Larkspur

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  “Him?” Jill asked.

  “Yes, him,” Otis said. “The father threw his daughter out of his home. In labor, she stumbled to the border of the Kingdom of Marle and begged for assistance.”

  Otis stopped talking. His eyes glistened. Just then a gargoyle appeared on the back of the couch where Jill was sitting. Scooter gave a low growl in warning; the gargoyle taunted him. Barking, Scooter rushed the couch, and the gargoyle disappeared. They laughed at the dog’s confusion over the disappearing gargoyle.

  “May I have a glass of water?” Otis asked.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 7:17 p.m.

  “What happened to her?” Jacob asked.

  “No one is quite sure,” Sam said. “The book said she died in labor. Celia’s grandfather, her father’s father, said that the prince’s mother heard the girl cry and went to get her. When the queen opened the border to get the girl, the Celts attacked. They sought their revenge by raping the women and killing the men of Marle. They started with the queen.”

  “Horrible,” Jacob said.

  “Yes,” Sam said.

  “And the king?” Jacob asked.

  “Killed him outright,” Sam said. “The book and Celia’s grandfather agree on this.”

  Trying to understand what the story could possibly mean, Jacob nodded.

  “Horrible,” he said again.

  “You’re forgetting the queen,” Sam said.

  “I assumed she was dead,” Jacob said.

  “Yes, most people underestimate women,” Sam nodded. “Remember she had Valerie’s skill. She could talk anyone into anything.”

  “What did she do?” Jacob asked.

  “She survived her brutal treatment,” Sam said. “She survived the horror of her husband’s execution. The Celts killed every male in the kingdom, including the children. They violated the women and girls. Their blood lust unsatiated, they killed the women of childbearing age or older. They herded the girls onto an ox cart. To attest to their victory, they tied the queen to the ox cart and made her walk behind it. On their way out of the kingdom, the queen convinced them to let her go. They beat her and left her for dead. When the cart was out of view, she went her son’s lover and her grandson.”

  “Wow,” Jacob said.

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Your mother had that kind of power.”

  Jacob nodded.

  “Injured and disfigured, the queen could only crawl. Still, she worked her way to where she’d last seen the mother of her son’s child,” Sam nodded. “When she got there . . .”

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 7:25 p.m.

  “The mother was dead,” Otis’s eyes flicked to the girls in his audience. “She had been killed by her own father.”

  “And the baby?” Jill’s voice was filled with horror at this dark story.

  “Yes, the baby . . .” Otis took a long drink from his wine glass.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 7:27 p.m.

  “What happened to the baby?” Jacob asked.

  “No one knows,” Sam said.

  “What does that mean?” Jacob asked.

  “The ending of the book is torn off,” Sam said.

  “Seriously?” Jacob asked.

  “Yes, the back binding and those pages are torn away,” Sam said.

  “But . . .” Jacob gave his father a long look. “What did Mom’s grandfather say?”

  “He told the story a little differently,” Sam said. “When the queen was a little girl, she’d been left alone quite a bit. Her best friends were mice and . . .”

  “How Disney,” Jacob said.

  “ . . .gargoyles,” Sam said.

  “The statues?” Jacob asked.

  “They were living creatures then.”

  “Flying monkeys?” Jacob asked.

  “Gargoyles,” Sam said. “You remember that she had the gift of persuasion.”

  “Like Valerie,” Jacob said.

  “Exactly,” Sam said. “The queen made a contract with the gargoyles.”

  “What does that mean?” Jacob asked.

  “No idea,” Sam said. “Celia said her grandfather would nod as if that meant something, but she was never really sure what it was all about.”

  “You think we’ll ever know?” Jacob asked.

  “Doubt it.” Sam shook his head.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 7:27 p.m.

  “No one knows,” Otis shrugged. “The baby, the queen, no one. The story is lost or . . . You remember that she was able to convince people with her words. Maybe she . . .”

  The gargoyle near the fireplace flapped his wings and screamed, “SILEO!”

  They gasped and stared at the creature.

