Author: Denigoddess2001
Addy: Denigoddess2001@aol.com
Date: 02/19/02
Saga: Angels Amongst Us 12.0
Episode Title: If Wishes Were Horses (Or Motorcycles)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Daria, Timron


Disclaimer: Gargoyles belong to Disney. All original characters belong to me. The poem isn't mine. Belongs to someone else. No infringement intended. The information about the Harley-Davidson V-Rod can be found at popularmechanics.com/automotive/motor_cycles/2001/harley_v-rod/index2.phtml. The lyrics to "Born to Be Wild" belong to Steppenwolf.

[Words in brackets indicate private thought or psionic communication.]

Summary: A Gargoyle gets to live a little of his innermost dreams with someone who can make then come true. All he needs is a way to get there. 9If wishes were motorcycles, then Gargoyles would ride.)

*****************************************************************************

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." ~Leo Buscaglia


Daria felt the warm rays of late morning sunshine through the cut, frosted facets of her amethyst bottle. She rose from the pile of lavender and mauve satin pillows and gave a good stretch. She brought her hands together as if in prayer and bowed her head. She gave two quick claps and a mirror with a washbasin appeared. The Djinni spent the next few minutes cleansing her body of the previous day's grime and grit. She brought a brush to her raven tresses and stopped when she caught her reflection in the mirror.


She remembered how lightning had flashed through her when she had brought her lips to Timron's. Part of her felt thrilled that she had such a wonderful, caring master that was truly concerned for her well being. The other half of her cringed because her current master was anything but Human. He was a strange, alien to be with skin the color of blood and hair dark as a moonless night. His wings reminded her of those she had seen on the animated series "Defenders of the Night" with their scarlet struts and almost metallic platinum folds. He had nearly wrapped those argent wings around her when she had kissed him the previous night.


Two fingers came to her full lips as the vision of kissing Timron played within her thoughts. It was a strange liquid rush that filled her to the brim as she remembered the otherworldly combination of taste, touch and smell. Daria wasn't one to depend on her senses to discern things in the world. Yet, when she had chastely pressed her lips to those of the Gargoyle, he had tasted of cream and chocolate [I have been in this bottle WAY too long. Chalk it up to hormones and a good case of desperation.]


She laughed at herself. Brown eyes rolled at the thought of turning a simple kiss into a complete mental orgasm. Daria couldn't deny the clarity of color she had seen in his eyes as she had impulsively kissed him. She thought that his eyes were the warm color of a tropical sea in summer. Now, she realized that Timron's eyes held hints of warm amber and the coolness of jade. [What could that boy do with that tail of his?]


{Daria, get a grip. You've been in the bottle WAY too long.] She inhaled the fresh air of morning that filtered in through the bottle opening above her. The crisp, clear scent of winter filled her lungs as she drew it deeply within her. In the few seconds of that brief kiss, she knew Timron's scent. It certainly wasn't human like aftershave or soap. He smelled of spring water and vanilla, of musk and moonlight.


"Okay, girlfriend. You have got a bad case of the hornies." Daria sternly addressed her reflection. "Deal with it and get over it. You're a tough girl. You've been doing this for almost twelve hundred years and you're now starting to finally think your master is hot!? Get a grip!"


She let her face fall into her hands and she shook her head in denial. The Djinni waved her hand and the water basin and mirror vanished from view. She usually wore the harem girl outfit to impress the rustics that were fortunate to open her bottle. Today, she felt like cutting through the crap and simply enjoying the day. Gone were the velvet harem pants and the silk veils. Instead, Daria donned some of the more contemporary wear of the populace. Blue jeans replaced billowy fabric and a turtleneck appeared in place of
robes.


A small mischievous smirk crossed her face. "Oh, what the hell? I'll do the Barbara Eden thing today." With that, the raven-haired Djinni crossed her arms, bobbed her head, and blinked.


