by T C Shelley
Spigot squawked.
‘Yeah, that’s a good one,’ Wheedle said. ‘Tile-Mould.’
‘Slimeball?’ Bladder offered.
They all peered at the imp boy.
The angel winced. ‘Do any of these feel right to you?’ he asked the boy.
The imp boy repeated each a few times to himself, but Wheedle answered for him. ‘No, none of them. It don’t suit a gargoyle name. Let’s call it “Imp” until we can come up with something special.’
‘Do you have a name?’ the imp boy asked the angel.
‘Oops, sorry,’ said Wheedle. ‘I neglected the introductions. Imp, this is Daniel, Caretaker of the something-something blah blah, Overseer of the third whatsit.’
Bladder sang, ‘Dani-elle, Ari-elle, Rapha-elle. You angels have such namby-pamby names. Why’d they all sound so girly?’
Daniel studied the imp boy. ‘El is one of the Boss’s names. He names those He calls into being after Himself.’ He bowed his head, looked up again and grinned. ‘Back in a minute.’
Then he spread his wings, caught a breeze and wheeled off into the wind, soaring upwards on an air funnel. His silhouette turned into a great black bird.
The imp boy watched him leave. ‘Does Daniel often visit?’
Bladder snorted. ‘Every day. Part of his caretaking. He says we’ll break bits off the cathedral if he’s not watching. One little buttress it was and now we’re constantly being performance managed.’
Wheedle said, ‘If he gave us a day off, we’d go to the playground, scare some kids. I’ve never been on a slide.’
‘Why bother? There’s always some flapping busybody around no matter where you plonk yourself ,’ Bladder said, then they all turned. ‘School time. Here they come! Spigot? Where are ya?’
The gargoyles fled down the pinnacle, leaving the imp boy sitting alone in the sunlight. He watched the human movement in the streets below, fascinated by the colour of their hair and their various fabric covers, then he climbed back to the top of the spire to study the larger city, hearing the gargoyles teasing and blowing raspberries at passing children.
* * *
He watched the slow climb of the sun, until it no longer sat on the lower edge of the world but rose so it was eye level with him. His stomach rumbled like a small ogre and threatened to get louder.
‘Hello again,’ Daniel said, touching down on the tiles and handing the imp boy a thick-strapped, green bag. ‘A few things you could use.’
The imp boy turned the pack over in his hands until Daniel flipped the buckles. A beige object sat on top. ‘That’s pie.’
‘Pie?’ The imp boy held the pleasant weight. Daniel ripped the plastic and mimicked biting. The imp boy nibbled. His eyes widened at the sensation. It made his mouth feel better, sweeter.
‘You’re starving,’ Daniel said.
The food disappeared in rapid bites. ‘It’s wonderful.’
‘ “Wonderful” is better for people. People can be wonderful.’ Daniel gestured towards the green and soft grey city, human voices rising from the streets. ‘How about “tasty”? Pie is tasty.’
‘Tasty.’ Then the imp boy pointed at the golden disc in the sky. ‘You said the sun was wonderful.’
‘Well, it is. It’s also “magnificent”.’
‘Magnificent. Mag-ni-fi-cent.’ The imp boy closed his eyes. ‘I like that sound.’
Daniel laughed and pulled clothes from the pack. He handed them to the imp boy. ‘That’s it, shorts on, T-shirt over the head. Most boys are a bit nervous about running around naked; you don’t want to stand out. Pants and sweater in the bag for when it gets cold.’
The imp boy struggled to put on the clothes. His skin tingled under the fabric. He’d seen the other humans below wearing clothes, and he smiled, knowing he looked more like them.
The angel tugged out another bundle. ‘This is a sleeping bag. You roll it out and crawl inside.’ The angel laughed. ‘Not head first. Feet first.’
The imp boy opened and closed his mouth. He didn’t have a word to say to the angel.
‘You say “Thank you”,’ Daniel said.
‘Thank you?’
‘It means you’re grateful; you think well of the effort.’
‘Oh?’ the imp boy said. ‘Thank you.’
‘And if you need to ask for something, you say “Please”.’ Daniel patted his shoulder. ‘Is there anything you would like?’
