Night for the Gargoyles



  Night for the Gargoyles

  by

  M. K. Theodoratus

  Revised Edition: Copyright (c) 2013 M. K. Theodoratus

  Copyright © 2011 M.K. Theodoratus. All Rights Reserved.

  First Published by Spectra Magazine – Issue 5, 2010.

  The demon portal beneath the basement of St. Edmund's Church simmered. The human workers bustled about below Gillen, laying the explosives that would destroy the sanctuary. The leader of the gargoyles protecting the city of Trebridge, squatted in the shadows of the north transept, keeping vigil, anger clouding his thoughts.

  The sight tempted Gillen to send a premature electrical jolt through the wires. But his anger wasn’t directed at the workmen. Orvil, his anchor and second in command, had disappeared again--without leave--and left him to watch the portal, out of turn. Gillen was so pissed that he almost missed Orvil sneaking back into the church.

  Gillen’s eyes narrowed as his lips tightened over his fangs and he fought for control. Uzziel told you to be patient with Orvil. To concentrate on a plan to guard the portal after the church is gone.

  Gone. His emotions tumbled at the thought of losing his home. Hugging his knees, he wrapped his thin tail around his feet, biting his lip to keep his tears at bay as the workers prepared for the great explosion. Shaking his head, he allowed his anger at Orvil to dry his eyes.

  The scraping of leathery wings across the ceiling drew Gillen’s attention away from the demolition crews. Not only Orvil had returned from patrol. All three of his squad hung head-down before him.

  “I see the humans are almost done.” Frens’ gravelly voice trembled. “What do we do now?”

  “How are we going to cope without the church to shelter us?” asked Treasa, sounding bewildered.

  Gillen counted to ten as he often did to control his temper. The squad clung to the shadows. Two perhaps fearing the future as much as he did. At least one searching for opportunity in the coming disaster.

  “First, you can start behaving like guardians, not sheep”

  “Sheep don’t fight. We're fighters. But due to your bad leadership we are stretched too thin,” snapped Orvil, an older gargoyle from a prominent gargoyle. He believed the angel commanders should have appointed him leader of the Trebridge guardians. “You waste your time moaning while imps roam the city's neighborhoods at will.”

  “What about all the ones we've returned to Gehenathh?”

  Orvil sneered. “Those only terrorized the night, Treasa. What of all the attacks during the day?”

  “Patrol during the day when the fiends are least active?” asked Gillen with a shrug, trying to dismiss Orvil's implied accusation. “Sounds silly to me. We need to rest sometime.”

  “You have a plan to cope when the church no longer protects the seal on the demon portal, then?” asked Orvil.

  Gillen glanced across the street to distract himself. Crowds had gathered around the church, ready to enjoy the free spectacle. Excited murmurs grew loud enough to cross the quiet parkway.

  The two girls who used to study in the Chapel of the Pierced Heart stood against a wall with their shoulders touching. Britt--the one with a riot of black, curling hair cascading over her shoulders—glared, her jaw clenched. Sara--the younger one--wiped a tear from her eye as her other hand clutched at Britt’s arm. A few frail, elderly stood with slumped shoulders, resigned to a much longer walk to Celebration. In comparison, the gargoyles only needed a place to store their carvings. The Riverside Projects gave them the vantage to watch over the exposed portal.

  “How will we cope?” Gillen repeated. “Simple. Watch from the projects’ rooftops until the condos are done.”

  Frens, guard of the east, shook his head--not so much in opposition, but as if he considered the possibilities. “We’ve only fought skirmishes in recent decades. If the demons break free, do the four of us have the skills and strength to send them back?”

  “What of our carvings?” asked Treasa. “We’ll be exposed. What if the humans discover them?”

  “You should have already shrunk and hidden them.”

  With a smirk, Orvil added, “The portal hasn’t been so active in years. Perhaps the demons conspire to take advantage of your weaknesses.”

  Ignoring Orvil, Gillen answered Treasa. “All we have to do is deflect the light around us during the day.”

  Even though Gillen sounded confident, the others frowned, mulling over his strategy. Orvil was thinking so hard that Gillen heard the cogs clunking in his head.

