Gabriel's Clock

by Hilton Pashley

  “Do you know which part of Hell my mother comes from?” asked Jonathan.

  “Nope,” said Elgar. “But Hell’s a very big place. My guess is that your mom’s side of the family also lives in the bit controlled by Belial—it’s probably how he found out about you in the first place. When this current unpleasantness is over I’ll take you there, if you like. We can have a joint expedition to find our respective families. Your mom might have gotten to Lucifer’s tower by now. She could have met my brother and not even know it!”

  Elgar grinned impishly at Jonathan, who couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Blimey,” said Grimm. “You couldn’t make it up, could you?”

  “No, not really,” said Elgar. “Now please let me get some shuteye, will you? I’m pooped.”

  “Okay, then, cat, we’ll watch over you while you sleep,” said Grimm.

  Elgar closed his yellow eyes and didn’t let Grimm see that he was smiling.

  Listening to Elgar, Jonathan realized something. Behind all his bluster the cat had a lot in common with him: he wasn’t what he appeared to be, and he didn’t know where his parents were either.

  Chapter 17

  THE WINDOWS OF MY WINGS

  At nine o’clock that morning the inhabitants of the vicarage began to stir. Kenneth Forrester came downstairs, gratefully accepting morning tea and toast along with everyone else.

  “I’m so worried about Cay,” he said. “Joanne’s frantic, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m positive they’re not going to hurt her, Ken,” said Ignatius. “Belial wants something, and he’s going to use her as leverage to get it. Believe me, we are far from beaten yet!”

  Kenneth nodded wearily. “Thank you.”

  “I know your cottage got damaged, so you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” said Ignatius. “Please try not to worry about Cay.”

  “If Belial hurts my daughter,” growled Kenneth, “I’ll hunt him down and gut him while he’s still breathing. I’m just going to take some breakfast up to Joanne; I’ll speak to you later.” Placing a mug of tea and a plate of toast on a tray, he disappeared back upstairs.

  “What do we do now?” Jonathan asked Ignatius.

  “I know it’s difficult, but we wait just a little bit longer. There’s bound to be some kind of ultimatum, and then we can decide what to do. Anyway, right now I need to retrieve my rapier from the bottom of the pond.”

  Jonathan, Elgar, Ignatius, and Grimm stood by the vicarage gates. After repeatedly banging his fist on each gatepost, Ignatius eventually got Montgomery and Stubbs to wake up.

  “Oh, we needed that sleep, didn’t we, Mr. Stubbs?” said a groggy Montgomery, yawning widely.

  “Indeed we did, Mr. Montgomery, indeed we did,” said Stubbs, yawning even wider in response.

  “I need you two to be on guard,” said Ignatius. “The village was attacked yesterday while you were asleep. Miss Forrester has been kidnapped.”

  “Oh no!” cried Montgomery.

  “I hate being a stupid sleepy gargoyle!” growled Stubbs, his face twisted into an expression of complete anguish.

  “You’re not stupid, Stubbsey,” said Jonathan. “Or you, Monty. You already saved Cay and her dad. Don’t forget that.”

  “Jonathan’s right, boys,” said Ignatius. “This is not your fault. You can only do so much, and as far as everyone in the village is concerned you’re heroes, both of you. Now, I want you to get as much rest as you can, but keep an eye out, just in case. Okay?”

  The gargoyles stood to attention and saluted.

  “Righto, chief,” said Montgomery.

  “Leave it to us,” Stubbs concurred.

  “Good, but no flying unless absolutely necessary, okay? You’ll be sleeping for weeks at this rate.”

  The gargoyles nodded.

  Happy that Montgomery and Stubbs would keep an eye on things, Ignatius led the way across the village green, his unlit pipe tucked into the corner of his mouth as usual.

