A gargoyle-animal."
The gargoyle resembled a cheetah crossed with a stegosaurus and given the teeth of a sabertooth tiger. It balanced on slim legs, half-crouched, mouth open in a silent snarl.
Sam stepped up beside her, "Uncle Allsworth, do you think you can break the spell?"
"Maybe. It's a fey spell." He rested a hand on the head of the gargoyle-cat.
Uncle Allsworth, besides being an amateur wizard, collected things of magic. As a young man, he had witnessed first-hand the grief that could befall a creature of magic in the modern world. He had sworn then to find such creatures and aid them. He destroyed them, if he could; if not, he had a very secure lock-box in the basement of his house. In addition, he offered sanctuary to creatures of magic.
He had four living gargoyles at the family estate down in southern Arizona. In addition, he had collected twenty-six enchanted gargoyles. He hoped to awaken them someday; until that day, he kept
them safe.
"Do you know the terms of the spell?" Morgain asked.
"No. I spoke to the previous owner; she had no idea what she owned." Allsworth caressed the cat's head. "She bought Kitty at a flea market."
"Well, maybe you'll get lucky." There were about five standard enchantments that the fey used most often; Allsworth could break two of them. "I wonder..." Morgain leaned over and kissed the cat on top of the head. Nothing happened. "Ah, well." She shrugged, "At worst, you have another object d'art."
"Yeah." Allsworth studied the cat for a long moment, "He'll look good by the fireplace in the library, I think."
Morgain laughed at his irreverence.
Allsworth shrugged. "I can only do so much." He changed the subject, "So, I know better than to ask if you two can get away for Thanksgiving...what about the first week of November?"
"Do I have to?" Sam asked Morgain. The last time he had visited the Allsworth estate, Allsworth's vice president had tried to eat him.
"Don't worry. Gary takes tranquilizers before he transforms now. He usually sleeps the clock around, and doesn't try to eat anyone."
Sam frowned, "Please tell me the first week of November isn't a full moon..."
"I'll be there." Morgain cuffed her friend.
* * * * *
Fanny Tarro's office was a hodgepodge of boxes, bags, stacks of books, and assorted overflow from the store. A large wooden shipping crate filled a significant portion of the room.
For the last five years or so, Fanny had been using the crate as a desk, chair and shelf, depending on need. Although the contents of the crate were rather odd she felt no need to treat the crate with any sort of reverence. Burying it under merchandise and paperwork was a kind of camouflage. At the very least, the contents would provoke some questions she couldn't answer. She'd hate to try to explain Kestrel to a police officer.
This morning, however, an odd package had arrived in the mail.
It had no return address. The postage mark was local. A simple manila envelope with bubble-wrap padding, she had at first assumed it was a delivery. Fanny got her merchandise from eclectic sources; not all of them wanted to be easily traced. She didn't sell anything illegal (or at least immoral) but cops were the least of some of her client's worries. Some people would do anything to learn the source of, say, *newly* crafted fey-enchanted artifacts.
However, it had been no love-charm or invisibility cloak that she pulled from the envelope.
The manila envelope contained a single black medallion perhaps the size of the palm of her hand, and a brief note.
The note read, "I thought you might find this useful. Store it in the sun. Have fun! Mandy." There was no explanation of what she was supposed to "have fun" with. Knowing Mandy, however, it was going to be both interesting and innovative.
Fanny weighed the disk in her hand; it was heavy but not so heavy as to be precious metal. She carried it to her desk and examined it under the light of her halogen desk lamp. It appeared to be constructed of some kind of dark porcelain or glass. A large crystalline cabochon was inset in the center of the medallion; in the strong light of her halogan lamp, Fanny throught she saw... circuitry? in the crystal.
She flipped it over.
The back had iridescent rainbow panels. It was solar operated.
"Mandy...gen-u-ine computer wizard." Fanny muttered.
She glanced self-consciously around her. It was late at night; the store was closed. She rose, pulled the drapes on her
office window and shut the door leading to the store. A fit of paranoia sent her back to the window; she searched the street. And the rooftops. No one outside to see her use the magic she claimed to have forsworn.
Satisfied that no one fey or human was watching, she hopped up on the shipping crate. She closed her eyes, held the medallion in both hands, and used a little magic to study it closer...
...and screamed.
And dropped the medallion onto the floor. It clanged like metal and didn't break.
Terrible interference, akin to feedback, resonated in her ears long after she'd dropped the medallion.
"Damnit, Mandy, that thing's dangerous!" Fanny swore. When her ears stopped ringing, she warily picked the device up.
