Chapter Five: Separation Anxiety
Monday brought the start of a new week and an inevitable separation between Lance and his family: Alanna had school and Greg had work. Claire and Lilly also had school, but the little boy was far more affected by his sister and uncle leaving him behind; he whimpered and whined, managing to sound like a gryphon even without shifting.
When he finally did shift, Shelley just sighed and carefully picked up the gryphlet, wary of his wings; as a precaution, Alanna had enlarged her runic bracelet enough to fit it around her brother's neck and added a spell to make it shrink when he shifted. Instead of fighting to squirm out of the collar, Illishar keened softly, snuggling into Shelley's grip.
Shelley stroked the cub's wings, feeling tiny shudders under her hands. "It's okay," she soothed. "Alanna and Greg will be back at the end of the day; they haven't left you behind."
Chu-rep?
"Really," Shelley confirmed, guessing at the hatchling's 'question'. "Now, why don't you go play with Ally, all right?"
Squa-rrrrrr the cub grumbled, but he allowed himself to be put down and nudged towards the living room. Shelley followed, bemused when, instead of playing with Ally, Illishar went to the cat tree and shimmied up into the small 'den' that served as the cat tree's first level. The gryphon hatchling curled up in the den and went to sleep.
"Mommy, I want to play with him," Ally whined.
"Maybe later, Ally," Shelley told her daughter. "I think Illishar is having trouble with the fact that his sister and Uncle Greg had to leave without him. Let's give him some time, sweetheart." Smiling down at her youngest, Shelley added, "Now, how about you and I go to the kitchen and bake some cookies, okay?"
It took a few seconds, but then, rather sullenly, Ally replied, "Okay, Mommy."
Illishar yawned and stretched, feeling a bit better after his nap. He hopped out of his den and fluttered to the ground, squeaking when he realized no one else was in the room. He considered, then blurred, glancing around and pushing at his magic to tell him where Miss Shelley and Ally were. Gold gleamed in his eyes, then faded as he trotted towards the kitchen, hungry for the cookies he could smell.
Shy, the little boy peeked in the doorway, watching as Miss Shelley pulled a metal tray out of the very big, squat rectangle thing; Lance stiffened in alarm as Ally reached for the tray, giggling; his magic thrummed warning, crying out to be released.
"No, Ally," Miss Shelley rebuked, but too late to stop the little girl; Ally's fingers touched the tray, but only for an instant as Lance's magic pulled the younger girl away, healing the burns as Ally was yanked over to Lance.
Ally squalled in surprise and the beginnings of pain, but it disappeared just as fast as it had come. Turning to Lance, she cried, "Bad Illieshaw. No take me away from cookies."
Lance cringed back at her anger, confused. "Tray hurt you," he protested softly.
"Ally, stop," Miss Shelley ordered, sweeping Ally up and setting her next to the metal tub in the middle of the large table on the wall. Lance edged closer as Miss Shelley looked at Ally's hands, gasping at the sight of untouched skin.
"Magic fix," Lance explained, drawing Miss Shelley's eyes to him. "Magic tell me tray bad; magic said to get Ally away." Looking down, Lance sniffled. "I'm sorry, Miss Shelley."
Miss Shelley knelt, one arm going around Lance's shoulders and pulling him close. "No, Lance," Miss Shelley whispered, "You did exactly the right thing. You got Ally away from the hot tray and your magic healed her hands. Don't be sorry for helping someone else, understand?"
Lance peeked up at Miss Shelley. "But Ally mad at me."
"Ally was being bad, Lance," Miss Shelley explained, releasing the preschooler and standing up again. "Allysia Wordsworth, what did I tell you about touching the cookie trays?"
Ally pouted at her mother, who just stood there, waiting with her hands on hips and an angry expression on her face.
"Don't give me that look, young lady!" Miss Shelley scolded. "You're lucky Lance was here or you'd have burned fingers right now. Now. You are going to thank Lance for keeping you from getting hurt and then you are going to go to your room and stay there until lunch is over."
"But the cookies will get cold," Ally protested.
"And why do you think breaking the rules means you get cookies, Allysia?"
"But, but," Ally stammered.
"No buts, young lady," Miss Shelley said sternly. "You broke the rules and now you have to face the consequences." Miss Shelley swung Ally down from the tall table and set her down in front of Lance. "Now, thank Lance for keeping you safe."
With great reluctance and a put upon expression, Ally gritted out, "Thank you, Lance."
Miss Shelley nodded. "Now go to your room, Allysia. I'll get you lunch in a bit." Her eyes hardened. "And if you step one foot out of your room, I'll tell your father what happened today, is that clear?"
"Yes, Mommy." Still pouting, Ally trailed away, with Lance looking after her, wide-eyed.
"Why you mad at her?" the little boy asked.
Miss Shelley crouched next to the four-year-old. "She could have gotten hurt doing what she did, Lance. You protected her from the worst of it, but she needs to understand that she broke the rules and put herself in danger."
Lance tilted his head to the side, thinking about that. "Like when Daddy spanked me for sneaking away from Mommy and hiding in Diagon Alley?"
"Exactly like," Miss Shelley agreed, her gaze amused. "Ally didn't break the rules enough for a spanking, so I sent her to her room instead." Lance looked up as Miss Shelley regarded him and his tummy rumbled. "Well, now, it sounds like someone's hungry. How about a hot cookie for the little hero and a roast beef sandwich, hmm?"
