“You always were my most trusted Gargoyle,” Meino said, grinning.
And you are my brave young mage.
“It was all real then,” Meino said, emotions taking over.
Ms. Theresa put a hand on his arm, and he looked up, finding both understanding and kindness in her eyes.
“Shall we take a break? Have a refreshment?” Mr. Talbot asked.
Meino could certainly use a break. He felt mentally exhausted, and snippets of the stories he’d grown up with came back to him in his dad’s voice. The Inner Kingdom, and the Outer Kingdom. He then remembered the dragons which were fire breathers and also good dragons that collected magic to be kept safe. Meino was a mage to work for the good dragons in the Outer Kingdom.
Halfway back at the salon, Meino changed direction and went into the dining hall, the table there still functioning as his sorting table. Images rushed through his head again, but it was images of a book. Finally, Meino closed his eyes as he walked along to the table, grabbed three books to move, and picked up the book right beneath. Upon opening his eyes, he found a thick old book wrapped in leather held together at the front by a buckle.
Meino looked up to find Mr. Talbot standing in the door, his gaze roaming the table and his mouth hanging agape as if he had just seen the greatest of treasures.
“Dad and I played a game where I was a young mage to be trained to work for the good dragons—the dragons collecting magic to be kept safe. The bad dragons were the fire breathers, and they wanted magic to take over the Outer Kingdom.”
“But the warriors of the Inner Kingdom held true magic, and we, the mages of the Inner Kingdom, held the powers to foil their greed.”
“You know the story, too?” Meino asked.
“I’ve been teaching it to my son. It is our legacy, Meino, which means your bloodline was once of this Order.” Mr. Talbot came closer, and he looked excited about the news.
Meino was, too, but he also felt completely cut off from himself and his own history. His parents had died before they could teach him most of the stuff he needed to know, and a decade later he stood in a castle of an old Order talking with a man claiming to be part of his family’s past.
“Your family name is Ackermann, right?”
“Yes.”
“We can do a genealogy, if you’d like. We will track your family and find out how your history crosses with the Order.”
“I don’t know how to do genealogies.”
“Well, luckily I know just the guy.” Mr. Talbot put his arm around Meino’s shoulder to lead him to the salon.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Meino had forgotten two cups of tea for long enough for them to get cold while he read the book he’d found in the stack. Mr. Talbot, Vibeke, and Ms. Theresa didn’t seem to mind—they chatted with Jenny about stuff that Meino didn’t pay attention to, but he did hear a few words here and there.
To not accidently interrupt their conversation, Meino kept quiet even though he wanted to talk to Burkhart about the story he was reading. He remembered playing some of the scenes with his dad and Burkhart when he was a child, and back then he’d picked Burkhart as his faithful Gargoyle to fly him when going on missions in the Inner Kingdom. Burkhart definitely remembered, since he’d helped Meino find the magic again by taking him back to a time where it was natural for him to believe in a world full of it.
The sun is setting. I will be with you shortly, little one.
Meino smiled and looked up, seeing Ethan step out of shadow behind Jenny.
Mr. Talbot jumped, put a hand over his heart, and laughed. “Oh, so you’re the one moving in the corner of my eye.”
Vibeke extended her hand. “I didn’t know a Shadow was here.”
Ethan shook it, then Mr. Talbot’s. The heavy footsteps of Burkhart sounded down the corridor, and Mr. Talbot turned to stare expectantly at the open door.
“Oh, sweet Lord,” he whispered when Burkhart came through. “You’re... one of the seven remaining Sellman Gargoyles.” Mr. Talbot stood slowly. He looked almost moved to tears, as he stepped around the sofa, his focus glued to Burkhart. “I’ve searched for you, all of you, but I can’t sense what doesn’t move.”
“Did you feel him over the past month?” Meino asked.
“No, I didn’t search for Gargoyles moving in particular. So much other magic is moving right now, and there have been some pretty hefty flair-ups on the eastern seaboard in the US lately. I caught a few around France and northern Germany. Did you go that way?”
“No.” Burkhart went to crouch next to Meino.
“How are the others?” Mr. Talbot asked, taking a seat again.
“I only know the fate of us five.” Burkhart took the book and looked in it.
“Five.” Mr. Talbot sighed. “We had hoped all seven of you were safe.”
“I had hoped that the twins and Steinmann had made it to the vault,” Burkhart said.
Mr. Talbot gaped. “What vault?”
“Mr. Sellman had a vault to hide magic in,” Burkhart clarified.
“Where?” Mr. Talbot’s eagerness was unmasked.
“I’m sorry,” Burkhart said. “We couldn’t see the location, and he never mentioned it. He said... it was left in his estate to be read by the initiated.”
“That could be in a painting,” Vibeke said. “What happened to his estate?”
“I don’t know. We were removed before their death. They were interrupted, and Mr. Sellman and his protégé fled. Then we were moved along with other things, but we were moved first and not to the same location as what was put into boxes.”
Mr. Talbot covered his mouth and stared into empty space, lost in thought.
“And the twins?” Meino asked.
