“Nothing. Sorry, I dropped my pencil,” Katherine said. Christopher’s eyes were watering, so all he could do was nod.
When the teacher was gone, Katherine stood up and faced Christopher. The classroom was busy with kids talking and chattering, so no one noticed.
She stood over him. “Listen, Christopher Canning or C.C. or whatever you want to be called, that park is off limits. Just don’t go in there, okay? It’s not safe for … you. You’re right. It’s … haunted … or something. So just stay out!” Katherine was talking in a low whisper, but for some reason, Christopher was very afraid of her. There was something urgent and upsetting in her tone. Her fists were clenched on her hips, and she looked menacing. He glanced over and saw the teacher coming their way again.
He nodded quickly. “Okay … yeah, okay, Katherine, no problem. The park is off-limits, I get it. Don’t worry, I won’t be going back in there, not after last night. It’s okay.”
Katherine saw the teacher heading their way too and dragged Christopher down into the seat beside her. The teacher veered away to another noisy group. Katherine finished writing in silence, handed the paper in to the teacher, then went back to her own desk. She didn’t look at Christopher again, and she wasn’t at the streetcar stop after school.
Christopher stood at the stop by himself, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Katherine had said the park was haunted. Haunted. Or something. She seemed almost panicked that he was going to go back in there, but Christopher definitely didn’t get the feeling she was worried about him. No. She was worried about something else.
What could it be?
She said it was “off limits” and to “stay out.”
But why?
Chapter Nine
The Orange Ball Rolled
For the next few days, Christopher steered clear of the park, except to notice that people hardly ever went in there. Occasionally, city workers opened the gates and went in to rake up leaves or tend to the fountain. Once in a while they even sat in there having their lunch. But apart from them, and an old man with thick glasses, a white straw hat, and a heavy brown coat who sometimes sat on a bench on the sidewalk past the gates, the park was deserted.
Christopher kept his head down when he walked past and made sure his windows were shut carefully every night, although he didn’t hear any more howling. Whenever he took Marbles for a walk, they went the long way to the ravine, and he crossed the street far away from the park.
He stayed away from Katherine, too.
He and Katherine managed a polite truce at the streetcar stop, but she wasn’t there every day. Christopher tried to forget about the somethings in the park, and he almost managed it …
… until one day after school, when he and his many-assorted-older-brothers were playing ball hockey on the driveway beside their house. The driveway was perfect for ball hockey, since it was so long and straight. Christopher wasn’t crazy about playing goalie, but as the youngest he never had much say. He was almost always the goalie. His oldest brother, Marc, passed the ball to his second-oldest brother, Nathan, who passed it to his third-oldest brother, Adam, who took a slap shot from halfway down the driveway. It went wild, and the bright orange ball bounced off Christopher’s goalie mask, whipped through the air, and flew over the spiked iron rails of the park.
The ball rolled deep into the park bushes.
“Nice going, C.C.!” Marc yelled at him.
Christopher took off his mask and dropped his goalie gloves on the driveway. “Now what?” he asked, looking nervously at the park.
“Go get it! You let it fly over the fence!” Adam called.
“No way, you took the slap shot. You go get it!” Christopher yelled back.
“Nice try, C.C. The last one who touches it has to find it,” Nathan said. He had Christopher there — the last-touch rule was ball-hockey law.
It was no use. Marc, Nathan, and Adam had already lost interest in the game and were leaning their hockey sticks against the house. It was almost dinner time anyway. Christopher looked back at the park.
Nothing moved.
He bit his lip. What to do? Everyone bigger than him had gone inside. It was his best ball-hockey ball. It was Marbles’ favourite ball. He really didn’t want to lose it.
He was putting the goalie equipment and the net away in the shed at the back of the house when he looked over at the park again. The bushes were rustling.
An orange ball shot through the iron bars, crossed Christopher’s driveway …
… and rolled to a stop right at his feet.
Chapter Ten
The Giant at the Gates
Christopher gulped, then reached down and picked up the ball.
Something wanted to play. He tossed the ball up and down in his hand, unsure what to do. Just then, his mother opened the back door and called him.
“Christopher! Can you please take Marbles for a walk before dinner?” Marbles burst out the back door and ran to Christopher, wagging his tail and dragging his leash behind him.
“Sure, Mom,” Christopher called back.
He pocketed the orange ball then picked up his dog’s leash and started the long struggle down the driveway. He really didn’t want to get dragged around by Marbles. Tonight, right now, he wanted to be brave. He wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in that park.
“Come on boy, we’re going this way,” Christopher grunted as he used all his strength to drag Marbles toward the park gates. The neighbourhood was quiet. There were no cars driving by, no streetcars, and very few people were out on the streets. The old man with the thick glasses, hat, and the brown coat wasn’t sitting on the bench down the sidewalk. Christopher attached Marbles’ leash to the gates and drew up all his courage. He was going back in.
“I have to find out what’s going on in there, Marbles. Just stay here, bark if anyone comes.” Marbles whined and licked his lips, quivering on the sidewalk. Christopher contorted himself once again and just barely managed to squeeze through the bars.
