The Gargoyle at the Gates

by Philippa Dowding

  Every night before bed, Christopher opened his bedroom window and played guitar out into the cold night air. He was almost always applauded by one gargoyle gently clapping, and even very occasionally, if he played really well, by the sound of two gargoyles gently clapping.

  The gargoyles were his special secret.

  Each day after school Katherine and Christopher chatted, cleaned up apple cores, switched the stone gargoyles, and walked Marbles together. One day on a dog walk, Katherine turned to Christopher and stopped him.

  “I’m glad that you moved into the house next door to the park,” she said. “It’s good that we can trust the person who lives there. You can help us keep the gargoyles safe.”

  Christopher nodded. “Yeah. I like it too. I mean, I’m happy to be able to keep an eye on them, too,” he said. He felt fiercely loyal to Katherine, Cassandra, and the gargoyles at that moment.

  He knew two things, then and there.

  One, he’d never let anyone hurt Gargoth and Ambergine, not if he could help it.

  And two, he was becoming fast friends with them all …

  … which is why the next part of this story is so very sad.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Statue in the Window

  James stretched his legs out under his desk, avoiding his chemistry homework. He laced his hands behind his head and looked out his bedroom window, where the first snow of the year was gently falling. The snow was filling all the little backyards that crisscrossed behind James’s house, falling onto dozens of yards and empty spaces behind all the houses and apartment buildings in the neighbourhood.

  James had been home for months now, back into the world of school, homework, his home life with his parents in Toronto. He missed his grandfather and his sunny English garden, though.

  He’d been thinking about the gargoyles, too. What did they do in the snowy weather?

  Septimus wouldn’t have any leaves to pile up, and Arabella wouldn’t have any more apples to throw at people. He chuckled at the thought. “I hope she doesn’t learn about snowballs,” he said to himself.

  Theodorus loved the pond, but what did he do when it was frozen over? James looked at the little carved gargoyle that Theodorus had given him. It sat in his windowsill.

  James liked to lie on his bed and look at the gargoyle in the window. At night, he shone his desk light on the statue, and it cast a large shadow on the wall beside his bed. The shadow gargoyle had wings, pointed ears, and a squat, leathery body.

  The statue and its shadow made James feel like Septimus (for the statue looked most like him) was in his bedroom with him, come to life on his wall. James illuminated the gargoyle in his window every night as he was going to sleep, just to feel a little closer to his grandfather and to the creatures he had come to know so well.

  James had to admit it: he missed the gargoyles. He couldn’t talk to anyone about them either, since his dad and mom didn’t know about them, and Grampa Gregory made him promise not to tell anyone. It was hard not to have anyone to share them with.

  James tried to concentrate on his chemistry notes, but something was missing. He sighed and looked out the window into the snowy backyard again. He would have dearly welcomed the gentle flutter of an apple tree leaf upon the page of his chemistry book, or a splash of pond water in his face.

  At that very moment, he wouldn’t even have minded if a well-thrown apple bounced right off the top of his head.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Snowy Footsteps

  One gently snowy evening in December, Christopher sat beside his open bedroom window, looking down into the park. He had found a small spotlight in the basement and asked Claire to help him install it in his window. He switched it on, and the golden light shone down into the park, lighting a circle of snow at the base of the apple tree.

  The golden spotlight also glinted and shone on four beautiful snow statues.

  Once the snow started to fall a few weeks earlier, Christopher had noticed snow sculptures appearing in the park, a new one every few days.

  The first sculpture was of a strong boy, with a sack over his shoulder. He looked sad and old- fashioned, as though he came from a long time ago and had walked a long, long way on weary feet.

  A second snow statue appeared a few days later, and was a beautiful lion with its left ear broken off. It was regal and fierce but somehow looked very ancient.

  Then in a few more days, a third snow statue appeared. It was a young girl kicking a soccer ball. The snow sculpture looked a lot like Katherine.