  They reached the pond that Grimm had drained the night before, and Jonathan stared in awe at what usually lay hidden beneath the dark water. While Ignatius, Grimm, and Elgar looked on in quiet respect, he stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak. The pond basin wasn’t what he’d expected. Rather than a layer of mud, old bicycle wheels, and indignant frogs, he saw a wide expanse of black glass, shimmering in a flow of clear water from an underground spring. The glass was cracked and pitted in a million places, and in the center was something extraordinary—a crater with an unmistakably human outline. From its shoulders, strange, twisted shapes had been etched into the glass like a pair of mighty wings. Resting nearby was Ignatius’s rapier, washed clean of Raven’s blood and glittering wetly in the sunlight.

  It was then that Jonathan felt it: a huge wave of regret that washed over and through him. It spoke of loss, but also of a refusal to give in and, even more, of hope. Jonathan wasn’t aware he was crying until he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. He touched fingertips to his face in surprise.

  “This is the heart of Hobbes End, Jonathan,” said Ignatius. “This is where your grandfather fell and where my ancestor Augustus pulled him from the water. One angel, one vicar, one village. Sanctuary.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I can feel Gabriel here. I didn’t know how much of himself he gave away.” As he stood quietly by the edge of the pond, he sensed something new, something even more extraordinary than Gabriel’s regret. It was a voice both powerful and gentle, utterly different from the uncontrolled energy waiting inside him. It was running water, wind in the trees, birds flying, grass growing, and people going about their lives knowing that they had someone to watch over them. It was Hobbes End itself, and it chose that moment to speak to Jonathan.

  “Hello,” it said.

  Jonathan gasped and sank to his knees. It was like someone had lifted an awful weight from his heart, and for the first time since his life had been turned upside down he felt at peace.

  “You heard that, didn’t you,” said Ignatius with a gentle smile.

  Jonathan nodded.

  “Then perhaps this doesn’t end with me,” said Ignatius. “Just a thought. Now, if you’ll all wait here for a minute.”

  Jonathan watched as the vicar climbed down into the pond to retrieve his rapier, carefully avoiding the crater left by Gabriel’s fall. Sword retrieved, Ignatius scrambled up the muddy bank and shut the sluice gate before rejoining his friends. The pond began to refill, and the outline of the fallen angel disappeared again under a sheet of rippling water.

  “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” said Grimm.

  “Yes,” agreed Jonathan. “Now what?”

  “Now we wait,” said Ignatius. “Now we wait.”

  Cay sat beside Gabriel, still horrified at the violence that had been visited on the old angel. He reached out a gnarled hand, which Cay grasped and held against her cheek, feeling the bones just beneath the skin.

  “I’m old, Cay,” said Gabriel. “My time is almost over, but there is one last job to do.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Cay. “You’re still an archangel—you’ll live for ages, won’t you?”

  “Nothing is forever,” said Gabriel. “Not Heaven, not Hell, not me. Everything changes. Creation doesn’t stand still.” He sighed deeply and bowed his head. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this, Cay. If only you could have seen me before it all fell apart, back when I was Gabriel Artificer. With enough will there was nothing I couldn’t build or mend. Through the windows of my wings I used to be able to create worlds. Now I’m but a pale shadow, fit only to build trinkets.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Cay.

  “I’m sorry, child,” said Gabriel. “I don’t mean to sound so full of self-pity. There is hope yet.”

  “So you do think we’ll get out of here, then?” said Cay.

  “Of course we will; have faith.”

  “I’ll try. I just wish I knew t
hat everyone back home was okay. I hope Jonathan didn’t get hurt.”

  “So do I,” said Gabriel.

  “It’s my eleventh birthday tomorrow,” whispered Cay. “The best present I could have would be for us all to be safe and together again, flying kites on the village green.”

  Gabriel smiled. “That would be a fine birthday present indeed,” he said. “I do have something for you, though. I didn’t forget.”

  Cay smiled. “You can give it to me when we get home,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Gabriel, staring blindly out the window. “I think it’s a present you won’t forget in a hurry.”

  Chapter 18

  REVELATIONS

  A midday knock at the vicarage door signaled the arrival of the postman. Ignatius got up to find a brown paper parcel sitting on the doorstep. He picked it up and returned to the kitchen, where Jonathan, with Elgar on his lap, sat waiting. Every minute that ticked by seemed like an hour, and Jonathan felt the calm he had discovered by the pond being rapidly eroded.

