Gabriel's Clock

by Hilton Pashley

  “It was female, I think. Human size and shape but with talons at the ends of her fingers. Strong and very fast. She looked odd, though—she wore a business suit and a bowler hat!”

  “And she didn’t have a face,” said Cay. “Just before she grabbed me, she said something. She said that her name was Raven and that she was of the Cor-something. I can’t really remember . . .”

  Ignatius felt his stomach drop like a stone. He turned to look at Gabriel and saw that the angel’s face was as white as a sheet. The Corvidae had somehow managed to get into Hobbes End! There was only one reason that they would suddenly appear like this—and that reason was Jonathan.

  “Do you know what it was?” asked Kenneth, wincing as Grimm reset his arm.

  “Yes,” said Ignatius. “Something terrible that should not be able to come anywhere near the village. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

  “We’re both alive,” said Kenneth. “And that’s good enough for me. I’ve never been so pleased to be a werewolf! I was out on my run and smelled something strange, something I didn’t like. I could tell the trail was heading toward the lake, and knowing that’s where the kids were, I ran flat out to get here.”

  Ignatius smiled and nodded. And then there was a whistling sound and a thump as Montgomery plummeted from the sky.

  “We found Jonathan,” he said. “He’s in a clearing about twenty minutes’ walk away. He’s had another bang to the head, but he’s okay. Mr. Stubbs stayed with him for safety.”

  “Thank God,” said Ignatius. “Gabriel and I will go get him. Grimm, you take everyone else home and put the kettle on. We need to sit down and figure out what to do next. If the Corvidae can somehow enter Hobbes End, then we have a very big problem.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Grimm.

  “It means my worst fears have come true,” said Gabriel, lowering his voice so only Ignatius and Grimm could hear. “Not only can the Corvidae get past our defenses, but Belial now knows where Jonathan is. Now we have an archdemon who might be able to walk straight in and just take Jonathan from us!”

  Ignatius paced up and down the patio behind the vicarage. Clutched in his hand was a large and tepid mug of Renoir-free tea.

  “Stop it. You’re driving me nuts,” said Elgar, poking his head out from beneath the garden seat.

  “Sorry,” apologized Ignatius. “But I’m really worried about Jonathan. He didn’t say much on the way home, just that he’d been attacked by the same thing that came for him at his family’s cottage and that it called itself Rook.”

  “So was it the Corvidae that attacked them?” asked Elgar. “I wondered what you and Gabriel were whispering about after Monty came back. Last week when he was laid up, he was telling Cay and me about these things. He thought he’d imagined them because of the knock on his head. But he didn’t, did he? It was them. Is that why he’s here? Is he hiding? Hang on—if the Corvidae are after him, then that means . . .” Elgar’s eyes went wide. “It means that a certain archdemon is after Jonathan too! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ignatius nodded and sighed. “Look, Elgar, there’s a lot I haven’t told you, but up until now we’ve been trying to keep Jonathan’s location secret. I’m good at keeping secrets, remember? Have I told anyone about your history with Belial and the Corvidae?”

  “Good point,” said Elgar. “I’ll just have to restrain my curiosity.”

  “I’ll give you the whole story once I’ve talked to Jonathan, I promise,” said Ignatius. “I just need to figure out what to do next.” He looked through the kitchen window and saw that Gabriel and Grimm had come downstairs. “If you’ll excuse me, Elgar.”

  The cat shrugged and remained in the garden while Ignatius went inside.

  “How is Jonathan?” he asked Grimm.

  Grimm’s lips were set in a thin line. “The scar on the back of his head has opened up again, and there are these huge bruises on his back and shoulders. I am not—I repeat, not—happy!”

  “Neither am I, Halcyon,” said Ignatius.

  Gabriel sighed. “Those bruises . . . it’s all happening too soon.”

  “What is?” asked Ignatius.

  “The power that’s inside him is what caused those bruises. I hoped he’d say something to us on the way home, tell us exactly what happened, but he’s so scared.”

  “Why would the power inside him cause those bruises?” asked Grimm.