He stepped into the park and looked around. Again, it was very silent, more silent than it should have been. Except for the bubbling of the seahorse fountain, it was like he was in the middle of the countryside. There was the little apple tree, almost bare of leaves, but still bearing delicious-looking fruit. Two benches surrounded the tree. The bushes around the outside of the park were still.
Christopher took a deep breath. He was determined to be courageous. “Hello?” he whispered, but it came out as a croak. So he tried again, a little louder this time. “Hello!” he squeaked, but at least audibly. His heart was hammering in his chest.
The park was still and quiet.
“Uh, thank you for returning my orange ball,” he said, a little braver this time. Suddenly he felt really foolish, like a little kid imagining things, talking to an empty park like a crazy person.
The ball could have bounced off something and rolled back out on its own, couldn’t it?
Then he heard it. The wind rattling the barren dry leaves, or maybe it was something else. A gravelly voice said, “Megathon dret alba.” But Christopher also heard it say, “He left the monster outside.”
Christopher gasped but tried not to scream. He bit his tongue and tried to remember to breathe. He managed to stutter out, “Uhhh, heelllo? I know you’re here. You threw apples at me, but you tried not to hit me. You clapped at my guitar music. You returned my ball.” His teeth were actually chattering together, he was so scared. But he was also determined.
“Morten gella dorth!” came another gravelly voice, but sweeter, which translated into, “You’re frightening him!”
Christopher’s eyes were like giant saucers now. Clearly there were two voices, two somethings, in the bushes.
But what?
He didn’t get to find out what. At that moment Marbles stopped whining. A tall figure was standing at the gates. A really, really tall lady.
She was standing on the sidewalk patting his do
g’s head (who, unlike any good watchdog, was sniffing her hand and wagging his tail) and peering into the park.
She called into the park, “Hello? Boy? Are you in there?”
Christopher wasn’t sure whether he should answer her or dive into the bushes and hide.
It wasn’t an easy choice. Christopher really wanted to hide, very badly, but since the bushes had strange voices in them, he decided they might not make such an entirely great hiding spot. He hesitated, but in the end had little choice but to answer the lady.
“Yuh … yes. I’m here. I think you mean me? I think I’m who you mean?” Christopher jibbered. He stepped away from the tree and walked toward the gate. The tall lady smiled nicely at him through the fence and pointed toward a small handle inside the gate.
“Pull that handle there, would you please?”
Christopher hadn’t noticed it, but there was the outline of a small doorway cut into the gate, next to the gatepost. It was kind of a secret, hidden door, which you probably wouldn’t see unless someone pointed it out to you. He pulled on the handle, and the door swung inward with a creak.
The tall lady undid Marble’s leash and stooped to walk through the door with him. The dog was very happy to be on the same side of the fence as his master and licked Christopher excitedly. The lady handed Christopher the leash. Then she added, “You’d better hold on to him tightly.”
“Thank you,” Christopher said. “Uh, I’ll see you then.”
He was starting to go through the doorway, back out to the street, when he heard the whispery, growly voice again. It sounded very close to him, and Christopher heard it say very clearly, practically in his ear, “Megathon alta!” At the same time he also heard it say, “Get that monster out of here.”
Many things happened next, rather quickly. At the very instant in which the voice spoke, Marbles caught the scent of something. He snapped his head up, sniffed twice, then dove into the bushes, yanking Christopher off his feet. Christopher landed with a thud and dropped the leash. The tall lady rushed to grab the leash, but Marbles was off and running madly through the bushes, barking and chasing something frantically.
For a moment, the bushes were alive with squeals and grunts and shrieks. Christopher and the lady rushed around, trying to grab Marbles, who was just as madly chasing and running away from them. The dog, the boy, the lady, and the somethings in the bushes dashed the circuit of the park twice, before Christopher somehow managed to make a giant leap and land on Marbles’ back. Boy and dog both landed with a grunt on the ground, Christopher on top. He grabbed the leash, panting as he lay on his dog.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” Christopher managed to say.
The tall lady had taken a seat on one of the park benches. She was mopping her brow. “My, your dog is quite … athletic,” she croaked, trying to catch her breath.
Marbles was whining and wriggling and champing his teeth, staring up into the apple tree. There was a rustling above them, but Christopher couldn’t look up into the tree AND keep a tight hold on his dog at the same time. He was barely big enough to weigh Marbles down as it was. If he moved a muscle, then the dog would be off and running again.
“I’m Cassandra Daye, D-A-Y-E, by the way. That’s my store across the street,” the tall lady said, still trying to catch her breath.
“Oh. I see. Candles by Daye, with an ‘e’. I get it.” Christopher was doing his best to be polite, which wasn’t all that easy under the circumstances. “I’m Christopher Canning. I live next door,” he managed to say. He could feel Marbles tensing beneath him, readying himself for a monstrous leap up the trunk of the apple tree.
“Hello, Christopher.” She seemed uneasy, like people do when they’re hiding something.
She kept darting little glances up into the apple tree, then back down at him. She cleared her throat, about to speak, when a gentle, whispery voice said, “Blethem morgount.” Christopher heard it say, “He seems nice.” It came from the top of the apple tree.