‘Please,’ said the imp boy, ‘can you give me a name?’
CHAPTER 5
Daniel did not answer straight away. He stared about the spire and the town, then shook his head. ‘Sorry, angels aren’t allowed to name outside our species. It can’t be me that names you. You might not be human or gargoyle, but you’re also not an angel. And, admittedly, you do look like you might do well with a human name.’
‘Am I one?’
‘You have a heart, and a heart is a good start, but you need a soul as well as a heart to be human.’
‘What are those things?’
‘Well, your heart is a little machine that pushes the blood around. Souls are something humans are born with, it’s what makes them human. An inner entity, a powerful, unstoppable force.’
‘It sounds awful, like an ogre.’
Daniel stroked an eyebrow with a forefinger. ‘Actually, a soul is an amazing thing, and you’d think humans would always want to convey how amazing their souls are. So much power and light in such tiny vessels. They don’t always show it. Sometimes they are barely nice, sometimes they are awful. Occasionally, they are magnificent.’
The imp boy sighed. He patted his face. What was leaking out? ‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘You’re sad. Some creatures cry to show that. Gargoyles, humans, animals. There’s a rather interesting species of German fairy that spends half its life in tears. Sensitive little creature.’
‘I’m sad?’
‘Seems like it.’
‘Why am I sad?’
‘You’ll have to tell me,’ Daniel said. ‘What are you thinking right now?’
The imp boy studied his hands. They were full of the hot wet stuff trickling from his eyes. ‘I wonder if I belong anywhere. I mean, really?’
Daniel flicked out one gorgeous wing and spread it around the imp boy, blanketing him in a sweet, stomach-aching smell. ‘You don’t want to stay with the gargoyles?’
‘I don’t think Bladder wants me around.’
‘That won’t stop him taking care of you. He’s a better creature than he first appears.’ Daniel squeezed his shoulder again. The imp boy felt the warmth of the angel’s hand, and something new: a growing sense that maybe this first day could get better. It built under the angel’s touch.
Daniel took his hand away, and the warmth on the imp boy’s shoulder faded. ‘Maybe you don’t belong here. We do have to ask a few questions of the right person …’
The angel glided off.
The day moved fast, and soon shadows cast dappled light over different sections of ground. The imp boy watched humans until Bladder shrieked, ‘Imp!’
He slumped over to the edge of the spire and peered down at his gargoyle guardians. ‘Yes?’
‘Get down here,’ Bladder said.
He climbed down head first and sat on a thin ridge in front of Bladder.
Wheedle sidled over. ‘We want you to nick us some chocolate. You think you could?’
Bladder pointed down the street. ‘There are shops down there. I’m sure you can put a box of choccies under that T-shirt the flying freak gave you. What do you see?’
‘Big windows,’ the imp boy replied.
Wheedle put his head forward. ‘Can you read?’ He pointed out a sign on the street.
The imp boy sounded it out. ‘D-Eh-Ah-D Sss-L-Oh-Wer. Deed slow. No, dead slow.’
‘Good work, Imp,’ Wheedle said. ‘You’re looking for words like “sweets”, “chocolate”, and “confectionery”. You’ll find them written on shopfronts. Go inside and nick some.’<
br />
The imp boy winced. The street was crowded with humans of all heights and widths. Not as big as ogres, but there were a lot of them, and they gathered together into tight packs.
‘Off you go,’ Bladder said, and poked him in the back.
‘We’ll be here when you return,’ Wheedle said.
He clambered down towards ground level and watched a couple pass along the footpath. If they saw him, would they be able to tell he wasn’t their kind of people? Neither looked in his direction, and he put his bare foot on to the horizontal cement and stood up straight, on two legs, like all the humans were doing.
The grey church sat in the afternoon flush, its black windows strengthened by bars, the main door hanging open. It looked darker inside, but a thin stream of blue light poured on to a spot just inside the door. He hadn’t seen light that colour before. The imp boy glanced up. The gargoyles weren’t watching, so he darted into the church.
The inside blazed with coloured glass. A picture of a serene-faced man with a mane of blue had been captured in a window. The sunlight through his hair was creating the stain on the floor. The place sat in hush, a gentle calm filling the empty space.
