by Lori Woods
“Oh?”
“Okay, let me see if I can explain. The whole reason the little city is called Safe Haven is because the creatures who live there have historically been considered… second-class citizens; things that go bump in the night, if you would. Safe Haven was basically a ghetto back in the day—a refugee zone. A lot of the people who live their come from poorer families whose parents or grandparents were basically run out of their own towns because of some old prejudices against their kinds. I mean, the world is different now. We live in a forward-thinking society now, and the city of Safe Haven isn’t exactly the ghetto it used to be… but it’s still not as safe as somewhere like Nightshade. High rates of attacks; that sort of thing.”
“So, are gargoyles considered second-class citizens?” I ask.
“Well, not so much anymore,” Red Sumac says. “But, back in the day, definitely. Gargoyles practically founded Safe Haven.”
“But what was it about the gargoyles that made them second class?” I ask.
“It’s a long history,” Red Sumac says. “Their society advanced a little slower than, say, witches and elves. Groups like witches, elves, and even werewolves got higher forms of education. There was a period of time, long before my time, where gargoyles and creatures like them were not even allowed to attend the same schools. It’s just a long history of oppression.”
This sounds a little familiar, I think to myself, my mind wandering back to a history class from the other side as I studied the Civil Rights Movement. “Well, that’s sad,” I say.
“Yeah, things have changed a lot, but so many generations of oppression can really take its toll on the communities,” she says. “A lot of gargoyles and Safe Haven creatures turn to crime since that’s really all they know.”
“Do they really turn to crime or is that just a prejudice assumption?” I ask her, and she shrugs.
“I guess I’m not really sure,” she says. I notice she has now finished her coffee.
“You liked the coffee, huh?” I say.
“I’m feeling a little jittery,” she admits. “I could really go for a fly.”
“Agreed,” I say. “But, we’ll have to make the route back to the library. I’m still working.”
“Agreed,” she says.
We return our coffee mugs and then head out. I can hardly resist challenging Red Sumac to a race. She grins. “I’ve never had coffee. Does it always make you feel so….jumpy? I feel like I could run and beat you to the library with this energy.”
“What did you order?” I ask.
“A dark coffee with a double expresso shot and extra sugar. I don’t know… it sounded good,” she says.
“Oh wow, you probably should have taken it easy with your first coffee drink!” I say, laughing. “That’s a lot of caffeine!”
“Caffeine? Is that a mortal thing?” she asks.
“You don’t know what caffeine is?” I question. I just laugh at her. Things are so different here. “It gives you energy, but it will make you crash later.”
“Crash? Should I be flying a broom?” she asks, her voice rising.
“No, I mean, your energy will be drained,” I say. “Basically, coffee lets you double up on energy, but the caffeine takes that energy from later and gives it to you now.”
“What a strange beverage!” she exclaims. “It’s almost like magic! Mortals are so clever sometimes.”
“Well, it’s not really that impressive. Coffee comes from coffee beans. It just a plant that grows on the other side,” I explain.
“A liquid plant?” she asks.
“No, beans!” I say, laughing. “They grind the beans and pour steaming hot water over the grinds. It’s just like tea.”
“Oh, I do love tea,” she says. “So, instead of tea leaves, it’s beans?”
“Bingo. Now you got it.” I throw my leg over Broom Hilda. “Ready to head to the library?”
“Ready!” she says, mimicking my movement.
We both take off, and we do so with extra umph. I fly faster when Red Sumac is around; she challenges me. When the two of us first met, we were aggressively competitive with one another. We became friends, but that natural sense of competition remained an intricate part of our friendship. She zips by me. “A Salem broom is only as good as her rider!” she shouts at me, challenging me to fly faster.
“Come on, Broom Hilda!” I cry, leaning forward so that I will increase my speed. My hair whips behind me. I’m a natural flyer —even Red Sumac has admitted that. I pass her, laughing the whole time. “Ease up!” I shout at my broomstick as the library comes into sight. I land a bit abruptly, my foot catching the ground and sending me flying over my broom and into a nearby bush. “Ow!” I scream as I roll out of the bush and onto the rocky ground around me.
