Written by: Madame Destine
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

Illustration by: Alison Wilgus

* * * * *

All was not going well in the Great Hall in the castle on the mystical isle of Avalon. King Oberon and Queen Titania were seated upon twin thrones, surrounded by their closest retainers and advisors. In a tight cluster at Oberon's shoulder stood three women, triplets save for the color of their hair. Titania sat to his left, guarded by a broad-chested gargoyle of silver-green skin, vaguely canine features and a dour demeanor. At her feet sat an oversized rabbit, once known in the mortal world as a Pookah, and perched on his knee sat a tiny man smoking a briar pipe. All watched the proceedings with worry as a woman dressed in finely tailored leather hunting garb gave her report to the king and queen.

"He slipped away again?" Oberon roared with barely contained fury. "How is this possible?"

"My Lord," Diana, patron of hunters everywhere dropped to her knee before the royal pair in acknowledgement of her defeat. "We had him trapped in a small English village on the shore of the Thames. The traitor's capture seemed assured. But then an odd fog came up, obscuring everything."

"Fah!" Oberon dismissed. "The Queen of the Hunt confused by a fog? You must do better than that, Diana."

"It was no ordinary fog, my lord," the huntress explained. "It was tainted with a powerful human magic, the likes of which I've never encountered. Our senses were confounded utterly by strange colors and smells. It would seem our prey has allies versed in both the arcane and modern sciences. Coupled with his own natural abilities it makes him a worthy opponent."

"I'm glad that Garlon is keeping you amused," Titania remarked dryly. "However, I would ask you to keep in mind that this hunt is no idle pastime. We expect results and soon."

"Yes, my lady." Diana rose to her feet. "If I might return to my troops?" she asked, eager to be away from the court and back onto the chase.

Oberon waved his hand in annoyance. "You are dismissed," he added sourly, as if he was surprised she was still standing before them.

A moment later Diana was gone, only to be replaced by an Asiatic woman who could only be described as luminously beautiful. She was petite, barely five feet tall, with long black hair that fell like an ebony waterfall all the way to her delicate heels. She held between slender fingers a large ivory pearl that gleamed in the candlelight of the great hall.

"Be welcome, Gong De Tian," Titania said in greeting to the luck goddess. "How fared your travels in the mortal world?"

The diminutive woman bowed deeply from the waist before replying. "Well, my lady. My lord. These mortals, despite their protestations of cynicism, want and need our guidance now more than ever."

Titania gave Oberon a subtly triumphant glance. "You see, my husband? It is as I explained before. We have a place yet in the mortal world. There can be little harm in allowing the experiment to continue on a limited basis."

"To continue to allow those of our kind to mentor humans, to strengthen their belief in the magical and the mystical as a insurance against additional insurrection?" The idea was clearly distasteful to the king of the fay. He mulled it over for a time, adding under his breath, "Still it was convenient to have those human warriors." After several moments he yielded with grace to his queen. "Very well," he conceded. "You may continue your experiment." Oberon returned his attention to the waiting Gong De Tian. "And you, my child, may return to the mortal realm. Though feel free to tarry for a time on Avalon's fair shores. Your grace and beauty have been missed."

Gong De Tian smiled at Oberon and Titania eyed her spouse sharply. The luck goddess, sensing the increase in tension between the pair, bowed hastily and retreated from the audience chamber, ignoring the titters and sharp comments that followed in her wake.

The undercurrent of conversation among the courtiers abruptly stilled as a low rumble resembling the crash of thunder over the sea filled the room. A flash of green light glowed briefly. The Seelie king and queen exchanged surprised glances as a tall man, muscular as a wild stallion, emerged from the portal. He waved the golden trident that he held in his left hand and the sound of the sea died away. Despite his neatly groomed appearance, long chestnut curls held by a circlet of finely wrought gold and a tunic of the finest ivory linen, he had an air of untamed energy about him that caused those nearest to him to step back and out of his way as he approached the dais.

"Lord Poseidon," Oberon drawled with barely contained annoyance. "We did not call you to our service."

Poseidon straightened from his courtly bow, masking his distaste for Oberon's indolent pose by focusing on the interest in Queen Titania's keen eyes.

"However, you are always welcome in our presence, my lord," the queen of the fay amended to temper her husband's rudeness. "Is everything well in your undersea realm?"

"I would not stray from my ocean depths were it not a matter of the gravest urgency," Poseidon replied decorously to Oberon. He shook his head before addressing Queen Titania. "No, my lady it is not. The prisoner in my charge has undergone a great decline. I fear for her health and perhaps," he added after a pause, "her life."

Titania leaned forward, assessing the lord of the seas. His eyes, normally a merry, dancing green, were dark with worry. There was a slump to his regal carriage, which seemed to indicate he was under a great strain.

"So the harridan is finally receiving the fruits of her labor." Oberon yawned. "I fail to see how this should be of interest to us."

"The harridan," Titania corrected gently, "is our kinswoman, the lady Maeve. Though she has behaved badly and deserves the punishment that has been meted out to her, she is still our responsibility."

"I do not understand her malady, my queen," Poseidon lamented. "Her jailers, the ladies Asia and Telesto, have treated her most gently. Even when she was being... difficult. Philyra, who is a gifted healer, is perplexed by her lassitude and faltering wellbeing. It is as if she has given up the will to live."

Poseidon, having finished his report, shifted his trident and fell into a parade-rest stance. A low buzz of gossipy conversation resumed as those attending the king and queen speculated on Maeve, the late co-leader of the Unseelie court's, fate.

Oberon was clearly bored by the subject, and Poseidon's presence. The two had never gotten along well, falling often on opposite sides of the prevailing debate. At one time, Poseidon had briefly lead a minor uprising against the Seelie lord, though it was nothing on the scale of Madoc's insurrection. "I leave it to you, my queen," he said before passing a hand over his body and dematerializing to other, more amusing, pursuits.

Titania's normally pale green skin darkened before she growled, "Leave us," to the muttering courtiers. The room lit here and there with tiny multi-colored flashes as portals winked in and out of existence, transporting their conjurers to other, safer, environs. Soon, Titania and Poseidon were alone.

The fairy queen stood and descended the dais, indicating to Poseidon to join her in a small chamber at the back of the main audience hall. She poured honey-wine, handing a chalice to her guest as she bade him to sit and take his ease. "Now my lord, Poseidon," she said, "tell me about Maeve's difficulties and leave nothing out."

Poseidon drew a deep breath. "As you command, my lady." He attempted to settle himself more comfortably on the low couch before beginning to speak again. "As our Lord Oberon decreed, I took the lady Maeve into my custody and put her into the care of the daughters of Tethys. Asia and Telesto, most excellent and capable sisters became her principal jailers almost immediately upon Maeve's arrival...

* * *

The portal opened with a flash of eldritch light and Poseidon, Maeve flung over his shoulder, returned home. As he entered the courtyard he was surrounded by curious members of the sea-dwelling community, minor fay who preferred the ocean depths to the green shores of Avalon. Neirids jostled merfolk and dolphins for a better view of the royal prisoner.

As soon as Poseidon set her on her feet, Maeve ceased to keen. She slumped to her knees in a posture of defeat and ignored the curious throng.

"Telesto! Asia! Attend me!" Poseidon cried.

From among the curious, two eternally young women emerged. Telesto was tall and fair, her eyes a rich jade green. Her waist-length hair was the color of palest gold and held neatly in place by ropes of bright orange coral beads woven among the heavy plaits. Her sister, Asia was her opposite. Tiny, yet sturdily built, her features were finely wrought but darkly cast. Her mouth, now drawn in a frown, seemed more suited to laughing. She was the first to speak. "How may we serve, Lord Poseidon?" she asked as she ducked her head in a respectful bow.

Poseidon addressed the pair but spoke loudly enough so that the crowd that surrounded them could hear clearly. "We have been charged by Lord Oberon to take custody of the once Lady Maeve, traitor to her people. You shall be her jailers. Watch her carefully," Poseidon instructed, "for she is capable of great cunning and guile." His voice softened. "But I charge you to treat her well, for though she is a prisoner now, she was once among the greatest of our kind."

The sisters regarded their charge with a mixture of awe and curiosity. The once regal Maeve was stripped of her customary battle armor and dressed in a simple, shapeless tunic. Her aura of power, normally a nearly palpable presence, was faded to near human level. Only the bubble of air supplied by Poseidon kept her from drowning. "Why has Oberon sent her to us?" Telesto asked curiously. "Would she not be more suited to the care of The Three?"

Poseidon considered his prisoner for a moment before replying. "She was the object of the Sister's tender mercies. However, I'm afraid that Maeve, in her grief over her defeat and perhaps over the loss of 'He Whose Name May No Longer Be Spoken', has been driven mad. Though she was locked in the furthest corner of the isle, her screams could be heard all over Avalon. It was thought that perhaps her sentence would be better carried out here, where the tranquility of the sea might bring her peace."

"Where shall we put her, my lord?" Asia queried as she considered the problem. "Perhaps the coral grotto? It has a wonderful view of the seahorses."

"An excellent idea, young Asia. Take her there and make her comfortable. Treat her as you might a mortal. Give her food and fresh water, for she will need both while she dwells among us."

Maeve's head rose for the first time as Asia and Telesto moved toward her. She didn't seem to see them as they took hold of her arms and gently lifted her to her feet. Instead, Maeve, once-mighty ruler of the Unseelie horde, opened her mouth and resumed wailing. The curious drew back and schools of tiny fish scattered as the tormented woman began to rant. "I am your Queen! You shall all pay for your treachery! Release me and give me my due!"

Poseidon gestured and a pair of burly mermen came forward to assist Telesto and Asia. Caught in their grasp, Maeve had no choice but to rise and be escorted to her new home.

* * *

"And so, her time among us began," Poseidon continued. "At first she was insensible with rage. She screamed, she ranted, she threw things. No one among us had any peace. The gentle creatures under my protection fled to the furthest reaches of my kingdom.

"I sent for Philyra, another daughter of Tethys and the most gifted healer among my subjects. She plied Maeve with soothing draughts and after a season passed, our prisoner began to calm."

"She began to regain her reason?" Titania asked as she leaned forward to refill Poseidon's glass.

He shook his head. "It seemed for a time that she might. The mindless ranting ceased only to be replaced by tantrums and fits of temper. These we endured until at last she spent more days at peace than in darkness."

"But yet all is not well," Titania surmised.

"For a time she became quiet, complacent, as if she had accepted her fate. Her jailers allowed her time out of her rooms under the strongest of wards and the strictest of guards. She seemed to take interest in wandering among the coral gardens. The parrotfish amused her greatly. We held great hope that perhaps Maeve would be healed. Unfortunately, this was not to be. The quiet turned to lassitude and then depression.

"Now, she refuses to leave her rooms, seems scarcely to rise from her couch. Philyra can do nothing to rouse her." Poseidon regarded his queen with a frank gaze. "Maeve has spent over three hundred years among my people as the mortals judge time. She is not a creature of the water but of the land and air. I know her sentence was to remain among my subjects until the islands rise from the sea, but I believe that should she dwell longer among us she will die."

The fairy queen considered her guest's assessment. "Is this also Philyra's judgement?"

Poseidon nodded. "It was she who suggested we return her to Avalon, my lady. Perhaps Diancecht, the court physician, might have better luck returning health to Maeve."

"Very well," Titania grudgingly agreed. "You have my leave to return your prisoner to Avalon."

Poseidon nodded and rose to his feet. "I must confess, my lady, that I feel as if a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders." Indeed the sea king looked much more at ease than he had upon his arrival at court.

"As it has," Titania replied. "Go now. When you return, bring Maeve to the Great Hall. I suspect her arrival will prove instructive to any others who might hold disloyal thoughts close to their breasts."

"As you command, my lady." Poseidon bowed deep from the waist before turning on his heel and raising his trident to summon a portal.

The tang of salt water hung in the air long after the eldritch light faded, leaving Titania alone to gather her thoughts.

* * * * *

"Oh fie! I've dropped a stitch," Princess Katharine said crossly as she studied the elaborate lace tablecloth taking form under her nimble fingers.

Tom, seated in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the fire, looked up from his book. He examined the intricate tatting created from silk finer than a spider's web and shook his head in amazement. "Only one?" the guardian said. "If it were me, I'd have made a knotted mess instead of something as beautiful as that shawl."

"'Tis a table cloth," Katharine corrected fondly. "Or at least it will be if I can keep my mind on my work. There was a terrible row in the Great Hall earlier. Lord Oberon was most displeased that his knights allowed Garlon to slip through their fingers again."

"The king can yell, can't he?" Tom said with a smile. "Still, I understand his worry. Garlon's too powerful to be left to his own devices. If they don't catch him, you can be sure he'll be causing trouble soon enough." The Guardian rose from his chair and went to his companion. Gently, he wrested the fine bone needles and elaborate stitchery from her hands and trailed a finger along the crest of her cheekbone. "Why don't you put that aside and come walk with me in the garden. There's a fine full moon tonight."

