Gabriel's Clock (12 page)

“Dad!” Cay cried, crawling as fast as she could toward her wounded father.

“Duty calls,” shouted Montgomery, pulling his friend off the struggling Raven. “We've got to help Mr. F.”

“Right,” said Stubbs, giving Raven one last punch right between where her eyes should have been. Streaking off after Montgomery, he left the battered demon barely conscious in the water.

With the assistance of the gargoyles, a sick and dizzy Cay managed to pull her father to safety. Sitting by his side, Cay gently stroked the wolf's torn and matted fur and watched the rise and fall of his chest, averting her eyes from his shattered front leg. Montgomery stood next to her, resting his granite paw on her shoulder. Stubbs sat by the wolf's head, patting it reassuringly.

An awful thought crawled its way into Cay's shocked mind. “Jonathan!” she gasped. “Oh God, what if there are more of those things? What if he's being attacked too?”

“We can go find him?” suggested Montgomery.

“Oh please, Monty,” said Cay. “We'll be all right now. It's my fault he got lost. Please let him be okay.”

“No need to panic,” said Stubbs. “We'll sort it. C'mon, Mr. Montgomery.” Like pebbles from a slingshot, the two gargoyles arced skyward and away over the trees.

It seemed like an age, but the change Cay had seen so many times finally began. Fur withdrew and was replaced by skin. Muscle and bone changed shape, melted, flowed into one another, as the wolf's body redesigned itself. Through her tears, she saw the wonderfully familiar, heavily bearded face of her father. He looked back at her through eyes that were tight with pain, but still he smiled. His right arm was badly broken just below the elbow, jagged bones protruding through the skin.

Cay laid her head against her father's chest and wept. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.

Kenneth Forrester kissed her forehead, holding her tightly with his one good arm. He glanced warily at the lake. There was no sign of his adversary, just a battered bowler hat floating on the surface of the water.

And at that moment Grimm and Elgar came crashing through the trees. “It's okay,” said Kenneth. “The boys got here in time.”

“Only just, from the looks of it,” said Grimm, shocked at what he saw. Taking off his jacket, he gently wrapped it round Kenneth to keep him warm.

“I know the arm looks nasty, but it'll mend quickly once you set the bones. One of the benefits of being a werewolf!”

Other voices called from nearby—voices filled with concern.

“Over here!”
Grimm bellowed.

Within moments, Ignatius, Gabriel, and a frantic Joanne Forrester burst into the clearing. Mrs. Forrester's expression of anguish melted when she saw her family, and she rushed toward her husband and daughter, enfolding them gently in her arms. Grimm smiled at her and, after tearing a strip off his shirt, set to work on Kenneth's broken arm.

“Where's Jonathan?” asked Elgar.

A shiver ran down Ignatius's spine as he realized that the boy wasn't there.

“We got separated,” said Cay from deep within her mother's embrace. “I was racing him here and he didn't arrive. He must be lost. Monty and Stubbs have gone to look for him. I'm sorry . . .” Tears ran down her cheeks.

“It's all right, Cay,” said Ignatius. He turned and took Gabriel aside. “Is the village telling you anything?”

Gabriel shook his head. He was trying to look calm, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. “Mercifully the village isn't worried about Jonathan. Cay's right, though—he's in the forest somewhere, not too far away.”

“I'm getting the same thing,” said Ignatius. “The gargoyles will find him, don't worry.”

“But I am worried,” said Gabriel. “What just happened to Cay and her father doesn't make sense.”

“Would you keep watch for Monty and Stubbs while I find out the details?” said Ignatius. “Then we'll know what to do.” Gabriel nodded, and Ignatius walked back to where Cay sat with her father and kneeled down next to them. “What attacked you, Kenneth? It must have been strong to hurt you in your wolf form.”

“It was female, I think. Human size and shape but with talons at the ends of her fingers. Strong and very fast. She looked odd, though—she wore a business suit and a bowler hat!”

“And she didn't have a face,” said Cay. “Just before she grabbed me, she said something. She said that her name was Raven and that she was of the Cor-something. I can't really remember . . .”

Ignatius felt his stomach drop like a stone. He turned to look at Gabriel and saw that the angel's face was as white as a sheet. The Corvidae had somehow managed to get into Hobbes End! There was only one reason that they would suddenly appear like this—and that reason was Jonathan.

“Do you know what it was?” asked Kenneth, wincing as Grimm reset his arm.

“Yes,” said Ignatius. “Something terrible that should not be able to come anywhere near the village. I'm so sorry you were hurt.”

“We're both alive,” said Kenneth. “And that's good enough for me. I've never been so pleased to be a werewolf! I was out on my run and smelled something strange, something I didn't like. I could tell the trail was heading toward the lake, and knowing that's where the kids were, I ran flat out to get here.”

Ignatius smiled and nodded. And then there was a whistling sound and a thump as Montgomery plummeted from the sky.

“We found Jonathan,” he said. “He's in a clearing about twenty minutes' walk away. He's had another bang to the head, but he's okay. Mr. Stubbs stayed with him for safety.”

“Thank God,” said Ignatius. “Gabriel and I will go get him. Grimm, you take everyone else home and put the kettle on. We need to sit down and figure out what to do next. If the Corvidae can somehow enter Hobbes End, then we have a very big problem.”

“What do you mean?” asked Grimm.

“It means my worst fears have come true,” said Gabriel, lowering his voice so only Ignatius and Grimm could hear. “Not only can the Corvidae get past our defenses, but Belial now knows where Jonathan is. Now we have an archdemon who might be able to walk straight in and just take Jonathan from us!”

 

Ignatius paced up and down the patio behind the vicarage. Clutched in his hand was a large and tepid mug of Renoir-free tea.

“Stop it. You're driving me nuts,” said Elgar, poking his head out from beneath the garden seat.