  “It’s his wings,” said Gabriel. “I’m sure of it. He felt threatened by Rook, so they just tore themselves out from his shoulders without being summoned. That’s not supposed to happen—he should manifest them gently—but he doesn’t know how to, doesn’t even know what he is! I hoped that I would have the time to teach him how to control them, but that takes years.”

  “He’s going to have wings?” gasped Grimm.

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes, he is, but I don’t know what they’ll look like. Angels develop wings with feathers, and demons tend to have wings similar to those of a bat. The only exceptions I know of are my siblings and I. Our wings are different—they’re made from ribbons of intelligent, solid light, and they’re incredibly powerful. They’re like windows into the heart of creation itself.”

  “And Jonathan might have wings like yours?” asked Ignatius.

  “Possibly,” said Gabriel. “But I can’t be sure. The blend of angel and demon inside him has opened a door to somewhere very powerful, and he has no idea how to control it. It’s why the village wasn’t worried about him; it knew Jonathan was strong enough to defend himself. But if Jonathan gets scared and manifests those wings too often, the shock could kill him.”

  “Dear God,” said Ignatius. “What on earth are we going to do?”

  “We damn well tell Jonathan what he is,” said Grimm. “The poor lad’s been through enough. We can’t wait for his parents any longer; you have to tell Jonathan the truth.”

  “I agree,” said Gabriel. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow, after he’s had a good night’s rest.”

  “And what about defending against the Corvidae in the meantime?” asked Ignatius. “Monty and Stubbs are going to be fast asleep for at least a couple of days while they recharge their batteries. It’s why they’re not allowed to fly except in an emergency.”

  Gabriel frowned and nodded. “I know, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. As for the Corvidae, I think they’ll lick their wounds for today, but they’ll be back—and soon. They know where Jonathan is now, and they won’t stop until they have him. The whole village is in danger while Jonathan is here, so he has to leave.”

  “What? You’re just going to throw him out?” barked Grimm.

  “No, Grimm, you misunderstand,” said Gabriel, sorrow written across his face. “I would die before I let Belial have Jonathan as well as my son.”

  “Oh, Gabriel, I am so sorry,” said Grimm. “Please forgive me.”

  “It’s all right, Grimm. There is always hope, and I may have a way to save Jonathan. I just need time to figure out if it’s possible. I’ll speak to you in the morning, when hopefully I’ll have the answer.”

  The old angel left the vicarage kitchen, looking as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “What do we do now?” asked Grimm.

  “Have a glass of single-malt whiskey,” said Ignatius, “while I figure out how to tell everyone who lives in Hobbes End that Hell has come to their sanctuary.”

  Chapter 13

  BRUISES

  “Hobbes End is under threat,” said Ignatius, his fingers gripping the edge of the pulpit. “For the first time since Gabriel landed here, evil has come to our home. This is something I will not—cannot—tolerate!” He banged his fist on the lectern to emphasize how angry he was.

  “Hear, hear!” came a voice from the back of the church.

  Ignatius looked out over the congregation and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Nae problem,” replied Angus McFadden, a longtime resident who lived next door to Cay. “Something
that hurts a wee child is gonnae get a slap if I get my hands on it. Ye ken?”

  Appreciative murmurs rang around the packed church, and Ignatius felt glad to be in the company of such people. Everyone in the village was here, except for Grimm and Elgar, who were watching over Jonathan; Mr. and Mrs. Forrester, who were sitting with Cay; and Gabriel, who was working in his cottage.

  First thing that morning Ignatius had asked the whole village to assemble in the church. He wanted to explain that somehow the impossible had happened, that evil had managed to get past the village defenses. He’d hoped that the inhabitants of Hobbes End wouldn’t panic, but Ignatius was astonished by the strength of their response.

  “This is our home!” cried Lucia Silkwood, her prized aspidistra sitting next to her on a pew at the front of the church. “Tell us what we can do to defend it. I’m not scared of some bogeymen, and neither is Henry.”