The device had completely disrupted her simple magical probe. Not only had it disrupted it, the device had created such a screeching feedback loop that it would have destroyed a much more powerful spell...
A much more powerful spell...
Even one long established and ancient.
Mandy hopped off the crate. Grinning, she cleared the accumulated debris off the top. From the closet, she retrieved a crow-bar and popped the lid.
The crate hadn't been opened in five years. The man inside had not moved in that entire time.
He was an elf; a young one. Even covered in a mixture of styrofoam packing peanuts and shredded paper, he had a deep dignity.
Mandy regarded him for a long moment. "I hope the legends are right, Kestrel. I hope you're one of the good guys." Whimsically, she knocked on the top of his head. "Anyone home? Nope." Although he appeared flesh, he was as hard as stone and as cool as death to the touch.
Mandy hesitated still. The legends said that Kestrel had been enchanted by his father, who had not approved of his mortal love. His father had planned for him to sleep until she died; upon her death, Kestrel was to awaken. Apparently, his mortal love was either still alive after 500 years, or the legends were wrong.
All the legends spoke of Kestrel as a good guy; he wasn't even associated with any of the usual faery-pranks. But he was fey, and Mandy had good reason to mistrust him. Even the good elves had agendas of their own.
She went into her store and retrieved one of the swords from the display case. It wasn't a magical sword; it was a knock-off imitation of a popular TV hero's katana. She made a significant amount of money on fake stuff for the fantasy fan crowd. However, it was nicely balanced and, more importantly, cold steel. The other sword in the display case was fancifully carved wood. If she'd been facing a vampire, it would have been her first choice. Steel was *much* better for a fight with an elf.
"Okay..." Fanny took a deep breath. "I sincerely hope you're one of the good guys, Kestrel."
She rested the medallion on Kestrel's forehead.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a horrendous screech pierced the air. Crackling lines of energy danced from Kestrel to points around the room. The halogen desk lamp snapped and burnt out. Fanny's hair stood on end.
As quickly as it had started, the electrical storm quit.
In the dark, Fanny retreated from the elf. She couldn't see a thing; the office was pitch black.
A moan pierced the silence.
Fanny fumbled her way to the desk. There was a flashlight in the top drawer. She found the flashlight and switched it on. Nothing. Dead batteries or dead bulb.
Another moan spurred her on. She hurried into the shop. The lights were out in there, too. By touch, she found the oil lamps on a shelf by the door.
Briefly, she debated running for it. Looking for an injured creature of faery in a pitch-black room wasn't exactly her idea of *having fun*. It felt like something out of a bad 50's horror movie. But she had woken Kestrel up; it was her responsibility to help him out. If he was one of the good guys, he'd need some assistance -- 20th century New York wasn't exactly 15th century England.
She lit the lamp with a pack of matches from the drawer under the cash register. Bright white light cast shifting shadows through the store.
The elf was standing in the office doorway, not five feet from her.
Fanny squawked.
"Who are you?" The man spoke, shading his eyes with one hand. His voice was rusty with long disuse. "What is this place?"
"I'm...I'm Fanny Tarro. This is New York. It's the year 1995."
"New...York? I know of York, but a New York?"
"It...was a colony." Fanny closed her eyes. Frantically, she remembered an old snatch of poetry, '1492 across the ocean blue...'. "I was told you were enchanted in the year 1475. Is this correct?"
He nodded slowly. His long fair hair had been tangled and loose for five centuries. With supreme composure, he began to pull it back into a pony-tail.
"The world has changed a great deal. In the year 1492, a man named Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic Ocean..."
"Ah. The Europeans discovered the world's round." Kestrel seemed amused. "So I am standing on the bottom of the world?"
Fanny thought that one through. "You could look at it that way, though we think of the southern hemisphere as the bottom...you're in the western hemisphere."
Kestrel nodded. "I see."
"You're in the country of America. I must add that most people in this country don't believe in elves."
"You do."
"Yeah. Let's just say I had an eclectic upbringing."
Kestrel padded through the store to the front window. "The world has indeed changed." He observed, after watching a car drive by. He turned to face her. "Fanny, I thank you for awakening me. But with me when I was ensorcelled were five gargoyles..."
"Gargoyles? You mean like the ones that come to life at night?"
"You know of them? They still live?"
"Yeah. There's a whole clan of them here in New York..."
"A whole...clan?"
"Umm. Not a large one, unfortunately. Just six..."
"Six? Would they be female?"
