“I found these three outside,” he said with a wink. “They looked hungry.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Grimm bellowed from the kitchen.
“Excellent,” said Ignatius. “Grab yourselves a seat.”
They all sat down around the oval dining table as Grimm brought in a huge tureen of steaming omelet and peas. Elgar sat on his own chair between Jonathan and Cay, but despite the omelet containing smoked haddock, Grimm just gave him his usual kipper.
“Why don’t you want any omelet, Elgar?” asked Cay.
“Have you any idea what that amount of egg would do to my insides?” Elgar replied. “I’d be farting for England!”
“And that is something we can all do without,” rumbled Grimm, uncorking a bottle of particularly good wine he’d fetched from the cellar.
“I gather you’ve been introducing Jonathan to the villagers,” Ignatius said to Cay.
She grinned. “Yeah, we saw just about everyone today. Professor Morgenstern had the blueprints for his time machine laid out on his front lawn.”
“He’d lost his favorite pen, and he wasn’t wearing any socks or shoes,” added Jonathan. “I did remember to thank him for lending me his laptop, though. What did he call the thingy that makes his time machine work?” he asked Elgar.
“Reticulate paradox theory,” mumbled Elgar through a mouthful of kipper.
“Hmm,” said Grimm. “I have no idea whether he really is a genius or just unhinged.”
“And then we saw the twins,” said Cay. “They showed Jonathan their stuffed-owl collection.”
“Ew,” Grimm shuddered.
“You’re not scared of owls, are you?” asked Elgar.
“I’m not scared of anything!” barked Grimm. “It’s just those huge eyes and the way their heads swivel the whole way round so they’re looking backwards. It’s not natural.”
Elgar snorted into his bowl, sending bits of fish everywhere.
“Clara and Cecily do like their taxidermy,” said Ignatius. “Although the local owl population seems rather thin on the ground since they arrived.”
“Why did they come to Hobbes End?” asked Jonathan.
“I’m not at liberty to divulge that,” said Ignatius, trying to suppress a grin. “Everyone is allowed their secrets.”
“Oh, I saw Mr. Peters earlier too,” said Jonathan. “He seems nice enough, but he doesn’t seem very fond of Cay.”
Cay pretended to be very interested in the contents of her omelet.
“That’s because Cay thinks Mr. Peters is a vampire,” said Ignatius. “Which is, of course, nonsense; Mr. Peters is just very sensitive to sunlight—hence the black coat, hat, gloves, and sunglasses. If she was nice to him for a day, she might even notice his patently fangless smile.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Jonathan said to Cay.
“Well,” said an embarrassed Cay, “it’s just a theory.”
“Think about it, Cay,” said Ignatius. “I wish you’d stop trying to knock off his hat with your kite to see if he catches fire, or sneaking up on him in the dark and shoving an ultraviolet flashlight in his face. He bends my ear about it every chance he gets. And Lord knows what he says to your parents . . .”
Cay pouted.
“Who else did you see, Jonathan?” asked Grimm.
“We had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Flynn, and I thanked them for the sherbet lemons.”
“They are mighty fine boiled sweets,” purred Elgar.
“And then there was Mrs. Silkwood,” Jonathan continued. “All she had in her front room was a table with this big green plant in a pot. She wouldn’t let us near it, and she refused to let Elgar in the house at all.”
“Hmm, she is very protective of her aspidistra,” said Ignatius. “And I gather there’s a very good reason she won’t let Elgar in.”
The cat chuckled to himself. “Well, she locked me in her house by accident once. I was stuck in there all morning, and I was busting for a pee.”
“Oh, you didn’t!” said Grimm. “It’s a wonder the poor plant’s still alive.”
The cat shrugged and continued eating his fish.
Jonathan stole a glance at Gabriel. The feeling of having met him before was stronger than ever, but he knew that was impossible. He’d never even heard of Hobbes End before two weeks ago—and he certainly wouldn’t have believed that angels existed. Gabriel sensed he was being watched and met Jonathan’s gaze. He smiled.
