Midnight

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘We planted memories inside him,’ said Zindelo. ‘Things to help with his transition; to insure he would feel a familial bond towards us. But also because we were afraid of what the prah might do.’

  My stomach curled inside me, like a snake. ‘What do you mean?’

  Zindelo rose and moved away from the table. Everyone watched in silence as the bandoleer leaned hard on the counter and looked out the small window above the sink. He spoke, keeping his back to us. ‘As the head controls the body, so it is with this. We believe whoever possesses the head has the power to control the entire shadow world.’

  Esmeralda stood, her glittering silver eyes round and wide. ‘Zindelo, if what you are saying is true …’

  ‘It is,’ said Zindelo, turning around. ‘Sebastian is La Gargouille.’

  The Corsis stared at one another in shock, and I put my head in my hands. No one needed to voice what came next. Everyone felt the power of Zindelo’s words like a low, rumbling earthquake in the room.

  The power to control the entire shadow world.

  15. Josephine

  The horrible reality of everything Zindelo and Nadya just shared worked its way through my body, as though it were a heavy anchor, thrown overboard and sinking bit by bit until it hit bottom.

  Sebastian was La Gargouille – the monster from our legends, the very origin of our connection with the shadow world itself. I clutched the dandelion pendant at my neck. How could this be possible? How could they have let this happen?

  The anger that had been swelling inside me channeled itself towards Hugo’s parents, even though I knew, deep down, it wasn’t really their fault. What they’d done had been for the safety of our people. They had sacrificed everything – including their relationship with their own son.

  Suddenly, Katie’s voice resounded in the room.

  ‘Okay, just hang on a second. Are you telling us that Sebastian’s actually a monster? Like a for real, evil monster that went around killing people in medieval times and had his head cut off by a priest?’

  Zindelo’s eyebrows nearly obscured his eyes. ‘Roughly speaking.’

  ‘But, Sebastian’s so … sweet,’ said Katie, dumbfounded. ‘I mean, he’s a social disaster, sure, and I honestly don’t know how he made it through high school, ’cause sometimes he just gets so weird, but he was always nice, you know, not a jerk like some people, and he’s totally not a monster, especially not this thing you’re talking about.’

  Nadya joined her husband. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said. ‘In fact, it is probably that sweet nature, as you put it, that has most likely held back La Gargouille for so long.’

  ‘You messed with his mind,’ I heard myself say, but the words were muffled, like I was underwater. ‘You planted stuff inside his head.’

  Nadya’s face softened somewhat as she met my eyes. ‘We only gave him memories, Josephine. That was the extent of it. Who Sebastian is … his demeanor and personality … those are his own. The human component – given to him when he was created – is unique to him, in the same way children are unique from their parents.’

  ‘But the fact remains,’ said Zindelo. ‘He is the head of the beast.’

  Another thick and stifling silence fell over the group. Hugo hadn’t taken his eyes off his parents. After a few excruciatingly tense seconds, he stood up as well, moving past Esmeralda, his steel-toed boots heavy on the tile floor.

  ‘All this time,’ he said, biting off each word. ‘All this time, he was under our roof and you knew what he was. Yet you left me in the dark about everything. Everything! Sebastian was part of our family!’

  ‘And, God willing, he would’ve stayed as such,’ said Nadya in a gently earnest tone. ‘Those were our plans for him. He was born a shadow creature, but our blood made him a guardian. He would be the gargoyle of the Corsi clan, the first our family has had since we arrived in this country after the Sundering, and the head of La Gargouille would be out of the Sobrasi’s reach forever.’

  Hugo tugged at his goatee, struggling to maintain his composure. The rest of the clan watched the interaction warily. To my surprise, it was Esmeralda who spoke next.

  ‘Hugo, your fight isn’t here. We must be united on this.’

  He looked at her, long and intently. As her unblinking eyes connected with his, I felt something pass between them – something that reminded me of the connection I shared with Sebastian – though I couldn’t quite explain it. Before I could contemplate it, though, Hugo let out a loud, heaving sigh, carrying with it either resignation or acceptance, I couldn’t be sure.

