Note: I'm really sorry for the chapter title, I just couldn't resist.

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Cagney was a street cat.

Or at least he was.

He had lived a year on the street before he had found his mistress, and she had taken him home with her.

Sometimes he missed the freedom of roaming, but he liked the soft warm bed and regular meals provided him, and gentle hands that stroked his fur and scratched his itches.

But now he was trapped inside a tiny room.

He spent a little time sniffing and investigating, and cleaning his fur, but he found nothing to hold his interest for long.

He eyed the door, its handle, and his only means for escape.

He leapt at it and grabbed it with his paws, and he noticed when he hung on it, the door moved slightly.

He leapt again and this time the door swung open an inch. Enough for him to push the door open far enough to get through. He proudly sauntered out, his tail high, the tip twitching slightly as he trotted down the unfamiliar hallway.

He found lots of rooms with lots of smells, and if anyone came along, he darted and hid. He did not know any of these people, and he had learned on the street that not every hand touched with kindness. Sometimes, they hurt.

He found some potted plants to dig in and relieve himself in, and then he proceeded to check out his new surroundings.

He looked all over for his mistress, but could not find her.

He looked for the beings with wings and wonderful claws, but could not find them either.

He heard a gentle feminine voice, and momentarily thought it was his mistress, but realized it wasn't as he got closer, but he peered into the room anyway.

A woman with red hair rocked a small human in her arms. Cagney watched curiously, hunched down in the shadows, his green eyes gleaming.

She said something in a kind voice before setting the small human on the floor in a little playpen with toys that rattled and looked fun to bat around, and then the woman moved towards the door. Cagney went very still and narrowed his eyes so that he wasn't seen. After she had left, he slunk into the room and squeezed between the bars of the playpen and investigated the small human.

"Kitty!" he burbled. Cagney rubbed up against him and purred, and he laughed and clapped delightedly which Cagney enjoyed. Then the small human grabbed his tail roughly, pulling it painfully.

Cagney yowled and hissed loudly in warning and batted at his hands with his paws, his claws retracted.

The small human's green eyes grew wide with fright. He was not hurt, but he had been startled. He balled up his fists and a green light flowed out and captured Cagney in a small green ball. Then a tear in space opened up and half a second later, there was a pop! and Cagney was gone, along with the odd portal that had once been open.

Alexander Fox Xanatos, the son of billionaire David Xanatos and former TV star and halfling Fox, jutted out his bottom lip and whimpered before he burst into a full-on cry.

Fox popped back into the room at the sound of his distress.

"Alex, I only put you down for a minute, honestly!"

Alex continued to cry, and she picked him up and soothed him as she carried him out of the room to get breakfast.

...


...

When Goliath woke the next night, he went straight to the bathroom where he had trapped Cagney. He imagined he might find a mess of one kind or another considering the poor cat had been trapped in there for an entire day, but instead he found the door ajar.

"This cannot be good," he muttered as he looked inside. There was no sign of Cagney.

He turned off the tap that he had left running and looked in every cupboard and every possible space the cat could be.

The little feline was not there.

Unless someone had found the cat and taken him somewhere, Cagney was wandering around in the castle, and there were all kinds of places he could be hiding.

It could take him days to find him, Goliath despaired.

Unless…he used a tracker.

And they had one of the best ones on hand.

Goliath went in search of Hudson. He had the night off from patrolling and Bronx was usually with him if he was home.

He found Hudson napping in a recliner in the TV room, Bronx curled up at his feet. The gargoyle beast lifted his head up off his front paws and peered up at Goliath as he entered the room, his stubby tail wagged a few times at the sight of him.

"Bronx, hey there, boy," Goliath said quietly as he crouched down and scratched him on the head and around his ears. His back foot thumped rhythmically against the floor, and his mouth fell open, and his tongue lolled out in a dog-like grin.

"I need your help. Can you find Cagney?"

Bronx cocked his head to the side curiously. Then he stood up and sniffed the air.

"Good boy, Bronx," Goliath rumbled, and he led Bronx out of the TV room and to the clan's bathroom.

Bronx sniffed and snuffled, his nose pressed to the ground as he took in Cagney's scent, then he moved down the hall, his nose snuffling and working furiously. He meandered in a nearly serpentine way, sniffing plants every now and then, and down several other hallways until Goliath realized they were in the part of the castle where Xanatos kept his personal quarters.

