AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I struggle to my feet, feeling my muscles pinch as I do. My legs will bear my weight, but they ache, and my shoulder and left arm are in agony. Trembling, I peer around the headstone, and the ground is as solid as can be.
I choke back a sobbing laugh, and will myself to wake again in my bed, but I don’t. “You’ll wake soon, Gemma,” I tell myself as I hobble through the dark graveyard. “Just sing something to help you through. I had a l-lass in Lincoln-sh-shire, sold mussels from a pail…”
I pass a headstone. Beloved Wife. “S-sold m-mussels f-from a-a…”
Thunder breaks. It makes my teeth chatter. “F-from a p-p-pail…”
Something blocks my path. A flash of lightning splits the sky, illuminating Ithal. Where his eyes should be, there are two deep black pits.
“Sacrifice…,” he says.
I cannot move, cannot think. My legs are frozen in fear. I try to summon the magic, but I’m exhausted and afraid, and it will not come. A voice booms inside my head: Run. Run, Gemma.
Fast as I can, I bolt away from him, running through a labyrinth of headstones as the sky explodes in thunder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ithal vanish behind a marble angel and reappear on the other side. He is gaining ground. My nightgown is sodden. It slaps against my already weak legs, slowing my gait with its weight. I pull frantically at it, hoisting it to my knees to run faster. Ithal moves steadily behind me. By the time I reach the lake, each breath feels like a razor’s edge slicing through my lungs.
At last, I see it: Rising above the trees is the silhouette of Spence with its ornate, twisted spires. There’s something odd about it. I can’t say what. All I can do is run. Strong moonlight pushes the clouds apart.
The roof is empty. The gargoyles are gone. They are gone, and I feel the earth slipping from beneath me. Ithal is coming faster, closing the gap between us, and I stumble on. My lungs feel as if they will explode.
Something lands behind me, as hard as stone striking the earth. Every part of me goes cold with fear. I should turn to look, but I can’t. Can’t breathe. Scratching sounds. Like claws on stone. A low growl comes from whatever is behind me. Don’t turn, Gemma. It isn’t real if you don’t turn. Close your eyes. Count to ten. One. Two. Three. The moon is full. A shadow rises tall, much taller than my own on the path. And then the enormous wings unfold.
My head is as light as a balloon. A faint threatens. “Lass…in, in…L-L-Lincolnshire…mussels…a p-pail…”
A loud screech pierces the night. The gargoyle takes flight and lands before me on the path with a tremendous thud, cutting off any hope of escape. I sink to my knees at the sight of the enormous stone bird-beast towering above me. Its face is a hideous living mask, the mouth stretched into a gruesome smile, the fangs as long as my leg. Its claws are terrifyingly sharp. A scream dies in my throat. The beast screeches as its claws come around me, closing firmly about my waist. Blackness steals over me.
“Hold fast,” the gargoyle commands in a gravelly voice, snapping me back to fear. He tucks me in close to his body, and we take flight. I hold tightly to those frightening claws. It takes me a moment to fully realize what is happening. The gargoyle doesn’t wish me harm. He means to protect me. The sky is alive with winged beasts. They screech and growl. The sounds reverberate in my ears but I don’t dare let go to cover them. The rush of air is cool against my sodden gown and wet skin. I shiver as we pass over the tops of trees and land gently on Spence’s roof.
“Do not look,” he advises.
But I cannot look away. Below, the other gargoyles have cornered Ithal. They reach down and pluck him from the ground, flying toward the lake.
“What will they do?” I ask.
“What they must.” He does not elaborate, and I dare not question him further.
“Wh-who are you?”
“I am one of the guardians of the night,” he says, and I am reminded of Wilhelmina’s drawing. “We protected your kind for centuries when the veil between worlds had no seal. Now the seal is broken. The land is enchanted again. But I fear we cannot keep you safe from what has begun.”
The sky blackens with wings. Overhead, the gargoyles circle, casting me in shadows. They swoop low and land as lightly as angels upon the roof. A gargoyle with the nose of a dragon approaches.
“It is done,” he growls. “He has been returned to the dead.”
The gargoyle who saved me nods. “This is not the last we shall see of them. They will come again and stronger.”
A ribbon of pink shows in the eastern sky. The other gargoyles take their familiar perches on the edge of the roof. As I watch, they return to stone.
“I am dreaming,” I whisper. “This is all a dream.”
The head gargoyle spreads his wings till all his darkness surrounds me. His voice is as deep as time. “Yes, you have been sleeping. But now is the time to wake.”
I open my eyes. My ceiling takes shape. I can hear Ann’s gentle snoring. I’m in my room, as I should be. It is past dawn but barely so. I sit up, and my body aches with the effort. A great clamor rises in the woods. Hardly dressed, girls push out of their doors to see what has happened. In the early morning mist, the Gypsies gather at the lake with their lanterns. A cry of grief rises from them.
Now I see. Ithal lies in the water facedown, drowned. That was why Freya stopped beside the lake, why she seemed so upset. She knew that her master was dead, and the thing on her back was undead, a hellish messenger from the Winterlands sent to take me to them.
No. No, that did not happen. I imagined it all. Or dreamed it. A dead man did not come to spirit me away. I did not fly in a gargoyle’s grip.
I look up for confirmation. The gargoyles sit on the roof ’s edge, silent and unseeing. I turn my head this way and that, but they do not change. Of course not. They are stone, silly girl. I chuckle. This gets the attention of the crowd, for I am laughing while they pull a dead man from the lake.