  Gillen gave them time to consider the idea before he added, “One of us can sit in the rubble near the gateway at night when the full-grown demons are most likely to break through.”

  Orvil sneered. “And what if we get caught? Keeping the illusion intact during the day is difficult at best.” He shook his head. “We’ll exhaust ourselves. If the demons come through, we’ll lack the strength to return them. How will you solve that problem, oh Great One?”

  When Orvil scowled, the others only looked dubious. Gillen left well enough alone.

  Sometimes I wonder who's the bigger pain in the ass: Orvil or the demons. When will the angels send us reinforcements?

  Gillen answered his own question. Not soon enough.

  #

  Silence fell over the crowd just before the explosion brought the windowless stone walls of St. Edmond’s crashing down. Britt Kelly rubbed her arms. Just when she thought she had a safe place to study, the fates decided to destroy her plans again. She refused to blame the Master.

  The dust rose in a dark cloud so thick she couldn’t see the stones rise and pound back to the ground. While most in the crowd cheered, Britt swallowed the bitter tears dribbling down the back of her throat.

  There go my grades down the sewer.

  Britt hadn’t complained when they lost their condo in the suburbs and had to move into her older sister’s two-bedroom apartment in the projects. She hadn’t complained about wearing thrift-store clothing. Only studying was next to impossible in the over-crowded apartment with four kids running around or playing games.

  “Don’t worry, Britt,” said Sara, a fellow freshman at Saint Cecilia’s High School. “We’ll find some place to study.”

  “Where for free?” Britt clenched her teeth. Despair threatened to overwhelm her. “You like the perverts at the library? Or, do you prefer the hood rats shooting in the park? We’d be screwed when it rains anyway.”

  “Maybe Sister Rosamundi will let us use the school’s study hall without paying the fees? We get good grades.”

  “She’d get in trouble again if she got caught letting project kids in for free.” Britt lowered her voice an octave in imitation of the bishop. “Our scholarships already gobble resources, Sister.”

  Sara refused to give up. “We could collect cans for the study hall fees.”

  “You willing to fight for a territory with adults who don't have to go to school?”

  While they spoke, loaders and huge trucks arrived to carry the stone away. Anger replaced Britt’s sorrow as she stalked away.

  Get used to it. St. Edmund’s is gone forever.

  #

  Almost a week later on a bright Sunday afternoon, Britt and Sara--along with a couple boys, who lived on their floor--were poking around the rubble. Kids and professional scavengers had already mined the debris, taking everything left of value. Still, Britt hoped to find an intact floor tile or something. She poked in the dirt of the shallow pit marking the former church with a length of bent, rusted re-bar.

  “Hey, I found something!” Sara’s voice rang in triumph from across the pit. “A piece of carved stone!”

  Britt started across the rubble to where the others dug with the
ir hands. She stumbled, her foot plunging through the rubble as if the dirt had gone mushy. Invisible hands clutched at her foot, trying to pull her deeper. The claws dug into her ankle. Her stomach turned queasy as a pungent odor clutched at the back of her throat.

  Gritting her teeth, Britt kicked and pulled and stabbed around her foot with the re-bar. The weird sensation disappeared, and her foot sprang free. When she looked up, the others hadn’t noticed her struggles.

  “Britt!” Sara crowed with glee. “I found a bat.”

  “I found another one,” said Cahal, the elder of the boys. “Its outspread wings aren’t even broken.”

  All four uncovered stone figures arranged in a diamond shape. Britt stared down at hers. “They’re gargoyles. I wonder how the others missed them.”

  “Who cares?” The other, younger boy grinned as he wiped off his figure with his shirt tail. “I’m taking mine home. I’ll have a pet in spite of the super’s rules.”

  “Careful, someone might rob you,” said Cahal.

  “If we all go together, the rats’ll think twice about tackling us,” said Sara.

  The foursome lucked out. No one entered the elevator with them or hanged in the dim hallway when they emerged. Britt sighed with relief when she entered the bedroom she shared with her mother and brothers.

