Rhianna took another deep gulp of her Monster and tried to blink the tiredness away.
Thank God this stuff is legal, she thought.
She drained the can and tossed it into a wastebasket overflowing with a stack of identical containers. She caught a glimpse of herself in the screen of her laptop and wasn’t happy with what she was seeing - the heavy bags under her eyes told their own story. God, she couldn’t sustain this pace for too much longer. If she kept burning the midnight oil, she’d look like she was twenty-six in no time.
Rhianna’s cell chirped. It was an incoming text message from her dad:
How’s the presentation coming along? See you at the museum around 5. Love, Dad.
Rhianna checked the time. She had about an hour to wrap up her presentation.
Great. No pressure now.
She stole a peek outside outside her window. Her apartment was on the fifth floor and the window looked out at a brownstone right across from her. It afforded a perfect view of her neighbor’s living room. She could see him making out with a hot blonde – nice to see that someone had a more active social life than she did. Rhianna watched, curious but also feeling a little guilty (and creepy) for being a voyeur. For a moment, she wondered how it would feel to be touched by strong hands and…
A woman’s voice behind her brought an abrupt end to her spying.
“I see they're at it again.”
Rhianna spun toward the speaker. It was Natalie, her roommate, and a spunky, opinionated brunette. She wore her server’s uniform of black jeans and a black T-shirt. Natalie worked five hours a day at a fancy steak house on the Upper West Side. The money she was pulling down in tips was ridiculous and at times made Rhianna question her own career path. Natalie had been a nursing student but was taking a break from school. Before long, a semester of break had turned into a yearlong sabbatical from academia while she tried to figure out what she wanted from life. When one was making three hundred dollars a night, the need for a real career became a little less pressing.
Natalie was drifting and had lost focus, but at least she was enjoying life. The same couldn’t be said for her roommate.
Rhianna nodded at the couple across the street. “It's the middle of the afternoon. Don't they have jobs?”
Natalie shot Rhianna a long look and winked.
“Do I detect a note of jealousy? How long has it been since... you know...”
Rhianna’s silence spoke volumes.
“Steve keeps asking about you. He may not be boyfriend material but he has-“
“The I.Q. of a Neanderthal?”
“Just think of him as an archeological research project.”
“You're hilarious, you should try stand-up.”
“What about John?”
“I think he got tired of seeing me once a month.”
“You're hopeless.”
“Once I have my PhD, I'll have plenty of time to date.”
“You better not be too busy to go with me to Kevin's Halloween party.”
Rhianna’s response was to point at the poster on the wall. It featured the image of a sinister gargoyle statue. This monster was different than the animalistic beast Artan faced in the pit fifteen centuries earlier. The body was humanoid with the pumped-up physique of a bodybuilder – a human-gargoyle hybrid similar to the one Artan transformed into all those years ago. But the face was different. There was a dark crater where one of its eyeballs should be. The text at the bottom of the poster read: "THE CELTIC WORLD: HEROES AND VILLAINS. October 31 through December 1 at the Cloisters."
“The exhibit opens tomorrow. And my dad needs this presentation for the morning press conference.”
“Why do they have to open an exhibit on Halloween?”
“Halloween had its origins in the Celtic festival Samhain-”
Natalie cut her off in mid-sentence.
“Is this going to be another one of your lectures?”
“Hey, you asked.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Natalie nodded. “Go on. Do your thing.”
Rhianna smiled and continued.
“The Celts believed the barrier between our world and the Otherworld...” Natalie’s eyes began to glaze over at this point, but Rhianna held her course. “A kind of Celtic hell — was at its weakest on Samhain. Ghouls and goblins could cross over into our world.”
“Thanks, that was... educational.”
The way Natalie said “educational” could be translated into “beyond nerdy.” She smiled. “All I know is that tomorrow night I'm dragging you away from the books and we're going to raise some real hell.”
Warring emotions flickered over Rhianna's face. She was tempted to say yes. But reality intruded once again.
“I don't even have a costume...”
Natalie gave Rhianna a conspiratorial nudge. “I'll pick something out for you. And I'll make sure it shows a lot of skin.”
Rhianna grinned despite herself.
“Come, it'll be fun...”
Natalie nodded at the open book sitting on her makeshift desk. It showed a drawing of a long-haired knight holding up a sword.
”Maybe we'll even find you your own knight in shining armor.”
“Alright, why not?” Rhianna regretted the words the moment she said them. Her roommate loved setting Rhianna up with one of her many gentleman suitors from work. Natalie met guys effortlessly; if she wasn’t working, she was out on some hot date with some new guy who was going to show her the time of her life. Natalie’s style was to let a prospective suitor down easy by hinting at a potential date with a cute roommate.
In essence, Natalie was offering Rhianna her hand-me-downs, but she rejected guys whom most women would dream about. Who knew what her type was – Rhianna was still trying to figure it out. One thing was for certain, there was a revolving door of suitors in Natalie’s world. One had to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince.
“Okay kid, it’s a plan! I’ll send you a pic of your costume when I spot it.”
