All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of Spacebabie

by: Spacebabie

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Morgana's Diary

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"He came back a month later and bought one of Fafnir’s talons. Weeks later he request Una t’ visit Ireland so that she could give both Logan and Scherezade a mating ceremony."

"Logan bought the talon of Fafnir so that he could use it in a spell that turned him into a gargoyle. He was willing t’ transform himself fer her." ~Rory Dugan

"You have got to be kidding me. He’s the lead singer of Osprey?"~Frank

"Merlin is Gray Kiteson?" ~Becca (Something Blue)

"Why would anyone want to own this circus?" ~Flora

"I don’t know unless it has something do with the gargoyles." ~ Melanie

Mystic is using his magic to enslave people’s minds and casing Melanie and Flora to choke.

Fang release one of the tigrs and it attacks Mystic. (Under the Big Top)

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The people in the Irish suburbs bustled around on the walkways on the later afternoon. Some were heading home from long days of work, others were heading out to the local pub to have a few drinks and talk with friends. Children raced around parks and soccer fields trying to make the most of the last hour of play time before they had to go home for supper.

A small group of children peddled along on their ten speed bikes, racing down the walkways and nearly knocking over two teenage girls, both dressed in blue skirts, white long sleeved blouses and black wool vests, the uniform of one of the local highschools. One girl nearly dropped the large grocery bag she was carrying. The other girl sprang forth and helped her steady it.

"Those little brats," the girl that sprang to rescue her friend said in a New England accent. "They could have caused you to drop this and break the eggs." She read adjusted the sparkling purple clips in her dark honey hair cut short.

"They’re just kids," the other girl shuffled the bag in her arms.

The blond girl’s brown eyes were still narrowed. "Still they were being careless. What if we were two old ladies?"

"I’m sure they would have slowed down for them."

The blond sighed. "Typical no matter what country teenagers are treated like dirt."

Her friend tried not to laugh. She was slightly taller than her the blond, and paler too. Her mosue brown hair was longer, brushing just beneath her shoulders. "So Deanna does this mean you are going to start a grass roots for equal treatment of teenagers?"

"You know what I mean." The two of them resumed walking.

"Maybe they know we are American and Canadian army brats."

"Ah young xenophobes."

The girl with dark hair rolled her eyes. "Can’t you tell that I’m joking?"

"Oh I knew you were joking. It still doesn’t give them the right to zip through us like that."

"Well they were all boys, maybe they just don’t like girls."

"That makes it even better? Little misogynists in the making."

"They were just boys. When we were that age we thought all boys were yucky too." She paused to see if Deanna was smiling, letting her know she was joking, but Deanna wasn’t smiling. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Morrey look," Deanna pointed at the poster on one of the windows of the record store at the corner of a four way intersection they were at. Five familiar faces were photoshoped onto the glossy print. The name of Osprey was printed above their heads. "They are coming to town in a few weeks. I wonder if we can get tickets."

"They are probably sold out."

"No they are still selling them in this store. Gray Kiteson is so hot." Her small spray of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks disappeared into her blush that formed on her face.

Freckles was another feature of Deanna’s that Morrey wished she had besides honey colored hair. Instead her face was pale and she had the blandest hair color. She did not have any beauty marks or dimples and she had a plain average mouth. One that wasn’t too big or too small with average sized lips in an average shape. The only thing about her that made her stand out were her eyes, and again she would rather have Deanna’s eyes than her own. Her left eye was jade green, and the other was pale blue. She had freaky eyes.

"Do you have the money?" Morrey asked.

"I’ll ask my dad. What about you?"

"I think the Sarge will be a bit more lenient that the Lieutenant."

Deanna gave her a friend a sympathy frown. "Yeah I forgot how strict your father could be." She held up her hands to show her crossed index and middle finger. "This is for good luck with him. Call me tonight." She gave a salute to her friend before running off in the left direction.

Morrey checked the contents in her bag to see if everything was all right. The eggs at the top were not broken. Everything else was perfectly fine, the containers of salt and coffee, the box of Cream of Wheat, the package of macaroni and cheese and to her the most important thing, the bag of miniature frosted oatmeal cookies. She shifted the bag in her arms and turned to the right.

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Outside of town there were a few houses that dotted the area between the city and a nearby village. The land surrounding the area was full of patches of inhabited woodlands and meadow fields sprouting with buds of green.

The largest of the houses was three stories tall in a neat perfect square shape. The rooms on the top floor had balconies with white wooden railings. Three stone gargoyles rested on one of the balconies with their wings spread out, arms lashed forward and mouths open in mid roar. All three had different wings. One set of stone wings appeared to have feathers carved into them. The female’s were shaped like a bat and the third statue had wings that looked like they would have folded like an accordian. The also had different tails. The one with the feathered wings had a long thin tail ending in a tuft like the tail of a lion. The one with the accordion like wings had a tail that ended in round ball shape with a single thick spike. The female’s tail was as long and thick as the male with the fan shaped wings but instead of a ball it ended in a three way split with a thin membrane spread across like the webbing of a duck’s foot.

The fading light of the sun filled the open windows of the large house with an orange glow, promoting the balding and well groomed servant to close the curtains. One of the last chores of the day over with he returned to the dining room.

His calm and expressionless face shifted to one of a slight panic at the sight of the woman in her late teens carrying a large pot of beef stew from the kitchen. "Madam how many times do I have to tell ye that I’m supposed t’ be doin that?!" He raced up to her and pulled the pot out of her hands with out upsetting the contents inside.

"I can handle it," The young woman insisted. Her cinnamon colored hair was kept in a braid.

"I know ye can," the butler smiled as he carried the pot to the long pinewood table and placed it between one of the candles and the basket of dinner rolls. The table was long enough for the two rose colored candles in brass holders, pink silk roses in blue porcelain bowl display and several serving dishes. There was even a bottle of wine next to the middle aged man dressed in a charcoal business suit who kept his brown hair in four long pony tails. The two shorter ones laid limp across his shoulders, down to his chest and the longer two hung down his back.

The only other person at the table was the youth close to the woman’s age. His bright red bangs hung over is his face. He was dressed in a T-shirt, pair of denim pants and a denim vest with frayed edges.

"They do this every night?" The middle aged man indicated the woman and servant.

"Nearly every night," The younger man said.

"Oh fine," The woman rolled her hazel eyes. "Yer the servant ye carry everything from the kitchen t’ the dining room. At least take of yer jacket." She removed the blue and green polkadot apron from her body and hung it on the back of one of the tall backed dining room chairs and sat down.

The butler unbuttoned his neat jacket, folded it and placed it on the back of his chair before he removed his slate blue pin strip tie and folded it several times. After placing it in his pocket he sat down.

The men watched as both woman and servant stared towards the direction of the stairs. Their blank faces made them look like they were waiting for someone or something.

The woman noticed the way her guests stared at her and blinked. "Oh forgive me we usually wait fer Logan and Scherezade t’ wake up. If yer hungry go ahead and help yerselvs."

"It’s perfectly all right Carrie," the younger man said. "Arthur just didn’t know that ye and Clancy waited fer the two gargoyles t’ wake up before ye have yer supper."

Arthur Pendragon nodded. "Rory is right. This being my first evening meal with you I didn’t know. Rory and I can wait along with you."

"How has yer work been Arthur?" Carrie decided to start up some conversation before her brother and the other two gargoyles woke up. "I heard ye took on another job. Is this three now?"