“They’re two almost identical but mirrored Gargoyles, each with a sword,” Burkhart said. That fit what Meino remembered from the story, but he really needed to read all of it. The book he’d collected from the table held the full story, handwritten and in German. Meino wondered who had written it.
“Here.” Mr. Talbot held out a small stack of old photographs.
Meino took the stack of black and white photos. The top one showed two men, one tall and one short, in old-fashioned clothes, and standing on each side of a Gargoyle. Meino smiled at recognizing the bat from the crypt. “Which man is Mr. Sellman?”
“The one with the white wavy hair,” Burkhart said, pointing. “The other man is his protégé, Manuel Schäfer.”
Meino flipped to the next picture, recognizing another Gargoyle from the crypt. The third picture was of Burkhart, and from what Meino could make out of the light in the picture, Burkhart sat in the sun.
“I miss sitting in the sun,” Burkhart said.
“You can in a few months.”
“I wonder if I feel it differently now with all that has changed.”
“Hope that means you’re not getting cold at winter.”
“You’re right, that would be noticeable, too.” Burkhart put his heavy hand on Meino’s shoulder and leaned in to look at the photos while Meino flipped through to the next. He studied the twins for a long time, sorry that they were lost to them. He wondered what had happened to them.
The last photo in the stack was clearly an animated Gargoyle, because even in the less than awesome quality photograph, the smoothness of the skin and smile wrinkles around the big tusks protruding from the Gargoyle’s lower jaw were obvious. Steinmann—a name Meino still couldn’t get over the irony off—had less human features than Burkhart, but his eyes were somewhat human. His nose was more scrunched, and there was a ring in it. His hands were claws, and his legs and feet those of a dragon. Or something. He didn’t have a tail as far as Meino could see, but two big horns curled like those on the Dodge Ram logo. And he had big pointy and hairy ears.
Meino leaned back to look at Burkhart’s ears. They were more like Star Trek Spock pointy, and since Meino had seen several other Gargoyles and not just the fiv
e in the crypt, it struck Meino how few looked human. He then wondered what the Angels used for inspiration. With that thought came the question what an Angel looked like, because he could hardly believe they were the fat little babies with fluffy wings he saw at the windows at the stores around Christmas.
Meino shook the thought. “What happens now?”
“Well, we thought it best to get to know each other for a while, since we would like to offer to take you to our place and continue your training,” Vibeke said.
“I’d like that we stay close to the nexus for a while, because it helps the spell settle better in Burkhart, it seems.”
“All wizards in the Order, which isn’t many, live near or over a nexus,” Mr. Talbot said. “It’s important for us so that we may tap into the energies better and help the Order.”
“I’m supposed to be a member of the Order, too?”
“We sincerely hope you will, since you’re bonded to Burkhart.”
“And I cannot leave the Order,” Burkhart said. “It is ingrained in me to protect them. I would put up a fight if you demanded we leave.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant more like... I don’t really know what it’s all about, and I feel...”
“Trapped and like all your decision-making privileges have been revoked?” Jenny asked.
“I guess, but that’s kinda putting it harshly.”
“I felt like that for a while.”
“Me, too, but that was before the Order. Now I roll with it.” Ethan shrugged.
Remembering their story and how they’d each ended up with the Order, Meino could understand their feelings. Meino had just wanted someone in his life that didn’t leave him and didn’t want to take him clubbing or expect him to be overly social outside his own home. Well, he had a new home, and he still didn’t feel like he fit in. But given time, maybe he could feel at home somewhere again.
“Where do you live?” Meino asked Vibeke.
“Near Flinders Range in South Australia.”
“Pretty isolated, but beautiful,” Mr. Talbot said.
“Oh great, the country where everything that crawls or slithers tries to kill you,” Meino said. It was actually the one country he’d never dreamed of going to because of so many poisonous things.
“So you don’t want to,” Mr. Talbot concluded, looking sad.
“I don’t know. I—you said I have some time to think about it, right?”
“You do. And you have time to learn a bit more about the statistics of actually dying from the dangerous creatures.”
“How many die from snakes a year?”
“An average of two. An average of three hundred drown.”
“I see, I’m overreacting.”
“You are not the only one who didn’t want to go to Australia from the fear of those things,” Vibeke said, chuckling.
“Hey, you got the ghost business pretty much down,” Jenny said. “Not counting the one giving birth in the old pantry, but that’s just messed up,” she added, shrugging her shoulder.
“And you have ghosts.” Meino remembered Vibeke had said they did, and he wondered whether it would be less creepy when expecting them.
“A few. But think about it and read up on Australia.”
“I’ve never driven a Holden,” Meino said, his brain going back to something he knew and felt comfortable with.
Mr. Talbot laughed. “Get a two ton Ute, and you can bring Burkhart.”
“And I can see the snakes. They can’t hurt me,” Burkhart pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I’m afraid of snakes curled up in the toilet. Like huge anaconda sized snakes.”
Jenny laughed. “I have a friend who has a yellow Python. He calls it Thelma.”
“Something’s not right with your friend’s head,” Meino said, involuntarily shivering at the thought of lifting the lid to the toilet and finding a big yellow snake staring up at him with red eyes. He’d seen a picture of one of those, and they were ugly.