  “Henry?” asked Ignatius.

  “Henry,” said Lucia, gesturing to the plant next to her.

  “Of course,” said Ignatius, nodding politely at the aspidistra.

  “Why are these things, these Corvidae, here?” asked Clara and Cecily Hayward. “They’re not after our owls, are they?”

  “No,” said Ignatius. “These monsters are not after any of you. They’re after our new arrival. They’re after Jonathan.”

  A gasp went up, and Ignatius looked out over a sea of shocked faces. “They came for Jonathan yesterday, but he fought one of them off. They hurt Cay simply because they could, because they enjoy it.”

  “But why are they chasing Jonathan?” asked Mr. Flynn, sitting next to his wife and holding her hand protectively. “He’s such a nice lad.”

  “Yes, he is,” said Ignatius. “But he has power that an archdemon wants to use.”

  “Damned if we’ll let that happen!” shouted Professor Morgenstern. “I’ve got hand grenades, you know. Built them myself.”

  Ignatius blinked and made a mental note to see the professor about that later.

  “Jonathan may be in danger,” said Mr. Peters, getting to his feet. “But he’s not alone. This is Hobbes End, and we look out for each other!”

  Like a wave, everyone stood up to join Mr. Peters, shouting their defiance at the creatures that dared to invade their home.

  Ignatius, momentarily overcome by their support, looked at a stone plaque on the church wall to his right. The name on it said SALVADOR CRUMB.

  “You watching this, Dad?” said Ignatius with a smile.

  There was some shushing, and everyone except Mr. Peters sat down. “Tell us what to do,” he said. “How can we help?”

  “I want you all to go home and stay vigilant,” said Ignatius. “These things are vicious, and I don’t want any of you getting hurt. Gabriel, Grimm, and I will fight these things if they reappear, so if you see anything, call the vicarage immediately. We have a plan to keep Jonathan safe, but until we set it in motion I want you all inside and out of harm’s way. What say you?”

  The roar of agreement almost lifted the roof off the ancient church.

  Jonathan awoke, struggling through layers of cotton wool that filled his head. His mouth felt like it had squirrels living in it, and the astringent tang of witch hazel stung the inside of his nose. Elgar was sitting on the windowsill and peering through the glass, his breath making little fog patches.

  “What time is it?” asked Jonathan.

  “Half past nine,” said Elgar. “You’ve just missed a big village meeting. I can see everyone rushing home, so I guess Ignatius told them all about what happened yesterday.” The cat jumped down from the sill and came to sit on the bed. “How’re you feeling? As my mother would say, you look like you’ve been in the wars.”

  “I feel like I ran into a tree,” said Jonathan. “Which isn’t far from the truth.”

  “You’ve got yet more nasty bumps on your head,” said Elgar. He paused a moment. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. Very few people have fought one of the Corvidae and lived.”

  Jonathan went quiet. “Is that what those things are called?”

  Elgar nodded.

  “Do you know something about them?”

  “A little bit,” said the cat, but he seemed reluctant to say more. “The one who attacked you is called Rook,” he added.

  Jonathan paused. In his head he could still see the thing. “They’re the ones who attacked my home—I’m sure of it. I wasn’t making it up, you know, head injury or not.”

  “I believe you,” said Elgar.

  “I thought I was supposed to be safe here,” sighed Jonathan. “I thought nothing evil could get into the village?”

  “That’s the theory,” said Elgar. “The fact that those demons—”

  “Demons?” asked Jonathan.

  Elgar sighed. “Yes, they’re demons. And really, really unpleasant ones. They’re connected with the archdemon Belial. Do you remember Gabriel mentioning him at dinner the other night? He is seriously bad news. That the Corvidae can somehow enter Hobbes End is driving Ignatius and Gabriel nuts. What I can’t figure out is why they’re risking coming here at all.”

  Jonathan was only half listening to his friend; he knew why the Corvidae were in Hobbes End—they were looking for him because he was “far from human.” And that terrified him.

  “So how did you fight off Rook?” asked Elgar.