"Only two," Arthur corrected. "I occasionaly help out in Una’s store if I’m not too busy, but in addition to being a museum curator I am also a tutor at Victoria Highschool, the pay is small-" He paused when the four of them heard two deep loud roars and one that was slightly higher and a bit more feminine were head above and outside. "but, I feel a warm and proud feeling by helping students who are having difficulty in history."

"History?" Carrie asked

"History of England to be exact. I have nearly caught up with time myself."

"They have awaken," Carrie smiled When three gargoyle entered the dining hall.

"Hullo Arthur, Rory," the feather winged lion tail gargoyle addressed them. "Did you have a good day while we slept?" His greenish brown body had a leonine form. His head resembled an eagle with a sharp golden beak and crowned with a tuft of hair. He was dressed in a black leather vest like top with blue brief’s like shorts.

"We have been quite well," Arthur replied. "Thank you for asking."

"Something does smell delicious," the tiny nostrils on top of Griff’s beak seemed to have twitched. "Hmm home baked rolls, beef stew and I believe a chicken dish." One brow ridge was raised higher than the other and he rubbed the small area under his beak. "I know there is also a vegetable. My guess it would be turnips."

"Goodness," Carrie blinked. "He has a powerful nose that one does."

Arthur chuckled. "Yes he does. Una always gives him a look when he is about to announce what is for dinner, or what kind of snack comes with tea before she has a chance to do so herself."

"I can’t help it," Griff shrugged. "People assume that because I have a beak my sense of smell is not as good as other gargoyles."

"And ye have t’ show it off?" The other male gargoyle asked. His fan shaped wings were folded against his back. His copper colored skin blended well with his short cut dark brown hair. From his temples sprouted two long horns that curved over his hair and pointed downwards to his back. He was dressed in pale yellow shirt and denim shorts cut a few inches above his double pointed knee spurs. He had double pointed elbow spurs too.

"Not show off," Griff said. "I just have to prove a point."

The female gargoyle turned to them. "While you two are discussing Griff’s sense of smell the food that Carrie worked hard at preparing will become cold." Her voice did not have the same accent as Arthur and Griff or Carrie and Clancy. She spoke English with the trace of a Middle Eastern accent.

"Ye are right m’ love," the Irish gargoyle agreed and sat down next to Carrie.

The female gargoyle sat down after Griif took his spot next to Arthur. "This food looks and smells wonderful Carrie." Her fell of long wavy strawberry blond hair flowed past her shoulders down to her waist. A few locks of her hair were held between her large fan shaped ears and triangular face. Her hair color contorted with the pale powder blue shade of her skin. Like the male gargoyles her large aqua wings with black lining were folded across her shoulders, creating a large leather like cloak. She wore a red dress with a choker like strap around her neck. A black sash like belt trimmed in silver tassels was wrapped around her waist. In each ear was a large round wooden ear rings with tiny aquamarine chips embedded into the wood. Like the Irish gargoyle she had two horns two, but they were shorter and pointed straight up.

"Why thank ye," Carrie said while ladling the small wooden bowls with the beef stew, and handed them to Clancy who handed them to their owners. The butler like assistant knew better than to serve out portions of food himself unless he wanted the back of his hand to beet the bottom of the ladle’s bowl.

Griff took his roll and broke it into four fragments. "What have you been talking about while I was sleeping?" he dipped one fragment into the broth. "Any new tidbits about Morgana’s diary?"

"Well the only bit of news that I can tell you is that we might be staying in town for a few weeks longer." Arthur placed his spoon into his bowl. "No wait," He rose to his feet. "I can show you."

Clancy shot right up. "Let me get ye that news paper Mr. Pendragon." He ran out of the dining room and was only gone for a minute before he raced back in holding a section of newspaper in his hands. He handed it to Arthur. "There you go."

Arthur was silent as he watched Clancy sit himself back down. He blinked and stared at the newsprint in his hand. "Ah," He found his voice again. "Here we are." He pointed at an image in the news paper. It was the same image as the poster that Deanna and Morrey were looking at earlier that day. "We won’t have to rely on Merlin’s old journals to track down Morgana’s diary when we can ask Merlin himself to assist us."

"I hope he will provide some valuable assistance," Rory said after swallowing his food. "Maybe it will be a bit more reliable than his own hand written maps."

"I agree," Arthur sighed. "I am getting a bit tired of following his old directions and not finding anything."

"In all fairness that book was old," Griff said.

"He should have remembered where he moved it though," Rory added before taking a sip of his wine.

The once and future king sighed again. Last summer he, Griff, and Tabby had followed instructions written in one of Merlin’s old diaries on the location of his trusted spear Rhongomyant. They had found the pond in the shape of a fish but when Griff dove in he found nothing. They each took a turn in the water and they even tried magic. Nothing. When they returned home Arthur tried to reach Merlin. The wizard remembered he had moved the spear from the pond, but he had forgotten where to, he did mention that he rthe one thing he knew for sure was the location of Morgana’s diary.

"So ye are goin t’ stay until after Osprey performs?" The Irish gargoyle asked.

"Pretty much Logan," Rory answered. "Arthur will phone ahead t’ Merlin t’ let him know we are in town and we’ll meet up with him before he performs. Hopefully he will remember where he had hid Morgana’s diary."

"I hope ye find what ye are looking for as well," Logan nodded.

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At her small wooden workstation Morrey chewed down onto her pencil while she listened to the scritching and scratching sound of the printer. She removed the pencil from her mouth and wrote down the final steps on her math home work.

The table top part of her computer desk had just enough room for her monitor, math folder and math book. She had finished proof reading her book report and was printing it up. She had only three more problems to work on when she heard the printer quiet down. Once she was finished she was going to ask her father for permission to go to the concert. All she had to do were those last problems.

"Okay brain don’t fart out now," she mumbled to herself before she repeated the steps she had used for the previous problems. At least they were not word problems. She understood the story but trying to figure out the math that went with them gave her headache.

"Only two more." She formed creases in her forehead as she used the steps and tried to calculate in her mind the answer to the problem. For her the second to the last problem was the hardest, not the last one.

Her homework done, she slammed her math book done and stretched her arms. "Yes!" She packed up her books and placed them in her back pack before she stapled together her report and placed it in her English folder.

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Her father was in his study. Smaller than the bedroom he shared with his wif,. It was furnished with work station bigger than Morrey's two smakk bookcases and a love seat that looked liked it was covered with a tweed like material. A black poster with an image of two swords crossed and ocvered with a red maple leaf clung to one of the walls.

"Knock, knock," the door was ajar but Morrey tapped at it gently with her fist. "Are you way too busy?"

"I’m just about done," he scribbled something down and rolled his chair a few inches back. "You may come on in." Like Morrey he was tall. His hair that once was the same color as Morrey’s before it gained a little gray had a crew cut that accented his square shaped face. On his shoulders and chest were the stripes and pins indicating his rank.

"Dad I need to ask you for a favor," Morrey clasped her hands behind her back. "I had already ask mom and she said it was perfectly fine with her as long as you agreed."

Lieutenant Kennedy breathed deeply. "What is it?"

Morrey pulled her arms forward and clasped her hands on her chest. "Osprey is coming into town in a few weeks and I really want to go."

"I don’t really think it’s a good idea."

"My grades are good," her eyes pleaded. "And I did all my chores and I don’t get in any sort of trouble, plus Deanna might be going and I’ll see if a few of my other friends can go."

"I don’t really like the idea of you going to a concert. You are only fifteen, and you are getting C's in History"

"You went to concerts when you were fourteen."

"Concerts back then were different. We didn’t have mosh pits or kids doing ecstasy."

"Of course not," Morrey rolled her eyes. "They were too busy getting trampled on and stabbed."

