|
Naomi
looked over the edge. From above the grounds had a planned
geometry to them, the lawns and the pathways radiated out
from the great hall like spokes of a wheel. The people
seemed so small and insignificant, the cars tiny like toys,
the trees like green candles on a cake. Naomi turned and
looked at her friend, his hands clasped the stonework, the
feathery sandstone of his wings quivered in the breeze, his
large ears twitched.
“I have a
sister, Monsieur, she is younger then me, sixteen. We fight
like all sisters do; she steals my clothes and uses my
perfume. Two days ago she took a necklace that was really
special to me, it belonged to my grandmother and she knows
that I treasure it more than anything. I caught her wearing
it and we had this huge argument. I said things to her which
I shouldn’t have said but I was so angry.”
“I see.”
“She has
run away. My parents are upset. We have looked everywhere
but it’s like she has disappeared. Its all my fault
Monsieur.” Naomi’s voice cracked and her eyes welled with
tears.
Monsieur
Marbledark turned to Naomi and contemplated her, noting the
changes on her face since he had last seen her. A breeze
caught her curly red hair blowing it around her face,
obscuring her features like a flag curling around its pole.
“There will
be a price. Are you willing to pay that price?” The
gargoyle’s mouth became serious.
Naomi
reached down into her bag. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said,
pulling out the packet of honey soy chicken chips, “the
first payment.”
“Oh yes, my
favourite,” Monsieur reached the packet and immediately
opened it and began eating the chips loudly and with relish.
“I forgot how good these taste. Manna of heaven indeed.”
Naomi
smiled for the first time in days watching her friend so
obviously enjoying his snack.
“Tell me
about your sister. Do you have a portrait of her?”
“Her name
is Lucy. I printed a photo that was taken a few weeks ago.”
Naomi passed it over.
“She
doesn’t look much like you does she?” The gargoyle observed.
“Straight dark hair and her features are much prettier.”
“Thanks.”
Said Naomi recalling his bluntness, but he was the way he
was and at least he always spoke the truth.
The sun had
sunk further and now the rooftop was in shadows. A raven
flew past, its inky wings flapping loudly; it was so close
Naomi could see its sharp eye amidst the ebony plumage,
observing her and her strange companion. Monsieur Marbledark
finished the snack and snarled at the raven, enjoying
startling the big bird.
“Tonight
I’ll fly. It’s been a while, but these old creaky wings
should get some exercise at least once in a century. I’ll
visit some old friends, put the word out. See what
information I can find.”
“Thank
you.”
“Come back
tomorrow afternoon, same time.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve
already thanked me.” The stone creature looked over at Naomi
and for a brief moment smiled. His ugly face looking even
more distorted.
“Now go. I
need to plan my night.”
Naomi shut
the bedroom door and crawled on her bed, burying herself in
the pillow and wanting to cry. The evening had been tense;
the whole house seemed to radiate unspoken fears and
accusations. The policewoman assigned to the case was
talking to her parents when she had arrived home, her mother
had snapped at her for being later than usual. There was no
new information. Her mother sat crumpled and silent in the
lounge chair with the phone lying beside her, her father
made some toasted sandwiches which no-one ate, they sat on
the table, cold and hard like forgotten cheese.
Naomi
pulled aside the curtains and unlatched the window, letting
the breezes swirl in. She could hear a frog croaking and the
swish of wings, she could almost make out the shape, large
and batlike, a flying fox looking for some nectar. She
wondered if Monsieur Marbledark looked like a bat when he
flew, is that what people would think he was, a large bat?
She wondered if his wings swished, she wondered where he was
and where Lucy was. Her heart and stomach ached; anxiety
crawled around her body like a caterpillar creeping under
her skin leaving her feeling edgy.
Think of
happier times, she thought, think about anything else but
Lucy. She remembered when they had first moved here and she
had started spending afternoons in her father’s office at
the University, his rooms were located in the older
buildings and she had begun exploring the halls and
forgotten staircases. One afternoon she had found herself on
the roof and chosen a spot where she could easily see over
the edge and watch the world underneath her, it was peaceful
and although the afternoon was crisp, she was wearing a coat
and she half fell asleep into a fantasy of being a princess
in her tower.
She was
awakened from her reverie by a deep voice, got you now, it
said and a strange laugh chuckled over the balustrade
sounding like rocks rolling down a tin roof. She looked
around but there was no one. Then she noticed something at
the edge of roof, a stone hand clutched a rigid pigeon, the
bird’s eyes blinked in terror, and as she followed its gaze,
she looked at the profile of a strange stature. She stood up
and walked closer, the head swivelled, and she looked into
the ugliest face she had ever seen; large pointy ears, a
round forehead, deep-set eyes that were almost human, a
large animal-like snout with a predator’s sharp teeth. A
demon face.