Katharine giggled and averted her eyes. "Och, Tom, ye make me feel like a maid."

"And is that so terrible? You're as fair as a girl of twenty," he replied as he turned Katharine's face back toward his and leaned forward to kiss her softly.

There was a loud knock at the door. "Princess! Princess!"

Katharine sighed as she broke the kiss and Tom straightened and stepped away. "What is it, Ophelia?"

The door swung open and a female gargoyle with a triangular and tri-horned skull plate entered. "I'm sorry to disturb you Princess, or you, Guardian," she added politely, "but we've all been summoned to the Great Hall." The gargoyle lowered her voice. "I heard it has something to do with Lord Poseidon's visit earlier."

"Indeed," Tom said softly. "Maeve's jailer and another report of the Unseelie general all in the same day? This is interesting indeed."

"Aye," Katharine agreed. "I fear that walk in the garden will have to wait, Tom." She rose to her feet and stepped to her mirror, tucking a few stray strands back into her braid and smoothing her gown before accepting Tom's upraised forearm. "Shall we?"

* * *

An air of barely suppressed excitement permeated the audience chamber as Titania and Oberon entered a short while later. The fairy king's good temper had been restored in the interim. His aides and courtiers breathed a collective sigh of relief as he took his place at the dais and invited several of the more diminutive elves and sprites to take places of honor at his feet, so that they might more readily see the coming proceedings.

At a signal from Titania, Gabriel and five of his brothers and sisters took up their positions on either side of the dais and fell into positions of battle readiness.

Katharine, who was stationed close enough to see the proceedings but near enough to an exit to be hustled away by others in the gargoyle contingent should anything untoward occur, said to Tom, "Och, my Eggs seem so fierce when they glower so."

"Don't they though?" Tom replied with noticeable pride. "Always give the impression you're willin' to rip your opponent to shreds. It saves a considerable amount of actual wear and tear on the troops. Or so old Robbi told me when I was still a lad."

Desdemona, who was standing to Katharine's left, opened her mouth to comment but closed it as Oberon rose. The assembly quieted and the King of the Fay spoke. "Hear me, dwellers of Avalon, and let it be known. While we believe judgement should be swift and retribution harsh," he allowed his gaze to travel leisurely over the assembly, pausing from time to time on members of the court who had found themselves with mixed loyalty, "especially when dealing with traitors, we are a fair being. It has come to our attention that Maeve, currently residing in the custody of Poseidon's realm of the triangle, is in failing health. Though it is our judgement that Maeve shall spend the rest of her days under lock and key, it is not our intention to hasten the day of her demise. Therefore, we have decided that Maeve shall be returned to fair Avalon in order to allow its healing magics to restore her."

The crowd began to buzz with speculation. Was Oberon truly feeling pity for his enemy, or did he wish to restore her health only to torment her further?

Oberon waived a hand, effectively silencing the crowd. "Poseidon," he called, "bring forth your prisoner."

The sound of the sea covered the buzz of the courtiers and a portal opened. Poseidon emerged, accompanied by petite Asia and willowy Telesto and their sister, the healer Philyra. Between them, they supported Maeve. Behind them, standing at battle readiness, was a contingent of mermen. Though they were human-like in form, having been granted the use of legs for the occasion, with their odd, widely set eyes and the gill slits in their necks, there was no way they would be mistaken long for mortal men.

The crowd gasped as the party marched Maeve to the dais and stepped back slightly, allowing her to collapse at Oberon's feet. The former Unseelie queen slumped in utter resignation, ignoring the throng around her. Her features were unnaturally wan, haggard even, and there were streaks of gray in her raven and emerald tresses. Her body, once the pinnacle of physical perfection, seemed to be affected by the ravages of some hideous wasting disease. It was with difficulty that she rose to her knees and acknowledged her captors before slumping back to the ground.

"Lord Poseidon," Titania said, clearly appalled, "why did you not alert us sooner of your prisoner's condition?"

The sea king bowed his head. "My lady, the prisoner was not nearly so infirm when I came to you with my concerns. It was only upon her return that she became so afflicted."

"Could it have been the journey through time?" Titania mused to Diancecht who stood next to her on the dais.

The elderly healer nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps the differential in the passage of time... it flows so much faster there than here. If, in her diminished condition, time suddenly slowed... Well, no matter," he said as he advanced on his patient. "I'll do all I can." His thoughts were already away from Titania and on to Maeve as he began to pepper Philyra and the others with questions.

"Remove her from our sight," Oberon ordered the Weird Sisters who stood at his shoulder.

"As you command, my lord," the trio replied in one multi-harmonic voice.

The sisters took charge of Maeve, brushing aside Poseidon's contingent and lifting the sickly woman to her feet with lashes of green energy.

"Gently!" Diancecht protested

"Have care!" Philyra added as the two healers fell in step behind their prisoner.

The Sister's snorted at the pair's concerns, but under the watchful eye of Titania they eased up slightly on their reins as they escorted Maeve from the audience chamber.

"Will you dwell among us?" Titania invited as Poseidon gathered the rest of his party to him.

Poseidon considered the question for a moment. His guardsmen seemed ill at ease in their pseudo-humanoid guise and the sisters seemed over-awed with the sheer number of courtiers present. "Perhaps another time, my lady. Though I thank you for your hospitality."

Titania inclined her head slightly. "Then go, Lord Poseidon, with our thanks."

The party of sea-dwellers wasted no time, disappearing promptly into a swirling vortex of energy. Those that remained made hasty excuses to their king and queen and left in groups of twos and threes to mull over Maeve's condition in other, more private, surroundings.

* * * * *

Angela stood in the main kitchen of the Xanatos household and sighed as she examined the drooping leaves of a once luxuriant houseplant. The plant had been a mating gift from her rookery siblings, a reminder of the lush forests of Avalon. A year ago, it had been robust and bursting with life, the leaves a brilliant shade of deepest green. Now, it seemed in danger of dying. The main stalk was bare of new buds. The little foliage that remained was a sickly yellow. "I just don't understand," she said as she trimmed off yet another brown and crumbling branch, "what could be the matter with it? I've fed it and watered it, given it plenty of sun and moonlight..." Gently, she worked her talons into the soil and lifted the plant from the ceramic pot. "Look how cramped it is," the gargoyle chided herself. "It probably needs a bigger container. In fact," she added as she recalled the full-grown specimens of her youth on Avalon, "I'll bet it'd be happier growing in the arboretum where it could really stretch its roots."

Carefully, she coaxed a few of the fleshy appendages free, then replaced the plant gently back into its container. "I'll ask Fox," the young gargoyle decided, "if it'd be all right to give my plant a new home."

She paused to clean the last of the bits of potting soil off the immaculate countertop, then went in search of her benefactress.

* * * * *

Elisa flicked a cat o' nine tails in the general direction of her latest "slave" and sighed inwardly. "Be gone, unworthy one," she added in deference to the vaguely Arabian scenario the john had requested.

"Thank you, mistress," the man replied eagerly, clasping his hands together in front of his bare chest and bowing low.

Elisa winced as he crawled on his hands and knees, first to kiss the tip of her pointed slipper and then backward out of the room.

When she was sure he'd gone and wasn't hanging around the door to the private suite, hoping to be caught and punished some more, she kicked the shoes off towards the furthest corner of the room and growled in frustration. She hated working Vice. She loathed working undercover vice. And her contempt for her current detail was beyond description.

Three weeks of playing out call mistress to sickos like the pathetic excuse for a man she'd been entertaining for the last hour. His idea of a good time involved spankings, bondage and humiliation, but fortunately, no actual sex. Still, it was enough to turn her stomach and she was glad to be rid of him.

She checked her pager, thoughtfully provided by the escort service, saw that she'd been dismissed for the evening, and changed out of the harem get up and into a pair of tight black leather pants and matching halter top. The clothes were hardly her first choice, but for her undercover persona of Mistress Annalise, they were the equivalent of dress casual.

The dark-haired woman freshened her makeup, tied a scarf over her head, pulling it well onto her forehead, then slid on a pair of unnecessary dark-blue tinted glasses onto the bridge of her nose. Satisfied she'd left nothing behind, she dug the keys for the department-issued roadster out of her purse, shut off the light and headed for the rooming house she was currently calling home.

* * * * *

Fox was just exiting the gymnasium, a towel wrapped around her neck and racquetball racquet in hand when Angela caught up with her, still carrying the beleaguered plant.

"That poor thing," the redheaded woman muttered as Angela explained her plan. "Of course you can move it out there." A leaf fluttered to the floor. "I only hope it's not too late."

Angela hesitated for a moment before replying. "I had some thoughts along those lines too," she admitted. "Which is why I thought I'd ask your advice about the other part of my plan. I thought I might try bringing some fresh soil from Avalon, you know, to give it a boost," she finished.

Fox paused, considering the idea. "You'd want to open a portal, and transport the earth. Are you sure you're up to that kind of spellcasting?"

The lavender female nodded. "I think so, although having another Sensitive present to enhance my energies might be a good idea. Will you help me?"

Eager for the chance to put her long-ignored and still fledgling abilities to work, Fox assented. "Give me a little while to clean up and center. Say... midnight?"

Angela smiled. "I'll be ready."

The pair parted company, each to tend to their own preparations.

* * * * *

Elisa punched the pillow underneath her head and stared at the water-stained ceiling above the bed. She was too keyed-up to sleep and bored out of her mind. The bed was uncomfortable, the mattress lumpy and the pillows flat.

Deciding that it wouldn't be out of character for her persona, Annalise, to be an insomniac, she rose and dressed quickly, then took a long and convoluted drive through the dying Manhattan traffic. She let her mind drift and the car travel where it might. Still, Elisa was startled when she found herself pulling into the underground parking lot adjacent to the Eyrie Building. "Must be fate," Elisa commented to herself dryly as she pulled into a secluded parking space and sauntered to the freight elevator.

Still, she waited until the elevator doors were securely closed before whipping out her compact and a handkerchief and removing as much of the garish makeup as possible and restoring her hair to something closer to its normal style.

* * * * *

Elisa was still fussing with her hair as the elevator reached the main residence level of Castle Wyvern. The doors slid smoothly open to reveal the great hall, nearly empty save for the presence of Owen Burnett, the Xanatos household's loyal retainer. "Good evening, Owen," Elisa said in response to the majordomo's monotone greeting. "Have you seen Goliath tonight?"

Caught in the act of taking his master's late supper to the office suite, the tall, spare man parked the serving cart and turned to address the police detective. "When I last checked, all of the gargoyles were out on patrol, save Miss Angela. She was working in the arboretum. Perhaps you will still find her there."

Elisa smiled as Owen took up his trolley. "Thanks, I think I'll go say 'hi'. Otherwise, if you see Goliath, will you tell him I'll be in our suite?"

The butler nodded his assent and, without any other comment, returned to his task.

Humming a little to herself, Elisa turned the opposite direction toward the garden, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease at last.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Avalon, the Three Sisters, having taken a break from their duties tending the once powerful Maeve, had grown bored with their appointed task and were looking for a way to liven things up.

"'Tis a pity, sisters, that so many of our trickster brethren have been sent out into the world," the platinum-haired one remarked as she watched their prisoner sulk among the garden flowers. "We could use their lively wit. Court has become a very dull place of late."

"Indeed," her ebony-haired triplet replied. "Though, I suspect it would not take much to stir the pot. Consider for a moment our king." With a deft motion of her hand, Selene created a tiny vortex. A beach on the far shore of Avalon materialized in between her hands.

The trio watched with interest as Gong De Tian, with Oberon at her elbow, walked along the shoreline, the waves lapping at her bare feet. The fairy king was pressing his advantage, and the delicate luck goddess, though she was playing coy, was also clearly enjoying her lord's advances as she succumbed to his kiss.

"Indeed," the final member of the triad commented. "The queen might be interested in such a pleasant scene. Do you not agree, my sisters?"

* * *

Angela placed the sickly houseplant in the center of a carefully dug hole, which was in turn in the center of a ring of carefully placed candles. She surveyed the setup, mentally ticking items off her checklist as her gaze traveled slowly around the chalk circle. "I think we're just about ready," the gargoyle said to her companion.

"That's good," Fox replied. She'd showered and changed her clothes; the ends of her bright auburn hair were still damp. "It's nearly midnight. We'd better light the candles."

Angela drew a deep breath, centering herself, and Fox did the same. "Right," the gargoyle replied nervously. "Here we go." Striking a match, she lit two tapered candles and handed one of them to Fox. Together, the pair circled slowly around the wilted plant and began to chant.

* * *

"What do you suppose our queen will do when she learns of this, my sisters?" Luna wondered aloud, her eyes not straying from the scene playing out in miniature in her dark-haired sister's hands.

"Perhaps she will bid us to administer Gong de Tian's punishment," Selene answered. "That may prove a short but pleasant diversion."

"Or perhaps when it is stripped from her, we will be granted the assignment that allows her to travel as she pleases into the mortal world," Phoebe suggested, her tone hopeful.