"I was still in elementary school when those events took place." The lieutenant crossed his arms. "Maybe when your sixteen."

Morrey glared at her father for a full minute before she stomped out of the room . She was too upset too even slam the door.

She did slam the door to her own bedroom. "It’s so unfair!" She kicked at a wadded up piece of note book paper on the ground. "I’m never allowed to do anything." The teenager stomped up to her phone and began dialing. She had to tell Deanna she won’t be going.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end belonged to Deanna’s mother.

"Hello is Deanna there? This is Morrey."

"Just a minute." The other end was quiet for a few seconds.

"Hey Morrey did you ask your father?" Deanna asked.

Morrey wanted to yell and scream about how her father was the most un fair person in the world and how he was being a stubborn jerk, but she didn’t. "I asked him." Her voice came out in a sob. "He said I can’t go."

"Man that sucks. A week from now ask him if you can attend a small sleep-over two weeks later."

Morrey blinked away her tears. "What?"

"Just ask him if you can go to a small sleep over at my place. Tell him we will do a lot of studying and we’ll go to bed early."

"What?"

"Well you know it will be three weeks until Osprey comes to town right? On the night of the concert you will be at my place. My parents will think we are getting ready for bed when in reality we will sneak out of my window and had for the concert."

"How are we going to get in?"

"Sheila’s older sister is going to drive us. Sheila has permission to go to the concert. My father gave me permission if I could afford a ticket on my allowance money. I told him I couldn’t, but I did. I have a ticket."

"I don’t have a ticket," Morrey pointed out.

"Oh yes you do. Not only do I have a ticket but Sheila and I pooled our money together we had enough for three tickets."

"You are the greatest friend ever!" Morrey’s feet danced in place. "But wait. Why did you tell your parents that you couldn’t have afford it?"

"I knew you father would say no. Sheila, her sister and I worked on the whole plan. You will be at my house and your patents will think you are my house. My parents think we will be spending the night so they can confirm the sleep-over with your parents."

Morrey resumed bouncing in place. "Are you sure you are not Lucille Ball reincarnated?" She was only answered with laughter.

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The quiet tranquillity of the smaller houses of the southern end of town was accompanied by the soft chirping of the birds greeting the new day mixed with the low rumble of the trucks that delivered the morning paper and milk. Faintly heard amongst the sounds of dawn was the soft rhythematic beats coming from one of the houses.

The music came out from the radio resting on the kitchen table, providing the music to the lean young man in the kitchen. His scraggily rust colored hair was pulled back into a pony tail. After he slipped on a pair of matching green oven mitts he opened up the stove and was greeted with a plume of dark gray smoke.

"Damn it!" He fanned away the smoke and coughed. He reached in and pulled out the metal tin full of very dark brown muffins. "Ah shit! I burned the muffins!"

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The other occupant of the house rolled his deep blue eyes as he stepped out of the shower with only a white towel wrapped around his waist. He wrapped a smaller towel around his head and used the first towel to dry his body off.

Over his house-mate’s coughs he could hear the music playing on the radio. Correction it wasn’t music it was that stuff called rap. Rusty had tried to convince him it was form of art. They were people speaking poetry to music.

"How can any one listen to that in the morning?" He complained while he dried his very pale blond hair and stared at his reflection. He was surprised that he had gotten used to it. He wasn’t an ugly man, far from it whit his male model features. The only thing marring his handsome face were the long thick scars running down his face. The two smallest ones ran under the left side of his jaw. They were parallel and and half the lenght as the others, but they were also the two deepest. Four jagged long scratches ran down his face, slashing across his nose and mouth. One of them had even slashed down over his eye, scratching the cornea. For nearly a year he had to war an eye-patch and endure Rusty’s pirate jokes.

His fine lips twisted up into a snarl. He remembered who released the tiger that gave him the scars, not only on his face but his chest, shoulders and most of his left arm. That winged furry gargoyle like creature. If he ever ran into that beast man again he will have him skinned alive and turned into a rug. Revenge will have to wait though.

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As he stepped into the smoked filled kitchen, Mystic glared at the radio while blinking away the extra moisture that gathered in his eyes.

"Sorry about breakfast," Rusty coughed. He stood by an open window trying to fan the smoke out. "I guess we are just going to have cereal."

Mystic reached over to the radio and turned it off. "I don’t mind cereal."

Rusty frowned. "I was listening to that."

"That was distracting. Don’t forget the main reason why we have come here."

"So you can find Morgana’s diary. Are you sure it will have the spell we need?"

The wizard turned on his heels and left the kitchen. He didn’t bother to see if Rusty was following him. He walked right up to the small stack of books he brought with him and pulled out the largest of the leather bound tomes. "Unfortunately this book does not have the spell that I need to wake up my clan, and that stubborn fool, Conelly will not provide it. I do not have much choice."

He remembered how in his search for magical artifacts that he came across a group of stone gargoyles in Turkey. He thought they would make a nice decoration for his mansion back in Maryland. After he placed them in a tasteful and symmetrical manner he had discovered he had an extra statue left over. He decided to put her for sale on the Internet and sold her to a young Irish man named Logan Conelly. It was while he was packing the gargoyle when he learned off a spell that would be broken once the sky froze. Not knowing the boy himself was an amateur spell caster he wrote the little fact down on an index card and placed it into the crate.

Month’s later Conelly wanted to know how much the rest of the clan would cost. He didn’t think much of it at the time and gave him a decent price. That had changed when he visited Ireland and saw the living gargoyle himself. The same one he had sold the boy. He asked Conelly how he accomplished such a feat, but the youth did not reply.

Mystic glanced down at the book in his hands. "This book had mentioned Morgana’s diary. There is the huge possibility the spell we need will be in there."

"So how do we know where to look for it?" Rusty placed a handful of Cocoa Puffs into his mouth.

Mystic raised one of his eye brows. "You are forgetting who you are dealing with." He opened the tome and flipped through several of the yellowed pages. "The locator spell. I just need to light two jasmine scented candles, use my ring and a bag of colored sand."

Rusty swallowed another mouthful. "Why your ring? Is it magical?"

Mystic placed two of the pale yellowish green candles into their pewter holders and struck the match against it’s safety strip. "Of course it is." He took the flame to each of the wicks. "There is something you don’t know about my ring." He placed the bag of sand on the coffee table between the candles and picked up the book. He held up his left hand to give Rusty a good view of the sparkling orange gem stone. "Imbedded inside this stone is few locks of Morgana’s own hair. Before she either died or disappeared she had some of her hair imbedded into several gemstones, her personal favorite stones were the ones that shared her name, morganite"

"So that makes the jewel on your ring magical?"

"You don’t read much do you? The hair belonged to Morgana Lefae. The enemy and half-sister of the legendary king Arthur. She was half Faerie."

"She was bisexual?"

Mystic nearly dropped his book and glared at Rusty, by the blank expression the other man’s face he knew he wasn’t trying to be funny. "You were serious? When I say faerie I mean as in the magical being. They are often called the fair folk, the Fae, the third race and Oberon’s children."

"Oh magical beings."

"Exactly," Mystic hissed and read the Latin words printed in the book outloud. "Oratu hic calculus, exhibeo mihi liber mihi peto." The orange gem stone on his ring gave a faint glow while the flames on the candles seemed to have danced. At the end of the spell he raced into the bag and tossed a handful of purple sand into the air.

Rusty watched his boss with widened eyes and closed mouth. When the sand fell to the ground he set down the box of cereal and clapped. "That was neat looking." He pointed at the burned out smoking candles. "You made the candles go out."