  ‘What’s done is done,’ he said, turning his steely gaze back to Zindelo. ‘So we’ll leave it there. It’s more important that we deal with what’s happening now, and what we’re going to do about it.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Zindelo replied.

  Hugo pressed his back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. He looked us all over. I sensed more than ever, there was something deeply important at work, but until I knew what it was, I wasn’t going to speculate.

  Hugo cleared his throat. ‘I hate to say this, but my parents’ account does explain a great deal of what has been going on the last six months. I can confirm at least part of their story, based on what I saw today.’

  In all the insanity of the last hour, I’d completely forgotten that Hugo had been to see Sebastian. His parents must’ve arrived at the Dandelion Inn before he was able to relay the events to the clan. I sat up straighter in my chair.

  ‘He wasn’t himself,’ continued Hugo, his jaw clenching.

  ‘Understatement of the year,’ muttered Kris under his breath.

  Hugo kept speaking. ‘They had him waiting for me in the Court library, all cloaked up and hooded like some medieval monk. He wouldn’t let me near him when I came in. He said he didn’t feel in control.’ Hugo’s eyes narrowed in a strange way. ‘He hadn’t been eating, for who knows how long, and it showed.’

  Ezzie drew in a sharp breath. ‘Stone.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hugo. ‘He was well on his way, completely oblivious to what he was doing, too. Karl hadn’t told him about the whole turning to stone if he doesn’t eat bit.’

  ‘Trying to starve himself?’ said James. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘He wasn’t planning on going that far, at least from what I could tell. There was a plate of meat on a table in the room, so he’s been given food, obviously. He just thought he’d have a better chance in front of the High Council if he seemed as weak and unthreatening as possible.’

  My heart stung, as though a needle had pricked it. It was so typically Sebastian: taking the sacrificial way, always looking for the best option that didn’t involve acknowledging the shadow creature he’d become – had always been, I corrected myself. It was a gargoyle’s nature, I’d come to understand, but it was more than that.

  It was also his nature.

  ‘He’s changed since I saw him last,’ said Hugo. ‘He’s sporting some wicked-looking horns, but it’s more than that. He’s just … I can’t really describe it. Just different.’ He shook his head, as though he were trying to clear away the bad memories, but without success. ‘Anyway, the longer we talked, the worse he seemed to get. I’d never seen him fighting against himself like that before, like he was doing everything he could to hold himself together.’

  I shuddered, remembering when I’d seen him that way, like he was holding on for dear life, refusing to let whatever it was inside him free. Now, I realized with a cold chill, I understood a little more what he was fighting. But Sebastian didn’t know … he had no idea. A sour taste filled my mouth.

  ‘That’s how he was the last time I saw him,’ I interjected quickly, swallowing it down. ‘I’ve seen Sebastian struggle before, but this was different. Augustine was there when it happened. He used prah from the urn, I’m sure of it now. Sebastian would never act like that on his own.’

  Hugo registered this piece of information for a breath or two before nodding back at me. ‘S
ebastian said the same thing, though I only got bits and pieces of it through all the growling and snarling at me. Augustine experimented on his own gargoyles by using the prah to burn away the human blood and changing them into chimeras.’

  ‘Now he’s attempting the same with Sebastian,’ finished Ezzie.

  ‘But what is one chimera?’ demanded Vincent. ‘Yeah, they’re bloodthirsty and nasty hard to kill, but what difference does it make to Augustine if he has one more for his collection? I don’t see the worth in that. It’s hardly an army.’

  As soon as the words were out of Vincent’s mouth, everyone in the room seemed to have the same thought at once. It was Zindelo who vocalized it.

  ‘Not an army, no. But a shadowen to lead one, perhaps.’

  Hugo turned to Esmeralda. ‘What happened to Augustine’s other gargoyles?’

  Ezzie made a hissing sound. ‘I do not know. Anya and Matthias fought with the Romany Marksmen in the woods on the night of the kris, providing adequate distraction while Augustine entered the camp. I thought at first they had been killed, but now I’m not so sure.’