  “He would like you to be silent,” Bruno said to Otis. Jill’s grandfather nodded his head as if he understood. The gargoyle spoke directly to Bruno. “He wants that I give rest of the story. I translate. Okay?”

  Bruno looked at Otis, who nodded. The bodyguard glanced around the room before turning back to the gargoyle.

  “Go,” Bruno said.

  The gargoyle began to speak.

  “The queen’s family and the gargoyles had long friendship,” Bruno said. “The queen spent every summer caring for baby gargoyles. They loved her; considered her family. When she married the king of Marle, a small flock of gargoyles swore allegiance to the king and his heirs. The queen and her gargoyles were never separated. When the queen was set upon by the Celts, the gargoyles defended her valiantly. Wild Celts frightened of the defenders of good — the gargoyle. The Celts tied the queen and brought her with them. Between the Queen’s gift and their natural terror for the gargoyles, the Celts left the Queen unsoiled. But they are not stupid. The Celts cover her mouth so she no use her gift. The gargoyles were bound only to queen; they no way save king or people.

  “When they reach border of country, Celts throw queen from the cart.” Bruno nodded to Otis and he smiled. “Queen sent gargoyle to find the child. They found the child near death on border of the land. They brought baby to queen.”

  “Unable to return to her country, her home, the queen set out across Europe with grandson,” Bruno said. “The grandson grew to a kingly young man. In time, he married and had many babies, daughters. They had much happiness, but grandson was half Celt. When his wife was going to have son, the Celt came out. He slaughtered his own child to fulfill the vow made by his Celtic grandfather. Unable to live with what he had done, the grandson hung himself. The queen, and young widow, and girls move across the continent of Europe, but not before the queen made the gargoyle swear an oath to protect the male children in the line of Marle.”

  “That’s why they are here?” Jill asked. “To protect the boys?”

  “That’s what he says,” Bruno nodded. “Celtic blood continues to run in the line of Marle, so the father must be away when the child is born.”

  “Mom’s father’s mother died giving birth to him,” Valerie said. “If these creatures were there to protect her . . .”

  “Celtic blood runs in a lot of veins,” Bruno nodded. “They were wild, violent people. They raped their way across Europe. Many have Celtic blood. The Celtic blood takes over, and person with no knowledge of story will be drawn to fulfill the oath sworn all those years ago.”

  “My great-grandmother was . . .?” Valerie asked.

  “Murdered,” Bruno said. “According to the gargoyle. Murdered by the neighbor. The gagul’ya was able to save the child, but not the mother.”

  “Why didn’t the gargoyle save the mother?” Tanesha asked.

  “Seems agreement is for baby boys only,” Bruno translated what the gargoyle said in answer to Tanesha’s question. “They are sad when mother die, but there is nothing they can do.”

  “Why did Mom survive?” Valerie asked.

  “Because of you, Valerie,” Bruno said. “You have gift of persuasive speech. You kept mailman from entering the house. Do you remember?”

  Valer
ie stared into the middle of the loft. After a moment, she nodded.

  “He wanted to use the restroom,” Valerie said. “Delphie told me to make him go away. I . . . I didn’t know what I was doing. I . . .”

  “Do any of us have Celtic blood?” Jill asked.

  Bruno posed the question to the gargoyle. The creature flew to each person in turn.

  “We are Slavic,” Bruno pointed to himself, Otis, and Anjelika. “Jillian, you are not Celt. Your friends . . . No. One baby, in the room. The tiny one . . . Yours.”

  Bruno pointed to Sandy.

  “Rachel?” Sandy asked.

  “The father,” Bruno said. “He is full Celt. Very dangerous. Valerie and her baby have Celt too from queen’s grandson, but they are female.”

  They turned to look at Valerie.

  “So does this child,” Bruno pointed to Katy. “But . . . they say they’ve never seen a female with the capacities of this child. She is new, stronger, more able to . . . survive.”

  “Me?” Katy asked. “I’m just Katy.”