What are
you doing with that bird; she had managed to ask even though
she had felt as scared as it was possible. He had laughed,
giving it a lesson, he had murmured, and then he had opened
his hand and the bird had flown away in a flurry of
feathers. He looked her over, interesting he had said, you
can hear me, you must be a little bit special, what is your
name human child? So began the strange friendship of
Monsieur Marbledark, an ancient creature of carved rock, and
Naomi, a teenage girl. She fell asleep remembering his droll
jokes.
She quietly
closed the rooftop door and approached the gargoyle, he
turned and nodded, she stood expectantly.
“I have
news. She is with the angels.”
Naomi felt
fear climbing up her torso. “I don’t understand.”
“She is at
the cemetery.”
Naomi felt
herself falling and the weirdest sound came out of her
mouth, a keening sob. “She’s dead,” she rocked on her knees,
tears streaming down her face.
Monsieur
Marbledark looked at her astonished. “Why would she be
dead?”
“She’s not
dead.”
“No.”
“I don’t
understand.”
“She’s with
the Stone Angels, at the cemetery.” He said softly. “She is
being recruited.”
“Recruited?”
“The Stone
Angels recruit young girls to join their ranks. That is how
they increase in number. I don’t know the details but it
seems she is with them and is undergoing some sort of
initiation.”
“Let me get
this straight,” Naomi stood up glaring at the gargoyle, “she
is with statures, angel statures and she is being recruited,
why?”
“So she can
become one of them. So she can become an angel.”
“Why her?”
“She must
have your gift of being able to communicate with the
Atacamites, she must seem like a perfect candidate, alone,
sad, feeling unwanted, ready for a change. We need to bring
her home before it’s too late.”
“Too late?”
“She will
become as they are if she stays with them any longer. She
will become stone and there is no way to bring her back
then.”
“They are
evil?”
“Not
particularly, no worse than you or I.” His crystalline eyes
twinkled. “Good and bad exist in all creatures, flesh or
stone. Tonight we must get her back, time is limited.”
“How?”
“Return
here when it is dark and you will fly with me to the
cemetery.”
Naomi
gasped. “Fly with you?”
“Will you
stop repeating everything I say!” He snapped. “You will need
to bring some objects that Lucy will identify with, things
that will make her remember home and reignite the desire to
return.”
“What sort
of objects?”
He looked
at her enigmatically. “I’m sure you can decide what is
best.” His voice was kind.
Naomi
climbed up the staircase feeling her way; outside there was
lighting from the campus and a quarter moon. She approached
the gargoyle. He wasn’t in the usual position, he had moved
onto the roof.
“Hurry,” he
called, “climb on, we must leave.”
Naomi
clambered onto the roof and then awkwardly onto his back, he
felt rough and grainy but surprisingly warm, like sunbaked
bricks, she hadn’t expected that. She wrapped her arms
around his thick neck and then he pushed himself off and his
wings began to flap, slowly, languidly and soundlessly. She
felt the inside of her stomach drop; she closed her eyes and
hung on. His body rolled slightly with each beat of his
wings and as she began to get used to the motion she opened
her eyes. She could see rooftops shimmering below her, she
was glad it was dark, and there wasn’t much detail, Sydney
spread out below her like glittering diamonds on black
velvet. She felt she might be sick if she continued to look
down so she stared ahead, concentrating on one bright star.
On they
flew, once a plane came suddenly above them, it was
descending and Naomi could see its underbelly and the wheels
beginning to drop, it was so huge, seemed so close but it
passed on.
Suddenly
the gargoyle began dropping and Naomi could see the tree
canopies and shadowy mausoleums, they landed with a thud on
a gravel road and Naomi realised they had arrived in the
cemetery. She climbed down, it was strangely peaceful,
Monsieur shook himself and to her surprise stood on his back
legs and began walking along the path. He strode as he flew
with a rollicking movement, he walked so fast Naomi had to
run to catch up. He was tall, almost as tall as her but
broader, stockier, she realised she had only ever seen him
in his sitting position.
He led her
along the path before heading around some old vaults, Naomi
stared, there seemed to be something missing, empty
pedestals stood lonely, with a chill she realised there were
no statues anywhere. Dwelling-like crypts stood in rows
looking like small terrace houses, the gargoyle led her
along till they reached one very large crypt and then he
stopped.
A shape
stood before the doorway, very tall and stately, womanly.
Long hair cascaded down her back. She turned as they
approached.