"Never mind that," Mystic closed the book. "Help me search this place for any sand patterns. They will help us find the first clue in the search for the diary." He set his book down and began to search. His eyes were on the sharp look out for any large clusters of purple sand. He only could find tiny globs on the coffee table and on the floor.

"Hey boss!" Rusty shouted from the kitchen. "I found something."

The scarred man raced into the kitchen and saw Rusty staring at he small table. His employee was pointing at a section from yesterday’s news paper. Around the picture of Osprey was a thick ring of purple sand.

"Rusty I want you to go and buy us a couple of tickets."

"Do I have to go? I’m not really a fan."

Mystic held up a hand to silence his whining. "We are both going. Now you will hear what hear what real music actually is."

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Morrey raced down the side-walk towards Deanna’s house. In her hands was her duffel bag and rolled up sleeping bag. The last three weeks could not go by fast enough for her. She had been antsy for the whole week leading up to when she planned on asking her parents if she could sleep over at Deanna’s house. Receiving an A on both a vocabulary test and her book report did curry her favor. The following two weeks after she had been on pins and needles waiting in anticipation for the night to arrive.

By the time she had arrived at Deanna’s house she was completely out of breath. She leaned against the house as she tried to catch her breath. She didn’t notice the door opening.

"Goodness Morrey," Mrs. Sherman gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Just," Morrey paused to breath deeply a few times. "I’m just out of," another pause. "breath"

"Did you run all the way over?"

The teenager nodded weakly. "I was just so excited about sleeping over." She stood up. "I couldn’t just walk."

"I don’t want to tell your parents that you had passed out from exhaustion as soon as you had arrived." She reached down for Morrey’s things. "Let me take these for you."

Deanna nearly bowled over her mother to get to her friend. "I didn’t expect you to get here so fast." She grabbed the bags out of her mother’s hands and raced back to her room.

"Deanna Morrey is still-" Mrs. Sherman was cut off when Morrey raced after her friend into Deanna’s bed room. The woman shook her head. She had forgotten the amazing stamina and endurance that teenagers had.

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The two teenagers lain on Deanna’s bed watching the news. Morrey stretched out on her stomach with her legs bending at the knees and bare feet in the air. Deanna was her side and kept on checking her watch.

"Well," Morrey shifted her odd colored eyes towards her friend. "Is it time?"

Deanna kept her eyes on the light blue screen of her digital watch. "Yeah just about. Now remember we are just putting on our shoes and any jewelry. We are going to do our make up and hair in the car ride over." She slid off her bed and reached for her reddish brown boots.

Morrey placed on her own strap on flats. "How fast does Sheila’s sister drive?"

"I dunno," Deanna placed a pair of golden hoops in her ear. She had changed from comfortable looking after school clothes to a pair of tight knee length denim skirt and midriff bearing long sleeved shirt.

Morrey didn’t bother to ask if her friend was going to be cold that night. After wearing a school uniform during the winter their legs had developed a natraul immunity to slightly cold weather. She did decide to wear a pair of black leather pants, not because of the cold but because she didn’t want to show too much skin. to go with it she wore a short sleeved red cotton shirt that ended at the hemmline of her pants.

She placed in only tiny silver moon and heart shaped studs into her ears, a few thin black and silver bracelets on her right arm.

"I got my purse." Deanna picked upper tiny denim hand back with a feux golden chain. "Ticket." She unzipped her bag and saw the long rectangle made out of thick paper.

"Got mine," Morrey checked on her ticket in the same way.

"Now all we need to do is make sure the parental units don’t get too suspicious." She turned the volume up on her television. After she set the remote down on her bed she pulled out a tape recorder and set it next to the door and pressed the play button. Instantly different discussions between the girls began to play. The previous weeks they recorded there conversations, even if it only lasted for ten minutes. Whenever they had the opportunity they would record it.

"How is that ladder coming along?" Deanna asked.

Morrey tightened the knot that connected the fitted sheet with the regular bed sheet. "Just about done". She roped one end of the blanket around the leg of Deanna’s bed and tied it into a tight knot. "I’m feeling really tingly." She opened the window and pushed the clump of rope out.

"Be careful," Deanna said as Morrey slid out onto the window sill and sank her fingers into the blanket.

"I will." She slowly crawled down using the hand over hand, or in this case the hand under hand method. Once her feet touched the ground she reached up and held the end of the makeshift rope. "Your turn."

Deanna climbed down the rope faster than the other girl did, making Morrey cringe. Morrey held her breath when she saw her friend slip and let out a sigh of relief when Deanna’s feet touched the cold sod. Together the girls walked quickly and quietly to their secret rendezvous with Sheila and her sister.

_________________________________________________________________________

Outside of the stadium theater people had formed two long lines. One was for those who were purchasing their tickets at the last minute and picking them up when they ordered them on the phone and on the net. The other was for those who had tickets and were giving them to the ticket takers.

A small handful of those waiting wore back stage passes on their lanyards. The talked to each other about what the band was really like, if they could date the male members and what did really go on backstage before the show.

None of them had any idea that Gray Kiteson was really an over 1500 year old fae halfling.

The wizard that had tutored the once and future king stared at his reflection. He gently touched his face and cocked his head from side to side to check for blemishes. Just because he could magically make them disappear didn’t mean he was not prone to them. He ran his finger down his chin, feeling for any sparse bits of hair. His finger slid smoothly and settled into the dimple in his chin. He did not have to shave again.

"Nothing out of place," he mumbled in a crass London accent while pulling out a smooth and small round tin and a small box of rolling papers, and filters. He pulled out a sheet of paper and filled without he tobacco from the tin and rolled it up along with the filter inside

"Oh here he goes polluting up our air again." Gray smirked at the words of Osprey’s only female member and placed his cigarette in his mouth. "He can’t go one night with out putting a cancer stick into his mouth."

"Fuck off Cora," Gray lit his hand rolled cigarette. "You are the only who ever bitches about it."

"Bullshit," Cora paused from applying the blood red lipstick to her plump mouth. The base guitarist kept her naturally dark hair cut into a playful bob with only two long locks on each end curled into tight perfect spirals. Her bangs were in a spiral curl too. With her hair like that and naturally long eyelashes and full body lips she looked like a living version of Betty Boop. A miss Boop from Birmingham England with a nose stud and a black vinyl min skirti. She also wore a golden yellow halter top and shoes that looked like they were made out of macramé. "Zane was the one who called you Cancer Man and both Trip and Orson pretend to cough whenever you light up."

"They are not complaining now," Gray didn’t turn around. He continued to look at his reflection while finger brushing his eyebrows.

Cora rolled her silver eyes. "That’s because they are too busy getting ready. Speaking of which I think you should put that thing out for another reason."

"Why is that?" Gray arched an eyebrow.

"Because with all that hair-spray Orson is wearing and you sparking your cancer stick might blow up the place." She pointed a thumb at the lean man emptying the contents of a silver can of hair-spray into his golden dread locks. He was dressed in a orange mesh shirt, black denim shorts with many pockets and large black clunky sneakers.

"Hey," Orson lifted up his head, causing his locks to snap back like braided whips. "I need the spray for my hair." He was also from Birmingham. Birmingham Alabama. When the band was just starting they needed a drummer. They had no idea an American was in London at the time. Weather he was from America or not his during skills blew the competition away

"And while you are trying to maintain your hairdo you are destroying the Ozone layer." The only black member of group pointed out. Trip was from London like Gray. He kept his head shaved except for his bangs.

"And what do you use for that?" Orson pointed at the Rhythm guitarist’s gelled triangle he called bangs.