  “I’m not sure,” said Jonathan. “I just got really angry and knocked him across the clearing with a single punch.”

  Elgar blinked in astonishment. “Wow! Bet that surprised him.”

  “I don’t think he was expecting it,” said Jonathan. “But when he said that they were after Cay, too, I just wanted to kill him. There was this voice in the back of my head. It was telling me to . . . to tear him apart. And I really, really wanted to, but then there was this purple light and I . . .” Jonathan rubbed his face and sighed heavily. “Cay’s all right, isn’t she? Ignatius said she was.”

  “She’ll have a sore throat for a bit,” said Elgar. “But she’s a tough little cookie. Annoying as Hell, but tough. I guess she has some werewolf blood in her after all.”

  Jonathan gave the cat a weak smile, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Rook had said, and of the purple light that had grown from his shoulders.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?” said Elgar, twitching his whiskers.

  Jonathan fell silent again and looked at his lap. Elgar, unusually patient, sat and peered at his friend with curious eyes. Then, “Rook said that I wasn’t human,” Jonathan blurted out. “He said that I was the only half-angel, half-demon child in existence and that Belial wants to use me as a weapon. He said that my parents had been lying to me!” Tears ran down his face, as much from confusion as from the thumping in his head caused by his injuries.

  “Ah,” said Elgar. “So that’s it. I knew there was something going on. My whiskers never fail me. Added to which, you smell funny.”

  Jonathan wiped his eyes. “I smell funny?” He couldn’t help a small grin.

  “Yeah,” said Elgar. “I have a very good nose, and you don’t smell like anything I’ve ever come across. It’s not that you whiff like the bottom of a dirty linen basket or anything, just that you smell different.”

  “Not human?”

  Elgar shook his head. “Definitely not human.”

  “Oh,” said Jonathan.

  “Is it such a bad thing?” said Elgar. “Where’s the fun in being ordinary? Let’s face it, who wouldn’t want a talking cat for Christmas?” He butted Jonathan in the stomach with his head. “See? Made you smile.”

  Jonathan scratched Elgar behind the ears. “What do I do now?”

  “Hmm,” said the cat. “I’d go and find Gabriel and ask him to explain what’s actually going on. You need to be careful, though—the Corvidae could pop up again at any moment. You’d better ask Grimm to be a bodyguard. Don’t go for a walk in the woods, eh?”

  Cay sat up in bed, a bandage wrapped
round her throat. She cradled a large mug of hot chocolate and tried to swallow, even though it really hurt.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” her mother signed.

  “Yeah,” Cay croaked. “I just want to go and see if Jonathan’s okay.”

  Her mother nodded, her fingers a blur. “Grimm did say that he was in one piece, just a bit shell-shocked. Now, you aren’t going to start blaming yourself for what might have happened to him, are you?”

  “No, Mom,” she said. “I’m just worried about him, that’s all. And Dad . . . how’s his arm?”

  Mrs. Forrester gave Cay’s leg a squeeze. “That’s my girl. I’ll go and make you some breakfast. And don’t worry about your dad—you know how quick he heals. His arm is almost as good as new already.”

  Cay smiled, but once her mother had left the room she climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Staring out into the drizzle, she saw the light from Jonathan’s room. “How did you escape from that thing, Johnny?” she wondered aloud. “How did you escape?”

  “Do you think Gabriel will mind me going to see him?” Jonathan asked Grimm as he walked to the church with Elgar trotting along beside them.

  “I don’t think he’ll mind at all,” said Grimm. “In fact, I think he’ll probably have quite a lot to say.”

  Jonathan was about to ask Grimm what he meant by this when Cay came running down the road toward them and gave Jonathan a huge hug that almost knocked him off his feet.

  “Hey, nice lump!” she whispered, pointing to the swelling behind his ear.

  “Yeah, it’s nasty, isn’t it?”

  “Mine’s better, though,” Cay added. She unwound her scarf to reveal a livid bruise circling her neck from ear to ear. Stark against the blue and green discoloration were finger marks.