by R. J. Ladon
Mom dropped her cutlery and swallowed. “Someone tried to kill my son. No, I’m not alright. Maybe you should be asking why you’re okay with the situation.”
Dad held his hands up. “I never said I was okay. I’m not happy either.”
“You don’t appear upset, Jerry.” Mom frowned. “Seems to me you’re only unhappy when the Packers lose.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table.
The girls giggled.
Chapter 39
M egan climbed into her car and slapped the steering wheel. “Why did I leave that paper at home?” Now she would have to deal with her father. Artem wasn’t about to let her go anywhere once she set foot in the house. I could trick him, drug him, or kill him. She smiled as her ideas became more absurd.
Megan pulled her car into the driveway, hoping her father wasn’t home yet. The garage door opened, and Artem’s car was sitting there, taunting her. She squinted at the car. Great, he’s babysitting me tonight.
She went into the house and set her books on the breakfast nook table. What was her father playing at? Why didn’t he make dinner?
“Good afternoon, my darling,” Artem called from the living room.
She slowly walked into the room, dragging her feet. “I’m not feeling so good. I think maybe I ate something bad.” Megan rubbed her stomach dramatically.
Artem held a mixed drink in one hand. “Is that so?” He rubbed his chin, disbelief etched on his face.
Megan sniffled, rubbing her nose. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a cold.” She made a sour face. “Oh, my.” Megan ran to the small guest bathroom, next to the kitchen, and shut the door. She made vomiting and hacking noises.
“Do you need some medicine?” Artem shouted through the door.
“Sure,” she said, muffling her voice with her hand. The floorboards creaked as Artem walked away. She waited a few minutes and went back to the couch, hand on her stomach.
Artem was waiting. He handed her a white plastic bottle.
Megan opened it and drank straight out of the container. She made a funny pinched face. “Gross, chalky.” She put the bottle on the end table and leaned forward as if her stomach hurt. “Oh, I forgot to tell you something.”
“Yea?”
“Annie tried to kill a boy last night. The boy survived and pressed charges. She’s in jail for attempted murder.” Megan held her stomach for a second, burped, then took another drink from the bottle.
“Jail?”
She nodded. “There were lots of rumors going around at school. Many of the male students are acting weird, some of the teachers too.”
“I wonder if Nikolai knows?”
Megan shrugged. “It all happened last night. I’m not sure who knows.”
Artem went into the kitchen but returned a minute later. “Nikolai didn’t answer. I’m going to the gym. Want to come?”
“No, Dad, that’s okay. I think I’m going to go to bed early. Might need more time in the bathroom.” She rubbed her belly again.
“Nikolai might have questions.”
“I’ve told you all I know. I’m no good to you tonight.” Megan picked up the white plastic container and walked to her room. “Good night, Dad.” She shouted from her door.
“Do you want me to check on you when I get back?”
“I guess, but right now, I just want sleep,” Megan said in the whiniest voice she could muster. She closed the door and locked it. He would expect it locked. The book on cuneiform writing was on her dresser; she opened it and put the rubbing into her pocket. Megan pulled some blankets and pillows out of her closet. She stuffed the bed and molded the fabric to make it look like a body. Her father had never checked on her before, but he’d been acting abnormally for a few days.
Megan sat on the edge of the bed, tapping her fingertips on her leg. She double-checked that the paper was in her pocket. From her bedroom, she heard the garage door close, and her father’s car drive off.
She went to her window, opened it, and slipped out. Megan had to leave her car; otherwise, her father would notice when he returned. Then he would definitely make good on his threat to check on her. She bent and re-tied her laces then ran to Kevin’s house.
Megan climbed the steps, eyes darting around. The porch gave her an eerie sense of déjà vu, but this wasn’t Bonnie’s house, and no one was lurking about. She reached the door and was prepared to knock when the door suddenly opened. Kevin stood there, but his head was turned. He was in mid-conversation with someone inside the house.
