LITMIR.BIZ

      The Gargoyle Overhead

      Philippa Dowding

      Toronto, Ontario, Canada

      For Paul,

      who knows Gargoth well

      And for my father Marcus,

      who knew him long ago

      Prologue

      The year is 1664.

      It is a beautiful, sunny day in a small churchyard in England. There are rolling green hills as far as the eye can see, beautiful old chestnut trees everywhere, and a very pretty little river running beside the church courtyard. It makes a sweet, soft sound as the water runs past the grassy banks. There is an ancient stone statue of a lion nearby, regally facing west on its pedestal of stone.

      A boy is busy beside the little river, washing a basket of apples. He has just picked these apples from the abandoned orchard behind the church. No one else collects them but he and his father.

      He is flicking flies away from his head. It is a hot day, and he would like to be back under a shady tree. He is dressed in breeches and a loose-fitting linen shirt. His golden hair is cropped very short, and he is barefoot.

      As he is washing the apples, something hard hits the back of his head, and he turns quickly. In the grass beside him is an apple core, which he picks up and stares at, amazed. He looks around, but there is no one there.

      This has happened before. In fact, it happens all the time, but just to him. His father never talks about being hit with flying apple cores, or about the strange sound the boy often hears when he is walking through the orchard. It is like the wind rustling in the winter leaves, or like a language he is just beginning to forget.

      But he is wrong. It is neither of these things, which he is soon to find out.

      Chapter One

      Candles by Daye, at Night

      Katherine stepped off the Queen streetcar and down into the hot Toronto evening. She hoisted her yellow canvas backpack a little higher and turned to whisper into it, “Gargoth, are you awake?”

      She heard a familiar snap and growl and felt a small, hot body wriggle against her back. A sharp claw jabbed her hard in the ribs. Gargoth never did like waking up.

      “Barga memi soth,” a strange, growly voice said. But she heard it say, “Yes. I am now.”

      “Good,” she snapped back. “We’re here.”

      She walked past an old pub, with all the windows and doors open wide, and a tiny library. She never saw anyone at this tucked-away spot except old people and mothers with babies, but the library did have a nice roof garden with a goldfish pond and an ornamental crabapple tree.

      Three stores over was her destination, Candles by Daye. It was an old, old storefront, bright red with a narrow green door. The front window was huge and overflowing with candles shaped like skulls and dragons, incense holders, healing chime balls, yoga and self-help books, crystals in every imaginable size and shape, and much more.

      Katherine pushed hard on the old door, walked in, and locked it behind her. The air was heavily scented with cinnamon and years of burnt incense.

      “Cassandra? Cassandra, we’re here!” she shouted as she lowered the backpack to the floor. Gargoth hadn’t felt that heavy when they’d started out, but by the time they’d crossed the city on the subway, then the streetcar, she felt like there were ten of him in the backpack.

      He wriggled and complained a lot, too, which didn’t help much.

      “Up here! I’m up on the roof,” came Cassandra Daye’s voice from what seemed like miles away. Katherine bent down to her backpack and realized she’d forgotten to open it. There were muffled grunts coming from it, and the backpack wriggled and shook as though it contained a miniature tornado.

      She opened it quickly, and Gargoth’s leathery head popped out. He took a huge breath, as though he’d been suffocating for hours, and struggled out. Even if Katherine had wanted to help him, he wouldn’t have let her, so she stood with her arms crossed, looking amused.

      “Come on, she’s upstairs,” she said, heading toward the steep staircase at the back of the store.

      Gargoth started after her, his heavy arms nearly touching the floor at his scaly feet, his leathery wings held tightly to his back, and a small pouch bulging at his side. At the bottom of the stairs, he looked up at the open door to the roof, the stars beyond twinkling and inviting. He sighed deeply. There were twenty steep stairs to climb to get up to the rooftop, and Katherine had bounded up them in a few seconds.

      He shook his wings for a few moments, and a look of concentration crossed his leathery face. His wings began to move, faster, faster, faster. He pushed his chin into the air as he worked his wings harder and harder, finally as hard as he could. His wings were fanning hard enough to blow dust across the floor of the store in little eddies and to gently move some of the closer crystals and bells hanging from the ceiling. They started softly ringing.

      But nothing happened. He didn’t budge. He sighed and stopped fanning his wings. He started to climb the steps slowly, mumbling about giants.

      And if you have ever seen a gargoyle struggle up a steep set of stairs, you know it is not a pretty sight.

      Chapter Two

      Ambergine:

       On Top of the World

      The little gargoyle held on tight…

      She was perched up high, as high as she had ever been, higher than she had ever wanted to be. It was late in the evening, and she had flown very hard to reach this place.

      It was windy and frightening so high above the gigantic city. It sprawled below her like an enormous anthill, cars and trucks whizzing along in different directions on many, many roads and highways. Below her to the west was a huge, rounded sports stadium with a smooth white top. To the south, where the city ended, there was a dark, peaceful lake and a beautiful green island just offshore, with small twinkling lights on it. A boat was ferrying people back and forth between the city and the island.

      I wish I was over there. It looks quiet at least, and not very windy, she thought just as a huge gust of wind threatened to blow her off her perch. She’d much rather be on the pretty green island than where she was, sitting dangerously on the top of a gigantic pointy building with a strange bulge near the top. She was balanced on the bulge. She couldn’t even imagine what this building was for. She’d never seen anything like it. There were no people in it except for a few walking around in the bulgy bit below her. It was just tall, very tall, with flashing lights on the top. She’d picked this building because she knew it would be the best place to see the entire city splayed out beneath her. Once she got her bearings, she would leave this windy, dangerous spot for good (and the sooner the better).

      She had to get to know this city called “Toronto”, though, since she would be searching every corner of it until she found what she was looking for.

      Chapter Three

      Rooftop Pumpkins

      Cassandra and Katherine were sitting on the rooftop in comfortable lawn chairs, sipping cool glasses of lemonade, deep in conversation. They tried to ignore the noises coming from the stairs as Gargoth climbed them, although they did exchange the odd worried look. Finally, he emerged through the small rooftop door. He stood for a while, glaring, his small chest heaving, and when neither Katherine nor Cassandra addressed him or seemed to notice him (they knew better), he stumped across the rooftop and flopped onto a small cushion.

      Katherine and Cassandra were discussing soccer. Katherine was on a girl’s soccer team,

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