A thick column of lavender smoke filled the bottle and rose through the opening. It hovered above the bottle and then moved midair a few inches away from it. She knew it looked like a hurricane crossed with a forest fire, but Daria cared little for theatrics. The thick column settled and began to take a more curvaceous form. Within a few seconds, brown eyes belong to a young woman stepped from the final wafts of smoke.


She looked around the room and studied her surroundings. In her talk with Timron the previous night, she had paid much attention to everything around her. She saw the oak table, ornately carved, against one wall of the room. Near it sat an antique rocking chair lacquered in a dark walnut varnished. She saw a round back guitar propped easily in the corner along with a music stand and some sheet music. Daria smiled when she noticed the Bible lying on the table. "Just like him. He's one of the deep, philosophical types. Figures."


She looked for a bed half expecting to see the Gargoyle resting easily upon it. She saw nothing that indicated that he slept in the room. She turned around from the bay window and almost ran into a solid wall of stone. "What the hell?"


She gasped as she met eye to eye with a kneeling statue. Its wings were cloaked around him and a tail extended from the base to give the sculpture balance. She bent over to give the statue closer examination. She recognized the wavy tresses and the pointed ears. The same eyes stared back at her that had the night before except they were now hard granite. Daria's velvet brown eyes widened in disbelief when she realized the effigy before her was exactly Timron's image.


"Okay... I think I've stepped into the twilight zone." She had a faint feeling of dread fill her. She couldn't be far from her bottle. If she were more than a mile, she became insubstantial and became prisoner in her bottle until the next master found her. She looked around the room for any answer.


She saw several books lined neatly in a bookcase. She noticed a brass incense burner that sat on a lace-covered table with several precious stones of amethyst, hematite and rose quartz. Daria ran her fingers along the edge of the lace-covered table and found a book at the end. It was a rather thick black leather tome that read "The Tome Of Tacitus."


"What do we have here?" Curiosity overwhelmed Daria's sense of discretion. She gave into the natural Djinni urge to snoop through her master's belongings. She leafed through the book for several minutes. She found out it was almost brand new being published in November 2005 by Xanatos Publishing. The translators were listed as Adrienne Westfall and Wren Summers-Nightkind.


Daria remained fixed to the fantastic information she read. She realized that the Tome was a history of Timron's people. It chronicled DeMahri origins of the planet Auvaullahan from the Thubin star system. It told of their migration across the galaxy to find their way to earth. The Djinni found Tacitus' writing of the Gargoyle Way touched something deep within her jaded soul. The stories made mention that Gargoyles turned to stone at daylight. She looked over at the stone effigy of Timron with new respect. She shrugged and returned to her reading. Then, her eyes came across a title that caught her eye "The Legend of Daria."


An eerie feeling of dread filled her. She waved her hand in dismissal. "Nah. Just a freaky coincidence. No biggie."


The pages mysteriously remained stuck together. She grudgingly let her eyes return to the page. She used her finger to underline each passage as she read it. Twelve hundred years of frustration, anger and sorrow threatened to overwhelm Daria as she read every line. The battle in the desert outside Sardis filled her mind. Titania's vengeful words locking Daria into the bottle leaped from the page into her thoughts. "Damn you, Titania. I hope you burn in Hell."


She slammed the book shut and almost threw it across the room. The spell Titania uttered in her final moments brought forth humility the young Djinni often lacked.


"Of Vanity and conceit are you composed
And vanquished heart it is supposed.

Your words are bitter and full of scorn
Because of your vainglory worn.

You have committed treason against your queen
And her honor you have viciously demeaned.

The price exacted for your vanity's crime
Shall outlast the longest reaches of time.

Within this flask shall you be bound within
No longer Fae but forever Djinn.

Serving the whims of those who are full of conceit
Let you find humility within your defeat.

Let your vanity hold you longer than time
And confine you within the bottle's paradigm.

And be forever bound in your new home
And let love bring you a heart of stone.

When rocks can love and speak of it sweetly
Then will the spell come undone and set you free."