I can see Red Sumac laughing at me as she lands near my broom. She dismounts her own broom and approaches me, offering me her hand to help me stand. “You okay?” she asks.
I take her hand and stand, brushing myself off with a slight grin on my face. “I for one am fine. My ego, on the other hand, is a bit bruised after that fall.”
Chapter Nine
Not going to lie. I wound up going back to that coffee shop for a second time that evening before finishing off my day at the library. Sondra and Sonya, albeit a little frightening looking, were some of the nicest people I’ve had the pleasure of encountering in Nightshade. They were a little extreme personality wise, but their shop and the way they treated their customers reminded me of home on the other side. I hadn’t realized that I’ve actually missed the other side; I’ve enjoyed my time in Nightshade, but it sure is nice to have a little piece of home just down the street from where I work.
By the time evening gets here, I have had enough double shots of expresso throughout the day to make myself almost as jittery as Red Sumac had been after her very first cup of coffee. We laughed at ourselves as we closed up the library and headed out. The moon in the sky was still crescent shape, although it was a little smaller than it had been on the night of the wedding.
“We sure picked a good night to travel to Safe Haven,” Red Sumac says as we look up at the night sky, each of us holding our brooms.
I decided to leave Snowball at the library with Alfie. From what Red Sumac has suggested, Safe Haven was a very hectic city – especially at night. Snowball had a tendency to get herself into trouble, and I didn’t want to make it easy for her to do so by taking her to a city where trouble was the norm. Plus, it was going to be a rough flight with the bit of wind tonight. Sure, Snowball does a great job holding onto the back of my broom, but I don’t feel like testing the whole nine lives theory tonight.
“What’s so special about tonight?” I ask.
“Crescent moon,” she says. “A full moon is basically a giant warning sign to stay out of Safe Haven. The people and creatures there all act crazier than a werewolf on his first transformation during a full moon.”
“Oh dear,” I say, mounting my broom. “Well, I’m glad we picked a good night.”
“Try to keep up,” Red Sumac teases as she kicks off.
“You know I will,” I say, zipping after her.
We take it easy for the first half of our trip, enjoying the night scenery of the countryside that lay between towns and cities. We race some, honestly having a good time messing with each other in the friendly way that Alfie and Snowball tease each other. As we are in the middle of what I assume to be our last race of the evening, Red Sumac makes an abrupt stop in the middle of the sky—floating and staring off in the distance. I stop by her. “What’s up?”
“We’re almost there,” she says, nodding off towards the distance.
I look in the direction she is staring, and I see an eerie-looking city with an evident smog surrounding it. “Whoa,” I say. The buildings look old and a bit archaic—a subtle gothic style accompanied by years of wear and tear without any attempt to restore.
“Let’s go,” Red Sumac says, and we begin our descent into the city.
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Just as the city is clearly coming into view, something huge whips by us and sends us soaring backward on our brooms. I grip Broom Hilda tight as I flip four times in the air before steadying myself on my broom. “Hey! Watch it, jerk!” Red Sumac shouts once she’s upright, waving a fist in the air.
“Whatever, witch!”
I look forward to see who almost knocked us off our brooms, and I see this huge red dragon flying off, looking back over his shoulder with a scowl. “That… that’s a dragon,” I say, eyes wide.
Red Sumac just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and he’s a real creep too!” she shouts loud enough for him to hear. “Share the skies, buddy; you stupid flying lizard!”
Well, it has certainly been an interesting week. I met my first mummy and my first dragon. I follow Red Sumac as she heads further into the city. We land in front of two small shops; one of the buildings has a large crack going from its foundation up to its old roof. The other is covered in dead vines, and one of the windows is cracked. “Well, it sure does feel homey around here,” I tease.
Something behind me grunts, and I feel warm breath on my neck. I jump slightly. “Get out of the way,” a voice behind me grunts.
