Gabriel's Clock (2 page)

“Please,” she sobbed under her breath. “Please, Gabriel.”

There came a muffled thumping from inside the cottage. “All right, I'm coming,” said a sleep-sodden voice.

The door was yanked open, and an old man in bare feet and a linen nightshirt peered out. He stared open-mouthed when he saw who was sprawled on his doorstep. Jonathan's mother looked up at him, the imperial purple of her almond-shaped eyes almost black in the half-light while her tattered robes revealed a tracery of crimson scales that patterned her neck from behind her pointed ears right down to her shoulders. Delicate horns grew from her forehead and curved over her skull, almost meeting the batlike wings that lay limp across her back.

“Savantha?” gasped Gabriel. “Jonathan?” The old angel sagged against the door frame and shut his eyes. “Belial came for you, didn't he? I told you to stay here with me, where you'd be safe.” He shook his head in despair.

“Please help me,” begged Savantha, holding out a hand. “I'm so tired. I can't maintain Jonathan's disguise as well as my own.”

Gabriel embraced them. “Come inside,” he said. “Before anyone sees you.” Leaning down, he half carried his visitors into the cottage.

“He's badly hurt,” said Savantha, tears running down her face as she laid Jonathan on the sofa. “Darriel destroyed the cottage to bury the Corvidae, and a beam hit Jonathan's head. I don't know how to stop the bleeding . . .”

Gabriel kneeled beside them and gently slipped his hand beneath Jonathan's blood-matted hair. He briefly closed his eyes in concentration; his will focused on the boy's injuries.

“His skull's fractured, and he's lost a lot of blood.”

Savantha let out a small cry.

“I can fix it,” said Gabriel, squeezing her hand in reassurance. He paused, shut his eyes again, and took a deep breath. The air around Jonathan's head shimmered and brightened, filled with ever-shifting mathematical symbols. A smell of apples and beeswax filled the room, and Savantha watched in awe as her father-in-law performed a miracle as simply as if he were drawing the curtains.

Jonathan let out a sigh, and his breathing became regular and deep. Color returned to his cheeks, and Savantha shook with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” she whispered.

Gabriel nodded, his lips set in a thin line. “Where is Darriel, Savantha? Where is my son?”

“We'd run to the cellar,” she said. “Darriel knocked out the floor supports and dropped the cottage on Rook, Raven, and Crow so we could escape.” She began to cry again. “He was buried with them. I don't know what's happened to him. Maybe he managed to get away and he's following us.”

“Maybe,” said Gabriel. “But the demons of the Corvidae are strong, Savantha—that's why Belial uses them. Darriel is a match for one of them, but all three at once?” The angel shook his head. “This is exactly why I wanted you to live here in Hobbes End with me, not try to face the world alone.”

“But Darriel—”

“My son is as stubborn as his father,” said Gabriel. “And proud, too, which is a common fault with us angels.”

“I've got to go see if Darriel's still alive!”

“I know,” said Gabriel. “But you're exhausted; you need to catch your breath first. I'll get you something to drink.”

Savantha nodded, and Gabriel swiftly returned with a steaming mug of tea. As he handed it to her, his face turned ashen and he let out a racking cough.

“What's wrong?” asked Savantha.

“You know what's wrong,” said Gabriel, perching on the arm of the sofa. “I don't have much power left. Every time I use some, I'm left weaker than before. That's the price I pay for losing my wings.”

“I'm sorry,” said Savantha.

“Don't be,” replied Gabriel. “It was my choice to give them away to create this village, to give my beloved Hobbes End a soul. I wouldn't take my power back even if I could—it would be murder. Anyway, what kind of grandfather would I be if I didn't help my grandson when he needed me?”

Savantha smiled. “You're an angel.”

“Ha-de-ha.” Gabriel smiled back. Then, looking down at Jonathan with a mixture of wonder and sadness, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his grandson's face. “The power inside him is very strong now. I can feel it—all that potential just waiting for him to learn how to access it. It was obvious when he was born, and now it's shining out like a beacon. It's no wonder Belial managed to find you.”

Savantha put her head in her hands. “We stayed in one place too long. We hadn't seen any sign of Belial and the Corvidae for such a long time. We thought we were safe . . .”

Gabriel sighed. “Jonathan will never be safe, Savantha. Not until he's old enough and strong enough to face an archdemon by himself. Until then, Belial will keep trying to catch him. Jonathan's the only half-angel, half-demon child in existence, and for some reason he's been blessed with more raw power than I believed possible. I see him as someone both Heaven and Hell could rally behind; but Belial, he just sees him as a potential weapon—a means to carry on a grudge that should have been forgotten centuries ago.” Gabriel angrily thumped his fist against the sofa.

Savantha reached out and squeezed the old angel's hand. “Will you look after Jonathan for me while I go find my husband? Will you keep my boy safe?”

“You don't have to ask,” said Gabriel. “Although I think it's best if his true appearance stays hidden for the moment. I'd trust the inhabitants of this village with my life, but there's no point broadcasting Jonathan's presence. I take it my grandson still knows nothing of what he is?”

Savantha shook her head. “We've kept everything hidden from him, tried to let him lead a normal life.” She smiled ruefully. “He thinks his parents are called Daniel and Sarah, and that his dad works in some top-secret government department. Imagine if he suddenly looked in the mirror one morning and saw
this.
”

She moved her hand slowly over Jonathan's face, the air shimmering as she did so. His features remained the same but with two startling additions: a budding pair of horns protruded from his temples, and a tracery of crimson scales similar to his mother's peeped out from the neck of his sweatshirt.

With another wave of Savantha's hand, Jonathan's horns and crimson scales disappeared. “The masking should hold until he learns how to do it himself,” she said. “Let's maintain the lie as long as we can, keep him safe.”

“He doesn't know who I am, does he?” asked Gabriel.

Savantha shook her head sadly.

“Well, it's probably for the best,” said Gabriel. “If we're going to hide Jonathan from Belial and the Corvidae, then we need to keep him away from me for his own safety. The best person to look after him is Ignatius. He'd love to have a child running around the vicarage again.”

Savantha took her sleeping son's hand. “And while you look after Jonathan, I can find Darriel.”

“What if you can't?” asked Gabriel.

“Then I'm going to petition Lucifer for help. It's time he stopped sitting on the fence and did something about rogue archdemons.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That's brave.”

Savantha snorted. “Lucifer doesn't scare me. If Heaven won't do anything about Belial, then maybe Hell should.”

“I can't argue with that,” said Gabriel. “But, please, be as quick as you can. Jonathan will be out cold for a few days, but when he wakes up in a strange place, without you or his father, surrounded by people he's never met, he's going to be scared and will ask a lot of awkward questions.”

“I know,” said Savantha. “I don't want to be away from him a moment longer than I have to. But until I get back, you'll need to . . .”

“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

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!”