Stinging tears pricked Daria's eyelids. She blinked rapidly to conquer them and wiped her eyes. She quickly returned the Tome to its spot on the table. She looked at the clock and realized that it was only 11:30 in the morning. She chose to make the best of her time here by learning more about the people and things that surrounded him.


***************


Dreams of violet velvet visions haunted his mind. In slumber, he was surrounded by billowing waves of lavender silk. The faint scent of lilacs filled the air as he inhaled the fragrance. Behind a mauve veil stared two luminous velvet brown eyes. Dark lashes and delicately arched brows framed them. Raven ringlets framed her face. He remembered the warm feel of her lips pressed innocently against his as she impulsively kissed him. He smelled her natural floral aromas and wanted to lose himself in lavender longings.


The Gargoyle dreamt of the damned amethyst bottle. He held it tightly in his talons. He threw the bottle on the concrete of the patio. The bottle bounced as if made of rubber and returned to his grasp. He ran wildly through the house and robbed Wren of her Annulus. Again and again, he brought the finely wrought Mithral blade upon the jeweled flask. Bright sparks danced but the bottle held fast.


"Eternity isn't long enough." He whispered to the Djinni with black hair and big brown eyes. "I look at you and I want more than this."


"We take what we can get." She shrugged. He couldn't miss the tears forming in her eyes. "Some people never get to be together at all."


"I will find a way to free you." He wrapped her closely in talons and wings. He whispered into her veils and hair. "I swear it, Daria. I want much more..."


"Shhhhh..." Daria looked away from the scarlet warrior. "It's just a dream. Enjoy it. Maybe... maybe..."


Timron felt the warmth of the winter's sun on his face. He felt stone shroud him in a protective layer that defied the elements and outlasted Father Time. The stone skin felt as though it were a loincloth two sizes too small. He was filled with the urge to stretch. The sweet languidness of slumber ebbed slowly throughout his body. He unfurled his wings, stretched his arms and let forth a resounding roar.


The stone skin came apart in shards and flew across the room. The back of one wing caught the violet flask sitting on the wooden seat before his bay window. He watched the bottle teeter on the edge and crash neck-first to the floor. "By the Dragon, NO!"


His agile tail wrapped around the bottle's neck only a few inches above the hardwood floor following his panicked cry. Very slowly and carefully, Timron reached for the bottle and carefully set it on the oak table in the middle of his room. He saw the granite shards lying around everywhere and inwardly groaned. He remembered why he usually perched on the patio rather than inside the house. He went to his closet and reached for a broom.

He thought about the dream he had shortly before awakening. He shook his head in puzzlement. He found Daria to be an interesting personality and a seemingly nice person, but his dream implied deeper, meaningful things about which he hadn't thought much. She was a creature of pure Magick and chicanery. Timron recently learned how capricious and wily were such creatures. Selene's duplicity still rang fresh in his mind. Hurt pride and warrior's anger brewed within him at how she duped him.

He watched in mute curiosity as a thick vapor of purple smoke poured out of the bottle. It drifted along the oak of the hardwood floor and extended about six feet. It began assuming curves and contours resembling that of the Djinni he was beginning to know so well. The smoke solidified and, lying on the floor on her side, appeared Daria.

"What the hell is going on, Timron?" She gave him a stern look. "It felt like an earthquake hit my bottle."

"I'm sorry." He bowed his head contritely and offered his hand to her. She glanced at him warily and reluctantly allowed the crimson Gargoyle to help her to her feet. "I accidentally knocked your bottle from it's setting place as I awoke."

"Don't worry about it." She mumbled grudgingly. "It's no biggie. It just scared the wits out of me."

"Are you sure?" He persisted. Timron squelched the protective urge of wrapping his tail around her waist.

"Positive." She grimaced while rubbing her backside. "I think the only thing you hurt, Timron, is my Djinni pride."

"I'll do some research and see if there is a way to break the spell." He told her. He watched the light of hope come alive in dark brown eyes. His enthusiasm simmered within him. "We will find a way, if there is one, of freeing you from the bottle."