  “You’re very special to me.” Jill kissed her hair. Sandy tickled her.

  “What would it take to break the curse?” Heather asked.

  Everyone turned to look at Heather.

  “I’m dead serious,” Heather said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m not okay with Jill living with some bullshit ancient curse on her head. Plus, Val wants to have more kids.”

  Bruno stared at Heather.

  “Ask him,” Heather said.

  Bruno posed the question to the gargoyle. The creature let out a sinister laugh.

  “He says it must be done by the father,” Bruno said. “Before the babies are born.”

  “How do we get in touch with Jake?” Valerie asked.

  Bruno and the gargoyle both shook their heads. Jill jumped to her feet and pointed at the gargoyle.

  “You and I made an agreement,” Jill said.

  “They have not been spoiled,” Jill heard the gargoyle speak in her mind. “They are comfortable.”

  “I want to talk to him,” Jill said. “We can relay what needs to happen.”

  The gargoyle shook his head and spoke in a flurry of Latin.

  “He says . . . no . . . contact with the father.” The gargoyle was speaking so fast that Bruno was struggling to translate. “Will kill the babies.”

  “What about by cell phone?” Sandy asked.

  “Creates an emotional, psychic link,” Bruno translated.

  “I could call Aden,” Sandy said. “I could tell him what you tell me word for word and . . .”

  “Aden could call Jake,” Valerie’s voice held her cheer.

  “The Celt?” Bruno sneered. “Never.”

  “He’ll talk to me,” Sandy said. “Not Jill.”

  “What if I call my dad?” Tanesha asked. “Or better yet, my mom can call.”

  Everyone turned to look at Yvonne. She gave the creature a sweet smile. The gargoyle gave a sinister laugh.

  “It will work,” Bruno said. “It will work.”

  Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-seven

  Pinch thinker

  Friday night — 7:49 p.m.

  “Rodney!” Pete screamed over the wind and snow. “Rodney!”

  Surrounded by moving equipment and mud, Rodney stood like a dark pillar in the whirling snow.

  “Rodney!” Pete yelled.

  Rodney looked up. Pete ran through the mud and snow to bring Rodney a cell phone.

  “It’s Yvonne,” Pete said.

  Rodney’s eyes scanned the construction site. They were still digging earthquake survivors out of the mud. They’d lost Jacob and Sam over an hour ago. The firemen and police said they had no heat signature; no heat signature meant Sam and Jacob were dead. Colorado Emergency Rescue told them that when all of the living people were retrieved, they could go back and bring Sam and Jacob’s bodies back to the families. Distraught, the Lipson crew focused on doing what they knew Sam and Jacob would want them to do — save as many people as possible.

  No one had the nerve to tell their family that Sam and Jacob were dead. Rodney’s eyes flicked to Pete.

  “It’s Yvonne,” Pete yelled over the wind. He thrust the phone in Rodney’s direction. “She says Jake and Sam are fine, not to worry about them.”

  “What?” Rodney wasn’t sure what he’d heard.

  “Yvonne wants you to call Jake,” Pete said. “She says she has the number.”

  “Call Jake?” Rodney raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “In Heaven?”

  “No idea,” Pete said. “I’m just relaying the message.”

  Pete pushed the cell phone into Rodney’s hands and ran back to the tent, where he was helping to identify people.

  “Yvie?” Rodney spoke into the phone.

  “Hello precious,” Yvonne’s voice purred. Rodney couldn’t help, but smile. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Jake and Sam, they . . .” Rodney started.

  “I hear your sorrow; I hear it,” Yvonne said. “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” Rodney’s mouth said the words out of habit. His eyes scanned the destruction around him.

  “Will you call this number?” Yvonne asked. “I need to relay some information to you and have you relay it to Jake.”

  “We lost Jake, Yvie.” Rodney felt the full weight of his sorrow. “Sam too.”

  “Now, I know you did,” Yvonne said. “I’m going to help you find them.”

  “But . . .”

  “Do you trust me?” Yvonne asked.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Try it; what do you have to lose?”