The Three, thus engaged in plotting among themselves, took no notice of Maeve as she wandered aimlessly about the garden. After a few moments spent examining a caterpillar inching its way along a tree branch, she seemed to tire, and came to rest near a small pond. She sat on a marble bench and trailed her fingers in the cool, blue water, mumbling softly to herself. The full moon reflected in the pool and energy began to gather as she called forth magic from earth, sky and water.

Minutes passed. Strain that she had so successfully feigned became genuine as powers that had once come as easily as breathing eluded her grasp. Her head dipped further toward the water, and so intense was her concentration that she did not notice the gargoyle until she had gently laid her talons upon the warrior-queen's shoulder.

The gargoyle, a rather plain lass whose only distinguishable feature was a crown of horned ridges along her upper skull, was named Sarah. She had an interest in the healing arts, and the prisoner had aroused her curiosity. Injured bodies she had treated often, for her rookery siblings took their warrior training seriously, but an injured mind like Maeve's was a rare thing. "I beg your pardon," she asked quietly, "but are you all right?"

Maeve's head reared back and her emerald eyes glinted in anger. Sarah removed her hand and stepped back automatically. "You seemed in danger of toppling into the water," she said in a soothing tone. "I did not wish you to come to any harm."

"How...thoughtful of you," the prisoner replied, masking her disgust at the gargoyle's touch. "Melancholia does seem to be my constant companion. And the gentle waters were so tranquil I sought only to comfort myself in their embrace." She ducked her head and waved a hand over the rippling water, obliterating the tiny focus point she'd created. Unfocused energy danced, her spell verged on ruination. Thinking quickly, Maeve clasped Sarah's talons briefly in her free hand and pictured the result of her handiwork, completing the spell. The homely gargoyle wasn't the perfect vessel, but she would have to do.

"Sarah, Sarah," a deep masculine voice called. It drew a happy smile from Maeve's benefactress and a frown from the Three Sisters, who suddenly noticed that their charge was no longer alone.

A powerfully built, sandy colored gargoyle entered the clearing, and Maeve smiled inwardly even as the Sisters approached. "This might work out after all," she thought to herself, even as Sarah broke away without so much as a "by your leave," to nuzzle her newly arrived beau suggestively under the chin.

* * *

Elisa's tuneless whistle died as she entered the arboretum and caught the scent of burning beeswax and tallow. She stood, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and hesitantly began to move toward Angela and Fox. They stood, eyes closed, in a corner of the verdant greenhouse, the full moon seeming to reflect the candles' glow, turning their light a strange, misty blue.

Suddenly, the energy level in the chamber increased and the hair danced on the back of Elisa's neck. The power swirled and eddied around the pair of sorceresses. The two seemed to lift from the ground... or was the earth growing beneath their feet? Yes, that was it, Elisa realized. The ground beneath their feet was lifting and changing. A plant was emerging from the center of the circle of candles. At first it was brown and diseased, but before her eyes it transformed, new wood sprouting and leafing out. A final thrill of energy tickled Elisa's spine and then died, leaving her feeling energized and enervated, and impatient for Goliath's return. Suddenly unwilling to disturb Angela and Fox as they completed the remaining lines of their ritual, the detective quietly exited the arboretum.

* * * * *

Angela stretched and winced as she released the last of the magical wards, and Fox grimaced in sympathy. "Here," she said, "let me." She reached forward and began to knead at Angela's tension-knotted shoulders. "There now, Angela," Fox spoke softly in her ear, "how does that feel?"

Angela tipped her head back and let out a small sigh as the tension faded from the aching muscles in her shoulders. "Mmm," was her only reply as the human woman's fingers danced over her skin, applying pressure in just the right places as she massaged upward toward the base of her neck.

Fox smiled, and slid her hands down just a bit, pausing just above where the young gargoyle's wing arms met the back before returning them to Angela's shoulders. The red-haired woman gave a soft chuckle as Angela's wings trembled ever so slightly under her touch. "See, I told you I could make you feel better," she teased.

"Spellcasting just takes so much out of me," Angela murmured, her wings falling limp as she allowed Fox to move in closer behind her. The exhaustion and soreness that had filled her whole body just a few minutes before was evaporating quickly, replaced by a pleasant, warm tingle that grew with each successive caress from Fox's skilled hands.

"You have to admit," Fox intoned gently, trailing the tips of her fingers up along the gargoyle's neck and over the pointed tips of her ears, "we do make a wonderful team."

Angela arched her neck back even more, leaning into the caress as Fox's fingertips traced along her brow ridge. "Yes," she answered, nearly breathless, "we do."

Fox smiled again. Her hands slid back to Angela's shoulders as she brought herself in closer, pressing her own body against the girl. "So maybe there's some other ways we can make a little magic together, Angie," she whispered, moving her head just slightly so that her lips were only inches from Angela's right ear.

Fox's fingers caught hold of the thin straps of Angela's tunic, pushing them aside and then down off her shoulders. One hand then moved to the laces at the front, but found Angela's taloned hands already there. With one small tug, the rough material abruptly loosened, and Fox's hand slipped beneath, caressing the warm, soft mound of the girl's left breast.

Angela arched back, giving a soft gasp, and her eyes fluttered shut as gentle fingertips teased the rapidly hardening nipple. Heat and desire rose within her, and she curled her tail about the human woman's leg as she turned her head slightly. Parting her lips, she captured Fox's in a passionate kiss.

* * * * *

Fox slipped out of bed, quietly so as not to awaken David, and fumbled in the pre-dawn darkness to find her robe. She'd finally found time to go to bed around two o'clock, after completing the last of her charity correspondence and reviewing the agenda for an upcoming Cyberbiotics meeting, and found her husband already asleep. It was a rare thing for David to precede her to bed, but he'd been working hard, preparing for a director's meeting of his own, and the stress was telling.

Fox had settled in beside him, eager for rest, and had indeed dropped off briefly. But after about an hour of restless sleep, filled with erotic imagery, she gave in, crawled under the blankets and woke her sleeping spouse.

After some minor coaxing on her part, they had made love, first frantic and hungry, then slowly and with deliberation. It was some time later when sleep reclaimed them both. Almost immediately, the dream picked up where it left off.

"But Angela?" the redhead murmured to herself. "I mean, she's cute and all, and that tail has definite possibilities, but..." She shook her head, bemused, and rose to check on Alexander, who was already stirring in the nursery.

* * * * *

Maeve hung her head, feigning contrition as the Weird Sisters led her back to her chamber. Secretly, she was gloating. Though Oberon had stripped her of her fay magics, reducing her skill level to less than that of a gifted human, she had used talents long honed in the mortal world, and combined them with Avalon's own natural magic to cast a spell that would disrupt her captors long enough for her to escape back into the mortal world.

Carefully, she stole a glance around her, noting with interest the sudden exchange of covert looks between the gargoyles who had previously been engaged in evening chores. As Sarah passed among her rookery siblings, Maeve's influence would be felt. It was only a matter of time...

* * * * *

Elisa grumbled to herself as she squeezed into the tight black dominatrix uniform of leather pants and bustier and wondered if the Captain would make good on her promise to take her off "permanent" volunteer status after the completion of the sting operation.

When she'd returned from the "World Tour" with Goliath and Angela, Elisa hadn't expected to be greeted back to the precinct with open arms. She really hadn't expected to be greeted back at all. But the Fates had been smiling on her. The half-truths she'd told about accidents and amnesia, and about the unbelievable series of events that had kept her away from a working telephone in the days of 24/7 communication, had been believed and accepted. For a price.

And Elisa had paid. She'd worked parades and parking details, covered shifts for brother and sister officers to make up for the cases they'd handled in her absence. When the Captain had asked for volunteers for loan-outs to other departments, Elisa had been the first one to rise to the challenge. Until this case. Then, she'd drawn the line.

After she'd intervened on behalf of Fox and her friends in the case of Reginald Blank, Elisa swore she'd never work another vice detail again. One walk through that particular cesspool had been enough for her. So when Captain Chavez had called the female officers into a special meeting and asked for volunteers to assist in a new vice sting, Elisa had sat quietly in the back of the meeting and said nothing as senior detectives explained the case.

They wanted to break up an out call prostitution ring that specialized in domination. Elisa had gotten a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as the Lieutenant in charge explained the ring had been organized by a new crime syndicate hungry to carve itself a slice of the tightly controlled escort trade.

Someone had asked if they weren't helping the existing gangs. The Lieutenant had laughed grimly and shaken his head. This operation was part of a larger one. Once the taskforce operatives were in place, and the evidence gathered, it was all coming down.

The detectives had exchanged knowing glances. Pressure from above to clean up the city was behind the current campaign. It might work, for a short time. And then, the hustlers and the players would work their way back, slowly and carefully, and begin their exploitation of humanity's baser desires once again.

Still, nearly all those in the room had raised their hands, and the ribald jokes and snickers had begun to fly. Elisa thought she'd been unnoticed, sitting as she had been with the brim of her baseball cap pulled low over her eyes. But the Captain had noticed and whispered to the Lieutenant, and when the final roster of volunteers had been called Elisa's name was at the top of the list.

She'd protested, after the meeting, behind Captain Chavez's closed door. To no avail. But the Captain had conceded that perhaps the next time they needed volunteers, others in the squad might find themselves less busy than Elisa.

Elisa's pager chimed softly, breaking her reverie. She set down the hairbrush she'd been using to style her dark tresses into a severe ponytail and checked the number. A thrill raced up her spine. She'd had the number memorized for weeks; tactical was finally ready to move.

She glanced at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall opposite her bed. A limousine was due to take her to a party out on Long Island in less than ten minutes.

Gathering up several sets of handcuffs and other "tools of her trade," she smiled sourly as she contemplated the surprise of tonight's party guests. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad evening after all.

* * * * *

Mistress Annalise gave the bare-chested man at her feet a sultry smile then snapped her whip, grazing his muscular back just above the waistband of his leather jock strap. The lash added an angry red stripe to a growing collection, and her slave flinched against the pain, even as he positioned himself for another blow.

"Thank you, mistress," he moaned in pleasure, "may I have another?" His well-shaped buttocks tilted upward inviting the next crack of the whip.

"Why not," she replied benevolently as the leather sang again. "Now be a good dog and fetch me a glass of sparkling water." 'Annalise' flicked her whip again, stinging the soles of his bare feet.

"At once." He scuttled away to do her bidding and Elisa found herself momentarily alone.

She surveyed the room, watching as similar scenes played out around her. Women stood, erect and haughty, as they ordered the twenty or so men present to cater to their every whim. The men were nude or nearly so, some wore tight leather shorts or thongs that captured their straining erections and held them tightly against their bodies. Most of them wore dog collars, many had shackles or other restraints around their wrists and ankles to increase their attitude of subservience to the whip and paddle armed women.

Elisa watched, semi-amused, as a dark-haired and bearded man crawled away dejectedly from a fellow undercover agent who had found his foot massage technique lacking. Though she found the idea of bondage personally distasteful, she did find a curious satisfaction in channeling her aggressions towards those who found it such a turn on.

"Over here, boy," she commanded imperiously.

The man perked up, and Elisa couldn't help but notice his resemblance to David Xanatos. It curdled her enthusiasm. Elisa momentarily broke character and looked away, noticing the number of "slaves" that were being led off to other parts of the house for advanced discipline. She hoped Vice would stage their raid soon, before she ran out of excuses for not participating in the games.

"Mistress," the bearded man said softly. 'Annalise' returned her attention to the business at hand and gave him a severe look. "You've found me unworthy." There was a hopeful tone in his voice. Elisa, having difficulty staying firmly in her role, wondered who he was in real life that made him long to be found so wanting.

"Perhaps," she replied, forcing herself to focus. "I haven't decide yet." Elisa examined her latest slave frankly. The resemblance to Xanatos faded as he exposed his neck, hoping perhaps for the feel of her boot against the tender flesh.

Not ten feet away, a real dominatrix ordered one of her slaves, a curly blond man, who looked as if he might be a stockbroker, to his knees in front of a second, thin, bearded man who had been deemed worthy of reward. With trembling hands and anxious eyes, the blond slave released the restraints that held his partner's turgid penis, and it sprang free. Elisa looked away as the blond swallowed hard and moistened his lips as he prepared to go down on his bearded companion. Her slave was still waiting for her orders.

"May I stand, mistress?" he asked, hoping to prompt a response. He had yet to meet her gaze.

"Very well. Rise if you must," Elisa fought down nausea and reminded herself that, to Annalise, one man going down on another on command was commonplace and barely worthy of her notice.

He stood, circling behind her. "May I touch you, mistress?"

Elisa hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he might do. "You may."

Gently he placed his fingers at the base of neck and began to rub her shoulders. "I wish only to please you."

He had, Elisa decided, very good hands. Her body, encased in its restraining clothing, welcomed the release of tension from her back and shoulders. His hands crept forward around her arms, touching the flesh at the swell of her overflowing bustier.

Her whip, held loosely in her right hand, snapped, catching her masseur against the back of his bare leg.