  The most recent sculpture was of Christopher himself playing guitar. They were beautiful works of art, and Gargoth had made them all.

  Christopher admired the snow statues in the soft spotlight from his window. Then he picked up his guitar and began playing into the night. Snow was falling delicately, softening and quieting the busy city.

  His music lifted through the snowy air.

  Ambergine came out of the bushes first and stepped into the spotlight near the apple tree (still magically bearing fruit). She looked up at the boy in the window and did a little curtsy. Then she started spiralling and pirouetting in the snow, dancing to the guitar music (she was amazingly dainty, for a gargoyle). Slowly, reluctantly, Gargoth joined her (he couldn’t help himself), and there in the snowy, strange little gothic park, Christopher watched the two ancient creatures dance and pirouette and move together in a gargoyle ballet as the snow fell gently upon them.

  Christopher loved the ritual of the night-time guitar serenade, but he had to be careful, because Gargoth had discovered (through peeking out of the bushes and watching the older Cannings) that snow could be patted into a ball and used as a very effective projectile. Christopher never knew if a “snow apple” was going to whiz at him as he played guitar. He had to keep a sharp eye out, but that was happening less and less these days. More often, Gargoth would sit beneath the apple tree and look at his snow sculptures, quietly smoking his pipe, listening to the guitar music.

  After Christopher finished his song, he waved at Ambergine (Gargoth had already disappeared back into the bushes), turned off the spotlight, then closed the window. As he lay in his bed, he couldn’t help grinning. The world was a great place.

  He loved Toronto and his new friends.

  The next morning, he woke and opened his window to wave good morning to Ambergine … and saw a terrible sight.

  Two gargoyles lay smashed to pieces at the base of the apple tree! Christopher’s heart sped up to a painful thudding in his chest.

  It’s just the statues, isn’t it? Yes, it must be!

  Christopher forced himself to look carefully over the park … and gasped. The apple tree was gone! It lay ruined in the snow where someone had chopped it down. Apples lay everywhere. Christopher stared in horror … his special park was a ruined mess, and heavy human footprints trampled the fresh snow, all around.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cassandra Makes the Call

  Christopher ran downstairs, jumped into Marc’s much-too-big work boots, and burst out the back door. Marbles flew out the door with him, and boy and dog ran through the snow and along the park fence to the gates. Cassandra was standing there in a long cloak, peering into the park. She patted Marbles, who wagged his tail and banged his head into her knees.

  “Cassandra! The gargoyles! What happened?” Christopher was breathless, realizing at that very moment that he was standing at the gates in his pyjamas. A streetcar rolled by and he noticed people pointing at him. He started shivering. Cassandra took off her warm cloak and put it on his shoulders, which was strangely comforting.

  “I don’t know where they are. They’re gone, though. I’ve called and called them,” she said.

  Christopher peered into the park. The smashed stone gargoyles lay in pieces at the stump of the apple tree. The tree itself lay shedding apples on the ground. He looked up at the park gates, now so barren without their gargoyles, living or stone.

  “Who would break t
he stone gargoyle statues? Who would cut down a living tree?” he asked, his lips shivering, although he was no longer cold.

  “Can’t you guess?” Cassandra asked calmly.

  “Well, vandals could do it, somebody angry,” Christopher said, knowing it wasn’t vandals.

  “Yes, somebody angry. But no, not vandals, Christopher, although that might actually be nicer than the alternative. No, I’m afraid the Collector has seen his chance and surprised the gargoyles in their sleep, even though one of them is usually awake to keep watch. He’s broken the stone statues and chopped down the tree in a rage.” She looked down sadly at the boy beside her.

  “We can only hope that our friends escaped,” she added quietly.

  Christopher grasped Marbles by the collar and said in a fierce voice, “The Collector is not going to hurt them, because I won’t let him!” She laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “They may be at Katherine’s,” she said.

  There was hope, then.