"Nope. Sorry. They're all bachelors."
"Then they are not the ones that I must find." He walked to the door and reached for the knob. And hesitated. "This latch is iron."
"Yeah. Hey, listen, you can't just go walking around New York. It's not safe."
"Particularly for one of Oberon's Children." He sighed and stared out the window. "It is a beautiful city."
"Can't you go back to elven lands?"
"I told you, I must find my friends. "
"Oh. Well...I can help you find your friends, if they..."
"They are still alive. The spell will ensure that they remain safe. It's a mark of bad sorcery to cast a spell that can be destroyed by mundane elements."
* * * * *
In the pre-dawn light, Morgain expertly guided her beat-up Ram pickup over her uncle's driveway. The pickup was in four wheel drive and low gear; the engine whined and the tired kicked up a spray of pea gravel. When the bumper started scraping on the ruts, Morgain decided that she had gotten close enough to the house. She parked the truck under a cottonwood and locked the doors.
Outside, the air was icily cold and burningly dry. Morgain tucked her hands in her parka pockets and picked her way up the two-track road towards the house. The Allsworth house was distantly visible through the leafless cottonwood and sycamore forest. It was perhaps an hour until sunrise; the sky was turning grey.
Sam shuddered and clutched his jacket tightly around his chest. Morgain chuckled, "What's the matter, brother? Afraid of the dark?"
"No. It's just that I know this particular dark and scary forest really does have monsters in it."
"True." Morgain agreed, though she didn't seem particularly bothered. "Don't worry. The moon's not full."
"YEEEEHAAWWW!"
"AAAAWK!"
The first cry came from directly overhead.
Sam yelped the second while reflexively ducking.
"Hello, Harold." Morgain said blandly.
Harold landed in front of them. He was a solid, greying older Gargoyle with a teasing grin on his face. "Gotcher boyfriend, Morgain."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Then can I be?" Harold grabbed her arm and sidled up next to her.
She patted his cheek. "You're a bit old, gramps."
"Aww...I'm only 700!"
"Hello, Morgain. Hi, Sam." A young man said, stepping out of the woods.
"'Lo, Wolf." Morgain said, casually.
"Hello." Sam muttered, unobtrusively putting Harold and Morgain between himself and the werewolf.
Not, of course, that Gary Wolf looked anything at all like a werewolf. He didn't turn into a wolf except when the moon was full. When he did, however, he became a savage beast for several hours -- he had no control over his bloodlust. The rest of the time, he was a nice guy and a savvy trader. Allsworth had given him a job several years ago; Gary had worked up through the ranks and was now a vice president of the Allsworth Association. Morgain and Wolf had dated occasionally for several years.
"Welcome home, kiddo." Uncle Allsworth joined them, stepping out of the trees on Wolf's heels. "Stop looking so scared, Samuel. Moon's not full; Gary's in a good mood."
Sam jumped. "Sorry...it's just that..."
Wolf said easily, "That I tried to eat you. I understand and I'm sorry, Sam. I can't always control this damned curse."
"Chill out, Sam." Morgain continued up the trail.
The Allsworth house was enormous, and unexpected. It stood on a hill above the Hotwater Wash; it was a mixture of gothic, victorian and mission-style architecture. It was square, with a porch that ran all around, and marble pillars and elaborate gingerbread and bright colors. The roof was slate; a rooster weathervane perchaped on the highest point. A stone wall six feet high and two feet wide encircled the hilltop; perhaps a score of gargoyles stood on the wall. The end result of the mishmash of building styles was a delightful building straight out of a bad horror movie.
They were an odd assortment. Several were European, from assorted clans. About ten were Aztec -- a blood sacrifice was required to wake them up. Allsworth didn't plan on waking them. Two were Chinese. Legend said they'd awake when a dragon asked for their aid.
Two were Roman. One Roman gargoyle was frozen in marble, cursed (supposedly) by the Roman gods for interfering in their plans. No one knew how to break the curse. The other was contemporary and currently breathing. He sat next to his ancient cousin; in the dark, it was difficult to tell stone from flesh.
"Justavius!" Wolf bellowed, "Get down from there! Morgain's here!"
Justavius spread his wings and landed almost on top of them. Wolf cuffed him in the chest, "Clumsy!"
Justavius ignored that. "Hello, Morgain; hey, Sam."
"Hello, Justi." Morgain hugged him. "How are you doing?"
"Okay." He stepped back. "I have an errand to run; I'll see you at dinner." He clambered atop the wall and glided off.
