Gabriel's Clock

by Hilton Pashley

  “Lie to him?”

  She nodded.

  “So be it,” said Gabriel.

  Savantha turned to look at Jonathan. “I can’t even say goodbye.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “We’ll keep Jonathan safe. Now go and bring my son back to me.”

  Her face wretched, Savantha bent over Jonathan, kissed him gently on the cheek, and whispered farewell.

  Chapter 2

  I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS

  Gabriel sat and looked at Jonathan as he slept on the sofa.

  “You’ll be safe here in Hobbes End, Jonathan,” said Gabriel. “I won’t let Belial hurt you.”

  He sighed and got to his feet. Grabbing an overcoat from a hook by the door and slipping on a pair of shoes, he quietly left his cottage, locking the door behind him. He made his way through the churchyard and along the road to the vicarage. He smiled when he saw a light on in one of the ground-floor rooms. “Oh, Ignatius. Burning the midnight oil again, are we?”

  The vicarage was surrounded by a high stone wall, with a pair of huge, wrought-iron gates leading onto a gravel drive. They were always open, and on each of the gateposts sat a granite gargoyle. Their eyes were closed, and they were snoring. Not wanting to explain why he was creeping into the vicarage in the middle of the night, Gabriel tried to tiptoe past but was foiled by the crunch of his shoes on gravel.

  “Who goes there?” the gargoyles said in unison.

  “Montgomery, Stubbs,” said Gabriel, “I need to see Ignatius; sorry to wake you up when you’re on guard duty.”

  “That’s okay, Gabriel,” chorused the gargoyles. “Why are you wearing your nightshirt under your coat?”

  The angel grinned. “Look, we’ve had a new arrival in the village. I can’t explain yet, but I need both of you to keep quiet about anything you see tonight. Will you do that for me?”

  “You can trust us,” they said. “Cross our hearts and hope to die.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that, but I suggest you pretend to be fast asleep until the sun comes up, okay?”

  The gargoyles nodded, shut their eyes, and began snoring again, very unconvincingly. Shaking his head, Gabriel continued up the drive until he reached the front door. Rather than use the brass bell pull, he gave a gentle knock. There was a pause, then footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a massive shape that almost blotted out the light from the hallway.

  “Gabriel?” boomed a deep baritone voice.

  “Good evening, Grimm. My apologies for the lateness of my visit, but I need to see Ignatius.”

  “That sounds serious—you’d better come in.”

  Gabriel stepped into the vicarage and followed Grimm down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Take a seat and I’ll put the kettle on. Ignatius will be through in a bit; he’s just writing in his journal.”

  Gabriel smiled and nodded, watching Grimm as he went about one of his favorite activities: making tea. Halcyon Grimm was possibly the biggest human being Gabriel had ever known. He was less a man and more a piece of artillery. With his bald head, caterpillar eyebrows, and badly broken nose, Grimm wouldn’t have looked out of place as a circus strongman. Luckily for everyone he came into contact with, though, his quick smile and gentleness soon put people at ease.

  “Hello, Gabriel. To what do we owe such an unexpected visit?” The angel turned to see Ignatius Crumb, vicar of Hobbes End, standing in the kitchen doorway with an unlit pipe tucked into the corner of his mouth—he had given up smoking years earlier but still liked the feel of his old pipe in his mouth.

  “We have a problem,” said Gabriel. “I need you both to come with me to my cottage.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ignatius.

  Gabriel had just opened his mouth to speak when the flap in the back door banged open and a large black cat with white front paws and a dead bird in his mouth jumped into the room. The cat looked up, realized that all three men were looking at him, and froze. His jaw opened with theatrical slowness, and the soggy-feathered corpse fell to the floor. The silence was deafening.

  “What?” said the cat. “Why is everyone staring at me? Stop it. You’re freaking me out!”

  “You’re not going to leave that there are you, Elgar?” said Grimm.

  “Well, I was intending to nibble on it later, but now I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Then clear it away,” growled Grimm.