  Christopher ran to his house to get dressed. Since it was Saturday, most of his family was out shopping. Someone always needed to buy something in a big family. Claire was at home, though, studying for a big chemistry test. When he whipped past her room on his way out, she jumped up and ran after him, saying, “What’s happening, C.C.? What’s the rush?” but her little brother didn’t even slow down to answer her. She stood at the back door holding Marbles by the collar, watching Christopher dash through the snow, across the street and into Candles by Daye.

  “Hmm. I’m going to have to pay that store a visit,” Claire said to Marbles as she shut the door. Marbles whined, wagged his tail, and lay down in his bed by the back door.

  Christopher burst into the store with a loud tinkle of the shop bell. It had a “Closed” sign hanging in the window, but the door was open for him. He heard Cassandra say on the phone. “Okay then, Christopher can start looking. Maybe they haven’t gone very far.”

  His heart sank. Cassandra hung up and leaned on the counter, pushing her curly red hair out of her face. “Well, they aren’t at Katherine’s,” she said.

  “Where could they be?”

  Cassandra shook her head. “It’s a big city, Christopher, but if they had any choice, they would stay close to us. Is Marbles any good at tracking?” Christopher’s dog had never tracked anything in his life. He was really good at discovering dropped crumbs under the table, though.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s got a good nose for food.”

  “Well, let’s bring him along. Let him sniff the statues. Maybe he can help us somehow. Meet me at the gates in a few minutes. I have to make one more phone call.”

  Christopher left the store to get his dog, and Cassandra grew solemn. She had to call the police, and she wasn’t sure what, exactly, to tell them. “Hello, Officer, I’ve lost my gargoyles, oh, and they’re alive,” just wasn’t really an option.

  She tapped in the number. “Yes, officer? An emergency? No, no. Well. Yes. But no. Not really. Our park has been vandalized. Yes. Two antique stone statues were smashed last night. Expensive? Well, they were worth a bit, but not priceless. They’d be impossible to replace, though. And someone cut down an apple tree. Living? Yes, it was living, it had apples on it. It was rare, a Cellini apple tree. Do I know who did it? Well, I have an idea …”

  Cassandra gave a very thorough description of the Collector and agreed to meet the police officer at the park gates in a few minutes. She wanted the police to be looking for him everywhere.

  Someone had to stop the Collector. She and Katherine had already saved Gargoth from the old man once. She wanted more than anything to protect both gargoyles from harm, but harm had found them again, anyway, which seemed so unfair.

  Where would they ever be safe?

  A police car stopped in front of the park. Cassandra locked her store and crossed the street to join the officer stepping out of the car. Christopher was waiting there too, with Marbles on his leash. Cassandra and the police officer started chatting, and the officer took out a huge key and unlocked the gate. For the first time since moving into the neighbourhood, Christopher walked through the wide open front gates of the park. It felt strange.

  The two adults and the boy and his dog looked around the park. Big, heavy footprints marked the snow. Apples lay all around and looked as though they’d been thrown there, some smashed to pieces.

  As they approached the apple tree, Christopher could see the two statue gargoyles lying in ruins. One of the gargoyles was missing a wing and the other lay in two pieces, its head broken away from its body.

  Both statues were so lifeless and dead-looking, staring into the sky.

  Christopher shuddered. The gargoyles he knew were so alive, so individual and interesting. They talked to him and listened to his music. They threw snowballs, made ice sculptures, and danced in the snow. He didn’t want to imagine Ambergine and Gargoth lying in the snow somewhere, staring and lifeless like the statues, but he couldn’t help it. He shuddered again.

  He suddenly realized how much danger his friends were in.

  Marbles snuffled through the snow at his feet and sniffed all around the stump of the apple tree. It was almost as though the dog knew that something bad had happened. Christopher let him sniff. Maybe his dog would surprise them all and do something useful.