"I use hair gel I squeeze out of a bottle." Trip pulled the deep blue vest on over his white shirt.His outfit was complete with a pair khakis.

"Ye are good at squeezing," Zane pointed out. The keyboardist from Scotland was the only member of the band that had a normal relaxed look. With his comfortable light blue denim pants. Red flannel shirt and finger styled brown hair he looked like the boy next door. His laid back look had earned him the name of Matchbox by his fellow band members.

"Shag off," Trip grunted while rubbing talcum powder onto his hands. "Unlike the rest of you I have myself a woman."

"Until your next issue arrives," Orson’s grunt earned him a high five from Zane.

Gray brushed his hair and sighed. Sometimes his bandmates acted like children and even though there were times when he wanted to join in on the fun there were also times when had to get them to behave. He hoped it won’t degenerate to the point where had to step in and be the grown up.

He mouthed a silent prayer when he heard a knock to the dressing room door. "Who is it?" Gray asked before taking a long drag.

"It’s some of your friends Gray," the voice belonged to one of the security guards. "You know Arthur and Rory."

"Tell them the can come in." He hoped that Arthur would be dressed like a normal modern day man. He smiled when he saw his former pupil walk in dressed in a pin striped suit. Rory, wearing his usual attire. followed him in.

"Hullo Arthur and Rory," Trip greeted.

"Hello Rory," Cora sat backwards against her chair and pressed her breasts against the back. "Nice to see you again." She gave the young Irishman a wink.

"Can I get y’all a beer?" Orson winced when he realized his verbal blunder. "Can’t believe I said y’all," He mumbled.

"Aw," Zane poked the drummer in the ribs. "We like yer accent."

"It is nice to see everyone again," Arthur smiled at the band members. "But Rory and I stopped by to speak with Gray on private matters."

"Oh," Trip smirked. "I guess we better go then."

"Aye," Zane turned to smile at Gray. "We wouldna want t’ interfere with Gray’s private time wi his friends now do we?"

Cora slid out of her chair. "Grow up you two."

Gray stood up and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his index and middle fingers. "All right you wanks and yank get out of here." He pointed at the door. He waited until the last of his bandmates had left before he closed and locked the door. "Sorry about that lot. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m there band leader or baby sitter."

"I don’t know about that Cora," Rory had his hands shoved into his pockets. "She seems like a nice girl and she is pretty, but there is somethin about her that reminds me of my ex."

"Don’t want to be getting mixed up with her," Gray replaced the cigarette. "She’s a player. Once she has had you in her bed she’ll throw you out like a bunch of apple peels."

"Must ye smoke that?" Rory glared.

Gray rolled his steel like eyes. "I get it from my band members must I get it from you?"

"Don’t dwell on that," Arthur said. "We are not here for a pleasure visit. We are here on much more important matters."

"Are you still searching for good ol Ron?" Gray asked while picking up his hair brush. "I’m sorry I forget where I hid it after I removed it from the fish shaped pond." He heard Rory grumbling and turned around. "What was that?"

Rory sank into one of the vacated chairs. "I said that I expected someone like ye t’ remember all the treasures he had hidden."

"Piss of Rory. I moved the spear shortly before my battle with Morgana. It took a lot out of me to kill her. I didn’t know I was going to revert back to an infant at the time"

"Should have written it down."

"Bugger off."

"Merlin!" Arthur was appalled. "I never heard you talk this way before to anyone."

"Times have changed."

"Maybe so, but you are still Merlin, my respectful teacher. You shouldn’t speak that way to anyone." Arthur shook his head. "I never thought to see the day where my teacher would act like an ill mannered brat."

"How unfair of you to judge me," Gray didn’t bother to turn around. He gathered his long hair into a ponytail and wrapped on an elastic band. "While you have been sleeping on a magical island I have been out living in the real world."

The once and future king sighed. "You are right I shouldn’t judge you, but at least be a bit more respectful.

"I’m sorry Rory."

"I understand," Rory shrugged. "You have gone through a lot more than I have."

"Are you looking for Ron?" Gray asked.

"Actually we are searching for Morgana’s diary," Arthur said. "We have come across plenty of clues that lead us to this town."

"I know where that is," Gray couldn’t keep from giggling. "I hid that treasure myself also."

"Ye know where it is?" Rory stood back up.

Merlin grabbed his mouth and snickered. His face had turned bright scarlet as his whole head shook with laughter. "I’m going to be performing on it tonight."

"What?" Both Arthur and Rory blinked

"It’s buried under the stage. Who do you think was the man who engineered for the theater to be built in this location. Me, and now you know why."

"That sure makes things easy," Rory said.

"Right," Gray rose out of his chair. "You two can stay here while the band and I perform. There is beer and food in the fridge, and if you don’t want beer there are a few bottles of water and Pepsi in there. Will Griff be stopping by?"

"Yes he is," Arthur nodded.

Gray pointed to the door at the back of the room. "That leads to the bathroom. "There is a window in there. Keep it open."

___________________________________________________________________________

Rusty sunk lower in his concert seat. The magic had led them to the Osprey concert and he knew he had to wait for his boss to use another spell before they could take action, but he hoped it would happen sooner.

"Sit up straighter," Alphonse barked. "I’m going to need you to cover me."

Rusty sighed as he pulled himself up in his chair. He did not want to be there. He hated alternative rock and roll. He preferred classic metal bands, rap, mainstream rock and R and B. It didn’t matter to him they were in the sixth row. "How long is it going to take?"

"Keep your voice down," Mystic hissed. "It’s going to take a few minutes for me to set up and then it will take about twenty more minutes for me to perform the spell."

"Are you going to do it here?" Rusty asked.

"Shut up," fans sitting on his left and in front of him silenced him.

"I’ll be in the men’s room," Mystic stood up. His magic supplies were kept in his back pack. "I shall return shortly."

"I hope so," Rusty whispered so low that not even he could hear himself.

_________________________________________________________________________

Mystic raced into the nearest mens room and shut the door behind him. He walked with a bend in his knees to see if there were any legs in the stalls. Finding no one was in the room with him he set the bag out and pulled out his supplies : Four small pea green colored tea candles, a tiny gray triangle carved out of granite, and his leather bound spell book.

He spaced the candles at equal length apart before lighting them. He sat in the middle of the flickering candles and placed the wedge down on the ground in front of him. Mystic closed his eyes and chanted. The words stared out similarly to the ones he used for the searching spell weeks ago. Near the end of the spell he opened his eyes and raised his hand. The last three words he shouted and struck his hand onto the wedge. A ring of light pulsated out like a ripple in a pond where a stone is thrown. It was powerful enough to send him backwards.

"It worked," his breath came out in small pants while the scent of burned wick entered his nose.

_________________________________________________________________________

Gray’s fingers danced over the strings of his straticaster guitar. Sweat trickled down his forehead and face, dripping from his nose and chin, and keeping his shirt glued to his chest. His head whipped back up as he sang the chorus to "My Lament."

Rory and Arthur watched the performance from the back stage entrance. Griff stood behind them, concealed by their bodies and robes similar to the ones Una and Leo wore when they ran the store.

Up on stage Gray set down his guitar and took a long drink from his water bottle. His thirst satisfied, he splashed his face with some of the contents. Hundreds of women in the audience screamed his name.

Rory shook his head. "How much do ye want t’ wager that those women are willing t’ pay a hundred punts fer his empty bottle?"

"Some things never change," Griff said. He shook his head when both humans turned to look at him. "I don’t remember women going that crazy for the performers, but I remembered how Una was a big fan of Frank Sinatra. I was never really into that kind of music. I prefer big band and swing music my self."

