Stonewing Guardian

by Zoe Chant

  There was, once again, a distinct similarity to the Norwegian fishing villages she remembered, bright-colored little houses clustered along a fjord-like hollow in the coast. With the sun down, twilight was beginning to settle on the island and the wide, luminous sea. Behind them, the sky was already bruise-purple with dusk. Lights were coming on in the houses above the harbor, gleaming out across the water.

  Despite her aching weariness, Thea scrambled to her feet; she didn't want to miss any of this. Mace was already standing.

  "Where is your house?" she asked. "Can you see it from here?"

  "It's up there." He pointed to the hills behind the village.

  She had seen the cluster of lights on the hill, but assumed it was some kind of business, perhaps an office plaza or scientific facility. He hadn't been exaggerating when he described it as a family estate. She couldn't see it well from this far away, especially with dusk drawing down over the island, but from the spill of lights, there were either several buildings or one large, rambling complex.

  "Is it just you up there?" she asked.

  "My niece and her m—her husband live in one of the wings," Mace said.

  Thea's stomach gave a little lurch. It only now occurred to her that going to Mace's hometown was going to involve meeting, and, apparently, living with Mace's family.

  At least it was just a niece, she thought. Nothing big riding on that. Not like meeting parents, or kids. Come to think of it, Mace was probably old enough to have grown kids.

  "Do you have kids?" she asked, and realized only as the words left her mouth that it was a very out-of-left-field question, and also very personal to just lob at him.

  Fortunately he took it in stride.

  "No. You?"

  Thea shook her head and hoped that the pink of her cheeks would be attributed to the cold breeze.

  The boat slowed as it entered the sheltered harbor, and motored slowly up to a long wooden dock. In the blue twilight, with house lights and old-fashioned lampposts glowing softly, there was a fairyland quality to the town. Thea gazed at it in wonder from the Codfather's deck.

  The town was built on a hillside so steep that it was hard to believe they'd managed to build anything on it at all. The bottom row of houses were actually built at least partly on top of the docks, with water lapping up to the rocky shore below their floors. Despite the rugged terrain, most of the houses boasted tidy little gardens. A couple of incredibly steep, narrow roads climbed the hill in a series of switchbacks.

  Tor jumped out of the boat to tie it up, stirring Thea out of her contemplation. Mace stepped onto the dock and held a hand back to her. Thea let him help her down, stumbling slightly as she got her land legs again.

  "You need anything carried up to your place?" Tor asked as he tied off the boat to the mooring posts.

  "We're good," Mace said. "Thanks for the ride."

  "Oh, I forgot to ask, Siggy wanted to bring you up some lingonberry preserves from last year. Clearing out the pantry for this year's berry season. You want me to have her bring it up tomorrow?"

  "I can have Jess pick it up. She'll be down at the library anyway."

  "Sounds good." Tor lifted a hand in a cheerful farewell. Mace started walking up the hill, and Thea hurried to catch up.

  The street was just as steep as it had looked from the harbor, if not more so. It was paved, but she could hardly imagine anyone actually driving on it. Some of the houses, rather than being built right on the road, were up the hill a little ways with incredibly steep stairs leading up to them; there wasn't room to build them at street level and have room on the hillside for the street too. Being here was going to be a workout for her calf muscles, Thea thought.

  Mace was noticeably more relaxed now that they had made landfall. As they climbed the hill and the street grew darker, the houses farther apart, Thea had to keep looking over her shoulder, nervously scanning the inky black shadows. From out across the harbor, the lighthouse winked in the dusk.

  "We're safe here," Mace said quietly. "Nothing evil could come here."

  "You seem very sure of that."

  "I am," he said, and paused at a junction of two roads. There was a statue here, hard to see in the dusk, but he laid a hand on it and Thea realized it was a gargoyle, roughly man-sized but hunched over so that it appeared slightly shorter. It was less human-looking than Mace's gargoyle form, with great humped shoulders and small folded wings. There were flowers around its feet, a profuse spill of petunias that seemed almost to glow in the dusk.