  I looked at Hugo’s parents. The question of how Augustine had acquired the three gargoyles in the first place had never been addressed. I had an awful feeling that the answer to that lay with my own family, not the Corsis.

  ‘Three chimeras would be formidable, but nothing the Marksmen don’t handle on a regular basis around here,’ said James. ‘Still doesn’t explain all the attention on Sebastian.’

  ‘Unless Augustine knows about Sebastian,’ said Hugo. ‘What he is.’

  Zindelo shook his head. ‘Augustine had no way of discovering the truth of Sebastian’s origins. Not even our friend in the monastery was aware of what we had done.’

  ‘Augustine sees in Sebastian some potential he did not see with his own shadowen,’ said Nadya. ‘But there is far more danger in what Augustine intends to do than he is aware.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Hugo.

  Nadya answered. ‘Augustine is using the prah from the urn to manipulate the shadow creatures he comes into contact with. It’s only a matter of time before he does, in fact, have something of an army at his disposal.’ Nadya turned her gaze from her son to focus on me. ‘But the danger lies in this: We don’t know what might happen to Sebastian, when the prah of both the head and the body of La Gargouille join together within him.’

  16. Sebastian

  Sharp pain lanced through my arm, bringing me to my senses.

  Through my crimson sight, I saw my hand – plunged deep into the wall, claws and fingers completely embedded – just centimeters from Quentin’s temple. The stone had cracked in multiple places, like it had been jackhammered. The Marksman’s face was contorted, as though still waiting for the blow.

  But I hadn’t.

  Somehow, I’d won, even if for just an instant. The dark thing didn’t succeed – even if a part of me wanted it to – in going through with the deadly strike. I wouldn’t kill. I refused to kill.

  I pressed my face in close to Quentin’s, pulling back my lips and flashing all my sharp, jagged teeth. Then, with a huge effort, I yanked myself back, releasing my claws from the stone. I collapsed my wings tight against my back, spun on my heel, and ran.

  Without any idea where I was going, I ploughed ahead in the direction we’d been going. The corridor was widening out and the light growing brighter. At points, I felt I was running on all fours, and other times, on two legs – I was no longer sure of my actions.

  Then, abruptly, I screeched to a halt. The corridor had emptied into a giant circular room. It was void of furniture, except for a series of sprawling candelabras lining the wall. Multiple doors led into the room from various hallways. A painted design of entwining dandelion leaves and flowers covered the entire floor.

  Above me, a jagged ceiling disappeared into shadows I wouldn’t have been able to see through, had it not been for my gargoyle night vision. Below the ceiling, a railed balcony ran around the entire circular space, a perfect platform for looking down into the room. Several thick wooden columns, carved with intricate designs, supported the structure. I had seen this place before, when I’d first arrived, though I’d been hastily pushed through it then.

  This was the Court of Shadows.

  Only this time, it wasn’t empty.

  I smelled them before I saw them – four hooded figures stood along the balcony in the shadows, at the farthest point away from me, looking down over the railing. The dark emotions inside me retreated back, like water ebbing from the shore. I sniffed the air once more, as if to convince myself of what I already knew.

  Gargoyles.

  The middle figure in the group took one step closer to the railing, then slowly lowered its hood. I found myself looking straight into the eyes of someone like me. Not since those early days when I first encountered Anya and her gang – in their original forms – had I seen another gargoyle. However, this one looking back at me was nothing like them.

  He looked older, maybe a few years past Hugo’s age, though I knew now that meant nothing, really. The dark lips, shadowy features, and the eerie silver eyes that stared back at me were like looking in a mirror. The gargoyle wore his hair tied back at the base of his neck, and long pointed ears jutted through the pewter color.

  It was his face that set him apart from Anya and the others – maybe it was the lack of a sneer or the way he glanced down his nose at me without distain, the way Augustine’s gargoyles had – as though I was a disgrace. He reminded me more of Esmeralda, and I suddenly had a glimpse into what she might’ve been like, before she’d been turned human.