  “Fine,” huffed the cat, picking up the bird with his teeth and dropping it in the bin. He jumped onto the kitchen table and started washing his ears. “Nice jim-jams, Gabriel. What brings you out for a midnight stroll?”

  The angel put his head in his hands and sighed. “I am too old for this.”

  Ten minutes later, Ignatius and Grimm were standing in Gabriel’s cottage, staring at the wounded boy lying on the sofa.

  “Who is he?” asked Ignatius.

  “He’s my grandson,” said Gabriel.

  Ignatius’s pipe fell out of his mouth and landed on the carpet. “I didn’t know you had a grandson!”

  “It’s complicated,” said Gabriel. “This is Jonathan, and he’s in a great deal of trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Grimm.

  “The kind that involves being hunted by an archdemon. And tonight Belial found him. I’ve been dreading this ever since Jonathan was born.”

  “Belial!” gasped Ignatius. “What on earth would he want with your grandson?”

  Gabriel sighed. “I know Jonathan looks like an ordinary boy, but he isn’t. His father is my son, Darriel . . . but his mother, Savantha, is a demon from the area of Hell controlled by Belial.”

  “You mean . . . ?” stammered Ignatius.

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes. My grandson is the only half-angel, half-demon child in all of creation.”

  “But I thought that was impossible,” said Grimm.

  “It is,” said Gabriel. “Or rather, it was supposed to be. Apparently creation has other ideas. Perhaps times are changing for Heaven and Hell as we know it?”

  Ignatius picked up his pipe and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I didn’t see that coming. Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Gabriel. “I didn’t want to burden you. Not that I had much say in the matter, since my son is even more stubborn than I am. I wanted Jonathan and his parents to stay here in Hobbes End, where they would have been safe, but Darriel wanted to do it all himself, try to let Jonathan have a ‘normal’ life—as if that was ever going to happen.” He shook his head sadly. “As soon as word of Jonathan’s existence started to spread, it was only a matter of time before one of the three archdemons—Belial, Baal, or Lilith—disobeyed Lucifer and made a grab for power.”

  “But what does Belial want with Jonathan?” asked Ignatius.

  “Jonathan is special,” said Gabriel. “I can sense it in him, and so can Belial. Because of the mixed bloodlines of the demonic and the divine, Jonathan has the potential to become something quite extraordinary. Greater than me or my siblings, greater even than Lucifer himself. Belial will want to twist him, control him, use him. Turn my grandson into a weapon. I will not let that happen.”

  “I see.” Ignatius nodded, his face grave.

  “And not only do we have Belial to contend with, he’s brought his bogeymen with him too. He’s unleashed the Corvidae.”

  “I thought they were just a myth,” said Grimm. He turned to Ignatius. “I remember your dad telling us scary stories about them when we were kids.”

  “Oh, they’re real,” said Ignatius. “They’ve been popping up for the best part of a century, and wherever they go they leave nothing but destruction in their wake. They currently have an appetite for wearing human skin, pinstriped suits, and bowler hats in order to hide their true forms.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Grimm. “I may have to hit them with my cricket bat.”

  “Hopefully you won’t get the chance,” said Gabriel. “As you know, Hobbes End will not
allow anything evil to cross its borders and live. I designed it that way. Jonathan will be safe—as long as he doesn’t leave here.”

  “So, how did he end up on your sofa with a nasty head wound?” asked Grimm, kneeling to examine the boy’s injuries.

  “The Corvidae finally caught up with him,” sighed Gabriel. “Ever since he was born, Jonathan’s parents have been running, moving from place to place, not settling anywhere. They wanted to be a normal family so badly that this time they stayed in one place just that little bit too long. Darriel held off the Corvidae long enough for Savantha to escape and bring Jonathan here, but as you can see, Jonathan got hurt in the process.”

  “Well, you did a good job stopping the bleeding,” said Grimm, gently probing Jonathan’s scalp. “And his skull feels intact, but there’s still lots of swelling. He’ll need a week or so of bed rest before he’s fit enough to be up and about.”