“…girl from school. Megan’s helping me with a history project.” Kevin turned and saw Megan waiting. “Oh, hi.” He stepped aside and waved her into the living room. “Megan, this is my Grandma. She’ll insist you call her Ruby.”
Megan attempted to shake Ruby’s hand, but Ruby sidestepped and pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, no dear, we hug here.”
Megan stiffened, feeling embarrassed and a little attacked. She stepped back and moved closer to Kevin.
“I’d like you to meet Rapscallion.” Ruby picked up the huge white tomcat and brought him to Megan. “We’ve had some issues with people lately, so I want you tested before you go any further. Rap is never wrong.”
“Ruby. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Kevin rolled his eyes at his grandmother.
“It’s okay, Kevin. After what Annie did to you, I’m not surprised by a test. The familiar’s opinion is important to a witch.” Megan looked from Ruby to Rapscallion and nodded.
Ruby raised her eyebrows. She set Rap on the floor at Megan’s feet. “Kevin told you I practice Wicca.”
“Yes, it’s a fascinating religion.” Megan squatted to get closer to the white tom. She held out her hand and let him sniff her fingers. Rap stepped into her, rubbing his face on her hand. He reared up, placing his paws on her knee, and meowed at her. With both hands, Megan rubbed his sides and bumped his forehead with hers. “What a friendly kitty.”
Rapscallion meowed, then turned and, with his tail in the air, jumped on the couch.
“I think that means I pass.” Megan stood and looked at Ruby.
“You did more than pass,” Kevin said, pride in his voice.
Ruby seemed disappointed, but then she smiled. “I assume you two are going upstairs to work on this project?” She reached into her purse sitting near her chair. She placed a condom into Kevin’s hand. “You better have protection.” She grinned at Kevin as if to embarrass him.
“It’s nothing like that; she’s helping me with my homework.” Kevin tried to give the condom back.
“Right,” Ruby said. She plopped into her recliner and turned on the television.
Megan followed Kevin up the stairs and to the right. She smiled wistfully, wishing her relationship with her father was silly and sweet, like Kevin and his Grandmother.
Kevin opened his door and stepped inside. Megan expected the guy who could read any cuneiform to be sitting on the bed waiting. But the room was empty.
“So, where is the guy?” she asked.
“Guy?”
Megan put her hands on her hips. “You told me you know a guy who can read any cuneiform. I expected him to be here.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Kevin looked at the clock. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “He should be here soon.” He looked at the clock again, then shot a glance at Megan. “You arrived earlier than I expected.”
Megan shrugged. “I had to jog. My car is acting funny.” She pointed to the clock. It read 8:42. “So when is this guy coming?”
“He’s on his way, right about nine o’clock.” Kevin twitched and began to pull at his hands. “Megan, I don’t expect you to believe me. And, well, I didn’t exactly tell you everything.”
Megan closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Please, wait, and hear me out.” Kevin paced the room, keeping an eye on the clock. “I change. I turn into something else. Like a werewolf.”
Megan’
s eyes drew into tight slits, and her hands clasped into fists. “Not this werewolf crap again. I thought you were kidding at the library.”
“I wish I was.” Kevin sat on his bed, eye to the time. “I feel like I’m trapped. Kragnor comes every day whether I want him to or not.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.
Megan folded her arms and raised one eyebrow.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t believe me either. Just leave the rubbing. Go, I’ll deal with it.” Kevin pushed Megan toward his bedroom door. “Quickly, he comes,” Kevin finished in a harsh whisper.
Megan handed Kevin the paper and stepped out the door. She turned to say something. But Kevin shut the door. Why would anyone claim something so ridiculous? She put her ear to the door and heard movement. Carefully she opened the door a crack to see what Kevin was doing.
Kevin sat on the floor naked, his back to the door. His skin was smooth and pale, his dark hair a mess. Suddenly he tensed, his arms thrust away from his body. His whole body jerked as if convulsing.