  Black mist suddenly engulfed the balcony where the figures stood, and before I could take another breath, the figures disappeared within the smoky haze. The doors to the room shut with thuds and clicks of locks, while as the exact same instant, the figures reappeared on the ground floor, encircling me. Each stood a good eight feet apart from each other, and from me, making me a strange center point of sorts.

  One by one, the other figures also lowered their hoods. Four gargoyles gazed on me, and I could do nothing but simply look back. It was a weird sensation, to see them. To see others of …

  My kind.

  I’d hated that phrase for so long, but now, it fit in a way that it hadn’t before. It didn’t link me to grotesques and chimeras anymore. It linked me to the four shadowen around me.

  One male and three females. Unlike the other types of shadow creatures, who were repulsive mixtures of all kinds of beasts and animals – the gargoyles each held their own unique human-like appearance. They shared the same coloring, canted ears, clawed hands, silver eyes, and probably the sharp jagged teeth, even though I couldn’t see them.

  They were dressed in outfits that seemed weirdly out of time. Each was fitted with a hood, and the design of their shirts allowed their wings to hang freely. The fabric was a dull, shimmery sort of gray that nearly blended with their skin. It gave the impression that it was all the same – like they’d literally just sprung to life from their cathedral perches and swooped down into the room.

  A thought, however, lurked on the edge of my consciousness – one I’d been trying to ignore because I didn’t like the way it felt. Grudgingly, I acknowledged its reality: none of the gargoyles had horns like mine. Their marbled gray skin appeared smooth, not traced with weird veins the way mine was – though the blackish color had faded a little since I’d eaten.

  I was reminded of my only partially satiated hunger. I swallowed hard as my stomach growled unceremoniously, but I couldn’t break eye contact with the head gargoyle. At least, I assumed he was somehow in charge, based on the way the others mimicked his movements.

  His sharp silver gaze finally left mine and traveled over my face, noting the same differences between us that I had. The gargoyle’s expression changed, molding into one of wary suspicion. The momentary connection I’d experienced with these shadowen faded away.

  My head buzzed like a swarm of
bees.

  By what name are you called?

  It was the head gargoyle who’d spoken telepathically. I heard the voice as clearly as if he’d spoken out loud. The tone was low and steady, like those huge bells in cathedral towers.

  Sebastian Grey.

  At my answer, a hint of a frown turned his dark lip downward.

  That name means nothing to us.

  I blinked at him, not really sure what to say. It’s not like I was some famous guardian from Outcast legends, like Ezzie. Or even an established guardian. I’d been a gargoyle eight months, and almost seven of those had been spent in the confines of Hugo’s apartment and the Gypsy Ink – where I spent most of my days pretending that none of this existed and that I wasn’t what everyone said I was.

  I’m a guardian.

  I inwardly cringed at my reply. I was stating the obvious, but I wasn’t sure what was safe. Should I mention the Corsis? I was clueless about my past or where I’d even come from. I didn’t want to unwittingly drag Hugo and the others into something bad. If I claimed Josephine as my charge – not that I was in any way worthy of being her guardian anymore – would that be even worse?

  The head gargoyle tilted his head to one side.

  You are different.

  It wasn’t a compliment or an insult, not that I could tell, anyway. I shook it off and formulated my next thought.

  Who are you?

  No reply to my question buzzed in my brain. Instead, the head gargoyle tilted his head to the side, as if hearing something far off. He raised his hood once more, obscuring his face from view. The other gargoyles did the same. Without warning, they shadowed again, returning to their original positions above me.

  The black mist dissipated as rapidly as it had appeared. The gargoyles took four steps backwards in tandem, retreating from the railing until their winged backs touched the jagged wall. After that, none of them moved or spoke. They seemed, instead, to be waiting on something.

  As I stood in the deafening silence of the room, I sensed in these gargoyles the nobility that Esmeralda had often spoken of in the first weeks after my transformation – during those evenings we spent together going over my work when I could no longer attend school.