"Bronx, we should not trespass," Goliath said, but Bronx kept following Cagney's trail until they made it to a closed bedroom door that Goliath knew was Alex's nursery. Bronx pawed at it, leaving a few gouges in the wood.

"Bronx. Stop that," Goliath ordered, and Bronx sat down on his haunches and whined softly.

Goliath opened the door gently and peered inside. Alex was asleep in his crib, a low light from a nightlight softly illuminated the room.

"Cagney," Goliath whispered softly as he looked around. There didn't appear to be any sign of the cat.

He opened the door wider and let Bronx in.

Bronx sniffed around the room, then he stopped near Alex's play pen and sat down. He whined softly.

"This is where the trail ends?" Goliath whispered.

Bronx chuffed softly.

Perhaps someone had found Cagney in Alex's room and picked him up and took him out. He gestured for Bronx to leave, and he followed the beast out and quietly closed the door as Alex continued to sleep peacefully.

Now that the trail had gone cold, Goliath contemplated what else to do. He knew Xanatos had staff that operated during the day and maintained the castle while they were all asleep. Could one of them have found Cagney?

The person to ask was obviously Xanatos's right-hand man who knew the day-to-day inner workings of the castle, and likely would have been apprised of anything odd like a cat being found.

He went in search of the man and luckily found him working late in his office.

He knocked on the door.

"Enter," the wooden voice of Xanatos's assistant and incognito trickster called out.

Goliath did as requested.

"Owen," Goliath said, feeling no need to use formal titles.

"What can I do for you, Goliath?" Owen said flatly, barely looking up from the papers he was perusing.

"Have you by chance seen a small gray cat?" the gargoyle asked.

The blond man made no indication of his surprise aside from a slightly raised eyebrow.

"No. Why is there a cat loose in the castle?"

"He belongs to Elisa. I was supposed to look after him," Goliath sighed.

"I see," Owen said, and seemed to size up the situation immediately. "Elisa called here this morning asking about you, actually, but nothing about her cat. I take it she is not aware he is missing?"

"No," Goliath replied guiltily.

"I have not seen him, but if I do, I will be sure to alert you."

"Thank you," Goliath rumbled, and then a thought struck him.

"I had Bronx follow Cagney's trail. He followed it into the nursery where it went cold."

"Alex's nursery?" Owen said, and his face became a mask with no outward emotion.

"It's strange…like he just disappeared."

"Curious," Owen said. "I'll look into it."

"Thank you," Goliath said again and tipped his head graciously towards Owen, then he stalked off in search of the cat.

In a giant castle.

On top of a giant tower.

This was not going to be easy.

...


...

Owen went immediately to the security room after his conversation with Goliath. There were cameras all throughout the castle, including Alex's room. Something he may have an issue with when he got older, but as a baby, he couldn't exactly argue about it or understand the ethical nuances of privacy concerns. That was something he would have to take up with his father later when he got older…or he could just hex the cameras. Either way.

There was a library full of DVDs in the security room that were stored on site and backed up off site as well. Most were just labeled by the rooms and dates, but a few were listed by specific events, such as the Halloween party last fall, and one labeled "G & E - Library - February 2, 1997."

Fox was particularly fond of that recording.

Owen sat at a console and ran the video surveillance from Alex's room, playing it backward through the day. He had reached the early morning when he spotted the small gray cat on the screen. He hit play and watched.

On the screen, Fox entered Alex's room, picked him up out of the crib, got him changed, and then cuddled with him for a few moments before she set him down in a playpen and stepped out for a moment.

The small gray cat entered the room and approached Alex. They seemed to get along fine. The cat wound affectionately around the baby and the child clapped with glee, but then Alex pulled the cat's tail and the cat batted at his hand. Alex startled and then there was a small flash of light and the cat disappeared.

Owen stood up from his seat, shocked.

He rewound the video and watched it again.

If what happened to Cagney was as he suspected…they were in a world of trouble.

Owen dashed to Alex's nursery and quietly entered the child's room. As Owen, his powers were restrained, but he was still sensitive to power, and there was a kind of residue in Alex's room, the lingering effects of a powerful burst of energy that were still detectable.

He knew what had happened now. He was certain of it, and what's more, what Alex had done, he had done nearly wordlessly. Alex could say a few words, but he could not string together sentences to form complex enchantments.

Even Oberon had to use words most of the time.

Owen swallowed the lump in his throat.

Little Alex was a powerhouse. A prodigy. With only a quarter fae blood.

And the knowledge of that, combined with what he had done, terrified him.