“Hey, do I have any say in the matter?”
“You’ll love it!”
Before Rhianna could offer further protest, Natalie was already halfway out the door. “Gotta run, don’t want to be late for work now!”
The door fell shut behind Natalie. Rhianna sighed and shook her head. Took another peek at her neighbor’s window. The blinds were drawn now. Disappointed, Rhianna turned back to her computer and...
Realized it was four-thirty.
Shit!
She had to get going if she was going to make her five o’clock meeting with her dad. Traffic would be a nightmare but maybe she could catch a train before most people got off work and crowded the subways. Rhianna longingly eyed another can of Monster but decided against it – she was already feeling pretty jittery. She scooped up her laptop and seconds later was on her way.
Had Rhianna known what the day held in store for her, she would never have left her apartment.
CHAPTER THREE
THE CLOISTERS ARE located in the Washington Heights area of New York City, near the northern tip of Manhattan Island. Built on a hill overlooking the Hudson River in Fort Tryon Park, the structure incorporates parts from five cloistered abbeys that were disassembled brick by brick before being shipped to New York in the 1930s.
The Cloisters were not just another museum; the medieval structure was a time machine. Those who stepped into its landscaped gardens would be transported to the Middle Ages. Rhianna vividly recalled the day when her dad first introduced her to this unique branch of the Museum of Metropolitan Art. The vast collection of medieval art and architecture made a major impression on her eight-year old self and was the beginning of her fascination (some might call it an obsession) with the period.
Rhianna passed through the gardens, crossing a large open area dominated by an outdoor display. The brooding circle of hulking stones was reminiscent of Stonehenge and radiated an ancient power – it seemed from another world and not made by human hands.
At the ring's center, there was a giant statue of a demonic head adorned by a cyclopean eye – a crude representation of the Celtic demon Balor. It made Rhianna think of the head statues on Easter Island, but with a Celtic twist.
The rocks came from the excavation site in Ireland and were flown in only a few weeks earlier. Her father had supervised the meticulous process of recreating the original configuration of the massive boulders on the museum grounds. His team must have taken a million pictures of the site so it would be easier to duplicate. They had done an amazing job – the ring of stones was an exact replica of the one they encountered in Ireland.
Rhianna stepped into Celtic monument, awe-stricken.
Wow.
This was what it was all about, why she spent hours going over ancient manuscripts and analyzed texts written in forgotten dialects. The chance to go back to a place long gone, but not forgotten, was what made it all worthwhile.
Energized by her brush with living history, Rhianna entered the main building of the cloisters. The exhibit was still one day away from being open to the public and she was forced to pass through a cordoned-off area of the museum. She made her way down an arched, Gothic corridor and emerged on the exhibit floor.
Signs of Celtic art and culture abounded. Medieval weapons lined the walls and there were dioramas and panoramas featuring armor, statues and artwork. Rhianna’s attention quickly shifted to the life-sized stone gargoyle that formed the centerpiece of the display. It was the one-eyed statue depicted in the promotional image Rhianna had sitting over her desk back at the apartment.
The photograph didn’t do justice to the gargoyle, failing to capture its coiled intensity and malevolent energy. The eight-foot tall stone beast was larger than a man. Its extended wings and rippling musculature created the impression that the creature was about to launch into a vicious attack.
Rhianna felt a shiver dance up her spine and quickened her step without quite realizing it, putting some distance between her and the monstrous creature. She had almost crossed the exhibit when a young, handsome security guard intercepted her. The man flashed a big grin.
“Good evening, Miss Sharpe. Planning on pulling an all-nighter again?”
“It sure looks like it.”
“If you need anything, let me know, okay? I’ll be making my rounds until six.”
Rhianna nodded shyly, surprised by the man's flirtatious smile. The guard winked at her and continued on his way while Rhianna proceeded toward her dad’s office. As she drew closer to the exhibit floor’s exit, she took note of the diorama of her father’s latest architectural dig in Ireland. The images took up nearly the whole wall and featured various angles of the excavation site. Some were taken from the air, some from the ground. There were shots of her father’s archeological team, men and women whose faces were flush with excitement and the hushed awe of discovery.
Rhianna eyed the pictures with longing – eventually she would be part of an excavation herself, but that day couldn’t come fast enough. She was tired of stuffy classrooms and dusty tomes. She craved adventure and excitement. How much longer did she have to wait before she could roll up her sleeves and get her hands dirty out in the field? To her mind, her father had the sweetest job. A hand on Rhianna's shoulder startled her.
“Soon enough you’ll be joining me on one of my expeditions.”
Rhianna turned toward her father and wondered if he was a mind reader. Her face brightened and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Promise, promises,” Rhianna teased.
