Summary: The sequel to "Wheels and Wings," a crossover with the TV show "Viper."

Author's Notes: Gargoyles is owned by Buena Vista and Disney. This story and any others in the "Wheels and Wings" universe come before and in place of "Hunter's Moon" and the whole Goliath Chronicles. Viper is owned by Pet Fly (the car by Dodge) and this story in that universe occurs in the 1994 season, disregarding the whole syndicated continuation. All characters mentioned in either universe belong to their respective creators. Haile O'Connor belongs to Marvel Comics. "It's the End of the World as We Know It" belongs to R.E.M. All other characters and this story idea, specifically the Grgola mythology including Leviticus and his kind belong to me. Please, do not use them without permission.

Warning: There are a few gruesome cult scenes.

The day after tomorrow...
A time when criminals rule the streets...
The only weapon that can stop them needs a driver...
A thousand years ago, superstition and the sword ruled,
And flesh-and-blood gargoyles ruled the skies...
Now, in Manhattan they are befriended by a human cop.
Together, against a corrupt system,
They are taking back the streets...

Wheels and Wings Part 2:
A Guardian Born

Evil Overlady

~ Prologue ~

Scotland, 996 AD

"Cythraul, Lord of Darkness, I command you..." The dark mage held a gold goblet, decorated with Celtic-designed demons. Firelight reflected off its surface and cast hellish shadows over the mortal servant's face and black robes. Behind him, Leviticus watched, eyes aglow. "...On this most unholiest of nights the walls between our dimensions grow thin, the means to eliminate them once more presented to us after a thousand years of patience..."

Wavy-red hair fluttered in the wind as Cassandra Fleming, last of the Scottish guardians, struggled to free herself from her bindings.

One of the circle of robed followers stood beside her, brandishing a ceremonial knife.

"...May the sacrifice of the blood of Grgola incarnate unite our two worlds and relinquish Earth once more to its rightful masters."

The figure with the knife took up Cassandra's wrist and waited for the goblet to appear beneath it.

"Please, for pity's sake," she pleaded. "Don't do this."

Leviticus spoke, "Your time is up, Guardian. Your gargoyle friends have abandoned you to our mercy. The Age of Mortals has passed. Become one of us or share their fate."

"As long as there are gargoyles and as long as there are humans, there is hope that the sun will continue to rise, and I would rather see the sun than become one of you and yours."

"So be it."

The robed figure raised the knife.

* * *

The tire iron landed near Frankie's hand with a clang. "Yow! Hey! Watch the fingers!"

"Hmph!" the blonde lady sniffed before stalking off.

"California banshee," Frankie grumbled underneath the hood of the car.

Joe snuck up on Frankie from the other side. "Hey! How's it going?"

Thunk! A few inaudible curses. Slowly, Frankie emerged rubbing his head where it hit the underside of the hood of the car. "Peachy."

Joe grimaced apologetically. "Sorry."

More grumbles.

Julian approached them, a tray of coffee and donuts balanced on the handles of his wheelchair. "Hey, Joe! Didn't see you come in."

"I'm here with Elisa." Joe scratched the blue patch wrapped around his elbow unconsciously. "She's supposed to be upstairs interrogating a suspect in the holding cells."

"Ooh." Julian waggled dark eyebrows, then raised one, noting the patch. "Giving blood?"

"Huh?" Joe blanched. "Oh, the patch... Uh, yeah. Seemed like a good idea. After what happened to Elisa's partner..."

"I'm sure someone will appreciate it," Julian assured him.

Frankie shivered. "Gah! Needles. Brr..." He turned to Julian. "Hey, that my latte?"

Julian handed him one of the coffees off the tray.

Frankie took it gingerly, rubbed the back of his head once more, and sat down at a makeshift desk nearby.

"Donut?" Julian offered.

"No, thanks." Joe leaned up against the tarp-covered car they were putting together. "Anyway, as I was saying... I've never seen a woman so steamed. I think even Gerraro was mild in comparison."

"Ouch." Julian winced, looking like he'd burnt his hand on one of the coffees.

Assured he hadn't, Joe continued, "We're not getting anywhere trying to find the Outfit, and that incident at the night club certainly didn't help matters."

"What night club?" Frankie interjected.

"The, um... The Witching Hour on East 54th, owned by a..."

"Irwin Dunstan." Frankie nodded knowingly, taking a cautious sip of his beverage.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Frankie shrugged. "Got a website by the same name. I visit it now and then, sponsored by some sort of Watcher Society. They keep tabs on all the weird stuff in the world."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "What kinda weird stuff?"

"Oh, you know... vampires, witches, Fay folk... Did you know Oberon's Children can be stopped by more than just iron?"

Joe blinked. "Oberon's who?"

Julian faced him. "You do this as some sort of hobby?"

"Hey! There's a lot of bad mojo going on, if you know what I mean. Project Blue Book, witchcraft, Jamaican voodoo dolls..."

"What do you know about guardians?"

"Guardians?"

"Or a 'gathering'?"

"There was the Gathering of Oberon's Children not too long ago. Yeah, everyone and everything with an ounce of mystical energy's supposed to report to ol' Avalon for an undecided length of time, so things are theoretically cooling down on a magical level..."

"Avalon," Julian repeated. "Like in King Arthur...?"

"Avalon's been around a lot longer than King Arthur, Julian. Did you know..."

"Frankie, you said something about a 'watcher society'," Joe interrupted. "Do you suppose you could find out a little more about it, maybe even what they mean when they talk about guardians?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Julian frowned at Joe. "What's up?"

"Something doesn't sit well about this Dunstan character. I can't put my finger on exactly what, but he knows something about Elisa that she doesn't want people to know. That alone makes me nervous."

"Think there's any connection to the Outfit?" Julian wondered.

Joe shook his head. "I don't know. ...but I intend to find out."