"Justavius is in one of his moods again." Wolf apologized.
"Yeah. Sounds like it." Morgain agreed.
The house itself was old, and a little run-down. They trooped through the front door. Another pair of frozen gargoyles stood in an alcove off the doorway.
The female was tall, slim, and had a pair of spectacular pair of braids that stuck straight out from the sides of her head. She held her child protectively, with her wings wrapped around the little girl so that only the kid's round face and enormous feet were visible. Her expression was one of resignation. When the spell had frozen her, she had been neither attacking nor running. But she stared calmly at some unseen sorcerer; by the look in her eyes, she had seen her fate coming.
Those two were from the fifteenth century, as were several of the ones on the wall outside.
The living residents of Allsworth Estate proceeded into the library. The library was a cozy room used for more than just reading; Allsworth had set it up with an entertainment center and a refrigerator
full of snacks.
Morgain asked, "How's the Wild Child doing?"
Wild Child was a gargoyle so badly traumatized by her past that she didn't associate with humans, gargoyles, or anyone else. A friend of Allsworth's had found her in the rubble of a bombed-out church, amidst the broken shards of perhaps a dozen gargoyles. Then, she had been about ten human years -- that had been twenty years ago. She was
an adult now, but she had never gotten over her trauma. She had spoken perhaps two or three times since her discovery; every time, it had been to Morgain.
"Last I saw her, she was up in the hills around...oh, do you know where the old Long Tom Mine is?" Morgain nodded. The claim was way back in the Patagonia Mountains; she took the occasional tourist up there to see the mining equipment that had been abandoned and untouched for decades. "She comes down to get a care package, now and again, so she's still around." Allsworth sighed. "Umm...Gordon's out watching for a coyote that's been abandoning illegals in the area -- we damn near had a tragedy when he pulled that stunt last August."
The library phone rang. Harold padded over and answered it, "Hello. Allsworth residence. Harold speaking."
"Hello, Harold. Is Mr. Allsworth in?" The connection was scratchy and the voice American.
"He is. Is this Fanny?" Harold identified the voice.
"Sure is." She chirped, cheerfully.
Harold passed the phone to Allsworth.
"Fanny?!" Allsworth exclaimed into the phone. "How are you!"
"Pretty good." The woman replied. "You?"
"Oh, I'm good. Found another gargoyle..."
"Yeah, that's why I'm calling. I think I found a way to break the enchantments...all of them."
"What? I thought you didn't practice..."
"Oh, I didn't come up with this little gizmo. A friend did..."
"Anyone I know?"
"Nah. She's new. Umm...you might run into her, though, with your hobbies...kid named Mandy Contrera. She's been adopted by an ice dragon."
Allsworth whistled low and impressed. "Yeeah. I take it she has talent."
"Oh, yes. First time a dragon's taken a fosterling in a few millenium, so far as I can tell. Anyway, she has this nice little electronic gizmo that turns your average spell into a nice little explosion of fireworks -- BANG! -- no spell."
"That sounds very valuable."
"Uh...huh. I'm sending it your way, 'cause I *really* don't like keeping stuff like that around my office. Makes me a target, and I'm tired of arcane battles."
"I can understand that, particularly with your past." He said, in sympathy. "Does this Mandy understand what she's created?"
"Probably not. She's pretty much a neo-witch. I watched her face down an ice dragon to defend a gargoyle...she had no idea of what the creature could have done to her."
"A *gargoyle*. A live gargoyle?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Not someone you'd want to invite home to dinner, though, Allsworth. She's a nasty little witch, in the truest sense. Hates humanity with a vengeance -- and from what I've been told of her history, I honestly feel a little sorry for her. She's got a tragic story like something the Bard might have written."
"I take it the dragon let your neo-witch live?" Allsworth decided to ask about the gargoyle later.
"The dragon adopted Mandy. Like I said, she's a remarkable young woman. *Anyway*, I'm sending Kestrel..."
"Kestrel? The elf you found?""Uh-huh. I'm sending Kestrel your way with the medallion. You
might give him a crash course in 20th century survival for the fey."
"I'll do that. He's one of the good guys then?"
"Yeah. Definitely. Good vibes all around from him. He's looking for some gargoyles, too..."
"Oh. Well, I'll let him look at my collection."
"Well, I hope the medallion works. Good luck."