  "This place is protected," Mace said. "It wasn't I who did it, but an older generation of my family who knew magic now lost to us. I shore up the protections periodically. There's nowhere else in the world safer for us than here."

  "I'll take your word for it," Thea murmured. She paused to rub her ankle and adjust her boot. Weariness was washing over her again. Her eyes were gritty with lack of sleep.

  Mace's hand touched her elbow, a light offer of support. "It isn't much farther."

  It wasn't. Their climb took them through a latched, but not locked, garden gate, and suddenly they were surrounded by flowers, heavily perfuming the soft evening air. It was warmer here than down by the harbor, and Thea unzipped her borrowed jacket. She leaned on Mace as they climbed a narrow, winding path and came out at last on a terrace illuminated by outdoor lamps. The stone wall of a house loomed above them.

  "I'll show you to a guest room," Mace said. He opened the door leading inside. "I could bring something by your room if you're hungry, but since we ate on the boat, I'm guessing you'll just want to sleep."

  "You're right about that," Thea admitted.

  It was getting to the point where everything was a blur as she stumbled after him down a hallway with a stone floor and heavy-beamed ceiling. It didn't even feel like they were in Canada at all, adding to her feeling of dislocation. This place felt old, as if Mace's ancestors had transported it stone by stone from Scotland.

  Mace was saying something about changes of clothes, but she hardly registered it. The main thing that mattered, when he opened a door for her, was bed. And there it was, a giant four-post bed with a deep, soft cover that she sank onto with a grateful moan.

  "I can get you some pajamas to sleep in," Mace said from somewhere over her head.

  Thea might have moaned again, in a "leave me alone and let me sleep" kind of way. The bed was the most comfortable bed she'd ever felt.

  She was not quite asleep when Mace came back in and quietly left a folded pair of pajamas on the bed next to her. "Do you need any help?" he asked, and then made an audibly flustered noise that managed to penetrate her sleepy haze with a certain amount of amusement. "I mean ... not with the pajamas. With—look, if you need anything, just say something. There are toiletries in the washroom. I'll let you sleep."

  He hesitated briefly, as if he was considering saying more, and then left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Thea considered just lying here and sleeping with all her clothes on, but she had been wearing these clothes for almost two days straight, so ... no. She managed to get up to the extent that it took to change into the pajamas. They were soft and clean, and felt amazing.

  She had just enough coherence left to get under the covers before she dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Thea

  Thea woke up gradually. Her entire body felt warm and heavy with the relaxed pleasure of finally, finally getting a good night's sleep. It was every lazy Sunday, slothful Saturday, and unscheduled day off that she'd ever had, rolled into one glorious package.

  For a long while she just lay there, letting her mind drift. Slowly she began to wake up a little more. She needed to eat and use the washroom. Also, at some point she really ought to find Mace and have a good long talk about things.

  But first, more lying in bed.

  So she did that. She might have slept a bit more too.

  Finally she gave herself a little shake and sat up.

  The room was ... warm, was h
er first impression. Not in temperature, but in atmosphere. Despite the outward grandeur of the house, the room wasn't overly large or extravagant. Actually, what it reminded her of the most was a room in a cozy B&B in some old-fashioned European town.

  The walls were gray stone, with dark wood wainscoting to match the massive wooden beams of the ceiling. Sunlight shafted through tall, narrow windows lightly veiled with lace curtains. There was a window seat with velvet cushions that looked like an antique, and a heavy wooden chest at the foot of the bed. All the furniture had the same look, heavy and old. There was a thick rug on the floor that might be handmade, and a spill of flowers in a window box.

  Someone had left a small pile of fabric folded on a chair, which turned out to be clothing and a thick, soft towel.

  Thea gathered it up and padded into the adjoining washroom. It had the same look as the bedroom, old-fashioned and tasteful and cozy. She admired the old-fashioned claw-foot tub while she washed her hands and face in the sink. There were a variety of scented soaps to choose from, as well as an unopened toothbrush in its package and a small hotel-style toiletry kit. She finger-combed her hair and made do with a quick sink bath rather than going all out on a full bath. One thing the room did not seem to have was a shower.