"It's never proven successful." Daria sighed. "It's a nice dream."

"Have hope." He grasped her by her bare arms. She saw misty green eyes staring intently at her. "We only just begun."

"Sounds like a Carpenters' Tune, but, hey! I'm game. All right." She conceded her defeat to the scarlet warrior before her. "You win. We have over three weeks. It'll be nice having someone trying to do a nice thing for me for a change. I'm not used to that."

"I love to serve." He purred. "If you'll let me."

[Do Gargoyles purr?] Daria pondered. "Isn't that my job, O Great One?"

"Not while you're with me." Timron's growl rumbled quiet and low within his chest. "I'd love to make your wishes come true."

"I just bet you would." She stood there with her hands on hips and her brow raised sardonically. The skepticism in her voice was obvious. "Right. Uh-huh. Blow more smoke up my bottle."

"It's meditation for me." He explained. Timron clasped her hands. "Gargoyles do many things. We protect. That is our way. Once you learn more about us, you'll also learn that it our nature to serve."

"How do you keep from getting exploited?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm a Gargoyle, not brain-damaged." He riposted. "We aren't mindless fools ripe for exploitation."

"I know." Daria replied hurriedly. "I didn't mean to offend. It just seems odd that you get off on giving to someone."

"You've been forced to give so long that you don't know anything else." He brushed a stray curl from the middle of her brow.

"You got that right." She agreed.

"I want to look through the Tome of Tacitus and see what we can find." He took her hand. He remembered that she said that once out of the bottle, she functioned as a regular being. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished." She heard her stomach growl and hoped the large Gargoyle didn't hear it.

"Before we start tonight's research, let me fix you dinner." He exuberantly grabbed Daria and led her down the corridor to the kitchen.

Her head bobbed wildly as he drug her along the hallway. She had to lengthen her stride just to keep up with Timron. "Slow down, Cowboy. You don't have to fix me anything."

"I want to. Let me." He said simply as they made their way into the kitchen. "Please?"

Misty green eyes silently pleaded with her. Daria knew that she was lost. The combination of charm, concern, and true caring undid all her well-thought resolutions. Whatever charms this Gargoyle possessed inexplicably worked on her with little effort. She silently cursed the Fates for delivering her into the arms and possession of the Scarlet warrior.

"Okay. I don't see the harm in it." She admitted, she longed for a good, hot, home-cooked meal. She studied him. [Just what do Gargoyles eat anyway?]

She watched the Crimson warrior cloak chiropteran wings around broad shoulders and curl his tail close to his body. He donned a white chef's cap that had a caption that read, "Gargoyles get stoned better." The Djinni covered her mouth to stifle the girlish giggle bubbling inside her. Then, she watched him reach into the pantry closet next to the stove. Timron pulled out a frilly pink apron and brought it over his head. When he turned her to face her, she lost her remaining restraint. Rowdy laughter filled the room when Daria saw the saying printed in hot pink letters across the front of the apron.

"KISS THE COOK."

Daria felt her impish streak scream for freedom. She sauntered over to the Gargoyle digging through the refrigerator. "Hey, you."

"Yes?" He poked his head from the fridge.

"Just this." She wrapped her arms around his neck and leapt into his surprised embrace. Silk-clad legs wrapped around his waist and she yelled. "Bonzai!"

Her lips found his. When he gasped in bewilderment she took the opportunity to savor his unique taste. His wings flared in automatic response to the onslaught. Stars flashed before his eyes and he found the breath stolen from his lungs. He wrapped his arms around her and began to return her kiss with abandon.

Daria wriggled free of Timron's embrace and dusted off her hands. "Be careful what you wish for, Timron. You just might get it."

"AH...buh...buh...but." He stammered mindlessly.

"I'm hungry. Now, feed me." She left the room. She looked over her shoulder at the befuddled Gargoyle. "I'll be back."

"By the Dragon." He whispered. "What has the Dragon cursed me with now?"