“Well if it
isn’t Socrates’ pet,” her voice was like liquid marble,
treacly and opulent, streaky with malice. “It’s been a
millennium or two since we last met.”
“Medusa, I
didn’t realise you were in town,” The gargoyle spoke very
softly,
There was a
sharp intake of something like a breath.
“I always
wondered what he thought you were, did he think you were
just a large dog perhaps?” Spite and scorn swirled together
in her marble voice. Her face was marvellously cold and
extremely lovely.
“There was
nothing wrong with his perception, he knew exactly what I
was. As a descendant of Daedalus, his family understood the
essence of stone well.”
Naomi
looked at Monsieur and wondered how old he really was,
ancient it seemed. She looked at Medusa and shivered, surely
she wasn’t really Medusa, no snakes coiled around her head
but Naomi felt she was extremely dangerous.
Medusa
turned and climbed the steps and entered the crypt, Monsieur
and Naomi followed, two stern angels with swords guarded the
entrance but allowed them to pass. Inside the room was
crowded with beautiful young girls holding candles, long
hair streamed down their backs, most wore long gowns, some
had large creamy wings, all were deathly, stony white. Their
faces were exquisite, unearthly, and strangely similar. They
parted letting Medusa pass, a queen among her acolytes, and
as they did Naomi could see Lucy sitting on a tomb.
“Lucy.” She
screamed.
A hundred
stony eyes turned in her direction. Medusa smiled. Lucy
stared blankly into the distance. Naomi pushed past and ran
to her sister. Lucy was wearing a long white robe and her
hair was plaited with flowers. She looked fragile and
vulnerable.
“Lucy it’s
me, Naomi. Your sister.”
She grabbed
Lucy’s hand; it was cold and as smooth as glass. The
gargoyle was behind her, like some bodyguard. “Talk to her,
show her the things you brought, make her remember.” He
murmured.
Naomi
pulled the bag off her shoulder and began rummaging in it,
pulling out trinkets, objects, some of them falling onto the
tomb in her haste. Behind her she could hear Medusa
laughing, the sound as chilly as a polar night.
“Foolish
girl. Foolish beast.”
Monsieur
Marbledark snarled at the room. “Leave her be, vacant empty
vessels, so jealous of life, of warmth that you need to
drain every last drop of it away. Heartless stone
creatures.”
“What are
you then, beast of the earth?” Sneered Medusa.
“Of the
earth yes, but not as you are, I have fire in my veins not
ice. I was forged deep in the womb of the mother, created
with magma, I can feel unlike you.”
“How
enlightened you have become, ugly misshapen monster, did
your master teach you that?”
“He knew
beauty didn’t equate with goodness. He knew what you really
were; he was always able to see through you, fallen muse.
That’s why you hated him so, why you hated his humanity.
Hate all humanity.”
Naomi was
stroking Lucy; she thrust a dirty brown teddy bear into
Lucy’s arms, along with a framed photograph. Draped a red
velvet jacket over Lucy’s shoulders all the while muttering.
She pinned a brooch onto Lucy’s dress, the fabric felt
strange, hard and stiff. The fragrant scent of vanilla and
mandarin floated up from the fine mist she sprayed. Finally
she pulled a gold necklace with a dainty heart rimmed with
tiny opals that twinkled green fire. She fastened it around
Lucy’s neck.
“You know
this necklace, Luce, its Granny’s, it’s special but I want
you to have it. I thought it was important but it’s not.
It’s not as important as my sister, that I love, that I
miss, that I want back.” Naomi began crying, her tears
falling onto Lucy’s neck, hot wet drops like monsoon rain.
There was a
tinkling sound like icicles falling, and Lucy turned.
“Naomi. Naomi is that you?” Naomi hugged Lucy and pulled her
to her feet. She seemed dazed, disorientated.
“Time to
go.” Monsieur said. “Let us pass. She can choose to leave
and you cannot stop her. That is the law.”
Medusa
lifted her arm, her face stretched into a grimace of
loathing, and a path formed between the angels.
“You never
understood the power of the heart. The power of love to tip
the balance.” Monsieur said. The two statures stared at each
other, one beautiful, one ugly, one hot, one cold. Who would
have thought stone could be so different?
Outside
Naomi helped Lucy climb onto the gargoyle’s back. She held
her as they lifted up into the night sky. Lucy lay against
Monsieur’s head and seemed to sleep. Naomi was glad to feel
her sister’s body warm and soft again and relieved to be
leaving the cemetery and the sinister angels who had
gathered to watch their departure. She leaned closer and
whispered into Monsieur Marbledark’s ear.
“Is she
really Medusa?”
The
gargoyle chuckled warmly. “No just a wannabee.” |