Christopher tensed as Marbles went rigid beneath him, ready to spring. “Okay, what was that voice? Who seems nice?” Christopher asked.
“Voice? What voice? Oh, that? Wind in the leaves, don’t you think? Do you like this park? It’s very old … the city is thinking of removing it, building apartments. It’s not much use for most people … the fountain watered horses a long time ago … it’s still quite lovely…”
Christopher knew she was trying to distract him. His mother did that, talked too much about things that weren’t relevant whenever she was nervous or trying to draw his attention elsewhere. It worked when he was little, sometimes.
The deeper, growlier voice said, “Megathon mebahtu.” Christopher heard it say, “The monster smells bad.”
Christopher’s eyes grew wide as he looked up into Cassandra’s face. “Did … did you hear that?” he whispered. “What is it?”
Cassandra Daye bit her lip. “Oh, I really don’t think I should … nothing …”
Christopher couldn’t help it. He lost his patience, and with his last breath, he yelled out, “PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS TALKING TO ME IN THE TREE!”
“Oh well, I’m not sure …”
And that’s when Christopher Canning’s arms gave out, and Marbles-the-monster made a mighty leap into the air, loudly snapping his teeth together …
… just missing a gargoyle as it flew out of the apple tree and lurched off into the night sky.
Chapter Eleven
Cassandra's Truth
Marbles leapt into the air like an Olympic vault champion (Cassandra was right, he really WAS athletic) and snapped his jaws at the gargoyle, but the dog missed the creature by a hair.
The gargoyle escaped.
Christopher stared as the gargoyle careened into the sky. It looked like a fat black bat or maybe a giant frightened June bug, but it wasn’t as graceful. The gargoyle really wasn’t very good at flying. It barely got out of the way of Marbles’ jaws and didn’t have very good control of where it was going. It banged into a tree and almost crashed into a lamppost in its hurry to get away.
But the gargoyle made it across the street and settled on the roof of Candles by Daye. Christopher stood with his mouth open, staring. Marbles was barking furiously at the gate. The gargoyle was outlined against the roof of Cassandra’s store for a moment, and Christopher could make out its head over the edge of the rooftop. The gargoyle shook its wings like an angry goose, looked straight at Christopher, then stuck its tongue out at him.
“How RUDE!” he gasped.
He wheeled around to look at Cassandra, who was busily examining her nails. Marbles flopped down onto the park grass and panted, tired out from all the excitement.
“Was that … a gargoyle?” Christopher whispered.
Cassandra looked up from her nail-examination and smiled politely. “Was what a gargoyle?”
Christopher was astonished. He wasn’t sure what to say next, but he decided a direct question might be best. “Did I just see a gargoyle fly across the street and land on the roof of your store?”
Cassandra nodded slowly but wouldn’t look him in the eye. Her nails seemed much more interesting to her.
“Did I hear it talking to me?” he asked.
She nodded, a little faster this time. “You’re lucky you can understand them. I can’t. Only children and some lucky adults understand them properly …” she said wistfully. Christopher suddenly felt a little sorry for Cassandra, since she sounded so sad — but he needed answers, VERY CLEAR and VERY SIMPLE answers. He pressed on.
“So … just to be clear, there is a gargoyle … living in this park?” He realized he didn’t sound very intelligent, but he didn’t care.
Cassandra looked him in the eye this time and nodded. “Well, two gargoyles actually.”
At that very moment another gargoyle flew past Christopher, but this one could fly a little better and didn’t bang into anything. It was so quiet and stealthy that Marbles didn’t even notice it. Christopher watched as it f
lew across the street and joined the first gargoyle on the roof of Candles by Daye, disappearing around an old chimney.
“Am I losing my marbles?” he asked and flopped down on the bench beside Cassandra. At the sound of his name, the dog raised his head and barked.
“Not you. I know I haven’t lost you, you crazy dog. I mean me, my marbles. Am I going crazy?”
“No, Christopher, you’re not crazy,” Cassandra said slowly. Christopher looked at her closely. She seemed like a nice, normal lady, if really tall. She didn’t seem crazy, or like a liar. But she didn’t want to tell him the truth, either. She was very reluctant to say anything at all.
But before he could ask anything else, the back door of his house creaked open, casting a circle of warm yellow light to the edge of the park. His mother called his name.
“I’m coming, Mom!” Christopher shouted back. “It’s dinner time. I have to go!” Marbles jumped up and shook himself. Cassandra and Christopher walked to the hidden doorway and back out to the sidewalk. Cassandra practically had to crawl on her hands and knees to fit through. The doorway swung closed with a click, and when it was shut, Christopher almost couldn’t see it. You’d only see it if you knew where to look.
Cassandra said, “Come by my store tomorrow after school. I’ll make you tea. We’ll talk. Oh, and for now, maybe don’t tell anyone about the gargoyles. Bye, Christopher,” she said thoughtfully, then crossed the street, which was empty and quiet.
Christopher turned to go to his house but noticed there were two gargoyles on the park gateposts.
“Cassandra, what about these two?” Christopher called across the street after her.
The Gargoyle at the Gates Page 3