* * * * *
It took Kestrel three weeks of walking the leys to get to the Allsworth estate. In his day, it would have taken him mere hours. Five hundred years had seen a great deal of damage to the faery roads, however, and this damage was compounded by the fact that he was basically unfamiliar with the leys of North America
The weeks of walking did nothing to settle his fears. During his travel, he saw very few of his people. The ones he did knew little or nothing of the state of the world; they seemed almost afraid to enter the mortal realms. He did run into a baione sidhe, who, amid her wailing and crying, told him that Arthur Pendragon walked the
world once more.
If King Arthur was up and around, then the world was in dire straights indeed.
Kestrel stood before the great iron gate at the top of the hill which Allsworth House was built on. The night was so dark that he couldn't see more than a few inches beyond his nose; it was a moonless, overcast evening. He fingered the medallion, which he wore on a ribbon around his neck, and hesitated.
The gate was iron. Cold iron was lethal to his people. He could climb the wall -- or fly over it -- but this place, by Fanny's account, was guarded by gargoyles. He didn't want there to be any misunderstandings. Gargoyles were somewhat territorial, and, in his experience, prone to attacking first and questioning later. He could probably defeat a gargoyle in a fair fight, but he didn't want to place any bets on the outcome if there was more than one of the stone warriors.
"Yo!" A friendly voice shouted from the wall. "You Kestrel?"
He looked up. A younger gargoyle stood on the wall.
"I am he."
The gargoyle bounced down and pushed the gate open. "Go on up to the house. I'll go fetch Mr. Allsworth." The gargoyle glided off the wall and vanished into the moonless night.
The house had a bronze latch on the front door. Kestrel decided that he had been told to go inside, and did. And then he stopped short and stared in amazement at the gargoyles -- an adult woman and child -- in an alcove beside the door. "By Oberon!" Kestrel exclaimed, "I've found you!"
He ran to her, and, delighted, rested his hands on her stone arms. It couldn't be this easy...it couldn't!
"I take it you know her." A mellow baritone drawled from the entry."
Yes! Yes! I never thought...I...it's amazing!"
"I'm Allsworth." The man introduced himself. "I bought her and three others -- four, counting the kid -- at an auction in London."
"Three others? Where are they?"
"On the wall. I brought her inside because...well, I don't have room for all of them in the house. But the kid...I...I'm a bit sentimental." The human rested a hand easily on her arm.
"I understand." Kestrel replied.
"Fanny told me you were bringing a device to break the curse."
Kestrel nodded gravely. He slipped the medallion off his neck and handed it to Allsworth. "I pass the charge of this device over to you. Human, it's not a responsibility I would want. Some things were not meant to be broken."
"Umm. Yes. I agree wholeheartedly there. I won't go waking up sleeping giants." Allsworth accepted the medallion gingerly. "Very well. Let's find out if this thing works..."
He pressed the medallion against the gargoyle's wing.
* * * * *
It seemed as if she had been asleep only a short while.
She snarled and shook free of her skin. Her last moments had been sheer terror; she awoke ready and willing to fight. The child, too, snarled in her arms.
"Woah, lady!" A human voice called, "Easy there!"
A hand rested on her arm.
She spun around, claws upraised, intent on doing bodily harm.
"Easy!" The voice repeated. It belonged to a slight man, middle-aged, with concerned brown eyes. She hesitated, not sure if he was a threat or not.
"Our enemies are long gone. About five hundred years." A *familiar* voice drawled.
"Kestrel!" She exclaimed, sweeping him up in a gleeful hug, with no regard to his elven dignity. "Oh! Thank goodness!"
"Umm, bright-hair, you're hurting me." Kestrel protested. But he was grinning.
The human cleared his throat. "I'm Allsworth. Welcome to Allsworth Estate."
"My rookery sisters. Where are they? I must find them!"
"Well, you can try the wall. But I can't guarantee success..." Allsworth shrugged.
Harold walked through the doorway, and came to a comically quick halt. "It worked!"
"Apparently." She was calming down rapidly. "What year is this? How long have I been asleep? Who *are* you?" The last was addressed to Harold.
"The year is 1995. About 520 years. And that's Harold." Allsworth answered her questions.
"Harold?" She blinked. "You have a name?"
"Names are useful." He drawled. "It confuses the hell out of the humans when they try to talk about us, otherwise. We're reliant on humans for our very lives, now, so..." He shrugged, "We take names to please the humans."
"I see." She sat slowly down into a chair. The kid hopped into her lap. "Why do I have the feeling that I have a *lot* of catching up to do?"
Kestrel laughed, "I know the feeling, sister. This world is very differant from the one we lived in. The Europeans have even discovered the land on the bottom of the earth."
"The what?" She blinked.