Like some grotesque form of plate tectonics, Kevin’s back split up the spine. Blood pooled on his skin but didn’t spill out of the fissure. Two enormous grey wings struggled to tear free from Kevin’s muscles and tendons.
Megan squeaked and covered her mouth in horror and pulled the door to close it but stopped. Kevin wasn’t lying; his transformation was real. She opened the door further and continued to watch.
As if in a trance, Kevin stood. The same rift rippled down his buttocks and back of his legs. His skin rolled away from the opening, sloughing, sliding forward, like a freakish hospital gown. Where Kevin’s skin once was hulking, masses of grey material took its place. An earthy smell rolled through the door opening, reminding her of a recent rainstorm.
The creature shook and stretched, appearing to grow in height and bulk with every movement. How did this beast fit inside Kevin’s frame? The shape of the creature’s broad shoulders and narrow waist made Megan think it was male. It was easily five times Kevin’s size and made of what looked like stone, probably twenty times his weight.
The creature moved to Kevin’s desk as if expecting something to be there. He picked up the rubbing she brought over and turned it. As he studied the paper, he settled on the floor, getting comfortable. She recognized him, not him exactly, but the creature he was. These creatures were never known to be alive, and yet here one stood. She had seen millions in her time, sitting on the edges of churches and city buildings. She always thought they were marvelous.
Gargoyles.
This couldn’t be a coincidence: zombies, witches, the Order of the Eye and Tooth, and now gargoyles. Something unusual was happening in Avalon. Megan opened the door and stepped into the room.
Chapter 40
K ragnor moved to the desk, expecting to find the notebook. A crumpled piece of paper with a rubbing of cuneiform sat in its place. He picked up the paper and gently straightened it. The words were both familiar and foreign.
The door handle jiggled. Kragnor turned, expecting Sorceress. Instead, a young female approached him, completely unafraid.
“Kevin told me about you. But I didn’t believe him.” The young woman looked at Kragnor from head to toe. “It’s an amazing sight. You burst out of his flesh like a butterfly.”
Kragnor blinked but didn’t respond.
The young woman crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “Kevin told me you could read cuneiform.” She waved her hand toward the paper in Kragnor’s claw-like hand, then cleared her throat. “Do you have a name?”
Kragnor blinked again, then realized he was behaving rudely. “My apologies, young one.” He touched his throat, then cleared it. “Kragnor, at your service.” He bowed. “Who do I have the honor of meeting?”
“Megan.” She attempted to curtsey but stumbled.
Kragnor hid his smile. “Are you not afraid?”
“Should I be?” She looked at him sideways.
“No. But the humans who have seen me thus far became visibly upset.” Kragnor moved away from the desk, towards an open area of the room. He squatted, leaned back onto his tail, and huffed. “I am a protector, guardian, and teacher. I have never hurt anyone in my lifetime.” With a flourish, he unfolded the paper. “Would you like to know what this paper says?”
“I would.” Megan moved closer to Kragnor. She hesitated for a moment, then continued.
Kragnor patted his knee. “This is where all my students sit for lessons.”
Megan stared at him, looking up even though he was squatting. The gargoyle was at least six times her size. He ripped his way out of Kevin’s body and could destroy her just as easily. Something beyond science and logic allowed this creature, made of stone, to exist. Despite her training and the constant mantra, trust no one, Megan felt instinctively confident that the gargoyle would never hurt her. In fact, if anything, he would protect her. She nodded, then sat tentatively on his knee.
His arms encircled her like a parent reading to a child. He straightened the paper and held it flat in one hand. With the other, he pointed at each of the symbols with the claw on his forefinger. “This sanctuary stone shall keep the soul of this akitu quiet until the unrest is complete.” Kragnor huffed and grumbled. He turned the paper over, hoping to see more.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” Kragnor looked down at Megan, his golden eyes locking on her brown. He smiled reassuringly. “You are my student. Try to figure out what is wrong. I will give you a clue. I have discovered I slept for close to seven hundred years. And the last city I remember is Paris.