“Sorry,” I say, stepping aside to see a giant minotaur attempting to cross the street.
Whoa. “Ugh, minotaurs,” Red Sumac says. “They’re almost as bad as gargoyles.”
I frown. I don’t really like her attitude. Red Sumac is my friend, and when I found out I was part gargoyle I had gotten excited. Now I feel like I can’t share that with her. Honestly, her brashness is mimicking subtle American racism. “This city sure is different from Nightshade,” I say, looking around a bit at the crowded street. Seems like everyone comes out at night around here. There are so many creatures here that I’ve never seen before—the dragon, the minotaur, and I’m pretty sure there’s a cyclops looking at me across the street.
“Hey, you know what is good around here? The food,” Red Sumac says. “Everything here is old school—really traditional ghoul food. We should grab dinner while we’re in the city.”
“Great idea,” I say. I follow Red Sumac to a small tavern called The Graeae Sisters. We enter, and it is an entirely different world from the coffee shop we had enjoyed earlier. There are three women behind a counter cooking over an actual cauldron. The drinks the people are serving bubble and boil, and I see one creature attempting to escape someone’s plate while its diner stabs it with a fork and shoves the small thing into his mouth. My eyebrows raise slightly, and I shiver. “Um, are you sure about the food here?”
“My guess is you’ve never had authentic ghoul food before,” she says. “I’ve tried coffee; your turn to try a real witch’s brew stew.”
“Aren’t the Graeae sisters something from mythology?” I ask, looking at a sign above the door that reads Dread, Horror, and Alarm Served Here!
“Sweetie, those are the Graeae sisters,” Red Sumac says, pointing towards the three women behind the counter.
My stomach twists into knots. The three women have no eyes, well, they have one eye—but they keep passing it around between the three of them. “Whoa,” I say—this is a new revelation for me. I hadn’t realized actual gods, demi-gods, and goddesses from Greek mythology were anything more than mythology. “So, the Graeae sisters run a tavern now?” I question.
“Pretty much,” Red Sumac says. “And it’s the best in the city.”
We are approached by a centaur who shows us to a table and throws down a couple of menus. I see traditional witch’s brew stew on the menu. I shiver slightly, but Red Sumac insists it’s the best thing she’s ever had here. Apparently, she only ever comes to this city for the food, and since she’s experienced here, I take her word for it and order the witch’s brew stew instead of sifting through the menu for something safe and familiar.
When the food arrives, I’m somewhat horrified at the bubbly gray bowl of glob they put in front of me. “Is… is that an eyeball?” I ask, pointing. I swear, the soup is staring at me.
“You’re a witch, Suzy,” Red Sumac says, taking a bite of her stew. “You’ll love it. This is the best witch’s brew stew around.”
I’m not so confident. There is something swimming in there. “I guess I should be willing to try anything once, right?” I say, taking a spoonful and putting it in my mouth. It is bizarre, and frankly I have absolutely nothing I can even somewhat compare it to. It’s weird, and the texture is just not normal. However, I do find that it’s… good. Yes, it’s good. “Not bad,” I say. “Its appearance is just throwing me off.”
“I suppose for someone from the other side, this seems a little strange,” she says. “But man is it good!”
I laugh and go to take a second bite, but when I look down, my bowl is gone. “Hey!” I snap.
Red Sumac’s spoon hits the table, and she looks down to see that her bowl has also disappeared. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! Harpies!” she screams, and suddenly everyone in the tavern is jumping around screaming and gripping onto their plates, growling and shouting out threats in the air.
“Harpies?” I ask.
“Demon pixies stole our food!” Red Sumac declares.
I glance out into the aisle to see the centaur who has been waiting on us chasing little black and gray demon-looking fairies with a broomstick. He chases them right out the door. “For crying out loud,” I say. “Harpies? They just take your food?”
“There has been an infestation of them around here lately,” the centaur says, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. “Sorry, but no refunds for food stolen by harpies.” He points to a sign behind the counter that reads We cannot be held accountable for food stolen by harpies.