"Don't," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yes, mistress." He returned to his knees before her and placed his lips against her boot.

Elisa frowned but was instantly filled with a sense of relief as a disturbance from the front of the house caught her attention.

"Finally," she sighed with relief. She looked down at the handsome man still kissing her foot. "So you think you've been a very bad boy?"

He did not look up, but nodded his head in agreement.

"And you think you deserve punishment?" Elisa queried.

He nodded again.

"Good," she said as the commotion grew louder. "Because you're under arrest." She snapped a pair of cuffs off her belt and enclosed the man's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent."

* * * * *

Two paperwork-mired hours later found Elisa sitting at her desk filling out the last of her arrest reports. With a weary sigh, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and cursed the tight leather jeans and high-heeled boots she wore in place of her normally well broken in denims and sneakers. "I can't believe I forgot to leave a change of clothes in my locker," the dark-haired woman muttered absently, as she signed off on the last of her documentation. "I can't wait to get home-" Elisa looked at her wristwatch and cursed the lateness of the hour. She'd promised Goliath she would spend the remainder of the evening at home with him at the castle. Suddenly overwhelmed by need to get away from the station and the prostitution case she had just completed, Elisa snagged Matt's top coat off the back of his chair, scrawled a quick note to explain its absence, and bolted from the police station.

* * * * *

Angela landed in the rooftop courtyard of the Eyrie Building with a gentle thump and furled her wings as her clan mates descended around her. Sata and Brooklyn immediately hustled the hatchlings off for a training session in the gymnasium to reinforce lessons taught during patrol, while Lexington tried to explain his latest computer project to Broadway.

The burly gargoyle shook his head as he half followed the conversation. "Uh, let's go over that last part one more time," he suggested. "I think you lost me back at the last gateway."

Angela trailed behind, still preoccupied by the odd dream she'd had the previous day. She wasn't sure which aspect of the dream puzzled her more. If she closed her eyes she could still practically feel Fox's lips upon her own. Yet her dreams were rarely vivid, and the imagery tended toward the abstract. The content of the dream was troubling as well. Why was she dreaming of Fox? Was it an aftereffect of their spellcasting? Angela shook her head, dismissing the notion. She'd shared magic before. Maybe she should consult her books. Or ask Owen, since Demona was out of town on travel and unavailable to consult.

Her musings were interrupted as Broadway broke away from his rookery brother and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Does that sound good to you, hon?"

The proximity of her mate startled her, but it also filled her with a warm, happy glow. "I'm sorry, my love," she replied. "I was wool gathering."

"That's okay," Broadway replied. "I just wanted to know if it was all right with you if I went over this computer stuff some more with Lex. It's almost making sense."

Angela kissed him on the cheek, proud of his efforts to find new common ground with his rookery brother. "Sure, I don't mind." A warm tingle went through her as she nuzzled him affectionately and caught a whiff of his scent. "Just don't be all night," she cautioned. "I was hoping for some alone time. Maybe up in my tower?"

Broadway rumbled softly in response. "I'll meet you there in an hour." He touched her hair where it was held back by its silver and onyx clip. "Maybe half an hour," he amended.

Angela swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "Go on, Lexington is waiting for you." She smiled as he ambled away.

Finding herself at loose ends, the young female decided to have a snack before retreating to her tower to await Broadway. She entered the small, galley-like kitchen and opened the freezer. "Darn," she muttered finding a carton, but no ice cream. "I wonder who's guilty this time?" She dropped the empty container into the trash bin and headed for the main kitchen, where she knew she'd find a ready supply.

"Butter brickle, strawberry, pistachio-" a familiar voice muttered from behind the open freezer door. Angela peeked around the corner and found Elisa, clad in tight leather pants and what seemed to be Matt Bluestone's trench coat, trolling among the contents of the well-stocked freezer.

"Angela. Hey," the detective greeted over her shoulder.

"Hi, Elisa," Angela replied. "Did you come straight here from work?" she inquired. "I mean, that's kind of a different look for you."

"Got you," the detective cried in triumph as she retrieved a pint container of plain vanilla ice cream from the freezer. She straightened and stepped back to allow Angela to make her own selection. "I did," Elisa replied, as she freed her hair from the severe ponytail. "And these are definitely not my clothes."

Just then, Fox, clad in emerald green silk lounging pajamas, entered, evidently also intent on a late snack.

"You should lose the trenchcoat," the redhead remarked as she reached around Angela and snagged a pint container at random. "But the rest of the outfit works. It should definitely get Goliath's motor running."

Elisa's eyes narrowed "Not that it's any of your business, Fox," she replied a shade more sharply than she intended, "but we do just fine without resorting to gimmicks."

Fox eyed Elisa's ice cream container and laughed. "Plain vanilla, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

"And what's wrong with vanilla?" the detective retorted.

The redhead winked at Angela, who was watching the odd exchange between her two friends with rapt attention. "Nothing, but if you don't experiment with the other flavors now and again, how will you know what you're missing?"

"And if you get a flavor you don't like?" Elisa retorted back.

Fox shrugged, even as she acknowledged Elisa's point. "Exercise your right to free choice. No one's forcing you to have the flavor of the month."

Angela nodded in agreement, missing the subtle change of subject between the two women. "She has a point, Elisa. Why, just last week I discovered bubble gum ice cream." The gargoyle lifted her own container to show off the label. "Sure, it was a little strange at first, but once I realized I didn't have to swallow-" the younger female broke off as Fox dissolved into a fit of snickers.

"What?" the gargoyle interjected, clearly at a loss.

Elisa, ill tempered and tired, picked up her carton, snagged a spoon from the dishwasher and took Angela by the elbow. "Forget it, Angela. I could explain, but tonight I haven't got the energy." She dropped her hand to her side and escaped the mocking laughter that still danced in Fox's eyes.

* * * * *

Goliath walked quietly down the corridor feeling still vaguely uncomfortable. It had been nearly a year since Xanatos had given over a guest suite for his and Elisa's use, but the restrictions of his youth still hung heavy as he traversed a portion of the castle that had always been restricted to humans only.

He found his mate sitting before the dressing mirror combing her long, dark tresses. She appeared to have recently showered. Her hair was still damp and she was, in fact, clad only in a fluffy white towel. There was a troubled air about her and her dark eyes seemed to look past her reflection in the mirror and focus on something beyond his view.

"Elisa," Concern made the gargoyle's tone a shade deeper than normal. "are you well?" he asked as he crossed the room to stand at her side.

She nodded absently and set down the hairbrush next to an uneaten pint of ice cream.

"This case of yours-"

"Is finally over," Elisa finished, her voice flat. "It's a good thing too. I'm not sure how much longer I could keep up pretending to enjoy..." The detective looked up at Goliath, pausing as she attempted to find words to explain her recent activities. "These people got off on being victims," she explained. "They got pleasure from others inflicting pain."

"Pleasure?" the gargoyle repeated. "I do not understand."

"Sexual pleasure, Goliath." Elisa clarified as she rose to her feet and began to pace around the chamber. "And quite frankly, neither do I. Why would anybody enjoy being tied up, or hit with a whip or forced to engage in sex acts that they clearly don't want to be doing?"

"Perhaps they are ill," Goliath suggested.

"Sick is more like it," the dark-haired woman corrected. "I don't know," Elisa said with a sigh as she allowed her mate to take her into his arms. "I always thought I was pretty open minded when it came to sex. You know, accepting of others and willing to try new things..."

"I have always found you to be so, my Elisa," the lavender gargoyle reassured. He knelt slightly, the better to nuzzle the hollow of her jaw. She did not smile or return his affectionate caress and he realized that her thoughts still dwelled on her work. "But tonight perhaps it is my turn to be creative." He scooped her up abruptly and held her close against his chest, enjoying the feel of the bare skin of her thighs against his palms. Though they were warm and still slightly damp from the shower, Elisa's muscles were taut with unreleased tension. Suddenly inspired, Goliath gently pulled back the intricate lace bed covering and deposited his lover gently face down on the feather-filled mattress.

Hesitating briefly, he selected a bottle of lotion from among the various potions on the dressing table and poured a generous portion into his hand to warm it.

Elisa rolled over and looked up at her mate. "Goliath, what are you up to?"

"Hush, Elisa," the gargoyle admonished as he knelt on the bed beside her and loosened the towel. It fell away under its own weight and Elisa obediently slipped the length of terry cloth out from under her hips and tossed it on the floor. "Roll back on to your stomach and close your eyes."

Slowly the lavender gargoyle began to drizzle warm, vanilla-scented lotion over the taut muscles of Elisa's back. He noted the tiny scars that he himself had inflicted upon her during their love play and frowned. "Elisa, I am puzzled," he admitted. "I have injured you during intimacy." He traced a circular shaped scare that crested her right shoulder blade with a talon. "And I know it caused you pain. Why is this different from the behavior of these humans you find so repugnant?"

Elisa rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow. She reached out and captured the gargoyle's free hand in hers and stroked his sheathed claws. "It just is," the dark-haired woman replied defensively. She paused, to try and frame a more logical reply. "If you scratch me or I bite you, it's because we're caught up in the moment. If it's pleasurable, it's because it's part of the entire experience. But if giving and receiving pain or humiliation was the sole reason for our sexual relationship, if we received sexual pleasure by inflicting punishment on one another, then our relationship would be just as twisted as those people I arrested tonight."

Goliath nodded his head in understanding, even as he gently encouraged his mate to lie back down. Once she had settled back onto the bed, he continued his ministration, gently kneading her tense shoulder muscles.

Elisa sighed as she began to relax, and the gargoyle poised above her smiled as his hands drifted lower, spreading the pools of lotion over the planes of his lover's back until they reached the mounds of her buttocks.

Elisa sighed again, and her hips shifted beneath his palms, encouraging him to drift lower, into the valley between her thighs. For the moment, Goliath ignored her subtle pleas and his own desires, concentrating instead on the muscles of her calves, tormented no doubt, by the high heeled boots that laid discarded under the chair next to Elisa's dressing table.

"You have no idea how good that feels," Elisa whispered as Goliath gently flexed and stroked the sole of her foot.

"Perhaps you will enjoy this as well," the gargoyle replied. He parted his lips and gently encircled her toes, sucking gently.

Elisa gasped. "Mmm, Goliath."

Convinced his lover had finally left the cares of her day behind her, the muscular gargoyle smiled even as he continued the steady suckling of first the left foot and then the right.

When Elisa began to writhe sensually against the broad expanse of mattress, he paused his loving massage long enough to strip off his loincloth before rejoining her upon the bed.

Goliath straddled Elisa's prone body then gently lowered himself until he rested on his elbows a fraction of an inch above her.

She rose to meet him, flexing upward until her back grazed his chest.

The gargoyle growled sensuously and returned the caress, allowing himself to slip his erect and ready shaft between Elisa's desire-dampened thighs.

Elisa sighed again and shifted beneath him, signaling her willingness to continue. The gargoyle pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, inhaling her scent and savoring it before gathering the woman into his arms and pulling her to her knees.

She spread her legs even as she placed her hand between their thighs, guiding him eagerly into her waiting depths.

With infinite care, Goliath began to pump slowly in and out, withdrawing nearly to the tip of his shaft before plunging back into Elisa's maddening embrace.

She responded eagerly, rolling her hips to increase the friction of their mutual caress, crying out in pleasure as the gargoyle shifted his hold from her hips to her breasts, enveloping their heft in his massive, yet gentle hands.

"Goliath," she moaned between clenched teeth, "please!"

Gladly, he increased the tempo of his thrusts, allowing his own urgency to overwhelm him as Elisa teetered on the brink of release.

"Is this what you desire, my Elisa?" Goliath growled as he tilted her hips further forward changing the angle of his caress even as he cupped the springy curls of her mound and stroked its sensitive flesh.

"Yes!" she cried in response as orgasm claimed her at last. "Oh, god, Goliath! Don't stop!"

The gargoyle pumped faster and his growls of pleasure echoed Elisa's fervent cries.

With a roar he came, collapsing against his partner and rolling onto his side so that she was cradled against his chest and he was still buried between her thighs.

Goliath nuzzled the base of his lover's neck contentedly as Elisa absently twined her fingers in his sable locks.

"That was perfect, Goliath," his mate murmured sleepily. She placed her lips against the palm of his hand and kissed it gently. "You always seem to know exactly what I need," she added as she drifted off to sleep.

"I wish that were so, my Elisa," he replied. Goliath shifted as Elisa turned over and cuddled against his chest, replacing one intimate embrace with a second, equally satisfying one.

The gargoyle leader closed his eyes, allowing himself to drowse. He would stay with her until dawn, when the sun came to claim them both.

* * * * *

"Come on, Angela," Broadway pleaded as his mate dangled his belt and loincloth before him then snatched them away. "The sun's gonna be up soon. We need to get dressed and back downstairs."