The imp boy could hear the gargoyles chortling outside on the roof, far above him. He could make out every word they said about chocolate and their preference for substantial drama over horror movies. Human voices, far lovelier, sang in from the streets, humming with community. He heard a tiny creature digging a hole in the dirt outside the building. He filtered them out and stood in the cocooned quiet of the high-ceilinged room.
The imp boy looked around at the warm wood panelling and white marbled floors. At the front, behind a long table, two statues stood. They had sober, white faces; one was a man holding a staff and the other a woman with a baby.
‘Poor thing.’
‘He does look sad, doesn’t he?’
‘You want to wrap them in your arms when they’re like that.’
The imp boy gazed at the statues and walked towards them.
The voices stopped.
‘Hello?’ the boy said. He glanced from one to the other. Up close he saw their fine straight noses and high foreheads. He watched the woman but sensed movement at the edge of his vision. He turned and the first statue, the slim man in a marble crown, stared at him with wide, stony eyes. It wasn’t the same position the boy had seen him in when he’d arrived.
‘You moved,’ the imp boy said.
‘He got you, Benjamin,’ said the lady with the baby.
Benjamin sighed. ‘Hello, young man. What’s your name?’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘That’s a shame,’ the lady said. The baby burbled.
‘What are your names?’
‘Well, you’ve met Benjamin; I’m Beth. And this is Henry.’ The baby burbled again and waved its hand.
‘They are lovely names. Where did you get them?’
‘From our maker, the sculpture who made us. He named us after the models he used,’ Benjamin explained.
The statues went quiet while he looked around. ‘Do you like it here?’ he asked.
‘It’s lovely,’ Beth said, ‘but we’ve been here for …’
Baby Henry began counting on his fingers. ‘An awfully long time,’ he said, his rumbly deep voice echoing around the cathedral.
‘The world’s changed since we arrived,’ Beth said. ‘I wish we could go outside, but anyone could see us.’
Ben added, ‘Sometimes the people in here – not often, mind – but sometimes they light up enough for us to not miss the sun. And we do get some entertainment. The services are occasionally interesting, and someone left their iPad behind once. We watched films until the battery died. Our angel, Daniel, visits.’
‘Ah, Daniel,’ Beth sighed.
‘Groupie.’ Ben pursed his lips.
‘It’s good to have someone come and tell us what’s going on outside,’ Beth said. ‘So what are you doing today?’
‘I have to steal chocolates for the gargoyles.’
‘The gargoyles?’ Ben gestured at the roof. ‘But you’re not a gargoyle.’
‘I was made like an imp.’
‘Still, nobody’s ever proud to say they’re a thief ,’ Ben said.
‘Maybe you could ask for chocolates instead,’ Beth said.
‘Humans aren’t generous,’ Henry said. ‘You could busk. Sing for your supper.’
‘What’s singing?’ the imp boy asked.
‘Oh dear,’ Beth said. ‘You don’t know much. How old are you?’
‘Half a day.’
Beth patted his head. ‘You know, you’re a cute little fellow, in a rumpled, dirty kind of way. Try asking.’
‘It may only work once on the same person; but you can always move on to a different target the next time,’ Ben said.
Beth pouted. ‘Great, you say don’t be dishonest but encourage him to panhandle people. Excellent work, St Joseph.’
‘Don’t call me that, you know I hate it when you call me that.’ Ben looked at the imp boy. ‘Eh, she’s right. Come back and tell us how it goes. Tell us absolutely everything.’
The group stopped talking as they had all heard footsteps resounding behind them. The statues resumed their stony positions. Beth risked a wink before the imp boy ran out into the sunshine, dashing past the black-robed man in the doorway, who turned to watch him go.
He stood in the street looking down the row of shops next to the church.
‘Ask,’ he said, and gulped.
Dresses filled the windows of the closest stores; he stared at the bright colours shining through the glass. Strange, twisted foods jam-packed one window. Long meats hung between yellow and red circles. Rich and sombre smells came through the doors; some so salty he could taste the shadow of flavour on the back of his tongue.