*************

Twenty minutes later, Daria watched Timron pull a pizza from the oven. He apologized profusely to the young Djinni that the crust wasn't made from scratch. She told him it wasn't a problem and her eyes took in the sight before her. He had adorned the ready-made crust with rich marinara sauce, fresh mushrooms, juicy green peppers and mountains of cheese. She licked her lips hungrily as she stared at the culinary miracle steaming on the plate before her. Her stomach let out a very loud growl.

"Timron, that's not a pizza. That's a feast." She exclaimed and greedily took the piece he offered her. "Thank you. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"I've learned that everyone is on their own here." He shrugged. "Wren and Demetrius usually don't get home until after seven o' clock. So, I had Demetrius show me how to uses the wonderful Magicks in their kitchen."

"They're not Magick." She gave him a sympathetic stare. "It's technology."

"I know." He replied gently. "But on Avalon, we had stone hearths and open fires. It's different from microwaves and commercial gas stoves."

"This is true." She snapped her fingers and the steam from her pizza vanished. Daria nodded her head in satisfaction and took a hearty bite of the wonderful dish Timron had prepared for them.

The combination of the different flavors set her taste buds into savoring ecstasy. She gave him a large nod and a "thumbs-up" sign. "Demetrius taught you well, O Great One. No complaints here."

"Good. Now eat." He took a bite of his own delicacy. He watched the Djinni almost inhale the first piece of pizza. He wondered how anyone so slender could consume that much food in such a short time.

For the next few minutes, they talked about Daria's day. She told him that she had stayed around Summerlands and helped herself to the Library in his room. She also read several books left by Wren and Demetrius in the den. He shared with her his experience of being raised by Humans on Avalon. She listened contentedly as he spun tales of Princess Katherine, Tom, and the Magus.

"How does your upbringing differ say with Demetrius who was raised in traditional clan style?" Daria asked.

"He's always saying 'protect and patrol' until it's hammered into my head." Timron sighed in exasperation. "He's just like Gabriel, always mentioning the clan. We don't have a clan here in the outside world."

"Well, I think you do." Daria leaned forward and tweaked his Roman, Gargoyle nose. Two brow ridges rose in mild surprise. "Think about it. You have three or four Gargoyles: yourself, Dominique half the time, Wren -again, half the time, and Demetrius...sort of. Then, you have MacBeth who's from that time frame. You have Tina...who fits in just because she's different like the rest of you. You all have one thing in common -you don't precisely fit in with what's mainstream among your clan, people -whatever. Now, you're all here in the 'outside world' living under the same roof. Whether you want to admit it or not, Timron, you guys are a clan."

"In that way, you have a point." He admitted. "I miss Avalon. But, I like it here. I just wish I could walk around without people staring at me."

"Immersion by degrees, Timron." Daria laid a hand on his forearm. "I've been among humans for so long, I think I am one. You have to take it slowly. From what I know, Linoma is one of the most active metaphysical centers in the United States. Five million inhabitants and almost 20 percent have some kind of preternatural connection. That's exceedingly rare."

"I just wish that Humans didn't hate my kind." He sighed.

"It's not that they hate you." She laid her head on his shoulder. "They just don't know what to make of you. Linomanites are used to Vampires. So, they stay inside after dark. They're accustomed to Elves, so they appreciate the beauty of Wilderness Park and the Sunken Fairy Gardens. They know about the Garou, the werewolves, so they avoid the campsites around the time of the full moon. Now, they will know about Gargoyles protecting their city. In time, humans will come to accept you."

"But we're not like the others." Timron's platinum wings flared with exasperation. "We don't hunt Humans. Gargoyles don't look down their noses at them like the Fae. We don't compete for land with them like the Garou. We just want to live in peace with them and protect our home."

"Nothing comes easily." Daria shook her head. "I've been alive a long time. In the three thousand years I've been around, I've seen Humanity change and stay the same. There are always those who will hate and fear that which they don't understand. There are also those who will reach out to you with an open hand. You have to keep faith."