Angela tossed his clothing away towards a far corner of the tiny chamber that acted as anteroom to her main workshop and smiled enticingly, baring her fangs as she snaked her tail around the turquoise gargoyle's left knee spur. "But I have something else I want to show you," she cajoled, even as she pushed her burly mate back down on the thick square of carpet that lay in the center of the bare stone floor, "and I promise it won't take too long."

"Well. Uh. Oh, Angela!" Broadway replied incoherently as his mate began her demonstration.

* * * * *

Goliath stirred regretfully, knowing instinctively that dawn was nearly upon him. Elisa shifted restlessly in her sleep, buried her head in her pillow briefly then rolled over. Dark eyes, unfocused with fatigue, greeted his. "Is it morning?"

Goliath nodded, even as he rose reluctantly from the bed and began to dress. "Nearly so. Will you spend the day?" he replied hopefully.

Elisa shook her head even as she struggled out from beneath the blankets and padded barefoot to the dresser. She opened a drawer, extracted jeans and a tee shirt, then opened a second and rummaged for a moment until she found two matching socks and clean under-things. "I can't. I've got paperwork to finish at the station and errands to run. Then I've got to get home and get some more sleep."

The gargoyle nodded. "I've never known you to be so restless, my Elisa. Perhaps you need some time away from your work to put it into perspective."

The dark-haired woman tied her sneaker and stood up. She linked her arm though the gargoyle's to walk him out onto battlements. "I had a rough night," she replied dismissing her lover's concerns. "It happens. Besides," Elisa added with a shrug, "what's to put into perspective? Last night we cleaned out a very nasty cesspool. Things will stay clean for a day or two, some upper-level brass will congratulate themselves on a job well done, and next week someone else will be running a ring of hookers out of a new location. And some other lucky detectives will get sent in to clean it all up again. It's the nature of police work, Goliath; it never stops." She looked at her watch, then reached up to kiss the gargoyle's cheek. "You'd better hurry, or Owen's going to be putting a sign around your neck. 'Early Middle Ages Carved Gargoyle'.

Goliath nodded and quickened his pace. "Will I see you later?" he asked as they stepped outside and greeted the rest of the assembling clan. Broadway and Angela were the last to arrive, swooping down in tandem from the younger female's tower workshop.

"I hope so." The couple exchanged a final embrace then parted reluctantly as Goliath left to take his place high above the courtyard.

A familiar crackling noise filled the detective's ears and then silence as stone sleep claimed her clan. She gazed at them one by one, noting with amusement that Ariana and Graeme were frozen in the midst of their latest feud while Sata and Brooklyn looked on in parental despair.

Her eyes drifted to Broadway. His tail was curled affectionately around Angela's, belying his fierce warriors' pose. And Angela... Elisa's gaze lingered as a flash of nonsensical dream flashed before her eyes. Angela and Fox dressed in leather. She blinked rapidly, banishing the odd image. "You must still be processing, Maza," she chided. "Mixing what's familiar in with that awful case." She turned her back on the clan, on sage Hudson and the gamboling beasts. "Go, get your paperwork done so you can put this whole ugly mess behind you and get some real sleep. Now," the detective ordered herself," before you crack up."

* * * * *

"Owen."

"Yes, Mrs. Xanatos," the majordomo replied automatically to the intercom speaker on his desk.

"Escort Preston out, he's finishing up in my office. And hold all my calls. I'm going to take a hot bath and a nice long nap. But do me a favor and make sure I'm up by seven. The Delacourt's party is tonight and I've got a dozen things to do before we leave."

"Of course. Anything else, Mrs. Xanatos?" he inquired automatically.

Fox considered as she pinned her hair up in a loose knot. "No, that's all. If David doesn't need you for anything, you can take Alex to the park. I'd like the house quiet this afternoon."

"As you wish, Mrs. Xanatos." With a crisp snick the intercom went dead and Owen rose to escort his counterpart from Fox's office.

* * * * *

Angela peeked out from behind the open doors of the master suite's huge walk-in closet as the two women entered the room. "It's about time you got back, Fox," she scolded mildly. Smiling mysteriously, she greeted the new arrival as if only now noticing her. "Oh, hello, Elisa."

"Hello, Angela," Elisa returned, regarding the young female curiously. She had still yet to step out from behind the door.

"Did you find anything in there you like?" Fox questioned as she moved Elisa fully into the room.

Angel nodded. "Did I ever... tell me what you think." With a flourish, the lavender female finally stepped out into the open.

Elisa's eyes went wide with a mixture of amazement and disbelief as she took in Angela's new look. She had shed her rough-sewn tunic, trading it for a sleek, form-hugging sleeveless dress made of shiny black leather. Angela spun to allow both women a full 360-degree view. The skirt clung to her hips sensuously, the hem coming down just barely far enough on her thighs to not be obscene. The back was cut in a V that plunged so low that it almost seemed tailor-made for wearing with wings and a tail. In the front, while the neckline's cut was not nearly as severe, underwired cups lifted Angela's ample breasts up and out in an equally daring display of flesh.

The dark-haired woman blinked, standing speechless as Angela finished twirling and planted a taloned hand jauntily on her hip, a pleased, fanged grin on her lips. She didn't even notice as Fox deftly pushed the suite's door shut with her foot, or hear the light click of the lock engaging.

"Surprise," the lavender female said, tossing her head dramatically to one side and sending her long ponytail draping over her shoulder.

"Angela, I... you look... wow." Elisa finally managed. "But what... why...?"

A few feet behind the dumbstruck Detective Maza, Fox smiled as she drew her hand back from the doorknob. Within one quick, delicate stride, she had secreted the key in the back pocket of her slacks and came up beside Elisa again. A hand placed lightly on her shoulder was all it took to quiet her.

"Excellent choice, Angie," she congratulated. "I was always fond of that one, myself."

Angela's devilish smile broadened, and she relaxed her pose. "I'm glad you both like it," she said. Running her hands down the shiny material, she shivered just a tiny bit. "Ooh," she added, "and I can't believe how nice it feels against my skin."

Fox chuckled, and, in the process, let her hand slip from Elisa's shoulder down onto her back. "See, I told you you've been missing a lot by sticking with fashions that went out of style a thousand years ago," she teased.

Angela had already turned to a nearby mirror, and ran her hands back up her thighs and over the swell of her buttocks as she admired herself. Her wings flared as her talons raked gently over the bare flesh just above her tail. "Mmm..." she purred absently in reply, her hands continuing their journey, sliding up around her waist and over her belly and finding their way at last to her breasts.

Elisa raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to say something, but Fox only laughed lightly again. By now, her hand had drifted down to the small of Elisa's back, the fingers massaging gently along her spine, rubbing against her jacket right above the waistband of her jeans. As the detective began to register the pleasant sensation, whatever words she had been prepared to say evaporated from her mind, leaving her standing there with her lips parted. At last, she pulled her gaze away from Angela and looked up, just as the red-haired woman turned her green eyes to her.

Fox smiled, and her other hand softly went to Elisa's chin, lifting her head just the tiniest bit more. "So, Elisa... what do you say we see if anything can be found in that big old closet of mine that will interest you?" she questioned.

A roaring sound began to fill Elisa's ears, and she shifted uneasily to the side. Fox moved back a half step, and her hands fell away and back to her sides as Elisa struggled for a moment with her thoughts. "I don't know, Fox. I..."

"Oh, come on, Elisa!" Angela said cheerily. The dark-haired woman turned at the voice, a slightly confused look on her face as the female gargoyle bounced up beside her and gently took hold of her hand. "Give it a try... it'll be fun!"

The young gargoyle's tone held its usual upbeat, friendly quality, and the smile on her face now was sincere and amiable. Elisa hesitated. This was the Angela she was familiar with, and though the girl was still clad in the very risqué black leather dress, Elisa had to wonder for a moment if she had somehow been merely imagining the antics she thought she had witnessed just moments before.

She looked back at Fox and felt an unexpected flush of warmth come to her cheeks as the other woman regarded her critically, arms crossed. The warm, tingly feeling from a few moments earlier had all but faded, and as her head cleared and she looked again at the woman, she wondered if maybe she had been imagining Fox's touch, too. Elisa shook her head. "You've been working too hard... get a grip, Maza," she chided herself.

"Seriously, Elisa... you're stuck in as bad rut as the clan when it comes to fashion," Fox teased. "Angela and I were just having some fun, but I could give you some pointers if you'd like."

Elisa's eyes flicked back to Angela again and the girl nodded encouragingly, her eyes as mirthful and innocent as ever. Finally, Elisa gave in. "All right," she said, a smile coming to her lips, "you two win." She paused, giving an odd smirk as she self-consciously examined her attire and added, "Do with me as you see fit."

Fox smiled slyly. "As you wish," she said, trading a glance with Angela as she moved lithely to the doors of her closet and flung them open wide. Angela took her cue and moved behind Elisa as the detective began to follow after Fox. She followed for a few steps before laying her taloned hands on the human woman's shoulders, but as Elisa stepped in front of the closet doors she obligingly halted on her own.

"Whoa," she muttered, staring in wide-eyed awe. Fox's closet looked larger than her whole bedroom, and the walls were lined with dozens of rods and shelves full of clothes. On the back of one of the doors, Angela's discarded tunic hung from a peg, and beside it hung a solitary empty hanger - probably the one that had held the dress the girl now wore, Elisa deduced quickly. On the back of the opposite door hung a full-length mirror. Elisa glanced over at it, taking in her own reflection as well as that of Angela, standing behind her, her tail twitching oddly.

"Now let's see," Fox mused, running her hand over the nearest rack. "How shall we go about this? So many possibilities." She frowned in mock contemplation, then her expression brightened. "I've got an idea," she declared. Yanking a black silk scarf from the neatly organized rack upon which it was draped, she strode back out into the room and approached Elisa.

Elisa looked at Fox, then down at the scarf in her hands, then back at Fox again. "That's it?" she questioned, confused.

Fox chuckled. "No, silly," she answered. "This is just so we can surprise you."

Elisa's expression still showed incomprehension - until Fox held the scarf up by its ends, twirled it around itself several times, and made to hand it off to Angela.

"Hey, now wait a minute, guys," Elisa began, a bit of nervousness creeping into her voice as she ducked her head to the side, avoiding the makeshift blindfold. She reached up a hand to push it away, but Angela gently caught her wrist in her talons, stopping her.

"Oh, come on, Elisa," she chided. "You didn't see me throwing a fit when Maggie and Sharon did this to me at my shower last year... and don't you try to blame them... Fox already told me it had been your idea."

"Turnabout's fair play, Elisa," Fox added, giving a wry smile.

Elisa returned Fox a glare that was betrayed by the smirk on her face. "Okay," she acquiesced, relaxing her posture once more. "I suppose I can trust you two," she teased as she closed her eyes. "This surprise better be worth it, though."

"Oh, it will be," Fox replied as Angela again took the scarf from her. This time, Elisa held her head still and let the swath of black silk fall over her eyes, feeling an excited chill run over her body that made her skin prickle with goosebumps under her clothes as Angela cinched the blindfold down securely and knotted it.

Elisa opened her eyes under the black silk of her blindfold as she felt Angela's hands fall away. Straining as hard as she could, she couldn't catch even the slightest glimpse of any light filtering through the densely woven fabric.

Fox waved her hand in front of Elisa's face experimentally, then cast a satisfied, sly smile at Angela. "Angie will help get you out of those clothes while I pick out something new for you," she stated, nodding to the lavender female. "And remember," she added as she moved back into the closet, "no peeking." Her actions now hidden from Elisa's eyes, the red-haired woman wasted no time in undressing herself, kicking off her shoes, eagerly peeling off her top, and slipping out of her slacks, stripping to her underwear in just a few short seconds.

Elisa perked up her ears, trying to figure out what was going on by the few noises she could hear. There was a rustling of clothing, then a moment later, the soft sound of Angela's wings rustling as she moved up behind her, and then the rising thump-thump of her own heartbeat as the girl's cool breath blew against the bare skin of her neck.

"Let's start with your jacket, Elisa," Angela said softly, laying her talons upon Elisa's shoulders once more.

Elisa cleared her throat nervously. "I thought you didn't like being called 'Angie'," she commented quietly, unzipping her jacket and allowing Angela to carefully push it down around her shoulders.

Angela smiled as she slipped the red jacket's sleeves from Elisa's arms and tossed the garment aside, onto the floor. "I didn't at first... but I'm liking it more and more lately," she replied. She touched the tips of her talons lightly against the bare skin of Elisa's arms, her tail twitching eagerly as the unexpected sensation made the dark-haired woman jump. Angela moved in close again, her jutting breasts pressing against Elisa's back as she ran her hands lightly along Elisa's arms.

"Angela," Elisa began. She sucked in breath as the girl adjusted her position behind her again, and a chill shivered down her back as the girl's four-fingered hands closed gently about her wrists.

"You can call me 'Angie', too, if you like," she whispered, her mouth only inches from Elisa's ear as she guided the woman's hands to the waistband of her jeans.