  “Anyone would think you knew something about cuts and bruises.” Ignatius smiled, teasing his friend a little.

  “Halcyon Nathaniel Oberon Grimm, M.D., if you please,” said Grimm. “I think a medical degree and years of experience as an army doctor have taught me something about anatomy.”

  “Where are Savantha and Darriel now?” asked Ignatius.

  Gabriel looked unbearably sad. “I don’t know,” he said. “Savantha left Jonathan with me and went straight back to find Darriel. To see if . . .”

  “He’s dead?” asked Ignatius.

  “Or worse,” said Gabriel. “My son is strong, but he’s no match for monsters like the Corvidae—not all three of them. If they take him alive, then Belial will have him.” Gabriel shuddered as a single tear ran down his cheek. “And if Belial has Darriel, then my son might, under duress, give away Jonathan’s location. Belial will suspect that Savantha may bring Jonathan here, but he’ll want to make sure of where his prey is running to before he makes his move.”

  Ignatius placed a reassuring hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t despair yet, old friend.”

  “I’ll try not to,” said Gabriel. “But it feels like everything is unraveling and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

  “Will Savantha come back here if she can’t find Darriel?” asked Grimm.

  Gabriel shook his head. “No, she’s even more headstrong than my son. If she can’t find Darriel, then she’ll go and petition Lucifer for aid.”

  Ignatius puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “I see. Well, what would you like us to do in the meantime?”

  “I need you to look after Jonathan, keep him safe until his parents come back. If he lives here with me, it may draw unwanted attention. You can pretend that he’s simply a new arrival in the village who’s been hurt and needs to be cared for.”

  “And will Jonathan agree to this?” asked Ignatius. “Won’t he want to stay with his grandfather?”

  Gabriel sighed. “Jonathan doesn’t know what he is. He thinks his name is Jonathan Smith and that he’s had to move house a lot because his father works for the government on matters of national security. He even thinks his parents’ names are Daniel and Sarah.”

  “‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave,’” said Ignatius, shaking his head.

  “Jonathan has never heard of Hobbes End, and he doesn’t know I exist. He was six days old the last time I saw him. Hobbes End knows him, however. Jonathan is the only child to have been born in the village since Grimm.”

  “He was born here?” spluttered Ignatius. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you trust me with this?”

  Gabriel just looked sad.

  “I get it,” said Ignatius with a rueful smile. “Angels are stubborn.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Jonathan was born right here in this cottage twelve years ago. I begged Darriel and Savantha to stay, but they just wouldn’t listen. Families, sometimes they break your heart.” He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat. “Will you help me?” he asked. “Will you help him?”

  “You know we will,” rumbled Grimm, gently picking up Jonathan and cradling him in his huge arms.

  “Hobbes End will always look after those who need somewhere to be safe,” said Ignatius, reaching out and squeezing the still-sleeping Jonathan’s hand. “Come on, Grimm, it’s time we took him home.”

  Grimm nodded and turned to go.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” said Gabriel. “Things will work out. You’ll see.”

  Leaving the angel alone in his cottage, Grimm and Ignatius walked slowly back to the vicarage.

  “Are you going to be all right with this?” asked Grimm.

  “I’m not comfortable with lying to Jonathan about his heritage once he wakes up, but we don’t have much choice if we’re going to protect him.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that,” said Grimm. “I was thinking that you haven’t had a kid living in the house since . . .”

  “Since the accident?” said Ignatius, his voice unintentionally sharp.

  “Yeah,” said Grimm as they marched along in the moonlight. “Since the accident.”

  “Sorry,” said Ignatius. “Whenever I think about Angela and David, I get all defensive. It’s been three years, and I’m still mourning them.”

  “I miss them too, you know,” said Grimm. “Angela was always a good friend to me, and little David was my godson, bless him. Look, Ignatius, we’ve been mates since we were kids, and I’m telling you that you need to let your grief over your wife and son go. I can mend most injuries, but I can’t mend a broken heart.”