“Is my birthday present ready?” asked Cay.
Gabriel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “It’s sitting on my workbench as we speak. And no, I’m not telling you what it is, and no, you can’t have it until Sunday.”
“But that’s five days away,” she protested.
“Life can be so unfair.” Gabriel grinned.
“Is it true?” asked Jonathan, remembering what Cay had said to him about Gabriel, and dying to know more. “Did you land here after being exiled from Heaven, and did it make the village come alive or something?”
“Oh, this is an amazing story,” said Cay.
“I’m glad you find my fall from grace so exciting, Miss Forrester,” said Gabriel, pretending to be offended.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” said the angel. “I’m just teasing you. This story is village legend, so it’s only fair that Jonathan know it too. Would you like to hear it?” he asked.
Jonathan nodded and leaned forward.
“Well,” said Gabriel. “While we digest that splendid omelet, here is my tale. A long, long time ago—”
“In a galaxy far, far away,” mumbled Elgar.
Grimm flicked the cat’s ear. “Hush!”
“Heaven was at war with itself. Lucifer, the strongest, brightest, and proudest angel, decided that he knew best as far as creation was concerned. He wanted to rule Heaven his way, and being so proud, he believed himself right. War followed. Brother against brother, sister against sister. In the end Heaven, under the banner of archangel Uriel, managed to stop Lucifer, bind him with chains of glass, and exile him. He fell all the way down to Hell itself, leaving a shattered city behind him. Sadly Uriel then died of his wounds, so Heaven needed someone new to be in charge.”
Gabriel took a sip of wine and paused. Jonathan could see that telling this story was difficult for him, and began to wish that he hadn’t brought the subject up. Staring into his wineglass, Gabriel continued.
“And so four new angels were created to take care of Heaven.
“My elder brother, Raphael Executor, whose job it was to be just, to be fair, and to rule.
“My big sister, Sammael Morningstar, who lit the stars in the sky to bring light to the void.
“Me, Gabriel Artificer, the engineer with knowledge of how creation worked and how to fix it when it broke.
“And finally, my little brother, Michael Hellbane, the brave soldier, always first into battle and utterly fearless. The four of us brought order and peace for a time, but it didn’t last.”
“Lucifer?” asked Jonathan.
Gabriel nodded. “Our predecessor wasn’t going to just give up. He was powerful, and he wanted revenge. He reigned over a big part of Hell, leaving the rest to be fought over by three archdemons—Belial, Baal, and Lilith.”
At the mention of the name Belial, a sudden blend of anger and fear welled up inside Jonathan. His palms felt clammy, and his shoulders ached, just like they had when the cottage had been attacked. Jonathan jumped when Gabriel touched him on the arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Jonathan nodded, not wanting to spoil Gabriel’s story. He took a sip of water and forced himself to appear calm. “Sorry,” he said. “I just felt a bit dizzy.”
“You’re probably tired after being in bed for so long before today. Would you like me to continue another time?”
“No, please don’t stop,” said Jonathan. “I really want to hear it.”
“Okay, then. Using threats and promises, Lucifer joined forces wit
h the archdemons and launched an all-out attack on Heaven. We knew it was coming and we had prepared, but the cost would be dear. We faced the hordes of Hell on the plain of Armageddon—a tiny force of angels against unimaginable odds. We all did . . . questionable things that day.” Gabriel sighed. “I had created machines to help us in our fight. The cherubim they were called, my three hollow angels, engines of living metal with wings of razor-edged glass. I remember watching them scythe into the ranks of demons.” He paused, sadness evident in his eyes as he continued softly, “I did not think there was that much blood in all of creation.”
Gabriel bowed his head a moment, then continued.
“The slaughter was terrible. Angels and demons may be long lived, but we are far from immortal. We can all bleed, we can all die. In the end, even Lucifer was sickened by it. Possibly because some vestige of the angel he had been remained inside him, he decided to stop the fighting and to challenge my sister, Sammael, to a duel. The winner would decide the fate of Heaven and Hell. Michael wanted to fight Lucifer, but he’d been badly wounded, as had I and Raphael. There was just our sister left unscathed, and she was magnificent. She earned her title of Morningstar a thousand times over that day, so bright did she shine as she fought Lucifer.