  Cassandra and the police officer were talking, when a tall newspaper reporter joined them. His name was Stern and he was from the local newspaper, The East End Crier. Stern bounced on the balls of his feet and was altogether too chipper and eager.

  Christopher liked him immediately.

  Stern asked Christopher and Cassandra a lot of questions, poked around the fountain and the bushes, took a few photographs and Cassandra’s business card, then left. Then the police officer left too, relocking the gate behind him (Cassandra showed him the hidden doorway, which he found fascinating). As the police car pulled away, a taxi drove up to the park gates and stopped. Katherine got out and walked through the doorway into the park.

  “You just missed the police and a newspaper reporter,” Christopher said.

  “My mom and dad are looking for them around our house,” she said, ignoring him. She stuck her hands into her pockets. She sniffled. Christopher could see she had tears in her eyes. Cassandra seemed deep in thought, staring at the broken statues at her feet. Katherine walked away for a moment then let out a little cry. Christopher ran over and cried out too: Gargoth’s beautiful snow sculptures were ruined. The statue of the old-fashioned boy, the regal lion, the girl playing soccer, the boy with the guitar, all were now just lumps of trampled snow.

  “Why would the Collector destroy the snow statues, too?”

  “Because they were beautiful, and because Gargoth made them,” Katherine said sadly.

  Christopher had never felt so joyless in his life. It seemed that everything sweet and beautiful lay in ruins at his feet.

  Cassandra broke into their thoughts. “That reporter, Stern, is going to print a story and photos about this park. It will be in the local paper and on their website on Monday, and it will have a description of the Collector in it,” she said.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Christopher asked. “I mean, it’s good if people are looking for him. If they know he wrecked the park?”

  “Yes, it’s good that lots of people keep an eye out for him. We need all the help we can get. But he’s cunning and slippery, and he’s going to do everything he can not to get caught,” Cassandra answered. “One thing’s for sure: this little park is headline news now. It was locked and abandoned for so long, people had mostly forgotten about it. According to Stern, the city isn’t sure what to do with it, and some developer wants to make it into apartments or something. Whatever happens now, it won’t be forgotten for long. And it’s no longer safe for our friends when we find them.”

  Christopher was grateful that Cassandra didn’t say “if,” that would have been too much to bear. The three friends grew silent, each lost in thought.
/>   Where were the gargoyles? Did the Collector have them? How were they going to find them in this enormous city?

  Christopher was kicking his boot into the snow when suddenly Marbles gave a big tug on his leash, straining toward the back of the park. He started barking and acting crazy.

  “What is it, Marbles?” Christopher let his dog drag him through the snow. Marbles leaped into a bush, pulling Christopher off his feet so hard that he dropped the leash. His dog lunged at something, growling and barking. Suddenly, a man jumped out of the bushes.

  It was the Collector!

  Christopher gasped and shouted, “YOU!” He struggled to get to his feet in the slippery snow.

  Then everything happened so fast.

  Marbles sank his teeth into the old man’s pant leg and tugged and tugged, growling and shaking his head back and forth. The Collector kept his balance, kicking and shaking his leg, grunting, “Let go of me, stupid dog!”

  Cassandra and Katherine were at Christopher’s side in a second, astonished at what Marbles had found in the bushes. But before anyone could do anything, the old man yanked his pant leg out of Marbles’ mouth and fell over the park fence. He loped to the road and sped off in the waiting taxi Katherine had just left. He was amazingly spry, it was almost unnatural.

  “Where are they, you monster!” Katherine yelled after him. But the Collector was gone. Christopher grabbed Marbles’ leash before he could leap the fence and run after the taxi.

  “He was here the whole time?” Christopher said in disbelief.

  “No, no, it’s good,” Katherine said. “Don’t you see? He doesn’t know where the gargoyles are either. He doesn’t have them, or why would he be lurking around here?”

  “You’re right, Katherine! The first good news we’ve had today,” Cassandra answered.