Elisa's fingers went to their task eagerly, and within a few seconds, Angela was helping her human friend pull the jeans down over the swell of her buttocks, exposing the plain cotton panties she wore beneath. As the jeans slumped to the floor, Angela knelt down to untie the laces on Elisa's high-top tennis shoes. Shoes, then socks were pulled away, until at last Elisa could step fully out of the jeans.

Angela stood back up, running her hands gently up the human woman's smooth bare legs as she rose, and Elisa shivered once again. "Mm... watch where you put those hands of yours, Angie," she said, meaning to sound teasing but unable to keep the slight hint of excitement from her voice.

The lavender gargoyle gave a fanged smile but didn't reply. Taking Elisa's hands in her own again, she guided them this time to the dangling hem of her tee shirt.

Meanwhile, Fox slipped her feet into a pair of four-inch heels and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror that hung over the dressing table at the back of her expansive closet. Her everyday attire shed and lying discarded on the floor, she had donned a tight, one-piece black leather catsuit. Adjusting the chromed zipper on the front downward a few more notches, she smiled, finding at last the display of cleavage she desired. As a final touch, she grabbed a silver hair clip from the counter and swept her auburn tresses back, securing her hair in a loose ponytail before turning to see what progress Angela had made.

Elisa tilted her head to one side and brushed her hair back over her shoulders with her hand as she handed off her tee shirt to Angela, permitting it to join her jacket, shoes, and jeans on the floor. Angela accepted the garment, then dropped it unceremoniously, looking up to smile at Fox as she re-emerged from the closet. Taking a short half step, she left the still-blindfolded Elisa standing alone for the first time in several minutes and slid into Fox's embrace, exchanging a silent, wordless greeting in the form of a passionate kiss.

Elisa turned her head slightly, trying to hear since she could not see, but was unable to make sense of the few sounds that came as the two probed each other's mouths hungrily with their tongues. The warm, pleasant feeling that had been on the verge of overwhelming her moments before had faded abruptly after Angela had stepped away, leaving her longing for more even as other sensations reasserted themselves. She shifted her bare feet nervously, the realization setting in with the feeling of cool air on her belly and the cold stone floor beneath her toes that she was stripped down to only her underwear. Ensconced in darkness by the blindfold, she wasn't even aware that Fox and Angela were just a few feet away, just out of arm's reach... until a soft, muffled moan from Angela finally met her ears.

Beneath the blindfold, Elisa's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Um... guys?" she asked hesitantly after a long moment.

At last, Fox broke off the kiss. Stroking Angela's hair lovingly as the lavender female yielded, she gave a devious smile. "You know, you forgot to put this on, Angie," she whispered, producing an item she held concealed in her hand. Slipping her hands under Angela's hair, she drew the narrow, chrome accented leather collar about her neck.

The tip of Angela's tail twitched as the small snap of a tiny built-in lock announced that the custom-fit collar was secure. Nevertheless, Fox gave it a gentle tug, just to be sure, then smiled, her eyes drifting over Angela's shoulder to Elisa as she added, "We'll see to your punishment later."

"Yes, Fox," Angela whispered in reply as the redheaded woman stepped away, an excited shiver running down her wings at the thought.

"Ah, ah, ah, Elisa," Fox said aloud, catching the dark-haired woman's hand by the wrist just as she made to reach up to remove her blindfold. Elisa jumped, startled by the voice suddenly being so close. "Shame on you," Fox chided, "didn't I tell you no peeking?"

Elisa felt her body tense. Something seemed different about Fox's tone... it wasn't teasing anymore, but instead sounded almost as if she were scolding a child. Elisa tried to pull her hand away, but was startled again to find Fox's grip quite firm and unlike Angela's gentle touch a few minutes earlier. She felt her heart rate jump as it had before, but now nervous wariness was the primary reason.

"Look, Fox," she said, her voice going flat, "I don't think I want to do this anymore." She moved her free hand, attempting again to reach the blindfold, but a split-second later felt it, too, caught about the wrist in a firm, unyielding grip.

"What's wrong, Elisa? I thought we were having fun," Angela mock-pouted, holding the woman's arm tight. She lashed her tail aggressively, whipping it quickly around Elisa's bare legs.

Elisa gasped and reared up on the balls of her feet as the serpentine appendage coiled about her thighs. She opened her mouth automatically to protest, but was forced instead to catch her breath as the wriggling tip found its way between her legs and pressed against the thin cotton fabric of her panties. At the same time, Fox's fingernails trailed up from the small of her back, sending her spine tingling once more. A second later, she felt her bra fall away, the clasp undone with one deft motion of the other woman's fingers.

Cool air greeted the newly exposed flesh of her breasts, but the nipples had already started to come erect on their own. Still blindfolded, Elisa couldn't see the pleased smile on Fox's face as she took in the sight for the first time, but Angela's equally delighted reaction was communicated instantly. "Ah," Elisa gasped again as the girl's muscular tail constricted and pressed even more insistently at the rapidly dampening area between her legs. Her back arched and her hips rocked forward in response even as she reared the rest of her body away, pulling back until she stood nearly on tiptoes, her arms straining against the hands still holding her wrists.

Angela shifted position just slightly, tightening her grip on the human woman's wrists as Fox handed all control off to her and finished untangling the thin straps of the bra from around Elisa's arms. Casting the flimsy undergarment aside, the smiling redhead took a small step back to better admire Elisa's naked charms. The detective was all she had imagined and then some, just as Angela had been, and the expression on her face at that moment, as the young gargoyle's tail teased her through the thin fabric of her panties, was absolutely priceless.

Elisa struggled uncertainly against the stimulation, shock and confusion warring in her mind with the strengthening tinglings of pleasure and desire. It was all she could do to find her voice as the heat rose within her loins, unabated by the feeble protests from the rational part of her brain. "Please... stop," she managed at last, her voice weak. She gasped once more, sucking in breath through clenched teeth as gentle gargoyle talons suddenly cupped one of her breasts and began fondling the heated flesh. "Please," she begged again, her voice reduced to a coarse whisper, "I... I don't want this."

"Mm, that's not what you're saying with these lips," Fox purred, laying her hand just above the place where Angela's tail continued to rub. One finger caught on the waistband of the panties, pulling them aside just enough for the tail's tip to slip inside.

The sensation was too much; Elisa cried out and reeled back, attempting to break free, but found her would-be seducers' grips like iron. Spots danced in the pitch-blackness before her eyes as she was pulled back and spun around, and she felt the soft caress of her own hair falling wildly over her bare shoulders and against her cheeks as she was jerked to a stop. Quickly, before she could even offer protest again, her arms were pulled outstretched before her, and a half-second later she heard the very familiar ratcheting sound of a pair of handcuffs.

"There, that should hold you," Fox declared as she tightened the cuffs one more click and double-locked them with the tiny key.

Angela loosened her grip on Elisa's forearm as Fox finished and tucked the key away, but she still maintained a hold on the dark-haired woman as her arms fell back into a more natural position. Agilely, she curled her tail about Elisa's ankle in an added precaution against another attempt at escape, but as Elisa's head swam with the unreal turn of events, that was strangely now the furthest thought from her mind. She barely registered the talons grasping her arm and the tail twined about her ankle, or the light touch of Fox's hand as it fell against her belly and slid down between her legs, massaging the warm mound of her sex through the desire-soaked panties. Even as the longing rose inside her again and the rest of her body responded, the only sensation Elisa was focussed on for that moment was the new and alien one of cold, unyielding steel about her wrists.

Her heart rate jumped anew, pounding in her ears as she tugged at the sturdy handcuffs - her own handcuffs - that now held her arms bound in front of her. She was a true captive now - blindfolded, chained, and totally at Fox and Angela's whim - yet never before had she felt so exhilarated, so free. All the lingering hesitations and doubts had vanished, and she gave in at last to the instinctive responses of her body as her senses returned and the other sensations began to reassert themselves.

"Mm, yes, that's it," Fox encouraged softly, slipping her hand beneath the thin layer of cotton. She ran her fingers through the damp, springy patch of dark hair before gently caressing the pouting nether lips. "Go on, Elisa. You know you want to."

Elisa's only reply was a soft, pleasure-filled moan, and as she tilted her head back in seeming ecstasy, Angela released her hold to slip behind her and slide her hands up under Elisa's arms, cupping the human woman's breasts in her four-fingered gargoyle hands as if they were her own. Elisa gave a sharp gasp as Angela lifted the warm mounds and gently squeezed the hardened nipples between her talons. The gargoyle's smaller wing hands fell on Elisa's shoulders, providing additional stimulation as the human woman's breathing quickened and her skin went flush. "Yes, come on, Elisa," Angela cried, echoing Fox's encouragement from moments before, "that's it."

Fox's fingers found the erect nub of the clitoris, and she increased the tempo of her caresses, teasing the sensitive bulb of flesh with a pair of fingers while probing between the passion-swollen lips with the other two. Two probing fingers soon became three, and Elisa's body tensed, the short length of chain on her handcuffs going taut as she strained her arms against them, palms open and fingers splayed. Her breathing turned to rapid gasps, between which came soft cries and moans of pleasure. Fox waited only a few more seconds, exchanging a knowing glance with Angela as their captive's climax became imminent before inserting the fourth and final finger at the same moment as the female gargoyle pinched down again with her talons on the sensitive nipples.

Elisa cried out as a blinding, bright white light flooded her vision beneath the silk blindfold, and her entire body shook with uncontrollable spasms. The release that she had been denying herself all night came with an intensity unlike any she had ever experienced before, and when it had finally passed, she felt herself going limp from the strain. Vaguely, she was aware of Angela's hands supporting her, catching her in a gentle embrace before she faded utterly. A dizzying whirl of swirling colors and incomprehensible sounds followed, and it wasn't until several long minutes had passed that she began to recover from her daze and her senses at last began to return.

She couldn't even recall being moved across the room, or being made to lie down, yet when the muzziness of the afterglow had passed, she found herself on her back, reclined on silk sheets with a fluffy pillow beneath her head. She was still blindfolded, and as she stirred and try to move her hands just a bit, she found she was still handcuffed, as well. Her arms had been drawn above her head, with the short joining chain of the cuffs secured to another short length of chain that was anchored securely to the headboard of the bed. Elisa gave an experimental tug, finding she had only a few inches of play in the new form of restraint - certainly not enough to allow her to sit up if she wanted.

Luckily, though, at that moment, getting up from the bed was the last thing she wanted. Elisa squirmed against the covers as an excited tingle raced over her body like electricity with the increased feeling of restraint and helplessness.

"Ready for more, Elisa?" Fox inquired mildly, her voice coming from Elisa's right.

"Mm, I know I am," Angela answered, her voice sounding to the left.

"Don't worry, Angie... the night has just begun," Fox reassured.

Elisa's mind spun at the thought. She flinched as a hand caressed her cheek, then relaxed immediately as the cold steel encircling her wrists reminded her of her place. A few seconds later, she squinted as the silken scarf was untied and pulled away, and real light met her eyes for the first time since she had acquiesced to being blindfolded in the first place, unwittingly allowing the new adventure to begin.

She blinked, and as her vision cleared, she saw her own reflection staring back at her from a large mirror that covered the ceiling directly above the Xanatos' king-sized bed. Her eyes went wide, and as she took in the strange new garment she had been dressed in before being chained down to the bed, her senses heightened all the more. Suddenly, the smooth softness of the silk sheets faded into the background, and she became acutely aware of the crisscrossed mesh of black leather straps encircling her upper body. The taut leather hugged her curves sensuously, the uppermost straps thrusting her bared breasts up and out. Two more straps dipped low about her waist, meeting at a large chrome ring just below her navel. From there, a single strap ran down, travelling between her legs and up the cleft of her buttocks, joining another ring at the small of her back. Drawn to just the right amount of tightness, it teased her as she wriggled about, testing the stiffness of the leather and becoming ever more excited by the additional level of intensity its caress added to her bondage.

Fox smiled. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she moved a stray strand of Elisa's hair out of her face with a light brush of her hand. "See, Elisa, I knew I could find something in my closet you'd like," she teased.

Elisa's eyes drifted away from the image in the mirror, meeting Fox's as the redheaded woman stroked her hair. "Fox, I..."

"Shh," the other woman admonished. "You can thank me later. Properly."

The bed bounced again slightly as Angela sat down on the other side, and Elisa quieted obediently, turning her eyes to the girl as her taloned fingers, too, trailed gently across her forehead. "I think she deserves a reward," Angela said after a short moment of thought, "don't you, Fox?"

The willing captive's eyes flicked back to Fox hopefully. She squirmed again against her restraints, desire already burning anew within her at the suggestion.

Fox nodded her assent. "Agreed. And so do you, Angie. But first..."

Elisa lifted her head up eagerly, allowing Fox to slip the custom-fitted leather collar - a match to Angela's in every detail - about her neck. The lock at the back engaged with a soft click, and a smile played on Elisa's lips as her head fell back against the pillow and she took in the encouraging grin of approval on Angela's face. The girl touched at her own collar, her smile becoming mysterious as she drew her feet up onto the bed and reclined beside her new playmate, leaning against one elbow and letting the talons of her other hand fall teasingly against Elisa's bare belly.