He shrugged, "The land on the bottom of the earth. Did I never mention it to you? We fey have always known of it." He sighed. "You do know that the world is round?"
She snorted, "Any flighted creature could tell you *that*."
"Well, there's another land on the other side of the world." He shook his head. "And they've harnessed lightning and
drive vehicles of iron that need no horses...it is truly a wondrous age. But not one, I am afraid, for creatures of magic like ourselves. But we shall have to make do..."
She turned in the chair to face Allsworth. "You have a grand smile on your face, human."
"It's just that...you've been in my house for twenty years. I never expected to hear you speak. Tonight is a wonderful night."
She stood up. "Wonderful for you, perhaps."
"Well, let's find out if I have your friends. If not, there's a few other places I can look..." He shrugged. Harold led the way outside; the old gargoyle walked quickly. His eyes were bright with excitement.
"They are here!" The female gargoyle leaped up onto the wall. "You must wake them!"
Allsworth clambered up onto the wall and pressed the medallion against the first gargoyle she indicated.
The gargoyle was an enormous female. She was at least six feet tall and built like Hulk Hogan. Her wingspan was an easy twenty feet; she had talons like chisels and rather large teeth.
With a roar, she came back to life.
The bright-haired female leaped back, off the wall, at the sound of her outrage.
The other gargoyle spun around, first quickly, then slower. "Where," she said, "Am I?"
"With friends. They woke us up." The bright-haired female regained the wall."We've been asleep 500 years."
"500 years? Impossible." The larger gargoyle hopped down to the ground. "Why have you awoken us? Your kind have no love for mine." She demanded of Allsworth.
Allsworth shook his head. "I have always been a friend to gargoyles."
Harold, who had been standing quietly in the shadows, came forward. "Lady, Allsworth has long been my friend. He is good, and honest."
"He is human." She snorted.
"Here, go wake the others." Allsworth handed the medallion to Harold. Harold grunted nonverbally and went with the bright-haired one to search for others. Her delighted cry was quick in coming. They had found more from the clan.
Justavius joined them, "We welcome you to our home, my sisters."
The final gargoyle had joined them. She was tall and the most inhuman-appearing of the five. Loud purple hair framed a beak; she had horns which swept over the hair and enormous batwinged ears.
Unlike all the other gargoyles that Allsworth had ever seen, this young woman was dressed conservatively. She had on a long skirt, a high-necked bodice, and gloves to her shoulders. Her tail was hidden beneath the skirt, and she wore a cloak loosely over her wings. Her hair, although it was tumbling down around her ears now, had originally
been pinned up in a tight bun. The bun dangled loosely over one ear, now.
"What of the others?" The bright-haired female asked. "Should I wake them?"
Allsworth internally debated that one for a moment. And decided against it. "They've been asleep for hundreds of years. A day or two more won't hurt."
"See?" The large female said, disgusted, "If he was really our friend, then he would awaken them!"
"No, he's right." The short gargoyle nodded in approval. "They may be friend -- or they may be foe. It is better to wait a while."
* * * * *
"I am the leader of my clan." The short gargoyle introduced herself. She sat gracefully on a chair in the library. "Although it appears that this may be all that is left of my clan." She gestured at the other four and the elf. "You have my profound thanks, sir. I did not expect to wake again."
Allsworth shrugged, "I never really expected to break the spell. It was a bit of luck that Fanny sent this medallion my way." He tapped the ceramic disk; he was wearing it around his neck.
The child spoke up, "Can you wake this one up? Please?" She had a hand resting on the head of the feline, which Allsworth had placed next to his library chair.
Allsworth hesitated.
"No, child." The bright-haired gargoyle shook her head. "Not yet."
"I think it's okay. I've never heard of a feline gargoyle-beast being evil. Canines, yes, but usually when they're serving a dark master. But felines don't serve anyone." Allsworth handed the disk to Harold. "Would you do the honors?"
Harold nodded and approached the creature. The bright-haired gargoyle picked the child up and retreated a safe distance.
The old gargoyle crouched and rested the medallion against the stone cat.
For a very long moment, nothing happened.
Slowly, electric sparks crept from the medallion. Blue fire crawled across the feline's neck and back. The animal shuddered, and then, with enormous effort, he stood up and shook free of his stone skin.
Whiskers twitching, he regarded them for a long, silent moment. He was the color of charcoal; he had saphire eyes and a white chest and paws. Although built like a cheetah with dorsal fins of a stegosaurus, he somehow managed to have the absolute dignity of a young tomcat.