  “I know,” said Ignatius. “I just wish that I could say goodbye to them and know that they heard me.” He sighed heavily.

  “Well,” said Grimm, “we’re going to have our hands full for the foreseeable future, so maybe that’ll stop you getting all maudlin.”

  Ignatius grinned. “Is Oberon really one of your middle names? You never told me that before.”

  “It’s true,” said Grimm. “But if you tell Elgar, I will thump you, vicar or not.”

  “Then your secret is safe with me.”

  Not needing to say anything else, the two old friends walked home in silence.

  From her bedroom window on the other side of the village green, a wide-awake Cay Forrester stared in astonishment as Ignatius and Grimm carried what looked like a sleeping boy from the churchyard to the vicarage.

  “Oh, this is just brilliant,” she said to herself. “Tomorrow could quite possibly be the most exciting day of my entire life!”

  Chapter 3

  CAY AND CONSPIRACY

  The sun barely had time to burn the mist off the village pond before Cay had streaked out of her house, run across the green, and skidded to a halt at the vicarage gates. From their perches, two granite gargoyles peered down at her.

  “Guys, guys, you’ll never guess what.”

  “What?” asked Stubbs. He turned to his friend. “What does she want, Mr. Montgomery?”

  “I think she wants us to ask her why she’s all excited.”

  Cay nodded.

  “Over to you, Mr. Stubbs,” said Montgomery with a grin.

  “Oh, goody,” said Stubbs, rubbing his paws together. “Why are you all excited, Cay?”

  “Because I’ve finally got someone to hang out with! I’ve been the only kid in the village, like, forever, and I saw Grimm and Ignatius carrying a boy over here last night. Is he awake? Can I see him? Can I?”

  Stubbs looked at Montgomery in panic. “What boy?” he said, sounding very unsure of himself.

  “The one they brought here last night. I saw them!”

  “I didn’t see anyone carry an unconscious boy into the vicarage last night,” said Stubbs, watching uncomprehendingly as Montgomery repeatedly drew his hand across his mouth in a zipping motion.

  “Aha!” cried Cay, her auburn ponytail swinging wildly as she jumped up and down on the spot. “Gotcha. You did see them.”

  Montgomery clapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation.

  “You’re a very irritating girl, and
I’m not talking to you,” huffed Stubbs, folding his arms and hunkering down on his gatepost.

  “And me. What he said,” echoed Montgomery, crouching back on his perch.

  “You two are so annoying!” shouted Cay. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shape moving slowly away from her across the vicarage lawn. “Well, if you won’t tell me, I bet Elgar will,” she cried. Without waiting for an answer, she sped off across the grass.

  The gargoyles craned their heads round to watch Cay as she ran to intercept the cat.

  Montgomery sighed. “This is not going to end well, Mr. Stubbs.”

  “Not end well at all, Mr. Montgomery,” agreed Stubbs.

  Elgar was having a pleasant morning stroll around the vicarage grounds when he felt the lawn begin to shake under his paws.

  What the—? He didn’t have time to finish the thought before Cay snatched him up, plunked him over her shoulder, and began to spin round like a top.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Elgar, hanging on with all the strength his paws could muster.

  “We had a new arrival last night, didn’t we? A boy. Don’t you dare try to deny it!” said Cay.

  “Put me down!” pleaded Elgar. “Grimm said he’d have me stuffed and mounted if I said anything.”

  “Aha!” cried Cay. “So it’s a conspiracy!”

  “I’m warning you,” moaned Elgar.

  “Who is he?” shouted Cay. “Where did he come from?”

  “Too late,” Elgar said, and he promptly threw up down the back of Cay’s T-shirt.

  “Ew,” she groaned, unceremoniously dropping Elgar onto the front lawn. “That’s revolting!”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t bite off your arm, you lunatic brat!” said the cat, trying to regain his sense of balance. “I’d only just had that kipper. Now I’ll have to wait until dinner, and that’s hours away.” With a theatrical sniff and flick of his tail, he stalked off unsteadily across the grass.