“I don’t know.” Megan shrugged.
“It will help if you talk it out.” Kragnor insisted.
“Cuneiform is three to five thousand years old.” She looked at him for approval.
The gargoyle nodded.
Megan smiled, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. “Seven hundred years ago would be in the thirteen hundreds, which is also near the end of the Renaissance.”
Kragnor creased his brows. “Yes, that is what those texts said.” He pointed to the pile of National Geographic on the floor. “How many people do you think could read or write cuneiform seven hundred years ago?” Kragnor prompted.
“Well, I’m guessing but, in Europe, probably only a few educated people. In Turkey or the Middle East, probably more.”
“I can agree with that assessment. So, what does that tell you?”
Megan reached out and touched the wrinkled paper. “Well, I have tried to translate it myself using Acadian, Sumerian, and Babylonian languages, but I could not get the words to work. So, I am going to guess that this cuneiform text is in a language I don’t know.”
Kragnor patted her head. “You are right. Humans do not know this language. Humans are forbidden to know. Only an akitu would have the knowledge to carve the stone.” A slight growl rolled in his throat. “I believe one of my people put me into the stone.”
“You believe? Don’t you know? Weren’t you there when it happened?”
“I do not remember. I try to focus, but my mind is clouded.”
“What can you remember?” Megan asked.
“I was born and lived in the high mountains. I spent hundreds of years learning all I could from my fellow akitu. I also learned from my environment, plants, animals, and minerals. Even the stars gave up their secrets. Over time your species arrived. Humans were kind to us early on. We were treated as deities, which is ridiculous.” Kragnor paused. Deities. Gods. His mind spun. There was something there, a memory. Something important. He strained, trying to find the connection, but the harder he grasped at the memory, the quicker it dissipated.
Megan touched his hand. “Did something come back? Do you remember?” She sounded excited.
“I thought there was, and I tried to remember, but it disappeared.” He frowned. “Let me continue. Maybe it will happen again. Where was I?”
“Mountains and humans.” Megan prompted.
Kragnor stroked his chin. “We s
pent much of our time in the mountains. Many akitu still live there, I suspect. It was easy to hide from anyone or anything. After all, our tissues are very similar to the mountains themselves.” Kragnor’s eyes glazed with memory. “I built a home there. Nothing like this house, which is for the softness of your kind. My house was stone and torans, nothing more.” He became quiet, introspective. “The last thing I remember was Paris. I can’t remember day to day things, just Paris.” His brows furrowed.
Megan leaned closer to him. She placed her ear to his chest.
Kragnor stirred. “Are you tired?”
“No, I’m curious.” Megan poked his chest. “You said you were born and lived in the mountains. Yet, when I touch you, your skin is rough like stone and cool to the touch. I hear no heartbeat, no breathing, no digestion. But you do have a smell, earthy.”
“I am not an animal or plant. Nor am I a mineral, not exactly. I don’t need sustenance or air. I am different, but I am just as alive as you. That is how I can sleep for seven hundred years.” Kragnor patted the top of her head as if she were a pet. His touch seemed to calm her.
Megan stood and walked around the gargoyle. She poked and prodded his wing membranes. She continued her inspection, then stopped in front of him, bouncing on her toes. “What year were you born?”
“Years are not important to akitu. We are very long-lived.” Kragnor stretched a bit, moving into a standing position. “Do you know what second you were born or how many seconds you have lived? Do you name the seconds of your day like you do hours?”
Megan looked at him. She cocked her head, then smiled. “Okay, I understand. I don’t count seconds because that frame of time doesn’t matter to me. Years, months, and days matter to me.”
“A day for me is the shortest time I think about. That is like your seconds. The moment I think about it, it is dismissed again. I think of time in years, decades, jubilees, centuries, millennium, and eons.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m almost three and a half.”