After several minutes, the feline stood up. He padded to an unoccupied chair, hopped up into it, and began to lick one delicate paw.
"That," Harold snorted, "Is a *cat*." There was a faint bit of derision in his voice; Harold didn't have much use for cats.
The feline paused his toilette and stared levelly at the old gargoyle.
Allsworth laughed. "That, I think, is Kitty. Kitty? Here, Kitty." He called.
"Not like that!" The child explained. "You have to go to him." She shrugged free of the restraining hands of her elder.
When she ran up to him, the feline regarded her with a slit-eyed gaze. She meowed with startling realism and held a closed fist out towards animal.
The feline deigned to sniff her fingers. Then, with a heavy sigh, he slid down onto his chest. Ignoring the child, he turned his attention to grooming his shoulder.
The child stroked the feline's neck. He ignored her and continued to lick his glossy coat into proper order. However, he gave no indication that he *disliked* her attention. This meant, of course, that he approved of her.
She sat down on a corner of the chair and found the itchy spot under his jaw. Kitty responded with a purr that vibrated throughout the room.
"I think you've found a friend, kiddo." Allsworth grinned. "Harold, I guess we put cat food on the grocery list."
Harold and Justavius laughed. Both of them were leaning against the wall, watching the newcomers.
"So." The leader walked around the library. "This is quite a home you have, Mr. Allsworth."
"You're welcome to everything here."
"What do you wish in exchange?"
He paused, then spread his hands. "Only that which gargoyles have always done. Protect my lands and my property."
"Yes. We will do that. Of course. But..." She turned to face him, "You must forgive me if I am wary of such unexpected hospitality. I have been betrayed a number of times."
Allsworth nodded gravely, "You would be foolish to trust me on my word alone." He shrugged, "I assure you, however, that my interests in your kind are merely out of affection and academic curiosity."
"I'll give you a chance." The leader said, "But only one. We shall be gone immediately if our trust is betrayed."
"I understand that." Allsworth gestured towards the door, "Perhaps we could start with a meal. It's almost morning; we can eat together."
* * * * *
It was Harold who brought up the subject of names. "You ladies," he pointed at the leader in particular, "Need names."
The leader nodded. "If that has become the custom, you may name us."
"No, no. Pick your own names." Allsworth shook his head.
"It is not our custom. It is yours." The large female growled, over her breakfast pancakes.
Harold sighed. "Very well. I suppose the names we've used for them all along will work, Allsworth."
Allsworth choked on his scrambled eggs. "I think not!"
"What have you been calling us?" The gargoyle in the gown asked. She had been very quiet for the entire evening.
Allsworth buried his head in his hands. His face was flushed with embarrassment.
Harold, grinning, pointed to them as he rattled off their names. "Valkyre." That was the big female. "Pippi." Pippi was bright-hair. "And the kid's Tinkerbell. You're Maid Marian." He indicated the leader, "And you looked like a Princess."
Maid Marian nodded gravely. "Valkyre. My sister, how appropriate." Only the twinkle in her eye hinted that she found the name amusing.
Valkyre growled. "I will answer to it, if the humans must call me that."
"Who or what is a Tinkerbell? And a Pippi?" Pippi asked.
"Pippi was a character in a children's book. A girl who was perpetually cheerful and very strong. She had braids that
stuck straight out sideways." Allsworth explained. He sounded mortified.
Valkyre laughed. "Pippi. Pippi. It rolls off the tongue."
Pippi stuck her tongue out.
Valkyre folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.
"Tinkerbell was a...fairy in another children's story. She was small and had wings." Allsworth added.
Pippi nodded. "Brat, do you like Tinkerbell?"
Tinkerbell, her mouth full of pancakes, nodded.
Maid Marian swallowed a mouthful of pancakes. "It is an appropriate name. The child is half fey."
Harold coughed. Justavius thumped him on the back.
"Half fey?" Allsworth was suprised.
"That's...unnatural!" Harold rumbled.
"I dunno...you've always had an eye for Morgain." Justavius chuckled. "If you can like a human..."
"Justavius," Allsworth cut the incipient argument short, "That's quite enough."
Pippi sighed, "Nightowl was...my husband of twenty-five years. He was killed in a battle with a grendel which sought to claim our daughter for her magic."
"I am sorry."
"I see his face in my dreams still." Pippi commented. The table fell silent.
Princess stabbed her pancakes. "Why am I Princess?"
More from comic relief than anything else, the other three adult gargoyles burst out laughing. Valkyre snorted, "I have no idea, rookery sister."