  The clothing probably belonged to the same niece who owned the jacket. There was a white camisole, a gray button-up cardigan, and a long brown skirt. All of them fit her well enough. There were also sealed packages of underwear and socks, still with the stickers on it. At the bottom of the pile she found a phone charger, also still in its package.

  It appeared that Mace had done a bit of shopping while waiting for her.

  Dressed and feeling somewhat more human, she found an outlet to plug in her phone, and then let herself out into the hallway—and almost tripped over the massive stone lion nearly blocking the hall.

  Thea stumbled backward.

  Gio raised his head and swiveled his stone ears forward. At least she assumed it was Gio. For all she knew, a gargoyle's house could have all sorts of animated statues running around. But it looked like the same lion. She could even still see faint traces of grease pencil, now mostly worn off.

  "Uh ... hi." Was it rude to pet him? Would he mind that? She reached out and gave his shoulder a hesitant pat. It was cool and slightly gritty to the touch. "Do you understand me?"

  Gio stood up, making her intensely aware how huge he was. She could have ridden him, if she had dared. He showed no sign of wanting to go anywhere, merely stood there patiently.

  "Can you show me where everyone is?" she asked. "The kitchen, maybe?"

  Gio flicked an ear but did nothing.

  "Guess not," she murmured, and hesitantly started walking. After a moment, there was the soft click of stone paws following her. For something so huge and undoubtedly heavy, he moved with more stealth than she would have thought possible.

  She walked down the hallway, with the lion prowling along behind her. Sunlight came in through high windows, bathing the stone walls and slightly worn flagstones in butter-colored light. There were paintings and tapestries on the walls, most featuring seascapes or hunting scenes. Everything was incredibly quiet, as if the thick stone walls swallowed sound.

  She had only blurred impressions from last night, but she clearly remembered her feeling that the house didn't seem to belong in the Americas at all. She got that impression again as she wandered the halls looking for a kitchen or other gathering place, somewhere she might be able to get something to eat and ask some questions. This house felt as if it had been transported here directly from Europe, a house built in a previous century with only a thin veneer of the modern era painted on top. Scratch the surface, and you might find yourself stepping straight back to the 1300s.

  Before she found the kitchen, she encountered a pair of large glass doors with sunlight spilling through, looking out onto a patio and garden. This wasn't the same place they'd come in last night, but Thea tried the knob anyway. The door opened and let her out into the warm morning sun, scented with flowers and the salt tang of the sea.

  The view was gorgeous. She could see across the gardens and all the way down to the harbor. The bay was the color of blue-green glass, the lighthouse brilliant white and red.

  "Oh, hello," said a voice, and Thea jumped and turned. She hadn't realized she wasn't alone.

  There was a young woman sitting at one of the patio tables with her feet propped on a chair. She had a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. Her brown hair was pulled back in a thick braid. She had a long-nosed, narrow face and was wearing a loose, autumn-leaf-covered housedress with a bulky gray sweater over the top of it.

  "You must be Thea," she said. She put the cup and book down, and swung her feet down from the chair. "It looks like everything fits. Mace said you were about my size."

  Thea glanced down at the skirt and cardigan, feeling abruptly self-conscious. "Yes, it does. Thank you so much. I had to leave everything behind. You're Jess, I assume."

  "That's right." Jess stood up, and Thea realized abruptly that she was visibly pregnant. "It's nice to meet you. I wasn't meaning to ignore you; I just thought I'd wait until you were up until I—gah!"

  Gio had followed Jess out onto the patio. At Jess's cry, he rotated his head ponderously and flicked his ears, but showed no other reaction.

  "That's Gio," Thea said, slightly helplessly. "He's ... not what he looks like." She felt that it was somewhat unfair to expect her to be going around and explaining magic to people, especially when she hadn't even known it existed until a couple of days ago.