“And then suddenly, amazingly, she won, and Lucifer, kneeling on the ground at her feet, surrendered. She ordered that from that day forth Heaven and Hell would never again go to war with each other. Angels and demons would be allowed to walk the earth, as long as they masked their true forms and did not interfere with humanity in any way. The archdemons were furious—they wanted to continue the fight, but they were scared of Lucifer and of what he could do, so they went back to Hell, nursing their grudges against him and against Heaven. Our struggle was almost over, but there was one more tragedy to come.”
So powerful was Gabriel’s storytelling that Jonathan felt himself transported to the battlefield. He imagined himself standing among the wounded and the dying, adrift in a sea of crimson mud. It was awful.
“It was Raphael’s screaming that shattered the silence,” said Gabriel. “We found him cradling the body of his wife, his beloved Bethesda, the broken shaft of an arrow sticking out of her throat. We tried to console him, but it was no use. Something inside him broke that day. Instead of being just and kind, he became vengeful and bitter. He ranted at Sammael for not finishing the fight, for not killing Lucifer and the archdemons, for letting them all go home when his wife was dead in his arms. He seemed to forget that I’d lost my own wife in a previous battle. We’d each lost people we loved during the years of war, but all we wanted now was for it to stop.”
Gabriel took a deep breath as if the telling of the tale caused him physical pain. The knuckles of his right hand showed white as they gripped his wineglass far too tightly.
“And so we come to the end of my story. Heaven was never the same again, not really. We had all been changed by the horror of war, and the home that we’d fought for seemed darker somehow. The anger inside Raphael grew, and we just stood and watched. We didn’t know what else to do; we had no more stomach for fighting. I packed away my cherubim and prayed that I would never see them again. I buried myself in building clocks—the simplicity of their mechanisms reminded me of how creation should be: ordered, regular, predictable. Raphael retreated into his tower, Michael rested to recover from his wounds, and Sammael continued her job of igniting suns.
“Then, one awful day, there was an accident. Just as Sammael started the chain reaction to create a newborn star, Michael suddenly appeared at her side, spear in hand. She said he looked afraid, as if he was expecting an attack, as if he’d been told that she needed saving. She didn’t. Sammael could do nothing except watch the awful look on Michael’s face as he realized what was happening. He turned to flee, but it was too late. The blast vaporized him, spread his atoms among the stars, and all my sister could do was watch. She’s special, you see: she’s immune to the heat and radiation of a star; the rest of us are not.”
Gabriel’s wineglass finally cracked under the pressure of his fingers; murmuring an apology, he set it carefully upon the table.
“Sammael was in shock. She didn’t defend herself as Raphael ordered that for killing her brother she be cast out of Heaven. She wasn’t sentenced to Hell as Lucifer had been, but she was to be exiled, never to walk through the gates of Heaven again.
“I watched my sister as she fell, knowing that my time was over too, and I told Raphael that he was no longer my brother. A darkness had taken root in his soul and I could not stand by and watch him turn our home into his own version of Hell. I’ve always wondered whether he had something to do with the accident that killed Michael, but even now I cannot understand why he would do such a thing.
“Raphael ordered me thrown down after Sammael, but I would not submit to such indignity. I threw myself from the gates of Heaven and let my wings burn as I fell. I no longer wanted to be an angel; I just wanted to be Gabriel and to be left alone. So on the second of September 1666 I crash-landed here, in a little hamlet in the middle of a forest. My wings were badly damaged, and I gave most of what power remained in them to the village itself, to give it life, to make a refuge for me and for anyone who wanted somewhere to be safe. Heaven and Hell would know where I was, but I would not be a threat—I would just be a clock maker—and angels and demons would leave me alone. And with the loss of so much power I began to age much faster than my siblings, become frailer. Still, when I look out my window and see the refuge this village has become, I know it was a price worth paying. And so the years passed and here we are.” He shrugged self-consciously and smiled at Jonathan. “Does that answer your question?”