"Swing just made a comeback," Rory pointed out.

"As a brief fad."

Arthur spoke up. "What song is this?" His eyes had not left his teacher who just held onto his guitar by it’s neck. Trip and Zane had just started another song their instruments blended together in harmony creating music that was slowly building up. Cora ran her hand across her base guitar, creating the right undertone for the song. From his place behind his drums Orson held his drum sticks like a pair of chopsticks and lightly tapped the top of his drum.

Gray stood motionless taking in the whole audience with his steel like eyes. The crescendo of the music was in creasing. With a deep breath he brought his guitar to his chest and brought his fingers to the strings. From the first pluck of the cord the female fans roared.

Rory shook his head again. "It sounds like "Heaven Help Me."

"I should have recognized that song," Griff snapped his fingers. "That’s Tabby’s favorite. A pity she couldn't come this itme."

"I haven’t been following the time," said Arthur. "How long have they been playing?"

Rory glanced at his watch. "Fer over an hour."

"How long do these concerts last?"

"On average I would say between three and five hours."

The older human closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "Perhaps in this case I might break down and have a nice cold bottle."

The greenish gold color of Griff faded. "Arthur?" His beak didn’t even close.

"They have Pepsi. I think I’ll have a nice cold bottle of Pepsi."

"Oh," Griff let out a deep breath. Arthur had never drunken a beer since his awakening. He kept to water, milk, tea and fruit juices. Once in a while he would have a soft drink. "I’ll go back to the dressing room and get you one." He ran back before anyone could protest.

_______________________________________________________________________

Alphonse Mystic could feel the stone wedge vibrate in his lap. Suspicious that anyone besides Rusty might notice it he placed his jacket on top. Like the once and future king he had no idea when the concert was going to end. He might as well go with the flow and wait for it to end.

His assistant was being unusually quiet. Perhaps it turned out that he like the music after all. The low rumbling that came out of Rusty’s nose killed that idea.

Mystic poked him in the chest. "Wake up," he whispered. "I can’t believe you fell asleep."

"Uh?" Rusty blinked his eyes open. He had no idea where he was. He noticed how dark the room was and the loud music that was playing. Sitting up he saw Osprey on stage. "Oh yeah."

"All this time I thought you were enjoying the music and you were asleep."

"I was really sleepy."

"How long have you been out?"

"I guess since you left?"

Alphonse sighed. "It’s my fault really for not noticing." He pointed to his lap and raised his jacket just enough for Rusty to see the wedge.

"What his that?" Rusty furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that from an Ouija board?"

"It’s made of stone but it will work like the plastic triangle from a Ouija. The spell that I did in the men’s room turned this into a homing piece for Morgana’s diary. It will act like a compass to point at where it is."

"And is it working?"

"Yes it is.," Mystic smiled. "It’s trying to point at the stage."

"The lead singer has it?"

"No he doesn’t."

"What about the babe?" He pointed at Cora.

"None of the band members has it. It’s in the stage, or should I say under it."

"When are we going to get it?"

"As soon as the concert is over. It will be easier for us to get to it."

"Why wait?" Rusty raised his brows. "I have my gun and you have all that magic."

"It will be easier once the concert is over." Mystic replaced the jacket. "Now be quiet."

"Fine," Rusty crossed his arms as he sank into his seat.

_________________________________________________________________________

Deanna held up her arms as she swung her hips from side to side. For the last three songs most of the audience stood up and rocked to the music. The people in the mosh pit had become even rowdier than before.

"Whatch it there," Sheila grumbled to her sister, Sara. "Ye nearly knocked me t’ the floor."

"This is yer first concert sis," The older teen said. "Ye are going t’ learn how t’ dance aggressively at them."

"I’ll show ye aggressive." Sheila jabbed her elbow right into her sister’s ribs. Sara retaliated by stomping on her toes.

Deanna swung closer to Morrey. "Makes me glad I don’t have an older sister." She whispered.

"Yep," Morrey agreed. Both girls took a step apart before they spun around and slammed into each other’s hip.

"Ye see Sheila," Sara said. "Yer friends know how to dance aggressively. She did not notice both American’s flinching.

"We are going to have bruises tomorrow," Morrey squeaked.

"Yep," Deanna cringed.

"Why is Orson setting down his drum sticks?" Sheila asked while pointing at the drummer placing his drum sticks on top of his drum and stood up.

"He’s not the only one," Deanna said. "They are all setting down their instruments."

Both Trip and Cora placed their guitars on the ground. Zane just stepped back away from his keyboard. Only Gray was still holding onto his instrument while he grabbed onto his microphone. "You have been a great audience." His compliment brought a mixture of squeals, clapping and "Awwws."

"It’s over?" Morrey asked. "But they haven’t performed "Lost in the Rain" yet." Morrey didn’t tell them the other reason they couldn’t leave. For some reason she just had to get to the stage.

"Did any of ye bring lighters?" Sara asked while rooting around in her purse.

"We don’t smoke," Deanna said. "I have a few glow sticks."

"I have a pen light," Morrey added.

"Use what ye got," Sara pulled out her lighter. There were others who had the same idea she had. Golden flickers of light appeared in random areas of the sea of people like fireflies in the field on summer nights. Sara’s thumb rubbed against the tiny metal wheel and pressed down on the button. She held up her arm as high as she could.

"Here you go," Deanna handed a spare glow stick to Sheila before twisting hers to life. Her glowing green wand joined Sheila’s lighter followed by the glow-sticks’ and Morrey’s pen light.

__________________________________________________________________________

Arthur noticed the tiny flames in the audience when he returned from the dressing room’s bathroom. "What is going on?" The number of flames were slowly increasing.

"Osprey had just finished performing," Rory explained. "But it looks like the audience wants an encore, and when the audience asks Osprey always gives them an encore."

"For how long?"

"At least one song," Griff said.

_________________________________________________________________________

Rusty stared at the lighters being ignited around him and Mystic and groaned. "Aw crap."

"Patience." Mystic held up a finger.

"I have been patient for a very long time," Rusty grumbled.

_________________________________________________________________________

Morrey sang along with the crowd and the band to the encore song, "Lost in the Rain.". It was her favorite. The one song she would play over and over, driving her parents crazy. She hadn’t noticed she was dancing into the aisle again until she felt Deanna grab onto her hand.

"You are doing it again," the blond girl said.

"I don’t know why I keep doing that," Morrey said. She felt the pull tug at her chest. "I’m just drawn to the stage for some reason."

"Yeah the reason’s name is Gray Kiteson."

"No, it’s not that." The taller girl shook her head and clenched her fist. "I just feel this tugging at my heart. I’m drawn magnetically to it. I don’t know how to explain it."

"You mean it’s like The Force?"

"Yeah like that." Both girls threw up their arms in the air and shouted the name of the band members in their highest voices.

"Now the concert is officially over," Sara placed her purse strap on her shoulder. "Come on lets get ye two back to where I picked ye up."

"I have to go to the stage," Morrey’s voice was slow and cold. "I just have to."

"Ye can find some other way t’ get their autographs." Sara grabbed Sheila’s arm.

"It’s not the band, it’s the stage itself."

"We’ll stay until everyone leaves." Deanna said

"Oh no," Sara shook her head. "I’ll be probably getting into enough trouble fer bringin ye here. I’m not about t’ get into any more trouble. Ye can find yer own way home."

"I’m not leaving," Sheila said.

"Ma will get on m’ case if I leave ye." She pulled her sister away from her friends and melted into the exiting crowd.

"You can leave too Deanna," Morrey said. "You shouldn’t get into trouble either."