Up close her father looked even more vibrant and dynamic than in the picture back at her apartment. Tanned and fit, he still had most of his hair, though it was turning a distinguished silver. Dr. Sharpe projected a youthful, vibrant energy that was strong and virile. Most men wished they could have his looks and stamina once they crossed fifty. His clothes fit his persona like a glove. He was dressed exactly the way one would imagine an archeologist to dress when making a quick pit stop in civilization. He wore brown khakis, a pair of Timberlands and a tan shirt with the top two buttons open. Around his neck he sported a Triquetra, which consisted of three interconnected triangular shapes. The symbol was Celtic in origin but its meaning depended on one’s cultural background. Christians considered the Triquetra a sign of the trinity. Celtic pagans felt it was representative of the three parts of the universe: land, sea and air. Wiccans recognized in it the three-part nature of the Goddess.
To Dr. Sharpe, the pendant was a visual shorthand for his expertise in Celtic mythology. Plus, he dug the air of mystery it projected to both those in the know and the uninitiated. In short, it looked cool.
Dr. Sharpe smiled at his daughter and a web of crows’ feet crinkled, testimony to a life largely spent outdoors. There was real warmth between them that was obvious to anyone who saw them together. They had grown closer since Rhianna’s mother passed away from breast cancer. It had been a painful period in both their lives and sometimes she could see her dad staring forlornly into space, remembering the woman who’d given him so many great years.
Rhianna knew her father was lonely but the all-consuming nature of his work prevented him from fixating on his grief or looking for someone new to share his life with.
Rhianna extricated a folder from her backpack and handed it to her dad.
“The presentation you asked for. I tried to compare the historical text with the folklore and legends of the time, putting special emphasis on the origins of the gargoyle myth...”
Dr. Sharpe scanned the pages and nodded in growing approval.
“This looks great!”
Rhianna relaxed, glad to see her dad was genuinely satisfied with her work. She had slaved over the project for days and was proud of the results. Hours of research had been condensed into dynamic copy. It was hard work, but rewarding.
“I found the research texts you gave me fascinating,“ Rhianna said, beaming ear to ear. Gargoyles had fascinated her since she was a little girl, which made the job a lot easier. Though surrounded by the statues all her life, she had known little about the myths that inspired these grotesque creations. She had always believed that they originated in France.
To a degree, there was some truth to that notion. The term came from the French word gargouilles or the Latin Gurgulio – both meant “throat.” In the strictest sense, gargoyles were designed to direct a roof’s runoff water away from the base of the wall. They served an architectural function. This didn’t explain why church builders would place demons on their rooftops. Some theories speculated that gargoyles represented condemned souls intercepted on their way to hell. They were placed on church rooftops to warn those who hadn’t yet renounced sin and embraced the Church.
But there were older legends and folk tales...
“I bet you didn’t know that gargoyles were Celtic creatures of myth?”
Rhianna shook her head. “The church builders incorporated them into their designs so that pagans would embrace Christianity.”
“The medieval equivalent of marketing. Pull in the public with something they’re familiar with and once you hook them, sell them the whole bag of goods.” Dr. Sharpe grinned, for a moment resembling a teenager up to no good.
“I was fascinated by the myth of Artan and his brother Cael,” Rhianna said. “Some texts suggest the first gargoyles were erected in Ireland to honor the sacrifice of the great king and to remind the world of the darkness that nearly consumed it. This story could be the origin of every gargoyle in the world.”
Dr. Sharpe nodded knowingly. “That’s my theory. The legend set the ball in motion and evolved over time.”
Rhianna had come to a similar conclusion based on her own research. According to the texts that survived, the warrior-druid Cael had created gargoyles from the soil of the Earth with the help of the Eye of Balor, a powerful magical gem given to him by the Celtic demon Balor. He had allowed himself to be bitten by one of the creatures and was crowned their master here on earth. The
one-eyed statue was an artistic interpretation of the monster that Cael supposedly turned into. Artan finally defeated the evil druid when he shattered the Eye. With the source of the magic destroyed, the gargoyles reverted back to the element that originally spawned them, becoming statues. Not exactly the sort of fairy tale that Pixar would turn into a tentpole film.
“It’s the perfect story to draw the public into the exhibit and expose them to Celtic culture. Gargoyles are scary, and the public loves scary. Especially on Halloween.”
Rhianna had to agree, glancing at the one-eyed statue. She loved gargoyles but there was something different about this one. No matter how often she looked at the winged sculpture, it never lost its power to intimidate and repel. Her father had unearthed the statue back at the excavation site in Ireland and she wished he had left it buried. It felt like an evil thing that shouldn’t be part of the world, much less a NYC museum exhibit.
Turning away from the sculpture and back to her dad, Rhianna said, “It’s kinda sad that my generation only wants the comic-book version of history.”
“Hopefully they'll be intrigued by what they see and learn a thing or two.”
Rhianna was all-too aware of the commercial angle her dad was trying to play up here. Funding archeological digs didn’t come cheap.
“The myths explain medieval Europe, but what about the prevalence of these gargoyles in modern-day Manhattan?” Rhianna wondered aloud.
“They just kind of caught on,” answered the professor. “Became an architectural trend. Gargoyles provided a form of entertainment and diversion. You have to remember, we’re talking about a time when most people couldn’t read and there were no movies, no video games, no smart phones…”
Gargoyle Knight: A Dark Urban Fantasy Page 2