I just grunt in his direction. Red Sumac rolls her eyes and orders two more brews. “Hold onto your bowl tighter this time,” the centaur says.
“Thanks for buying me dinner—twice,” I say to her, and she just laughs.
“I didn’t realize it was harpies season,” she says. “Otherwise I would have told you to hold your bowl while you eat.”
This place is so weird. I finish my stew, all apart from the floating eyeball. I can’t really bring myself to bite into an eye. Red Sumac eats hers and mine like it’s nothing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. That’s the best part,” she says.
I laugh, and we make our way out of the tavern. “I haven’t seen any gargoyles yet,” I say.
“Most of them live deeper in the city near the taller buildings,” Red says, mounting her broomstick. I follow her, paying close attention to any flying dragons. They apparently are not the friendliest fliers.
Soon, a large clock tower comes into view, and I see them. There are gargoyles soaring from building to building, and they look amazing. All different colors, shapes, and sizes. Some beautiful and elegant, some a bit more fearsome. “Amazing,” I say.
“The clock tower is sort of the local gargoyles hang out,” Red Sumac says. “For the more elite gargoyles, at least; the more educated ones. Someone here should be able to answer any questions you have about petrifaction.”
“Great,” I say, and we soar down, landing abruptly at the building’s lower level. There are two young gargoyles playing out front, and they look and stare at us. “Hello,” I say, and one of them growls slightly at me while the other giggles.
Red Sumac smirks a bit as we head inside. The interior of the clock tower is open, and there are gargoyles gliding from rafter to rafter. The number of times I’ve stood in amazement since arriving in Safe Haven is astounding in and of itself. Red Sumac is speaking with some gargoyles, but I’m just standing here staring upward. My father’s mother, the grandmother I never knew, was a gargoyle. I wonder what she was like? Did she fly around in this very clock tower so carefree and excited?
“Hey, Suzy, this way,” Red Sumac says once she has finished talking to some gargoyles. We both mount our brooms and fly upward, following a small green gargoyle who is scaling the rafters.
“Why isn’t
he flying?” I whisper to Red Sumac as we patiently wait for our guide to catch up to us.
“Gargoyles can’t fly, Suzy. They just glide. We’re inside—there’s no wind in here. He can only glide downward,” Red Sumac explains.
That makes sense, and I feel like I read that in one of the books I had studied at the library. Eventually we are taken outside on an enormous balcony, where a tall, female gargoyle is seated in a corner on a ledge. She looks at us, seeming surprised to see two witches in her presence. I’m guessing they don’t get a lot of visitors from outside of the city here. The female gargoyle is of a blue tint, she has a beak, unlike most of the gargoyles I’ve seen, and her hair is long and gray. She scrunches up her face a bit when she sees us, showing off her aged, wrinkly face.
She speaks with our little green tour guide for a moment, and then he jumps up on the ledge and glides away, leaving her to us. She approaches. “You are Red Sumac from Hemlock—the flight teacher?” the woman asks. “I have heard good things about your school.”
“Thank you,” Red Sumac says. “This is my friend Suzy Maycomber of Nightshade, she’s—”
“The Spell Master,” the elderly gargoyle says. “Yes, we’ve heard about a new Spell Master appearing, even in this part of the world.” I think she is smiling; it’s hard to tell with her having a beak. “My name is Coal. I am the current head of the Falcon Clan. How may I help you?”
Falcon Clan. I make a mental note to research gargoyle clans later. Red Sumac speaks on my behalf. “Suzy is investigating a series of murders in Nightshade, and we believe you might could give us some insight on the case.”
The woman’s wings raise slightly; she seems frustrated. “I do hope you are not accusing us of anything?”
“Not at all!” I say quickly. “We’re just looking for some information on petrifaction. A werewolf has been turned to stone out in Nightshade.”
“My goodness!” Coal exclaims. “A werewolf, you say?”
“Yes,” Red Sumac says. “Obviously we are aware gargoyles are not capable of such a feat, but you are the world’s leading experts on petrifaction.”