"I’m not leaving," Deanna told her. "It’s my fault you are here and I’m not going to abandon you. Besides you need someone to keep you from doing something totally crazy."

"Thank you," Morrey didn’t turn around to smile or nod at her friend. She was too focused on the stage.

__________________________________________________________________________

Rusty drummed against his lap with his fingers. He had been fidgeting ever since the people around him and Mystic had stood up to leave. He stared up at the scarred man and noticed he was just sitting still, cold and calm.

"Now?" Rusty’s voice as at it’s normal volume.

"Not yet."

"When?" Rusty stood up. "This place is empty and we are just sitting here."

Mystic held up his hand. "Soon. You must learn to have some sort of patience my friend."

"I’m about to explode!"

"So that is it?" Mystic frowned. "You should have gone before."

"I did not long after I woke up. You were really focused on the band."

"You really are that impatient then." Mystic turned his head from side to side. "Well I guess now would be a good time." He placed the stone wedge into his pocket and slid out of his seat. "Follow me." He crawled down the floor in front his seat row towards the aisle.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Rusty asked as he crawled on his knees and wrists. "You don’t know what kind of crap could be on the ground. When I worked for the Moonlight-"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that name!" Mystic snapped.

"I’m just saying this ground could be sticky."

"Just shut up." Rusty was getting more and more under his skin. Soon he would have nose use for the fool. He will have his clan. Many servants instead of one and they will be competent.

There was no sign of any roadie or security guard when they reached the bottom of the stage. The back paneling was made out of black painted wood. Mystic placed his palms against the panels and felt the coolness. They would have to work quickly to remove one of the panels and slip under. The only problem as that Mystic didn’t carry any tools. Only magical items.

"Do you have anything that might remove one of these boards?" Mystic glanced at Rusty.

The scrawny man fished inside his pockets. "I have my pocket hammer and chisel. He pulled out what looked like a golf tea made out of metal and a hammer that looked like it was more of a child’s size toy. "This should be enough." He stuck the point of the chisel into the crack between the boards.

"Hey what are ye doing?" Mystic peeled his attention away from Rusty hammering away to see a couple of roadies and a man in black security jacket race up to them.

"Keep hammering," Mystic instructed and stepped forward. With a wave of his hand and a few Latin words the three men stopped dead in their tracks. Their eyes had a greenish tint to them and their expressions had become blank.

"What the hell is going on?" Two more guard ran towards them from the other side.

The wizard pointed at the three he had recently enslaved. "I want you three to take care of those two."

The spelled men sprang into life and punched the other two guards who in surprise had to defend themselves.

"Hurry up," Alphonse ordered. "A good strike to their heads and the spell is broken."

"I’m hammering as fast as I can," Rusty whimpered as he pounded his hammer against the nail.

Mystic breathed in deeply as he heard the pounding of many more feet of both stage hands and security guards. "So more would like to play." He held up his hand. The orange gemstone on his ring glowed to life.

__________________________________________________________________________

The band had retreated down the hallway toward the dressing room. As they passed by Arthur and his two knights they nodded and offered a few brief hellos. Cora paused by Rory to run a fingernail up his chest.

Gray paused by the three of them the longest He held his guitar in one hand. His shirt, dripping with sweat in another. "I’ll join ye mates after I cool down a bit."

"You don’t mean getting drunk?" Grif's brow ridges were raised in concern.

"Naw," Gray ran his hand through the air and shook his head. "I’m just going to have one beer. Drop this in the hamper. Pour some more water me, use a few wet naps to clean my body off, change pants, apply deodorant and put on a clean shirt. "I’ll be good to go."

"You’ll change your pants in front of the young lady in your group?" Arthur asked.

"She’s like a sister," Gray explained. "By the time I’m ready to change cloths she’ll be back at the hotel with her male groupie of the night, Orson would be already hitting the pubs and I’m sure Trip and Zane want to get back to the hotel and watch some porn. Don’t fret about it mate." He continued down his way.

"I guess we’ll just have to weight for twenty minutes," Griff suggested

"That would be my guess." Arthur shrugged.

"I don’t think we should be waitin," Rory stared at the stage. Roadies and Security guards were fighting each other. One man with hair the same color as Gray’s kept waving a hand with a glowing ring around while another strange man was hammering away at the stage.

"Are they after the diary also?" Griff asked. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. To him it looked like the mosh pit had continued and picked up the rowdiness by a few notches. From further up in the seats he could make out two teenage girls slowly walking towards the stage.

"They might be," Arthur frowned. "They most likely are the wrong hands we don’t want the book to fall into."

"On your word your majesty," Griff cast aside his robes and lowered himself to the ground in a full crouch.

"Rory you left your golf club staff back at Logan’s?"

"I did," the young Irishman nodded.

"Good half those people who are fighting each other are enspelled. We will used are fists only."

"And those two blokes?" Griff pointed at Mystic and Rusty.

"We might have to use our weapons on them," the once and future king sighed. "Attack!"

______________________________________________________________________

Deanna walked slowly behind her friend. She knew Morrey wasn’t putting on some strange act. That wasn’t like her. Her current strange behavior wasn’t like her either. She was worried about Morrey’s health and safety.

"I just hope whatever it is that is near the stage will make you stop acting strange."

"I think it will," Morrey’s tone had not changed. it was still cold and robotic. "I just need to find what should be mine and then the pulling will stop."

The freckled girl hope it would stop too. Her friend’s behavior was freaking her out. She peered over Morrey’s shoulder and saw the slugfest. "Morrey we have to stop. Look at what’s going on."

The taller girl paused briefly. "I see it, but I can’t stop."

"The force is pulling you that hard?"

Morrey only paused to nod.

___________________________________________________________________________

At Arthur’s command Rory ran straight towards the first group of people beating each other up. Part of him wanted to kick the wizard’s ass who was causing it even more when he saw that women were involved with the brawl. He knew Arthur would be three times as pissed as he were.

The young Irishman slammed both fist’s behind on of those who had glowing green tint’s to their eyes, causing the person to immediately loose consciousness. He narrowly missed another first to his face and struck out with his foot. There were only two left.

"Those two are going to be trouble," the wizard noted of the two men that were neither dressed like a roadie, stage worker, or security officer.

A deep roar from above brought his attention towards the roof. A greenish gold gargoyle with a leonine body, eagle like head, and feathered wings dove down towards another group. "So those two own a gargoyle. That will be even more trouble." He turned to the nearest squabbling group and recasted the same spell. This time ensaring those who were not affected. "Get him!" He pointed at Rory.

__________________________________________________________________________

Griff dove down and snatched one of the enspelled women before regaining a bit of lift with his wings. "I’m sorry about this miss," Griff said before tossing her down onto two others. He landed right in the middle of the fray. Those who were not enspelled turned around and ran at the sight of him. Griff grabbed the two remaining ones, pulled them apart and clocked their heads together.

The griffin like gargoyle surveyed the scene. Arthur was taking care of himself. The wizard and his assistant were tugging at the loosened wood panel unaware that the two teenage girls were approaching them. What the hell were those two doing anyway? He had to get them out of there. Griff was about to approach them when he noticed Rory behind piled on.

The Irishman had a flickering glow to his body. A thick red mustache formed halfway and then retracted. His clothes switched from his jeans, shirt and vest to the white battle robes of Cuchulain. Griff was reminded of the comic books Una Leo’s second hatchling, Colt and his friends liked to read. One was about a young scientist who turned into a raging green ogre whenever he became angered. It looked like Rory was about to "Hulk" out.