  Britt climbed onto her top bunk and pulled the carving from her waistband. Taking a dirty sock, she wiped the dirt off the figure. As she rubbed, the carving purred. The sound grew louder as the gargoyle image heated. Britt threw it away from her, and the carving landed on the bed.

  Her mouth fell open as a thin figure with bat wings and ears brushed against the ceiling even though he hunched over. A long tail flopped over his shoulder. The creature was hairless--except for a tuft of hair over his eyes--and naked. The two stared at each other.

  Do I look as ugly to him as he does to me?

  #

  Horror filled Gillen as he realized Britt saw his true form. The Compact declared that gargoyles conceal their real presence from humans at all times unless they were among the Chosen.

  “What are you?” Britt whispered, clutching at her shirt.

  The gargoyle took a deep breath. Britt blinked, swallowing hard over and over again. Her breath came in short gasps, but mercifully, she didn’t scream.

  Gillen tried to assure her. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  “What are you?” she asked again as she struggled for control.

  “A guardian. St. Edmund’s protected the world from the demon world of cold and darkness. Gehenathh.”

  Britt scooted away as far as the narrow bunk bed would let her. “Did the other carvings hide things like you?”

  Nodding, Gillen relaxed a little, no longer ready to wipe her memory. The blinking girl intrigued him as she fought to keep her fears at bay. He stroked his chin as he wondered how to solve this puzzle without calling Uzziel, his commanding angel. Gillen knew she was intelligent, but her bravery impressed him more. He relaxed more as curiosity replaced her fear in her expression.

  “What am I supposed to do with you? Do you need a litter box?”

  Orvil shouted in his mind before he could answer her. “Gillen, the boundary between Trebridge and Gehennathh disappears. Get your feeble ass down here. Now.”

  “Are you interested in learning more?” Gillen held out his hand, deciding to make a leap of faith, to gamble. “Sounds like a demon is testing the boundary between our worlds now. Do you dare join me?”

  After a moment, Britt nodded and put her small, human hand in his. Gillen scooped her up in his arms and shifted to the north end of the portal, only to collide with Orvil standing in his place. Both gargoyles and Britt tangled in a heap. His anger boiled as Gillen pulled Britt away from the edge of the portal’s circle.

  Orvil was first on his feet. The gargoyle dug his clawed toes into the rubble and glared at Gillen. “I’m Lodestar now. Move to the anchor position and reinforce my Grace.”

  The devilish cold of the Netherworld singed Gillen’s back. With a glare to let Orvil know a future fight waited, Gillen took a position on the south side of the portal with Britt behind him.

  “Watch, and do what I say.”

  As Gillen spoke, the dark, oily patch in the pit roiled to a boil near where the nave had met the transepts. A jeweled crown, balanced on a rooster comb rose from the depths. A portly demon jumped free of the bubbling debris, a snake-headed tail swaying above him. Green skin flaked off his bare chest.

  “Well. Well. A welcoming committee. I’m touched.”

  The demon, Abraxas, spoke in a high pitched voice and sneered as he turned in a circle, each phrase punctuated by a flick of his whip. At each whip crack, the snake hissed at the gargoyles.

  “You are unwelcome, Abraxas,” said Gillen. “Go back to the depths from whence you came.”

  “You overstep yourself, Gillen.” Orvil snarled. “I am Lodestar now. I'm in command.”

  Gillen reached out to hold Britt’s trembling hand. On her own, the girl stepped closer to him until he could sense the unexpected heat flowing from her. She shared Grace with him without being trained in its use.

  “How sweet.” Abraxas’ tongue licked his beak sending his waddles swaying. “The rest of you must feel lonely without your new little friends.”

  With a flick of the whip, Britt’s friends stood in a huddle to one side of the pit. The teens swayed—unaware sleepwalkers caught in a nightmare--sliding towards the circle and the demon.

  Their charge to protect all humans distracted the gargoyles from the seep and sent both Frens and Treasa grabbing at the children. The fiend sneered at Orvil--who had not moved--and cracked his whip, sending silver sparks around them.