"I just want to explore this strange world." He longed to add 'with you.'

A mysterious twinkle illuminated velvet brown eyes. A sly, knowing smile crossed full rosy lips. "Who says you can't? You do have a Djinni at your service."

"I don't want to waste my wishes." He spoke softly. [I don't want to give you up so quickly.] His secret thoughts followed.

"Who says you have to?" Daria nudged him playfully in the ribs. "Tell me what you'd like to do. Don't wish for it...tell me or show me. I can give you world if you let me. Remember, THERE ARE ALWAYS LOOPHOLES."

"Well..." A dreamy look crossed his face. Misty green eyes darkened to forest green. "I like motorcycles and I don't have the money right now to buy one."

"Do you have a favorite one in particular?"

"Yeah." A singsong note entered his quiet baritone. "I want a 2006 Harley V Rod."

"Whatever that is." Daria shrugged. "Do you have a picture?"

"Do I have a picture?" Timron asked in amazement. "Let's clean up this mess and then I'll show you."

Dishes were quickly rinsed and placed in the dishwasher. Leftover pizza was wrapped in plastic and placed in the refrigerator. Daria had to run to keep up with the enthusiastic Gargoyle. He ran on all fours up the stairs to his room. She rolled her eyes in defeat and just teleported herself to his chambers. Just as she arrived the door slammed open and Timron rose to his feet.

"Wha?" He looked at the Djinni dumbfounded. "How did you get here? You were right behind me?"

"I blinked." She bowed as a humble servant before her master. "I teleported. There was no way in Hell I could keep up with you at that pace. So, I evened the odds a bit. It's within my perimeters to do so."

"Next time, I'll slow down."

"Do you have the picture?" She asked eagerly.

"Oh, yeah." He ruffled through a tidy stack of papers on the oak table. He hastily searched through several printouts and proudly handed her a series of stapled papers. "This is it."

She carefully read through the information. She stared at the picture of the motorcycle. The heading read "The 2006 V-Rod: Harley-Davidson's revolutionary muscle bike. She studied the picture carefully. It was silver and chrome from handlebars to the taillights. It was streamlined freedom on wheels. She read some of the features aloud. "It's worth $17,200. Fuel-injected liquid cooled 69 cubic inches. Hmmmm... it has one hundred fifteen horsepower at 8520 rotations per minute. It's a barrel-keyed ignition switch. 93.6 inches long, seat height is 26 inches with a wheelbase of 67.5 inches. It has a dry weight capacity of 596 pounds."

"That's my baby." He gave her a mischievous grin. One crimson talon tapped lightly at the photograph. "I don't have seventeen grand."

"You don't need it, Timron." Daria wriggled her brows. "Stand back. I need room."

"What are you doing?" He asked warily.

"Trust me, Cowboy." She smirked. "This calls for some fine tuning."

Daria folded her arms in front of her. She stared at the empty space near the oak table in his room with renewed purpose. She bobbed her head, blinked and recited the following words.

"Eu não vou ir trifle com um coração do Gargoyle.
Sei como que isto deve começar.
Necessito um motorcycle que ele ama.
Necessito uma V-ROD de Harley que é mais que suficiente."

The paper in Timron's hand ruffled. He looked down to see the ink of the picture dripping off the side of the page and onto the floor. It became a thin stream that flowed rapidly toward the middle of his quarters. It gathered in a puddle just a few feet in front of the duo and began to expand. The room filled with the heavy scent of exhaust fumes and motor oil. He thought he heard the growl of an engine somewhere in the background. His mouth dropped almost to the floor as the black pool of ink rose nearly twenty-six inches in height and stretched out to be not quite eight feet long. The inky blackness brightened to the polished metallic hues of silver and argent.

Before the Gargoyle stood a brand new 2006 Harley V-Rod. On each handlebar hung a helmet. Draped over the seat was a leather jacket. He stared at it wide-eyed and opened mouth. He mutely turned to Daria and pointed at the motorcycle. He finally remembered to close his mouth.