"Not now," Griff leaped over the main cause of the problem and dived onto the pile. His lower talons landed onto two of the enslaved humans, kicking them off. "Hope I’m not too late." He brought up both fists and stretched his arms out, knocking out two more innocent mind slaves before he brought up his foot and kicked another one.

__________________________________________________________________________

With one final tug Rusty pulled off the paneling. The force of the wood coming free sent him staggering backward and into the middle-aged man. Rusty did not count on him having a sword. "Sweet Jesus!" He shouted when the other man extracted the sword and slammed down the paneling in his hands as a means to defend himself.

Everyone was too occupied too stop Mystic. The human wizard stepped forward to opening in the stage.

"Do not try to take what does not belong to you." The words were cold and straight forward, yet the sounded like the came from a teenage girl.

Mystic turned around to see who had addressed him. Two teenagers stood behind him. One tall with dark hair and mis matching colored eyes. The other was blond,slightly tan and had a few freckles across her face. "Is it not past your bed time?"

"Step aside," The girl with the dark hair was emotionless. Her friend however wasn’t.

"Morrey," The blonde’s voice sounded drained.

"Don’t make me have to hurt you." He held up his hand "Luminous--Gah!" Another glowing orb of light struck his hand. Gritting his teeth the wizard turned around.

"Bad move mate," he belonged on top of the stage. He wore different pants than before, this pair was so tight it almost looked like it was painted on. A fresh clean almost gauze like white long sleeved shirt replaced the sweat soaked one. His hair billowed in a breeze that was not there. Above a hawkish nose two bluish silver eyes were narrowed. In one hand was a long silver knife. His other hand, raised, held onto a glowing orb.

"Oh my god!" Deanna’s fear was forgotten at the sight of her idol. "Gray Kiteson is going to save our lives."

"You’re a wizard?" Mystic held his injured hand.

"Yes, and no," Gray’s scowl did not faze. "I can’t let you take that book. Not when I went through the trouble of burying there in the first place."

"You didn’t put it there," Mystic pointed out. "Merlin did and you are...not...him." The dark wizard’s anger was replaced with shock. "You didn’t use any Latin phrases. Why didn’t I see this before. Merlin, Osprey, Kite...son. You have a thing for birds of prey."

"What the hell is going on here?" Deanna asked. "There is a winged creature, this guy and Gray can use magic, and this guy is calling Gray Merlin?" She turned to her friend who wasn’t there. "Morrey?"

Gray ignored her and relaxed his hand, dimishing the light. "I think I’ll send you to where you belong."

________________________________________________________________________

Arthur brought down Excalibur onto the paneling. The blade of his wood cut off strips of the wood, dwindling the size of it in the scrawny man’s shield. The once and future king did not notice when the other man held up the wood with one hand to reach into his pocket and pull out something. The something turned out to be a gun. When the last piece of wood was tossed aside Arthur stared into the barrel of the .45 caliber.

"You didn’t expect me to have a gun," the American snickered. "Did you?"

Arthur lowered his blade. "Sadly I did not."

"Of course not and you know how it is," His other hand flew up to the gun’s handle, giving him a firm grip on the weapon. "Pop quiz hot shot. You can go and try to strike me, but before you take one step You would have a smoking hole in your chest. " He continued to laugh until a piece of wood from the panel was jabbed into his calf. The sharp piercing pain caused the gun to slip out of his hands.

The person who struck him was the teen age girl with the long dark hair. "The pull is starting to hurt," she said calmly. "but I can’t let you kill him."

Rusty was livid. "You little bitch." He lunged for her only to be stopped by the sight of Arthur’s sword coming in between them.

"Now here is your pop quiz," Arthur frowned. "You can attack this brave girl but before you take a step there would be a bleeding wound in your chest."

"Shit," Rusty fell onto his knees with his arms in the air.

The middle aged man kept the point of his sword touching Rusty’s heart until Rory and Griff appeared by his side. "Find some place to keep him while we deal with his leader."

"Your majesty, Merlin has already dealt with that bloke," Griff pointed to where Merlin stood trying to calm down the other teenager. The wizard was no where to be found.

Arthur blinked. "Merlin what have you done with that spell caster?"

Merlin still had one hand on Deanna’s shoulders. "I just put him where he belongs. I teleported him to the nearest authorities. I’m sure when these pour souls awaken," he pointed to the unconscious forms of the ones who were once enspelled. "The would be more than willing to identify him."

"What about the lass?" Rory asked and took a double-take. "Where did she go?"

"Morrey?" Deanna stood back up. "She has been acting weird all night, claiming that some sort of force like energy has been pulling her towards the stage.

"Did she now?" Gray asked. "Follow me." He ducked under the stage and walked with his knees bent towards the hunched over form of the girl. She was using her bare hands to dig through the soil. "I figured she was the key."

"How so?" Arthur scooted next to him. "Is she digging in the right spot?"

"Exactly," Merlin nodded. "Morrey could you look up for a bit?" Morrey sat up straighter. "Look at those eyes and her hair. Does she remind you of anyone?"

"My word," Arthur nearly fell over. "Right eye pale blue like the summer sky. The left eye pale green like fresh summer grass and dark brown hair. Just like Morgana."

"That’s my real name," Morrey’s voice had shifted from one devoid of any emotion to one that sounded desperate. "Can I continue digging? The pull really hurts."

"Let me help you," Deanna crawled closer to her friend. Once she sat "We call her Morrey for short."

"Are ye sayin that she is Morgana reincarnated?" Rory asked.

"Not like you," Merlin shook his head. "More like a distant blood relative. A descendant."

"Are we going to help them dig?" Griff asked. "Morrey did say she was in pain."

"Sorry about that love." Merlin held out his hand. "Hidden treasure that is below the music stand, hidden treasure return to my hand."

Everyone shielded their faces when bits of dirt flew up from the ground like water from a geyser. A large chunk shot straight up and spun around, loosing bits of dirt until it stopped. Where there once was a large chunk of dirt there was a small metal box. The box lowered itself into Merlin’s hand. He pressed his index finger to the small brass square on the top of the lid. The box sprang open.

"This belongs to you," Merlin reached inside and pulled out a thick leather bound book with a large brass lock. Despite it was buried for centuries the leather cover with feathery scripture writing looked brand new.

"It’s gone," Morrey gasped with relief. The mere second the diary touched her hand she no longer cringed. "The pain and the pull is gone."

"I have a feeling Morganna would want her diary to end up with one of her descendants," said Merlin.

"How do I open it?" Morrey asked.

"Morgana didn’t use keys. She preferred gemstones, unfortunatly we don't have the right stone."

"We are just going to leave it with here?" Griff eyes were slightly narrowed. "We don’t even know who she is."

"We will get to know her, Merlin said. "Magic flows through her blood, other wise she wouldn’t have felt anything. She is going to need some lessons."

"Oh yeah try convincing my father," Morrey rolled her eyes. " He won’t let me do anything."

"Gentlemen I believe we have to discuss a few things," said Arthur.

__________________________________________________________________________

Grounded for two whole months, that was the punishment L.T. Kennedy gave to his daughter. During those two months her parents will try to get to know Arthur Pendril, the English history tutor,a little better. Both Arthur and Gray will try to convince her parents to let her live with a surrogate family in England where she would attend school and he would help her with her history lessons. She couldn't believe her parents seemed to be somewhat convinced.

Morrey said goodnight to her friends before she was sent to her room. From under her jacket she pulled out her new diary and sat it right on her night-stand. She couldn’t believe the night she had it and to top it off her parents were going to actually let her do something that she wants. Well if magic is real then anything could be a possibility.