"Mm, yes, that's much better," Fox commented, her hand moving to the zipper of her skintight catsuit as she watched her gargoyle cohort begin to work her wiles again on their newest willing slave. Out of the corner of her eye, Elisa barely noticed as Fox shrugged herself free from the suddenly confining garment; Angela's talons had traveled to her breasts, where their alternating teasing of her nipples was keeping her more than occupied.

"Much better, indeed," Fox said, dropping the catsuit to the floor and swinging her legs up onto the bed so that she could join in. Rolling onto her side as Angela had, she ran her hand along the curve of Elisa's thigh, smiling wickedly as she captured the other woman's attention again. "And now, my pets, the real fun begins..."

* * * * *

"Mm, yes... yes... ah...." The sounds of her own voice as she moaned in pleasure roused Elisa from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open slowly. Blinking several times, she took in her dimly lit surroundings, trying to reconcile where she found herself now with a crazy whirl of images, sounds, and sensations that danced in her head with such life and vividness that she was certain they had to be real. Her breathing was heavy, her skin flush and warm, and the area between her legs damp and tingling.

"Angie? Fox?" she found herself muttering, confused, as she took in the emptiness of the bed to either side of her and realized she was alone. She shivered. Where had they gone, and why had they suddenly abandoned her? A small measure of fear set in as her eyes strained against the dimness of the room. Slowly, she began to notice other details that just didn't seem right, either. She was lying on her back still, as she remembered, but hadn't there been a mirror on the ceiling above her before? She moved her arms, drawing them back from the unnatural position she found them in, stretched above her head toward the headboard. A ghostlike sensation of cold, unyielding steel encircling her wrists still lingered, further confusing her as she struggled in her mind to resolve the recent memories with the current reality.

She rubbed at her wrists, drawing her hands to her chest as she sat up a bit, shivering uneasily. A damp strand of dark hair fell into her face, and as she pushed it away reflexively, the first realization of how completely sweat-soaked she was filtered through to the top of her consciousness. She sat up more, wriggling out from under the tangle of sheets and blankets that half covered her, finding the pillows that had been beneath her head damp with perspiration, as well. Her own pillows, she realized after a moment... covered in plain cotton pillowcases that matched the simple percale sheets she now lay upon, rather than the satiny silk that she had felt caressing her naked skin earlier.

An image of herself writhing on the bed, nude save for a bizarre garment of crisscrossing leather straps flickered in front of her eyes. Elisa's hands went back to her body, dispelling a self-conscious flash of panic an instant later as they touched the soft flannel of her nightshirt. She was dressed just as she normally was when she slept... and she was in her own bed, not Fox's, she finally realized. A feeling of quiet relief came over her, chasing away some of the initial fear and confusion. She hadn't spent the night being held captive by Angela and Fox in a castle chamber high atop the Eyrie Building... she had been home, safe in her own bedroom in her own familiar apartment, asleep the whole time.

"But... oh god, it seemed so real," she protested. Her voice, tinged with a strange combination of relief and regret, was but a quiet whisper. She blinked and shook her head again, trying to force clarity as the entire night's experience replayed in flash-forward through her mind. Being blindfolded by Angela... Fox handcuffing her... fingers and talons fondling, probing... blacking out for a moment, then coming to again on the bed... the feeling of leather straps caressing her body and a stiff collar locked snuggly about her neck... Fox and Angela reclining beside her, teasing her for a while with kisses before taking turns atop her, using fingers and tongues to lead her closer and closer to orgasm. And herself, first an unwilling captive, quickly finding herself enjoying it, becoming lost in the moment and doing her best despite her bondage to return the same.

Elisa let out a long, slow breath. "Oh man... what a sick dream," she gasped. She hugged herself to chase away a sudden chill and, closing her eyes, shuddered as the muzzy confusion of her waking moments finally faded. Unbidden, other, more concrete memories pushed themselves to the forefront of her consciousness: random recollections of elements from a dozen different scenarios she had grudgingly obliged while playing out her part as Mistress Annalise. They passed quickly, like a demented movie reel, each flickering before her mind's eye for an instant, reverberating in bizarre parallels with the dream from which she had just awoken.

"Fox and Angela," she muttered, mortified. "My god, what would they think of me? Damn that awful case."

Elisa reopened her eyes, angrily banishing all thoughts of black leather and whips and handcuffs back to the nether recesses of her mind. "You can get through this, Maza," she reassured herself. "You survived the Unseelie War, for god's sake... you can surely survive this."

At last, a small smile began to play on her lips as she forced herself to think pleasant thoughts about past challenges faced and obstacles overcome. Thoughts of her mate, Goliath, took center stage almost immediately. Recollections of their encounter the previous night soon followed, and without her even noticing it at first, the initial waking sensation of aching dampness between her legs began to reassert itself.

The alarm clock sounded a moment later, startling the dark-haired woman from her musings. Blinking, she caught herself as her hand began to slip under the covers, moving as if with a mind of its own to give the relief that had been denied upon her waking. "Man, what's gotten into you, Maza?" she scolded herself as she silenced the buzzing alarm with a quick swat.

A second later, the cold floor was beneath her feet as she leapt quickly from the bed. The pillows and blankets that tumbled to the floor in her haste went unnoticed as she fled from the dark bedroom into the adjoining bathroom, threw on the cold, bright fluorescent lights, and turned on the shower.

* * * * *

Elisa shifted edgily in her seat and threw down her pen in frustration for the umpteenth time. From the moment she had arrived at the stationhouse, she had been trying to forget about the dream, yet the images stubbornly refused to fade. She had begun by immersing herself in of the latest organized crime reports, reading copies snagged from Matt's desk. She had been hoping to catch up enough to hit the ground running on the case her partner was currently working, so she could get back to the kind of police work she actually enjoyed and put her last assignment firmly behind her.

Unfortunately, the effort was proving almost futile, and not even Matt's synopsis of Tony Dracon's latest criminal exploits was enough to keep her focussed. Her mind kept wandering, drawn off track every few sentences by a seemingly innocuous word or phrase that would trigger a new recollection leading inexorably back to the dream. Nearly every recalled detail sickened her more, which was only making it harder to deal with the fact that she had been as terribly aroused upon waking as she had been in the dream.

Elisa planted her elbows on the desk and rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to collect her thoughts. In a way, the bizarre images of herself in bondage or Angela and Fox in skintight black leather were almost easier to cope with than the conflicting reactions of her mind and body. They had been imagined, and at least she could rationalize them. It was all a sick side effect of her stint as "Mistress Annalise," she told herself, and the fact that she had barely gotten a decent night's sleep during those three weeks of hell probably had something to do with it, too.

She couldn't say the same, though, of the all too real feelings stirring again inside her. Those seemed to defy explanation, and, to Elisa's dismay, also refused to be dismissed. The calming effects of the cold shower she had taken before leaving home had worn off within an hour, leaving her regretting more and more as the evening dragged on not having stopped by the castle to see Goliath earlier when she had the chance. She had gotten as far as the entrance to the Eyrie Building's parking garage before the thought of encountering Fox or Angela suddenly became too frightening. Both women had become too good at telling when she was uneasy about something to not notice she was on edge. She'd inevitably be asked what was wrong, and she was certainly not ready to tell them the truth. Angela probably wouldn't understand at all, and as for Fox... Elisa didn't even want to think about the future comments, innuendoes, and brown-paper wrapped birthday gifts that would result if she ever learned about the dream - or the case she had been working that had inspired it, for that matter.

The thought alone was enough to make Elisa blush, and the warmth on her cheeks made her suddenly conscious again of another warmth rising inside her that was becoming more and more persistent. Her thoughts returned again to Goliath, and her hand slipped from the desk into her lap as she toyed now in her mind with the possibility of sneaking out early and having him meet her back at her apartment. An encore of their last encounter would do wonders for her mood, she mused, and might be just the thing to take her mind off the unsettling dream.

She smiled for the first time that night as she pondered how easy it would be to slip away from her reports and spend the rest of the evening with her mate. All she would probably have to do to make it happen is give the big guy a call. She closed her eyes, imagining meeting the muscular gargoyle at the patio door wearing only a smile and her thinnest nightgown as she rubbed her hand slowly along her thigh.

"Detective Maza... Detective Maza!"

Elisa's eyes shot open as she heard Captain Chavez call her name. She scrambled to pull her hands back up onto the desk, nearly knocking over her coffee cup in the process. She caught it just before it toppled and sent is contents spilling all over her untouched reports, and looked up at the other woman timidly. "Captain," she greeted, trying not to let the mortal embarrassment show too much in her voice. "I... I can explain..."

She quieted as the scowl on Chavez's face turned into a small, sympathetic smile. "It's all right, Elisa," she said quietly, stepping closer and placing a hand on the detective's shoulder. "I know the past few days and nights have been rough on you." She paused, peering into Elisa's eyes. "You didn't sleep well last night, did you?"

Elisa blinked. "Yes, I... I mean, no, I...." She paused, not sure how to respond. She had slept straight through for over eight hours after finally getting home, but she had been so preoccupied by the dream she hadn't even realized until being asked the question how utterly exhausted she still felt. When she looked up again, Chavez had knelt down beside her, and was gazing at her with frank concern.

"Elisa," she said, her voice becoming a gentle whisper, "you did a great job with a difficult assignment, and I'm proud of you for it." She paused, waiting until the other woman finally met her eyes before going on. "But... I'd never have forced this on you had I known how much it was going to affect you. Elisa, if you'd like to take a couple days off to recuperate a little, I'll be more than happy to..."

"Captain, I'll be fine," Elisa interrupted. "Really."

Chavez straightened, resuming her normal demeanor. "You're sure, Detective?"

"One hundred percent, final answer," Elisa replied, summoning a tone of confidence she didn't feel.

Chavez eyed the dark-haired woman skeptically. Displays of false bravado by officers coming off difficult cases were nothing new to her, but there seemed to be an extra dimension to Elisa's reaction. Her eyes betrayed it, even as she insisted again that she was fine - something beyond her usual refusal to admit when she was physically or emotionally drained that the older woman just couldn't pin down.

"Good," Chavez replied after a moment. "So you won't mind coming down to Evidence with me and helping to sort out a few final things before Bluestone gets back from his deposition."

Elisa tried to ignore the immediate lurching of her stomach as she reluctantly rose from her chair. "Not at all, Captain," she lied. "Not at all."

* * *

The trip down to the evidence room took barely five minutes, and most of that was spent in the elevator. Elisa followed the Captain in silence the whole time, trying to keep the dread from overwhelming her by promising herself that this would surely be the last time she would have to deal with anything related to that case. As she had been expecting, her stomach turned the moment she walked in behind the Captain. With the spoils of the previous night's raid still scattered about and waiting to be cataloged, the evidence room resembled the back storeroom of a sleazy sex shop. Silently, she hoped she could just sign off on whatever items the Captain needed her to ID and be done with it, but the way things had been going for her that night, she doubted it would simply be that easy.

Chavez headed immediately for the back of the room, where her counterpart from the vice unit waited near a table loaded down with an assortment of handcuffs, shackles, and other various devices of restraint that had already been documented and tagged. Elisa lingered just inside the door, her eyes flitting hesitantly about the room as the proximity to all the fetish paraphernalia threatened to overwhelm her.

"Hey there, Mistress Annalise," a familiar female voice called out playfully.

Elisa jumped, startled. A withering chill ran down her neck, but she pushed her discomfort back down and turned to acknowledge the friendly greeting. "Hey, Rosalita," she answered from sheer force of habit.

"Hey, that's Mistress Rosalita to you, chiquita," the other woman replied with mock-severity, adopting the hint of a Latin accent.

The attempt at humor missed Elisa entirely. She had frozen as she finally caught sight of the casually attired woman with strong Puerto Rican features who stood near one of the tables, partly hidden behind the overstuffed box of clothing she was rummaging through. She wore faded jeans and a loose denim jacket, and her dark hair was cropped in a short crewcut. Her makeup was simple and subdued, and she didn't even seem as tall as Elisa remembered. Almost every detail, in fact, was in sharp contrast to the mental image that had first flickered through Elisa's mind of the haughty, exotically dressed Mistress Rosalita, with her wild, luxuriant mane of curly dark hair.

"Ellen?" Elisa asked, uncertain, stepping closer for a better look.

Vice detective Ellen Treviño chuckled and shook her head as she stepped from behind the table. "Yep, Maza, it's me," she answered, dropping the Rosalita persona. "The real me. Hope you're not disappointed."

Elisa shook herself out of her momentary wide-eyed stupor. "No, of course not," she replied. "It's just...." She shook her head as the realization struck her. "Three weeks we worked together at that club and we've never seen each other out of costume before, have we?"

"You know, I even hadn't thought about it... but I think you're right," Ellen answered. Chuckling, she looked at the contents of the box on the table before her and drew out a pair of five-inch black leather pumps, dangling them distastefully from her fingers. "And I'll tell you, I'm already missing having to wear these little instruments of torture every night, too," she added, sarcasm dripping from her words as she bounced on the balls of her well-worn pair of sneakers.