  Yvonne’s voice was light and lovely. Rodney remembered her saying the same thing to encourage him to take that pastry cooking class in Paris. When she laughed, he felt as if the light of angels had lifted his despair.

  “Well?” Yvonne’s voice was light and flirty. He smiled.

  “You haven’t given me the number, woman.” Rodney imitated his father’s gruff meanness. Yvonne laughed.

  “You ready?” Yvonne asked.

  “Go ahead,” Rodney said.

  She gave him the number. Of course, he’d forgotten to get his cell phone from his pocket. He fumbled with the phone at his ear while he dug around in his pockets. He finally found his phone in the bottom of his front pants pocket. His frozen hand chaffed against the cuff of the pocket as he pulled the phone out.

  “Ok, can you say it again?” Rodney asked.

  Yvonne said the number in the sassy way she would have when she was eleven. He smiled.

  “Old age’s made me daft,” Rodney said.

  As if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, Yvonne laughed.

  “Here goes nothin’,” Rodney repeated what he always said when she’d dared him to do something new.

  The phone rang and rang. He had pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up when he heard, “Hello?”

  Jacob had answered the phone.

  Overcome, Rodney dropped to his knees.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Friday night — 7:56 p.m.

  Ring!

  “What the hell is that?” Sam asked.

  “Sounds like a phone,” Jacob said.

  Sam jumped to his feet and started looking around. Jacob watched him walk around the large sewer junction.

  “Your cell phone?” Sam asked.

  “No, remember, we tried those,” Jacob said.

  Ring!

  “We did?” Sam asked.

  “You were asleep,” Jacob smiled. “I tried both of our phones.”

  “Did the walkie-talkie-thingy-or-another work?” Sam asked.

  “The Lipson intercom? On our phones?” Jacob shook his head. “No, that didn’t work either. I assumed it was because we were down here.”

  “Huh,” Sam said. “They worked when we poured this.”

  Ring!

  “You think that’s God calling?” Sam looked up at the ceiling.

/>   “Gargoyle’s more like it,” Jacob said.

  Sam smiled. Jacob got to his feet.

  “The sound is coming from over . . .” Jacob pointed to a 1950s era wall telephone. Sam guffawed at the sight. Jacob chuckled and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” Jacob asked.

  He heard a human grunt followed by the sound of wind and rain. In the background, he heard the warning beep of an excavator in reverse. A diesel engine revved and the sound got closer.

  “Hello?” Jacob tried again.

  He heard the sniffing sound of someone pulling back strong emotion.

  “It’s Rodney, Jake,” Rodney said. “I . . . We thought you were dead.”

  “No,” Jacob said. “I can’t explain it now, but we’re all right.”

  “Yvie called and . . .” Rodney remembered that Yvonne was on the other phone. “Can you hang on?”

  “Sure,” Jacob said. He turned to Sam and said, “It’s Rodney. Yvonne told him to call.”

  “The wall phone?” Sam chuckled.

  Jacob raised an eyebrow and grinned.

  “How is it up there?” Sam asked.

  “No idea,” Jacob said. “He answered then disappeared.”

  “Wish we were there to help,” Sam said.

  Jacob nodded.

  “Jake?” Rodney asked.

  “I’m here,” Jacob said.

  “Yvonne’s with Tanesha in your loft,” Rodney said.

  “How’s Jill?” Jacob asked.

  “Fine, fine, everyone’s just fine,” Rodney said. “Yvonne was trying to explain it to me, but I don’t get it. Would you mind if I just repeated what she said?”

  “Why doesn’t she call?” Jacob asked.

  “She said it would ‘create a psychic link,’” Rodney said.

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Apparently so,” Rodney said. “This all sounds crazy to me, but . . .”

  “Just tell me what she said,” Jacob said.

  “She said that you can break the curse,” Rodney said. “The, uh, gargoyles know how to do it. You know, Jake, she’s got brain damage, and . . . I made Tanesha get on the line to confirm about the . . . you know, gargoyle thing.”