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The rooftop is just below the level where I’m standing. I figure that’s where he wants me to dance. Maybe he’s trying to pull some kind of stunt to get people interested in his theater again. Who knows? I have heard there are no shows on at the Grand these days. Which is a shame. It used to be the biggest theater in Heartstone. I’ve always dreamed of being in a show at centerstage. How ironic I got booked for one, but with no audience.
To get down to the roof, I’ll need to climb down. Hanging out the archway I’m about to climb through is the most lifelike statue I’ve ever seen. He’s perched on a stone pedestal, leaning forward as if he’s looking through. His hand on one side of the archway grips it tight. The claws really look as if they’re digging into the stone. I stare, fixated by the level of detail in a piece of art you could barely see from the street. The gargoyle appears mostly human. His large frame is hunched over, highlighting the bulging muscles of his broad shoulders and back. Large bat-like wings sprout from his shoulder blades and a long tail curls around the edge of the archway.
His face is what really captures my attention though. He has a strong nose and a burly chin. It’s a face that says there are burdens on his wide shoulders. Across the right side of his face cracks run like scars. They crisscross over his body down to his chiseled abdomen and over his right side.
I wonder what his story is. Or was. Or whatever.
Probably just the tortured dream of some medieval sculptor wanting his paycheck.
Tearing my gaze away from the statue, I refocus. I slide my legs over the ledge. Then I grip his tail and slide down to the roof. Everything goes much the same as the last time I was here. I set up a track on my phone and move to the music. My fingers play at the buttons of my jacket. I’m a little slower to undress this time, waiting until my movements warm my body from within, so the icy wind doesn’t chill me as much.
It’s crazy, but as I dance, my gaze is continually drawn back to the face of the statue. He’s my only audience. No one on the street is paying me any attention.
Maybe I’m crazy, but that gargoyle really looks like he’s watching me. His head seems to be tilted at a different angle than it was before. Yep. I must be going crazy. Still, what’s crazier than a job where I strip on a rooftop where no one will see? I shrug off the creepy thoughts and continue dancing, running my hands over my body, swaying my hips, and losing myself in the music.
When I finish, my breath is coming fast and my body feels alive with energy. I still see no trace of anyone, but I collect my phone and switch off the music. Walking back to the archway, I grab the gargoyle’s tail and haul myself up and back into the tower. Thank God, it’s warmer in here.
“Hope you liked the show,” I say to my silent observer and give him a pat on his stony arm.
He, of course, says nothing.
I tuck my knees up into my jacket and look down at the city lights. “You sure are a shit tipper, you know that?”
I’m reluctant to go back to the hostel. All that awaits me there are unpleasant smells and unwelcome noise. So I sit a while with my silent friend. I look up at the sky, but of course, it’s the dim, dirty black you get in Heartstone.
“You can’t even see the stars here,” I say after a few minutes. “The city lights are too bright. Back home I’d see them, though. Doesn’t matter, I guess. They’d all look different over this side of the world.”
I tuck my chin on my knees, thinking about how pathetic it is to sit here talking to a statue like he can hear me. I should get out more. Try to make some friends. I’ve just been too busy. When the girls in my dorm ask me to come drinking with them, I always say no. Too awkward. I don’t want to be locked in if there’s someone annoying and then have to come home to her as well.
I sigh. “You’re easy company,” I tell my friend. At least there are no awkward silences when you’re talking to a statue. I can say whatever I want and he won’t judge me.
I glance around at him. This time I’m sure his head has moved. It has to have. Before, it looked as if he was looking down at me through the archway. Now it’s definitely twisted, so his eyes are once again on me where I sit beside him.
Oh hell no! I saw that episode of Doctor Who. I want the fuck out of here. Now!
Scrambling back from the ledge, I keep my eyes on the gargoyle, fumbling at my pocket to make sure my phone and keys are there. He isn’t moving. At least his face still has the same pensive expression. No bared crazy-ass teeth. No snarl. I get to my feet and stagger back, reaching to find the door behind me with a trembling hand.
For one awful moment, I can’t turn the knob. My palms are sweaty despite the chill in the air. Then I grip it more tightly. It turns and I escape into the stairway, slamming the door behind me.
I take my life in my hands running down those stairs with six inch heels but I do not care. Better than staying in a spooky haunted tower with a statue that’s about to come alive and eat me.
It’s only when I make it back to the street, the emergency exit door shutting behind me with a boom, that I remember Monstrous Deals’ safety information and Maurice saying to call if anything felt off. Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I bring up the app and find the number. Then I pause.
I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? Nothing happened. I’m on the street under the bright street lights with people going backward and forward about their business. I can’t even be sure the statue moved at all. In fact, of course it didn’t. I just sat up there too long by myself in the dark and let creepy thoughts make me freak out.
I shake my head.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I head toward the subway station. I’m glad I didn’t call the number. At least no one else has to know what an idiot I am. Though I’m not excited about coming back here tomorrow night. In fact, I think I feel a sore throat coming on. It’s just a tickle, but it’s definitely the sort of thing that gets worse overnight. I should probably take it easy and make sure it doesn’t turn into a full blown cold.
I tell myself I’m not being a coward all the way back to the hostel and as I tuck myself into my tiny bunk. When I close my eyes, it’s the stone face of the gargoyle I see behind my eyelids, though. I spend the night restless, waking between fitful bouts of sleep.