  “The postie’s late today,” said Grimm from the pantry. He was rearranging tins of tea in order to keep himself occupied.

  “Hmm,” nodded Ignatius, fishing a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer. He had just snipped the string and started to peel open the parcel when the phone in the hall began to ring. They were all expecting it, but it still made them jump.

  “Do you think . . . ?” asked Jonathan.

  Ignatius nodded, his face impassive. “Something tells me it’s not someone trying to sell us insurance. Gather round so you can hear.” They all stood next to him as the vicar of Hobbes End lifted the receiver. “This is the Reverend Ignatius Crumb speaking,” he said. “Explain yourself, Belial.”

  “It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you, Reverend Crumb,” came a deep, mocking voice. “You know who I am, so there’s no need for pleasantries.”

  Jonathan looked at Ignatius in alarm as the vicar scowled and clenched his jaw. “Yes, I’ve heard of you, Belial. You’re a coward, and you disgust me.”

  “Now now, there’s no need for name-calling. I was trying to be civilized.”

  “Civilized?” blurted Ignatius. “You invade my village, hurt those under my care, and try to steal what isn’t yours. In what way is that civilized?”

  “Tch! Mere semantics.” The archdemon chuckled. “Still, I think we can get down to business, don’t you?”

  “As long as you haven’t hurt Jonathan’s family or Cay.”

  “You have my word,” lied Belial. “They’re here, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. If you do what I ask, then I’ll hand them back to you.”

  “Go on,” said Ignatius through gritted teeth.

  “I want the boy, and I want Gabriel’s clock. I’m going to turn Jonathan into the most feared weapon in all of creation. Gabriel’s cherubim that slaughtered us on the plain of Armageddon will be nothing to what Jonathan can become. And when he is ready I will destroy the other archdemons, then destroy Lucifer and be sole ruler in Hell. I know you’re listening, Jonathan. Go on, admit it. There’s a bit of you that wants this, isn’t there? Imagine being greater than Lucifer could ever aspire to be. Just do as I ask and it can all be yours.”

  The voice inside Jonathan’s head began clamoring to be heard. It liked Belial’s offer. It wanted a chance to be free, to be able to use such extraordinary power without restraint. Jonathan began to shake until Grimm placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. That was a comfort, but something else made it complete. The village itself. It had accepted him, and it knew that he needed help.

  “Be still,” it whispered. “Don’t be afraid.” The shaking subsided, and Jonathan found the strength to listen to Belial without giving in to the fury inside him.

  “But now we have an added bonus,” the archdemon continued, unable to hide the perverse excitement in his voice. “In his haste to save his grandson, Gabriel has handed me a way to rule not only in Hell but also in Heaven! Imagine that—the armies of Hell marching into an unsuspecting Heaven with Jonathan at their head. Whatever angels are left won’t stand a chance. What do you think? Is it worth a shot?”

  As Belial laughed down the phone, Ignatius’s hand gripped the receiver until his knuckles showed white.

  “Well done on defeating Rook and Raven, by the way. Nobody’s ever come close before,” the archdemon continued. “I’m actually rather impressed. Crow is very upset, though. He’s having trouble tying his shoelaces, and I think he’d quite like to return and beat you all to death with his missing arm.”

  “Oh, please let him try,” rumbled Grimm, cracking his knuckles.

  “I assume you’ve figured out how we could trample all over your precious village?” asked Belial.

  “Yes,” said Ignatius. “Rook and Raven bursting into flames was a helpful hint.”

  “I’m sure it was. Now to business. I have Darriel, Gabriel, and Miss Forrester safely tucked away. Just so we’re clear about what you need to do, if you fail to send me the boy with Gabriel’s clock, then your friends will meet with a series of . . . unfortunate events.”

  “How do I know they’re still alive?”

  There was a moment’s pause before they all heard Cay’s voice. “I’m okay!” she shouted out. A wave of relief surged through Jonathan, but then she continued, “And Gabriel’s here. He’s . . . hurt. He wants to speak with you.”