  "I know. Uncle Mace gave me the broad strokes." Jess's brows drew together in a frown. "I just don't think it prepared me for the reality. I hadn't actually seen him yet. He's rather large, isn't he?"

  "I know, isn't he? I don't think he's dangerous, though."

  Gio was moving forward anyway, brushing past Thea to approach Jess with his incongruous, ponderous grace. He bumped Jess's shoulder with his nose. She gave him a hesitant pat.

  "Hi, Gio," she said. "Does he understand what we say to him?"

  "I have no idea," Thea said. "I can't tell."

  Jess gave Gio another look of dismayed bafflement and shook her head. She picked up her cup. "Have you eaten yet? I'd guess, from what Uncle Mace said, that you're dealing with a monster case of jet lag." She gave Thea a rueful smile. "Skipping back and forth from one side of the world to the other will do that. I've been there."

  Thea laughed in spite of herself. "It's weird, yes. I could definitely eat. Coffee would be even better."

  "A woman after my own heart, although I'm keeping myself down to half a cup a day right now because of the bambino." Jess started toward, not the glass doors, but the other end of the patio. "Come on, we'll use our private kitchen—mine and Reive's. It's a lot smaller than the main kitchen, and I know where everything is."

  "You have more than one kitchen?" Thea asked, falling into step. She liked being around other tall women; it made her feel less gawky and giraffelike.

  "This house has more than one of everything," Jess said, holding the door for her. Gio followed. The door was wide enough to accommodate him, which made Thea aware that part of what made the house feel a little strange to her—more castle-like—was that everything was a little wider than she was used to, the ceilings higher, as if the house had been scaled slightly larger than normal.

  It's made for gargoyles, she thought abruptly, following Jess down a side hallway where she hadn't been yet.

  Was Jess one too? She must be, surely, if she was Mace's niece. Or was Mace the only one in his family? Thea couldn't imagine how to ask.

  The door at the end of the hall opened onto a kitchen that was drenched in sunshine. Thea wouldn't call it small—it was bigger than the kitchen space of any apartment she'd lived in—but it was nothing like Gio's huge kitchen, which had seemed more like it belonged in a restaurant. She was also relieved to see that it had all the modern conveniences, from a microwave to a sle
ek brushed-steel fridge.

  "There's cream in the fridge and sugar on the counter, so help yourself," Jess said, pouring her a cup of coffee. "Gio, please get out from underfoot. There's not room for you in here."

  Besides the door they'd come in, there was a large open entryway leading to a long room that looked like a dining area, with windows looking out on the gardens. There was no table in the kitchen, just a couple of stools.

  Gio wandered into the dining area and lay down, reminding Thea once again of an enormous dog.

  "Well, he understood that," Jess said, staring after him with the coffee half-forgotten in her hand. "I think? This is so weird."

  Thea found the bottle of creamer and took the cup with a grateful nod. "Tell me about it. Two days ago, I was living a perfectly normal life as a teaching-stream lecturer at U of T. And now there are giant stone lions and instantaneous travel across the world and—gargoyles?"

  Jess gave a little laugh. She took a carton of eggs and a sealed package of ham out of the fridge. "Well, I spent most of my life trying to pretend that I wasn't one."

  So that answered the question Thea had been speculating on earlier. She was suddenly, wildly curious. "What's it like?"

  Jess hesitated, then she did something with her hand. The fingers expanded and grew, turning to gray stone, growing claws at their tips. She neatly sliced off the top of the ham's plastic packaging, then let her fingers lapse back to their normal human ones.

  "Wow," Thea said. "That's ... actually really handy."

  Jess's nervous look dissolved into a grin that was melting with relief. "Isn't it?" she said, reaching up to get down a large skillet hanging on a ceiling hook. "I'm just going to make us some breakfast sandwiches, if that sounds good to you. We can eat them outside since it's so nice. I've already had breakfast, but I'm starving all the time right now. It's like I'm gestating a baby moose. Oh, I didn't ask if you're a vegetarian, or have any other special food needs. We're all carnivores around here, but I can come up with something else if you don't eat meat."