"Daria...how did you do that?"

"I'm a Djinni, remember?" She reached for the jacket and held it out to him. "Wrap your wings underneath your arms."

He nodded eagerly and complied. She slipped on the jacket over his outstretched arms. The black leather was a striking contrast to his scarlet skin. She looked at him and gave him a huge grin. "Oh, yeah, Baby. You were born to be wild."

"Is this for me?"
"Well, it sure as Hell isn't for the tooth fairy." She quipped. She gave him a little push. "Well, get on it. Try it out."

Timron carefully swung his leg over the side and settled onto the seat. It was a perfect fit. It was a divine blending of Gargoyle and machine. He took the helmet from one of the handlebars and slid it over his head.

"Does it fit?" Daria asked. "Do you need holes for your horns?"

"No, I don't have horns, just brow ridges." He gave a tap to the side of his helmet. His wicked grin caused Daria to unconsciously flinch. He bore a faint resemblance to Asmodeus.

"Now, you have this your 'heartbreak Harley, full-of-steam dream machine' and nowhere to go." Daria couldn't resist quoting a Shania Twain tune that fit the occasion. One of her masters had introduced her to Country music.

"I want to go sing and dance." Timron took off the helmet. "But, I can't go looking like this."

"Damn." She muttered. "That could be a problem."

"Wait a minute, yes I can!" He gave her a knowing grin. "There's a place called the Athenaeum. I think we could go there if we didn't cause any trouble."

"That was where you found me. Do you think that's wise?" She shook her head in disapproval. "Isn't that like a chicken walking into the fox's den?"

"Lysander told Wren that our clan was always welcome. I think he'd be fine with it." Timron tossed her a helmet. Daria caught it deftly in midair. It hovered above her for a few seconds and settled on her head. He watched the helmet bob forward and then a purple leather jacket with matching jeans and chaps adorned her lithe body.

"Nice." She raised her visor. "You know I'm going with you, of course?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Just one problem, Timron." She sighed. "I can't be more than a mile away from my bottle. If I am, you forfeit your wishes and I'm trapped again waiting for the next asshole to find me. I'm not wanting to do that any sooner than I have to."

"Understood." He grabbed the bottle in taloned hand. "Can you give me a carrying compartment of some type?'

"Not a problem." She brought her purple-gloved hands together and bowed her head. With a few words muttered in Persian, two black leather-traveling bags appeared on the back of the motorcycle. "Now, you can travel in style and profile."

Timron went to his closet and withdrew something from it. Daria cocked her head in confusion. She watched the Scarlet warrior wrap her amethyst bottle several times in the billowing fabric. "What are you doing?"

"I'm wrapping it in silk." He purred. "Black silk."

"Why?" She wondered if he had gone mad. "My bottle's unbreakable."

"To keep it warm." He answered. "Tonight, let's go sing, dance and have a good time."

"A Gargoyle and A Fae doing Karaoke at the Athenaeum?" She considered the absurdity of the possibility. She tried to be realistic. Yet, she couldn't resist the growing excitement welling inside her. "Why not? I've seen stranger things. I just don't remember when."

"We have one small problem." Timron looked at the Harley V-Rod. "The bike is still inside."

"Get on, Cowboy." She told him. He slipped on his helmet and got on the bike. She slid in behind him and put her arms around his waist. She felt a strong, powerful tail wrap protectively around her waist. "Headin' down the highway...heavy metal thunder...wrestlin' with the wind... and the feelin' that I'm under."

BLINK.

She felt the cool, February air blowing against her tender skin. He felt the rumble of primal horsepower between his legs. She watched Timron lean into the machine and she heard a strident roar of satisfaction rumble from his chest. He gunned the motor and the duo raced along the highway into Linoma. She knew that she had given him something he never dared wished for in all his day. They had tonight and they had this moment in time to share.

*************

TO BE CONTINUED...