“I . . .” Jonathan stammered, not knowing what to say.
“What happened to Sammael, and to Raphael?” asked Cay.
“Sammael found her way to Hobbes End and stayed for a time, but she could never forgive herself for killing Michael. I tried to tell her my suspicions about Raphael’s involvement in Michael’s death, but she wouldn’t listen—the very idea was so awful, she didn’t want even to think about it. We argued a lot, and eventually she left to try to find some peace while walking the earth. I haven’t heard from her for many years. As for Raphael, I never heard from him again. The gates of Heaven have been locked shut, and I have no idea what’s going on behind them.” Gabriel pushed his chair back and stood up. “Please forgive me, but I’m rather tired. I’m going to have to skip dessert. I’ll replace the wineglass.” He walked to the door, but as he drew level with Jonathan he paused. “I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered, Jonathan,” said the angel. “And I’m sorry for being so preoccupied since you arrived. I meant to give you this earlier today.”
Jonathan turned to see Gabriel take off his wristwatch and hold it out to him. “But it’s yours,” he protested.
“Take it,” said Gabriel, quietly insistent. “My gift to you. Every boy needs a good watch, and I made this myself a long time ago. It may be a bit careworn, but I can vouch for the quality.”
Not wanting to offend the angel, Jonathan held out his hand, and Gabriel placed the watch in his palm. “Thank you very much,” he said.
Gabriel nodded, shook hands with Ignatius and Grimm, and left quietly.
“Well,” said Ignatius. “That was something. I thought I knew that story, but I’ve never heard Gabriel tell it with so much detail, or so much passion.”
Jonathan didn’t know what to say—he just stared at the watch in his hand, running his thumb over the worn leather strap and the scuffed sapphire-glass face.
“Anyway, Grimm, where’s that massive Pavlova you’ve been slaving over?” Ignatius added, hurriedly changing the subject.
Grimm brought out dessert, and they ate in near silence; even Elgar was quiet. There was something about the sadness of Gabriel’s tale that made laughter seem inappropriate.
“Right,” said Ignatius, once they had finished. “Hand me your dishes so Grimm and I can wash up.”
&nbs
p; After clearing the table, Cay thanked Grimm for cooking and said her goodbyes.
“I’ll walk you back,” said Jonathan. “I could do with some fresh air.”
They left the vicarage and walked out into a chilly and moonlit night.
“Did Gabriel really not tell you that version of the story before?” he asked as they strolled across the green.
“No,” said Cay. “He always left out the detail. Now I understand why he can be a bit distant sometimes—it’s because he’s sad.” She looked up at the stars. “I wonder how long it takes you to fall from Heaven,” she said.
Jonathan looked up too, wondering what it must be like to stand next to a star when it first exploded into life.
“Fancy a walk in the woods tomorrow?” asked Cay. “We can pack some sandwiches, and I can show you the lake.”
“Cool,” said Jonathan. “I’d like that.”
They had reached Cay’s house by then, and after saying good night Jonathan made his way back across the green. He turned to look at the dark forest and shivered; it felt like he was being watched. Hunching his shoulders, he hurried back to the warmth and light of the vicarage.
Chapter 10
CORVIDAE
Hidden in the dark of the forest, his pinstriped suit blending into the shadows, Rook watched as Jonathan scurried across the green and disappeared through the vicarage gates.
“Well, well,” he murmured to himself, idly gouging chunks of bark from a nearby oak tree with his long, talon-tipped fingers. “If that’s not the boy we’ve been looking for, I’ll eat my hat.” A red line appeared across the bottom half of the demon’s face and split apart like an opening wound. His long, mottled tongue, forked at the tip, tasted the air like a snake.
Ceasing his surveillance, he turned and strode off to find his siblings. Pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, he dabbed at the sweat that trickled down his featureless face.
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