Elisa couldn't help but chuckle, too. "Amen to that," she agreed. For the first time that night, she was finally feeling a little more at ease. Maybe talking with a fellow officer like Ellen Treviño was just what she needed. Elisa stepped closer, eyeing the box the other woman was sorting through with now a small measure of curiosity. "So what did they need us to come down here for anyway?" she asked, eager to push the conversation along.

Ellen gave a wry grin. "Why, to claim our reward for a job well done, of course," she declared. Unceremoniously, she dropped the shoes into a second, smaller box that was already half-filled with other various articles of fetish clothing. "Souvenirs, if you will," she stated, digging in to the jumbled mess in the larger box again. "We get to keep our costumes."

"Ugh. Why would we want to do that?" Elisa asked.

Ellen eyed her oddly, the smirk on her face becoming broader as she seemed to find the item she was searching for. "You never went back to the club to collect your stuff last night, Maza," she said, ignoring Elisa's question as she quickly withdrew another garment from the pile, "but luckily, I saved a few things for you, too. Here."

Elisa got her hands up just quick enough to catch the small bundle Ellen tossed to her. "Gee... thanks," she muttered, "you shouldn't have." She looked at the pale-blue harem girl outfit skeptically, trying to hide her returning discomfort.

"Hey, you could've done worse," Ellen replied. She pulled another garment from the overflowing box and held it up against herself, drawing an involuntary smile from Elisa as she recognized the style of the slinky burgundy-colored jumpsuit.

"Oh man... they made you wear that?" she said sympathetically, nearly laughing.

Ellen nodded. "Yeah. Talk about out-of-this-world fantasies. At least you make for a convincing Princess Jasmine... hell, you don't even need a wig. Me... I don't even watch Star Trek." She sighed, the laughing smile on her face becoming slightly devious as she carefully refolded the garment. "Still, stuff like this can come in handy," she added, placing the neatly folded jumpsuit into her own box. "In all my years doing undercover gigs like this, I've never had an outfit yet that I haven't found another excuse to wear."

The subtle change in the other's woman's tone went unnoticed by Elisa as she reconsidered her own costume. She'd been ready to just throw it away, despite what she knew had been spent for it, but now she was starting to wonder if perhaps she was overreacting and being too hasty. "You know, you're the second person to tell me that," she said, eyeing Captain Chavez across the room. "I guess there's always Halloween."

Ellen shrugged. "Why wait 'til October?" She took a step closer, snagging the last piece of the costume from the table and depositing the gold tiara on Elisa's head before she could protest. "Wear it for your boyfriend and rock the casbah," she whispered conspiratorially.

For a moment, Elisa only stared at the other woman, incredulous. Suddenly, it felt like she was having a conversation with Fox rather than a fellow police officer. Her stomach knotted once more as an improbable image of herself in the costume, slinking sultrily up to greet a smiling Goliath passed unbidden through her mind. At the thought of her gargoyle mate, however, feelings of desire she thought she had banished earlier began to resurface as well, even as the rest of her body twitched with revulsion.

The combination of the conflicting emotions rendered Elisa momentarily speechless, but to Ellen, the blank look on the other woman's face seemed contemplative. She eyed Elisa curiously and peeked back into her own box of costume accessories. "Here, Maza... maybe he'd like to see you in one of these, too. I hate breaking up a matched set, but what the hell... here... one for you and one for me."

Elisa went totally numb as her eyes locked unblinkingly on the items Ellen held out - a pair of leather collars with chrome accents. Without warning, a remembered sensation from her dream overtook her, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled as she recalled the feeling of utter erotic excitement that had tingled over her bound body as a smiling Fox first secured the snug leather collar around her neck. A moment later, her stomach churned in protest, and she felt like she was about to retch. "Oh god," she gasped.

The bundle of costume clothing fell from Elisa's hands as she grabbed the edge of the table for support. The smile on Ellen's face vanished as the look on Elisa's face turned to one of abject horror. She tossed the matching collars back into the box disgustedly, and bent down to pick up the costume the other woman had dropped. "Sheesh, Maza, loosen up!" she snapped, making no effort to help the dark-haired woman as she grimaced and forced the bile back down. "It was just a joke... don't be such a prude!"

Angrily, Elisa removed the ridiculous costume tiara from her head and threw it back on the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her voice shaky. She fought to regain control of her breathing, but the amused look on the other woman's face was only making it that much more difficult. "God, I can't believe you think this is funny."

Ellen crossed her arms and made a face. "And I can't believe you've got such a narrow mind and sensitive stomach." She glared at Elisa in mock pity, forging ahead into an obviously well practiced rant, oblivious to the other woman's distress. "You guys up in robbery/homicide think you've seen it all... until you get called on to work one lousy little vice assignment. Then you freak out, like dealing with a little filth and smut is going to kill you. God, I've been working vice since I graduated to plain clothes, and I can't even count any more how many volunteer vice cops like you come and go."

Elisa stood in dumbfounded shock as Detective Treviño continued to go off on her. She'd been expecting some understanding and maybe a little sympathy from this woman, but instead she was receiving only sarcasm and impatience.

"At least you managed to hold it together out there in the field," the veteran vice officer admitted, "though looking at you now, I have no idea how," she added snidely. "I've got news for you, though, Maza... all the crazy stiff you think you saw these past three weeks is absolutely nothing compared to some of the sick, demented shit that's really going on out there. So get a grip on yourself before you make me hurl."

Elisa wanted to say something - anything - in her own defense, but couldn't find any words to bring voice to. Instead, she cowered under the verbal assault, feeling sicker with each passing second until she felt as if she was ready to burst into tears. Finally, she did the only thing she could think to do to escape the emotional turmoil before she gave the other woman the satisfaction of seeing that happen. Turning away, she bolted.

Across the room, Captain Chavez turned at the sound of the raised voices, just in time to catch a blurred glimpse of Elisa's red jacket as the dark-haired woman fled out the door. Detective Treviño was left standing alone, the harem girl costume Elisa had discarded jumbled in her arms.

"Damn it," Chavez growled, glaring at the other woman. "What the hell did you say to her?"

"Hey, it's not my fault your poor little Detective Maza can't cut it working vice," Treviño responded, shrugging. "From now on, why don't you keep her working muggings where she belongs, where the cases won't upset her delicate sensibilities," she added mockingly.

Captain Chavez barely heard her, nor wasted the time to reply. Within seconds, she was already across the room and out the door.

"Elisa, wait! Elisa!"

She had made it only a short distance down hall before Chavez caught her arm and pulled her back. "Elisa," she repeated, gently, as she made the dark-haired woman turn to face her. She paused as she met the other woman's eyes, seeing the shame and confusion that filled them, and the unshed tears glistening around their edges. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you come down here when I could tell you were already upset."

Chavez took a calming breath. There was something about the other woman's expression that struck a familiar chord, bringing back memories from years before of a similar vice case she had worked when she was still rising through the ranks. "I can understand what you're going through right now," she added, lowering her voice as she moved herself and Elisa toward the wall and out of the main flow of traffic in the hall. She paused, making sure the other woman was listening before going on. "If you want to talk about it..."

"I'll be fine," Elisa interrupted.

"Elisa..."

"No," the dark-haired woman stated, rebuffing the offer before it could be made again. "It's my problem... I can deal with it myself." She straightened her jacket and regained some semblance of her normal composure. "I just need some time."

Chavez let her hand drop from Elisa's shoulder as the other woman shrugged it off, and, after a moment, fell back into her professional demeanor, as well. There would be no point in forcing Elisa to talk, but that didn't mean she didn't have other options. "Then I want you to take a few nights off, Detective."

Elisa looked up. "Captain?"

"You heard me, Maza," Chavez replied, crossing her arms. "Go home, get some rest, and pull yourself together."

"Captain, that's not what I meant... I don't need..." Elisa began to protest.

"I wasn't making a suggestion, Maza," Chavez retorted, trying not to let the smirk on her face become too obvious. "I expect you back here on Monday, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to get back to work."

Elisa sighed, knowing she had been caught again by her own false bravado. The last thing she wanted was three days with nothing to do but think about the case and her crazy dream... but at the same time, she was too exhausted to argue. "Yes, Captain," she agreed at last.

* * * * *

Angela roared and stretched, sending stone skin flying in all directions as she arched back and away out of Fox's embrace. She blinked in confusion as Broadway offered her his hand to help her down from her perch.

"Beloved," the brawny gargoyle inquired softly as he noted Angela's wide-eyed expression and tense posture, "are you okay?"

The lavender female shook her head and breaking Broadway's solicitous grip on her wrist, ran for a distant corner of the courtyard away from the rest of the clan. She dropped to her knees as her mate watched in confusion, bent over, and dry-heaved onto the grass.

Amid their early evening greetings and banter, the others noticed Angela's distress and turned to hurry to her aid.

Broadway waved them back as he knelt beside his mate. "She needs air."

Angela nodded and shakily regained her feet. "I'm all right," she said without conviction as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind and body were still in open revolt as images of Elisa bound and helpless danced before her eyes. The gargoyle stared down at her hands. She'd willingly participated in what could only be described as the rape of her father's mate. And she'd enjoyed it.

"Daughter are you ill? Should we take you to the infirmary?" Goliath asked quietly as he joined the pair.

Angela shook her head, violently this time. She smiled at the two anxious males as the horrible dream receded back into the depths of her mind. "It was nothing," Angela replied, regaining control of her voice. The proximity of her mate was re-igniting some of the more pleasant aspects of the dream and her body was beginning to respond. While moments before she'd felt cold and horrified, now she was warm, hot even, though the night air was pleasant. Broadway's solicitous arm around her shoulders made her skin tingle. She needed space and a convincing lie, but lying was not a skill she excelled at. She rose to her feet and resettled her wings around her shoulders as the others gathered around her and settled for a half-truth. "That assault we broke up last night on that prostitute, what they did to her... I had a nightmare. It was..." she paused, partially for dramatic effect and partially to give herself a moment to think, "particularly vivid."

She smiled at her concerned clan mates, putting every ounce of conviction she could behind her words. "I really am okay. It's just every once and a while the things that humans do to one another..."

Lexington nodded in agreement. "I hear you, Angela. Every once and a while I feel like throwing up too."

The others nodded in agreement, though Angela felt Sata's piercing gaze long after the Japanese gargoyle had herded her children and their pet away for their pre-supper drills.

* * * * *

Fox sat in front of her dressing table absently brushing out her hair. The party had been a predictable bore though she'd done her best not to let it show. None the less, David had gently drawn her aside and commented on her inattention to the conversations around her. Though the rebuke had grated, she'd been forced to admit he was right. Her job that evening had been to worm information on a pending land deal from one of the other guests and she'd failed utterly.

She lifted her head at the sound of David's soft footstep and the mirror reflected her smile of surprise. He'd come out of the bathroom stripped of his tuxedo, wearing only a red bow tie and a pair of tight black briefs.

Fox's smile faded as her husband opened his right hand and a long black silk scarf unfurled. "You were very naughty tonight, my dear." The curl of David's sensuous mouth belayed any real disappointment as he surveyed his spouse. She'd removed the conservative black cocktail dress and was clad only in her bra, panties, garter belts and diamonds. "I think you deserve to be punished. Don't you? I had to pry Jenkins' buyer out from the old weasel myself."

"David, I - " The length of black silk danced before her eyes and she could practically smell the scent of her own arousal mixed with that of Angela's and the unwilling Elisa. Her body responded to the memory and she shifted in her chair.

David took her body language as an affirmative as he revealed his other surprise: a small highly polished wooden paddle. "Just a few swats, I think. Enough to get your blood pumping."

Fox rose returning David's smile with one of her own. "Does the prisoner get a request before her punishment?"

"Perhaps," he replied as he brought the smooth wood experimentally against his palm with a soft smack.

The redhead extricated the silk from her spouse's hand and tied one end around her wrist. "Is there a room in this old castle that you haven't shown me? Maybe something a little more ... dungeon-y where I could be punished?"

"Dungeon-y," the multi-billionaire replied with a raise of his eyebrow. "I'm afraid not, my darling, though I suppose we could redo the wine cellar if it would add a more authentic air to our games."

Fox shook her head quickly. "It's not important." To illustrate her point she finished tying the silk around her other wrist, then held out her arms so that David could loop the remainder over the crossbeam of the bed's canopy.

He completed the action quickly, then stepped away. Fox obediently spread her legs and bent forward, the better to present an inviting target. She waited for the first stinging blow as David paced behind her.

Abruptly, the wood sang as it cut through the air and landed smartly on her derriere. It hurt, but only a little. David was keeping his spanking playful, as he always did. Her flesh warmed as another blow found its mark. Aroused as she'd been by the dream earlier, Fox found herself eager for the next swat of the paddle. "Another, please," she begged.

Perversely, David dropped the instrument of her torment onto the floor. "No, I think you'