“Sorry,” apologized Ignatius. “But I'm really worried about Jonathan. He didn't say much on the way home, just that he'd been attacked by the same thing that came for him at his family's cottage and that it called itself Rook.”

“So was it the Corvidae that attacked them?” asked Elgar. “I wondered what you and Gabriel were whispering about after Monty came back. Last week when he was laid up, he was telling Cay and me about these things. He thought he'd imagined them because of the knock on his head. But he didn't, did he? It was them. Is that why he's here? Is he hiding? Hang on—if the Corvidae are after him, then that means . . .” Elgar's eyes went wide. “It means that a certain archdemon is after Jonathan too! Why didn't you tell me?”

Ignatius nodded and sighed. “Look, Elgar, there's a lot I haven't told you, but up until now we've been trying to keep Jonathan's location secret. I'm good at keeping secrets, remember? Have I told anyone about your history with Belial and the Corvidae?”

“Good point,” said Elgar. “I'll just have to restrain my curiosity.”

“I'll give you the whole story once I've talked to Jonathan, I promise,” said Ignatius. “I just need to figure out what to do next.” He looked through the kitchen window and saw that Gabriel and Grimm had come downstairs. “If you'll excuse me, Elgar.”

The cat shrugged and remained in the garden while Ignatius went inside.

“How is Jonathan?” he asked Grimm.

Grimm's lips were set in a thin line. “The scar on the back of his head has opened up again, and there are these huge bruises on his back and shoulders. I am not—I repeat,
not—
happy!”

“Neither am I, Halcyon,” said Ignatius.

Gabriel sighed. “Those bruises . . . it's all happening too soon.”

“What is?” asked Ignatius.

“The power that's inside him is what caused those bruises. I hoped he'd say something to us on the way home, tell us exactly what happened, but he's so scared.”

“Why would the power inside him cause those bruises?” asked Grimm.

“It's his wings,” said Gabriel. “I'm sure of it. He felt threatened by Rook, so they just tore themselves out from his shoulders without being summoned. That's not supposed to happen—he should manifest them gently—but he doesn't know how to, doesn't even know what he is! I hoped that I would have the time to teach him how to control them, but that takes years.”

“He's going to have wings?” gasped Grimm.

Gabriel nodded. “Yes, he is, but I don't know what they'll look like. Angels develop wings with feathers, and demons tend to have wings similar to those of a bat. The only exceptions I know of are my siblings and I. Our wings are different—they're made from ribbons of intelligent, solid light, and they're incredibly powerful. They're like windows into the heart of creation itself.”

“And Jonathan might have wings like yours?” asked Ignatius.

“Possibly,” said Gabriel. “But I can't be sure. The blend of angel and demon inside him has opened a door to somewhere very powerful, and he has no idea how to control it. It's why the village wasn't worried about him; it knew Jonathan was strong enough to defend himself. But if Jonathan gets scared and manifests those wings too often, the shock could kill him.”

“Dear God,” said Ignatius. “What on earth are we going to do?”

“We damn well tell Jonathan what he is,” said Grimm. “The poor lad's been through enough. We can't wait for his parents any longer; you have to tell Jonathan the truth.”

“I agree,” said Gabriel. “I'll do it first thing tomorrow, after he's had a good night's rest.”

“And what about defending against the Corvidae in the meantime?” asked Ignatius. “Monty and Stubbs are going to be fast asleep for at least a couple of days while they recharge their batteries. It's why they're not allowed to fly except in an emergency.”

Gabriel frowned and nodded. “I know, but there's nothing we can do about that now. As for the Corvidae, I think they'll lick their wounds for today, but they'll be back—and soon. They know where Jonathan is now, and they won't stop until they have him. The whole village is in danger while Jonathan is here, so he has to leave.”

“What? You're just going to throw him out?” barked Grimm.

“No, Grimm, you misunderstand,” said Gabriel, sorrow written across his face. “I would die before I let Belial have Jonathan as well as my son.”

“Oh, Gabriel, I am so sorry,” said Grimm. “Please forgive me.”

“It's all right, Grimm. There is always hope, and I may have a way to save Jonathan. I just need time to figure out if it's possible. I'll speak to you in the morning, when hopefully I'll have the answer.”

The old angel left the vicarage kitchen, looking as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“What do we do now?” asked Grimm.

“Have a glass of single-malt whiskey,” said Ignatius, “while I figure out how to tell everyone who lives in Hobbes End that Hell has come to their sanctuary.”

Chapter 13

“Hobbes End is under threat,” said Ignatius, his fingers gripping the edge of the pulpit. “For the first time since Gabriel landed here, evil has come to our home. This is something I will not—cannot—tolerate!” He banged his fist on the lectern to emphasize how angry he was.

“Hear, hear!” came a voice from the back of the church.

Ignatius looked out over the congregation and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Nae problem,” replied Angus McFadden, a longtime resident who lived next door to Cay. “Something that hurts a wee child is gonnae get a slap if I get my hands on it. Ye ken?”

Appreciative murmurs rang around the packed church, and Ignatius felt glad to be in the company of such people. Everyone in the village was here, except for Grimm and Elgar, who were watching over Jonathan; Mr. and Mrs. Forrester, who were sitting with Cay; and Gabriel, who was working in his cottage.

First thing that morning Ignatius had asked the whole village to assemble in the church. He wanted to explain that somehow the impossible had happened, that evil had managed to get past the village defenses. He'd hoped that the inhabitants of Hobbes End wouldn't panic, but Ignatius was astonished by the strength of their response.

“This is our home!” cried Lucia Silkwood, her prized aspidistra sitting next to her on a pew at the front of the church. “Tell us what we can do to defend it. I'm not scared of some bogeymen, and neither is Henry.”