Jenny laughed loudly.
“Life is short. Snakes are long,” Mr. Talbot said, getting a slap on the shoulder from Vibeke and a gaping expression from Meino. The man’s eyes twinkled in amusement.
“I prefer kittens,” Meino said.
“Maybe you can keep one of them,” Burkhart said.
“Kittens?” Ms. Theresa asked. “Oh, God, she had another litter on the roof?”
Meino took that as a clear no to keeping a kitten inside the castle. Didn’t matter. They weren’t old enough to leave their mommy yet, and by the looks of things, Meino would be going to Australia, and he probably couldn’t get a kitten into the country with some of the strictest border patrols he’d ever heard of.
Until then, it looked to be a festive Christmas with Burkhart, Ms. Theresa, Mr. Talbot, Vibeke, Jenny, and Ethan. He hoped he’d get time to read the story thoroughly and train the soul whispering ability more.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It had been almost two months since Father had left Rebecca with the silent nuns, and Rebecca had spent her time getting into the rhythm and over the reflex, to speak.
The first week had been the hardest, and every time she had failed in keeping silent, the nun hearing it had led her to a private praying chamber with no food or drink of water until the next morning.
There, her thoughts had taken her to all different corners of her mind. She’d fought to stay strong in her belief as her muscles began to protest the position she sat in. She’d tried to count the time, but with no windows to allow for light and no clock, it was impossible. She had felt self-pity when her tongue had swelled in her mouth from thirst and she barely had enough saliva to keep her lips moist. She’d sought out every reason to leave the room, knowing that not even a bathroom break was allowed. Her mind remembered mentioning of fasting in the Bible and why it was so important. That your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
She’d repeatedly thought about the reasons she’d once found good enough to step out on her own to push Alex Rhoden. She’d turned the hate on him, too, for not acting the way she’d planned, and she’d even hated Father for sending her to the silent nuns. Finally, she hated herself for not trusting in the Heavenly hierarchy mirrored in their Earthly one. She felt shame for not having trusted in it and thus not trusted in God.
As time passed and the number of incidents of speaking over the first two weeks lessened, she’d begun to feel hopeful that she could become disciplined enough to show God enough love and devotion for him to speak to her.
Every day was the same routine, and once her acclimation period was over, she fell into step with the silence around her and worked, ate, slept, and prayed for guidance. After two months, she’d lost a lot of weight to the fasts and physical labor that she knew would help break down her Earthly attachments and leave room for the divine to reach her soul.
But it didn’t really happen, and she felt more and more like a failure, and Father’s reprimand kept echoing in her ear. She did feel an overwhelming urge to do better, and she’d thought a lot about what would be expected of her in the future. Especially what would be expected of her body, as it was apparently the tool to reach the profane. Tavi could do it, so why couldn’t she?
Her thoughts were interrupted when someone put a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to find Mother Superior smiling at her. Mother Superior held out her hand for Rebecca to follow her from the greenhouse, and Rebecca did, discarding her work apron by the door before she followed Mother Superior through the convent. In the office stood Father, his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze turned out the window on the beautiful landscape.
Rebecca stopped and waited. Father finally turned and broke into a smile when he saw her.
“My child. Come.”
Rebecca went to him and sighed in relief of the friendly face and the sound of a voice.
“
Did you find peace here?” Father finally asked, holding Rebecca at arm’s length. She forced a smile and nodded, but what she really wanted to do was to beg him to take her away. If she did, though, she was sure he would leave her or see through her smile that God had not talked to her in the way either of them had hoped.
“Pack your things and change to your worldly clothes. We are in need of you.”
Rebecca bowed her head, not trusting her voice yet, and she hurried from the Mother Superior’s office and back to her cell, where she found that her clothes had already been laid out on the narrow bed for her to change into.
The first half hour in the car went by in silence while Rebecca stared out the window. She felt ashamed that she would want to leave so badly when all any of them wanted for her was the peace and quiet to find God. And she’d failed them all.
“Was it a difficult time for you, my child?”
Rebecca turned a smile at him and nodded. “But His love is worth our suffering and devotion.” Her voice sounded raw and low, and she tried to remember how long it had taken the last time she’d been there before her voice had returned to normal. Maybe not as long as she remembered.
“That it is.” Father took her hand and smiled. He had forgiven her, yet she didn’t feel like she’d earned it. She would, however, continue to search and earn his trust again.
Another half hour, and they were at the airport. They boarded a commercial flight, and Rebecca followed, not asking any questions.
Hunger plagued her, and as the plane came to a halt and they left it, she had to ask.
“Father, can we find something to eat, soon? I have fasted during prayer, but to be of use to God in his army, my body needs to become strong again so my mind can focus on the tasks He sets before me.”
“Of course, Rebecca. We have time to eat.” Father took her from the airport, and they got into a car waiting for them outside. Father told the driver to take them to a hotel, and Rebecca finally figured out where they were. In Agen, in southern France.
Upon entering the hotel, Father took her straight through to the restaurant, where they found a table and sat.
Gargoyle Rising Page 24