  There was a brief pause before Gabriel’s voice came on the line. “Ignatius. Say nothing, just listen to me, old friend, since I have little time. There is a door in my workroom that leads to somewhere else. The clock is there, and Jonathan is the only one who can fetch it. Only someone of my bloodline can enter. Tell Jonathan to make sure he takes the watch I gave him, as he’ll need it.”

  “But—” said Ignatius.

  “Please!” begged Gabriel. “No questions—just trust me. Everything must change. Tell Jonathan not to be afraid of what will happen when he brings the clock to Belial. Innocence is not so easily lost, Heaven is not so easily destroyed, you—”

  “That’s enough witless sentiment,” snarled Belial. “Now, you have until six o’clock this evening to send me both Jonathan and the clock. If you don’t, the consequences to your friends will be most unpleasant.”

  Cay let out a muffled scream, and Jonathan felt sicker than he had believed possible.

  “I’ll send Crow to escort you,” said Belial. “That should give you long enough to fetch Gabriel’s masterpiece. Oh, and don’t try to fob me off with any old clock, because I know what I’m looking for. Just so you understand who you’re dealing with, I sent you a present in the post this morning. What is it my dear mother used to say? Oh, yes, ‘It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye!’ Best you run along now. Time’s a-wasting, tick tock.”

  The line went dead. Ignatius replaced the handset and turned to look at the parcel on the kitchen table.

  “What did he mean?” stammered Jonathan. “What’s in it?” He took a step toward the table before Grimm wrapped his arms round him.

  “No, lad. Don’t look.”

  With shaking hands Ignatius finished unwrapping the parcel. Being careful that only he could see what was within, he slowly lifted the cardboard lid, and Jonathan watched as all color drained from Ignatius’s face. The vicar closed the box, sat at the table, and wept silently, pounding the scarred wood every few seconds with his fist.

  Watching the awful pain on Ignatius’s gentle face was almost impossible for Jonathan to bear. “What’s in the box?” he begged, struggling to release himself from Grimm’s grip. “What’s Belial done?”

  Ignatius got up and stood by Jonathan. Wiping tears of fury from his eyes, he took a deep breath and composed himself. “It doesn’t matter,” he croaked. “Only what we do next matters.”

  “But—”

  “No!” shouted Ignatius. “No buts. No ifs. I know things seem hopeless, but I know your grandfather. He’s been standing beside me every day of my life. I know him. There’s one th
ing he said to me that I’ve never forgotten: ‘There’s no point getting old if you don’t get crafty.’ He hasn’t given in. He has a plan. Now, what do you think we should do?”

  Jonathan already knew the answer—he wanted nothing more than to take this fight to Belial, and now he had the chance.

  “I’m going to go fetch Gabriel’s clock,” he said. “And when I meet Belial I’m going to shove it down his throat!”

  “Attaboy,” chortled Grimm. “As soon as I fix her, Isobel will have an appointment with Belial that that demon really isn’t going to like!” Grinning so widely, it looked as though his head might split, he gave a practice swing with an imaginary cricket bat.

  Elgar jumped onto Grimm’s shoulders. “I second that statement. I’ll bite him on the bum so hard, he’ll never be able to sit down again!”

  Then something occurred to Jonathan. “What did Gabriel mean when he said I’d need the watch he gave to me?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Ignatius. “But Gabriel wouldn’t have mentioned it unless it was important. Regardless, it means that something of your grandfather’s is always with you, and that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes,” said Jonathan. “It’s a good thing.”

  “We’re going along too, and that’s final,” said Montgomery. “Aren’t we, Mr. Stubbs?”

  “Hell, yes! I’ve missed one fight, and I’m not passing up the chance to find myself another. Gargoyle honor is at stake!”

  Ignatius sighed, but he couldn’t help a smile. “Okay then, boys, down you come. You’re nowhere near recharged yet, but I’m not going to stop you if this is what you want to do.”

  “But what if you can’t get through this door of Gabriel’s?” asked Jonathan as Montgomery and Stubbs landed on the drive in front of him. “He said that only someone of his bloodline could enter.”

  “He helped make us, and we’re not actually alive,” said Montgomery. “So we’re going to give it a shot.”