  “Are you guys crazy?” Britt shouted, but her friends swayed in rhythm with the snake’s head, even the strong-minded Cahal. “Move back! Get away from the rooster head!”

  Gillen snapped his fingers. Sprays of bright colored sparks danced and rose above the pit.

  Abraxas smirked. “You won’t catch my gaze so easily, Gillen. Why doesn’t your friend obey me? If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was awake.”

  Britt moved her feet further apart. “I am awake, you repulsive chicken!”

  Abraxas waved his hand, his arm stretching toward her as he chanted low musical sounds. “She’s not coming to me. Are you sure she’s human, Gillen? Have you caught a contrary imp by mistake?” The demon tittered and shrugged. “I’ll just take the others. They’ll give us more than enough amusement.”

  As her friends slid closer towards the demon, Britt yelled, “No! I won’t let you hurt my friends!”

  Laughing, Abraxas snapped his whip. “I’m a god. I do as I will.”

  The demon’s whip missed Britt as she jumped into the pit. Stooping, she picked up the piece of re-bar she had dropped earlier. Britt brandished the iron bar and then, clobbered Abraxas’ knee, swinging the re-bar like a bat.

  The fiend fell to his side, rolled over, staring up at the gargoyles. Gillen snarled at him and waved Britt away. He wrapped the Light pouring from his hands around Abraxas. The other two gargoyles joined him, while Orvil hung back, to create a dome of white Light and shoved the demon into the soft portal.

  “Curse you.” Abraxas screamed as he disappeared.

  Gillen held the shivering Britt close to him, folding a wing around her. “Never, ever jump into a demon circle again.” His voice was low as he comforted her. “You could have died.”

  As he spoke to Britt, the other gargoyles wove binding spells and prayers over the portal. When they finished, the rubble shone with their Grace.

  After they sent their human finders to their homes, Gillen let Britt stay by his side. If she's the human Lodestar, it's best she knows what's happening.

  “Orvil, you forgot to erase the nightmare from your finder.” Gillen’s smile promised his fellow gargoyle a world of hurt. “You’ve been forgetting too many things of late.” br />
  “Agreed, but I’ll reprimand him, Gillen.”

  A tall figure stood in a sight-blurring blaze of multi-colored light. Four opalescent wings rose from the angel’s back. Orvil's eyes bulged in his horrified face. Britt moved closer to Gillen and clutched his hand.

  “My Lord Uzziel,” said the gargoyles in unison as they knelt before the Virtue.

  Gillen yanked Britt to her knees at his side.

  The angel’s voice sunk in sorrow. “Unfortunately, I am no longer your lord, Orvil.”

  Orvil gasped. “Have mercy, sir.”

  “You broke The Compact to protect humankind from Gehenathh. You caused dissension when you should have supported your Lodestar. Your sin of pride allowed Abraxas to weaken the wards, enabling him to rise.”

  With a negligent wave, Uzziel opened the portal and threw Orvil head-first into the pit. Just as casually, he covered it with criss-crossing bars of white Light. Screams and laughter rose from below, leaving Gillen cold and fearful.

  Could I be next? I allowed Orvil’s disobedience.

  “When will Orvil’s replacement arrive, sir?” Gillen dared to ask, worried, feeling responsible because the wards had weakened on his watch. “Lacking an Anchor will sap our strength.”

  Uzziel’s chuckle sent fear slicing through Gillen. “I wouldn't worry about Orvil's replacement yet. Your Chosen have arrived, Gillen. All you have to do is train them.”

  ~Fin~

  Hi. I hope you enjoyed reading Night for the Gargoyles. This short story, first published by the British fantasy e-zine Spectra Magazine in 2010, grew into the novel, There Be Demons. The Grumpy Dragon will publish the teen novel in early 2014.

  You might be interested in my other fantasy stories about the Far Isles Half-Elven.

  Learn about the history of the Half-Elven, bios of the heroes of their Rebellion, plus read excerpts and free e-stories. Just visit the Far Isles Half-Elven website: https://www.half-elven.com.

  You can learn more about my fantasy writing at my author website: https://www.mktheodoratus.com I also blog about books and my writing at https://kaytheod.blogspot.com.