"Yeah!"
After lunch, Miss Shelley went to take Ally her lunch and Lance wandered back into the living room, wondering what he should do now. He didn't feel like sleeping anymore, so he moved over to the shelves and the rows of thin, plastic books, trying to read the titles on the sides. One book, with a mouse on the side, caught his attention and he pulled it out, examining the three mice on the cover and turning the book this way and that as he made curious noises, almost cheeping at the plastic book.
"Would you like to watch that?" Miss Shelley asked from behind him.
Sapphire peeked up at her and blinked, confused. "Watch?"
Miss Shelley chuckled and took the plastic book, opening it up to reveal a silver circle, but no pages. "Here," Miss Shelley remarked, "My girls don't like this movie all that much, but I do, so let's pop it in and see what you think."
Lance watched as Miss Shelley touched a button on the front of one of the black things sitting in a big wooden cabinet. Sound came from the black thing and Miss Shelley picked up a long, slim rectangle and pushed down on it. The sound stopped and Miss Shelley pulled the silver circle from the plastic book and slid it into another black thing. The thing beeped at her and began to hum as the silver circle was pulled inside; the little boy watched in awe, cocking his head to the side as the image on the bigger black thing flickered and changed. Miss Shelley swept him up and set him on the couch, sitting next to him and slipping one arm around his shoulders as the sound came back and Miss Shelley made the image 'play'.
"I've won! Ah, ah, ha, ha, ha!" Ratigan yelled, leaping in joy on the hour hand of Big Ben.
"On the contrary!" Basil cried.
Lance's eyes were wide, hadn't Basil fallen to his death?
Ratigan froze, his expression one of comical disbelief and horror. He looked over the edge, spotting the mouse detective at once, clinging to the wreckage of Ratigan's blimp.
Basil looked up with a tiny smirk, unconcerned that he was still dangling over a very long drop. "The game's not over yet!" He rang a tiny bell; Ratigan reflexively checked his sleeve where the bell should have been.
Big Ben rang the hour. The vibrations sent Ratigan over the hour hand's edge and he fell straight towards Basil, yowling in shock. The rat latched onto his nemesis, dragging him down; the ropes on the blimp's propeller snapped, sending both rodents plummeting.
As Olivia cried into her father's apron and the two adult mice bowed their heads, Lance clung to Miss Shelley, trying not to cry himself. A squeaking noise from the screen brought the brown head up at once and a smile spread across Lance's face as Basil reappeared, pedaling frantically to keep the small propeller flying.
That was when it happened – magic thrummed and snarled outrage; Lance closed his eyes against the sudden burn in his eyes that meant his magic was glowing within them. Wary, he poked at the magic, asking what was wrong. Gold swirled and he knew: Uncle was in danger, Uncle needed his help.
"Miss Shelley, Miss Shelley, Uncle needs help," he cried, opening his eyes again.
Miss Shelley looked down, frowning at the sight of his eyes glowing gold, but she shook her head. "Lance, the rest of Team One will keep your uncle safe; don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart."
But they couldn't; his magic wouldn't be so angry if they could help. Lance shook his head firmly. "Uncle needs help," he repeated.
"Trust me, Lance; he's just fine. Now, how about I go check on Ally and let her come out and we can watch another movie, all right?"
No, it was not all right and Uncle needed help and… "Okay, Miss Shelley," Lance agreed.
Miss Shelley smiled and got up. "We'll be right back, Lance."
The little boy waited until Miss Shelley was out of sight, then he closed his eyes and focused on his magic. Show me the way to go, he thought at the magic. Then he blurred and raced for the back door; he had an Uncle to save!
Fortunately, no one seemed to notice the 'cat' racing down the street, hissing and snapping every time he had to stop for a light or weave through a crowd. The 'cat' would cross a street, then angle as best he could across a block, always heading in a direct route to the Headquarters of the SRU. When the little 'cat' reached an area without any human witnesses, he took flight, flying over a nearby fence and vanishing towards the rooftops. A traffic camera was nearby, but, curiously, no one ever noticed the flying 'cat' on its recording.
Once on the rooftops, the gryphlet made much better time; he kept to the highest areas and flew across the streets without any fear of being noticed. His magic hiked higher and higher in alarm as the minutes ticked away, prompting the young gryphon to push himself faster and faster in response. He had to get there in time, he just had to.
Then he scampered to the top of another rooftop and stopped, startled that he'd arrived, shocked that his destination lay directly ahead of him. Little wings flared out and he threw himself forward, sailing over one last road and touching down on the black not-grass that rested against the building. Illishar put his head down and ran for the building, his magic skating out and pushing the door open just enough for him to get inside.
Once inside, he squawked victoriously, then set off to find Uncle. His magic whispered, warning him to stay quiet and unnoticed; he crouched low to the ground and made his way through the hallways, sticking to the shadows and the smaller spaces. Even with his caution, it didn't take long to reach the big room where Uncle had introduced – or was it reintroduced…? – him to the grown-ups. Illishar padded softly up to the doorway and peeked inside; he stiffened, a low hiss-growl escaping his chest.
Mean Mummy woman was in the center of the room, aiming her wand at Uncle and the other grown-ups.