One dark window, backed by a black cloth and filled with pretty metal shapes and sparkling stones, echoed the movement of people behind him. The letters on the window spelled ‘Gem House’ between the reflections of bright red buses rushing alongside many-coloured cars.
The window also mirrored a white oval studded with two dark eyes. He gasped to see the face staring at him, then realised it was his own. He touched his head; his other self touched its head too. His hair was matted and dark, not golden like Daniel’s, but it framed the shocked pale circle that was his face. He patted his nose. Straight, very human-looking, also like Daniel’s. Except for the scruffiness he looked like everyone else on the footpath, although a few people cast glances at his bare feet.
Then he caught the scent of something beautiful. It didn’t matter in the moment what Wheedle and Bladder wanted, he needed to follow the scent. He hurried from shop to shop, the aroma growing sweeter and more intense until he stood outside a window decorated by a name in curling white letters. Inside, beautiful boxes and long flat parcels lay next to trays of tiny gifts wrapped in shiny sky-coloured paper, a twist at each end. He caught the ghostly likeness of himself again in the glass, The smell sweet, like new words opening his mouth, the scent filling his nose. He stared at the curling letters, but he couldn’t understand them – La Chambre du Chocolat. The last word was close enough to ‘chocolate’, so he guessed he was where Wheedle and Bladder wanted him to be.
He stood at the door waiting, bewitched, until an older man with sparkling blue eyes walked out to a tinkle of silver bells.
He smiled down at the imp boy and said, ‘You know, whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.’
‘Oh,’ said the imp boy. ‘I thought angels already had wings.’
‘Well, I may have got my facts wrong.’ The man wandered down the street, his warm laugh fading.
The door began to close, and the imp boy darted in before it shut.
A young woman stood behind a glass counter with her back to him. She glowed a little but did not turn, and it gave him time to study the room. Lines and lines of white, brown and black circles of gargoyle-delight-covered shelves on every wall. The ai
r smelt sweet and rich. The imp boy’s stomach rumbled. Hungry. That word again, the one that reminded him of Thunderguts. He didn’t like it. He did not want to associate this lovely room with the ogre king.
‘It’s a different kind of hunger,’ he reassured himself. ‘It’s not the same type.’
‘Oh,’ said the woman, and turned. ‘I didn’t realise someone’d come in.’ She peered at him, looking from his messy hair to his bare feet. ‘No pockets?’
The imp boy shrank back. He wondered what pockets were.
The woman smiled and her gentle glow brightened. The imp boy thought it wonderful, like sunlight.
‘So, no money,’ she continued. She looked at his feet again. ‘Your parents in the street?’ She laughed and showed even, white teeth. ‘Someone to pay for your treat?’
‘No one, sorry.’ He added, ‘Ma’am.’
‘Well, you look nice enough. And polite for your age. Some boys are snatching and sneering by the time they’re – what are you? Twelve?’
The imp boy tried to think of something to say to this. ‘Do they? Sorry.’
‘Aren’t you a dear?’ Her smile lit her face all the way to her eyes. ‘Would you like a hot chocolate? I’m making myself one.’
The smell of the room assailed him. ‘Yes,’ he said, then remembered. ‘Thank you.’ He wondered if the chocolate would be too hot to eat straight away.
A machine in the corner grunted and gnashed in an ogrish manner, and then the woman gave him a red mug with frothy liquid in it; three white pillows floated on the surface. He poked in the end of his tongue to test the heat, took a delighted gulp, then set the cup down to push the pillows with his fingertip. They bobbed in froth.
‘Do you live near here?’ she asked.
‘Up the street.’
‘Ah, so you know your way home then.’ She peered at him over the top of her cup, studying the top of his head. Then she peered at his feet. He curled in his toes. None of the humans outside had had bare feet and he wondered if it was important. ‘Your family nice?’ she asked.
The imp boy pondered this. He hadn’t heard the word ‘family’ before, but he sensed that it was close to ‘pack’. ‘My family? They’re gargoyles so they can’t help being grumpy. Wheedle’s nice.’ Then he remembered Beth’s words. Ask, he thought. ‘They’ve sent me out to get chocolates. They told me to steal them, but the man in the church said I shouldn’t.’