"If you don't like the name, you can choose another." Allsworth said, startled by the animosity in Valkyre's voice. "Or I could think of something."
"I like Princess." She said, brightly. "But I don't understand why you would call me that. I'm no princess."
Harold and Justavius joined in the sisters' laughter this time.
Princess clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. "May I be excused, Mister Allsworth?" She asked. Her voice trembled.
"Of course."
Princess bounced to her feet and ran from the room.
Maid Marian sighed. A bit of guilt showed in her expression. "Sisters, we should be kinder to her." By way of explanation, she added, "She's a bit touched in the head, I'm afraid. Our past was harder on her than the rest of us. But...sometimes, it is difficult to accept that. She is...irritating, at times."
"She lacks pride in her heritage." Valkyre snarled. "She imitates humans; she refuses to have anything to do with our customs or *us*. She won't even fly!"
"She is afraid to fly. She nearly died when that arrow knocked her out of the sky." Pippi spoke up. "You're too hard on her."
"You laughed too." Valkyre pointed out.
"I shouldn't have." Pippi rose and went in search of Princess.
Harold and Allsworth exchanged glances. Allsworth sighed, "Excuse me, Ladies. I have some phone calls to make."
"Some what...?" Maid Marian blinked.
"He needs to contact some people." Justavius translated.
* * * * *
"They're awake." Allsworth crowed into a phone.
"Awake? Uncle, wha...do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Huh? No..."
"It's four AM on a Thursday." His niece mumbled, "and I have to get up in two hours to get the vans ready for a buncha German tourists...who's awake?" She abruptly sounded conscious.
"You'll have to drive down. Fanny's little toy worked. I woke up the Ladies."
"Oh, great." She sat up in bed. "Harold and Justy are thrilled, I'll bet."
"Yeah." Allsworth sounded enthusiastic.
"Are they good guys?"
"I think so. They're kind of cautious about me, but I don't blame them. They're sure to have a sob story to tell."
"What gargoyle doesn't?"
"The kid's half fey.."
Morgain thought about that one for a moment. "Uhhh...why?"
"Not real sure. I guess she's got the makings of some real effin' power. Immunity to most standard weaknesses of the fey -- silver, iron, rowan, running water -- but she'll have some fey talents."
"Yeah, sounds like she'll be a regular superwoman." Morgain yawned. "Listen, I'll come out in a few weeks to meet these new houseguests. I've got a two-week tour of the state planned with a bunch of rich Japanese; after that, I'll be free."
"Okay. Hey, call me when you get a chance. I'll fill you in." He could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
* * * * *
"Hello, witch." A cheerful voice sang out over the phone.
"Allsworth!" Fanny crowed, "Did Kestrel get there?"
"Safe and sound. I woke the Ladies up."
"You did? What are they like? Are they good guys? What do they think of the 20th century?"
"I did. They seem...well, not what I'd expected." Allsworth sighed. "They're so...so...they're real. Real people."
"Bit of a let-down, eh?"
"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I think they'll fit in here, anyway. You ought to come out and meet them."
"Oh, no." Fanny chuckled. "I ain't setting foot in Arizona. I got too many enemies there." She paused, "New York is
bad enough!"
"Yes. It's so crazy, there..."
"Nah. That's not what I mean. Anyway, I've got work to do here...I feel like Diane Fossey, sometimes. Sheeoot, between what lives on the rooftops here and what lives in the subways, the sewers and the bay...not to mention the guys running around with swords cutting each other's heads off...it could keep an occult researcher
busy for a lifetime!"
"Okay." Allsworth laughed at her exasperated tone, "Well, the invitation's open."
"I'll keep that in mind. Do you know that not only are there a bunch of immortals chasing each other around New York, but that there's a bunch of mortals who have been secretly watching them for millennium?"
Allsworth chuckled, "You can tell me all about it the next time we get together. That sounds like a fascinating story."
"Oh, it is...and then there's this mutant living under Central Park...I'll tell you about that some other time too. I've got a customer. Talk to you later!"
Allsworth hung up the phone, then paused. "A customer...at 6 AM?" He wondered aloud. It was the wee hours in New York. "Fanny, you really do need to take a vacation..."
He rose from his desk and walked to the window. Outside, Justy, Gary and Harold were showing the new gargoyles around the grounds; he could see Gary's flashlight. He smiled happily. "My good deed for the day ..." He bounced on his toes a bit, then went down to join them. He had a feeling life had just gotten very interesting ... a good thing, as far as he was concerned.
END