Gabriel's Clock (13 page)

“Henry?” asked Ignatius.

“Henry,” said Lucia, gesturing to the plant next to her.

“Of course,” said Ignatius, nodding politely at the aspidistra.

“Why are these things, these Corvidae, here?” asked Clara and Cecily Hayward. “They're not after our owls, are they?”

“No,” said Ignatius. “These monsters are not after any of you. They're after our new arrival. They're after Jonathan.”

A gasp went up, and Ignatius looked out over a sea of shocked faces. “They came for Jonathan yesterday, but he fought one of them off. They hurt Cay simply because they could, because they enjoy it.”

“But why are they chasing Jonathan?” asked Mr. Flynn, sitting next to his wife and holding her hand protectively. “He's such a nice lad.”

“Yes, he is,” said Ignatius. “But he has power that an archdemon wants to use.”

“Damned if we'll let that happen!” shouted Professor Morgenstern. “I've got hand grenades, you know. Built them myself.”

Ignatius blinked and made a mental note to see the professor about that later.

“Jonathan may be in danger,” said Mr. Peters, getting to his feet. “But he's not alone. This is Hobbes End, and we look out for each other!”

Like a wave, everyone stood up to join Mr. Peters, shouting their defiance at the creatures that dared to invade their home.

Ignatius, momentarily overcome by their support, looked at a stone plaque on the church wall to his right. The name on it said
SALVADOR CRUMB
.

“You watching this, Dad?” said Ignatius with a smile.

There was some shushing, and everyone except Mr. Peters sat down. “Tell us what to do,” he said. “How can we help?”

“I want you all to go home and stay vigilant,” said Ignatius. “These things are vicious, and I don't want any of you getting hurt. Gabriel, Grimm, and I will fight these things if they reappear, so if you see anything, call the vicarage immediately. We have a plan to keep Jonathan safe, but until we set it in motion I want you all inside and out of harm's way. What say you?”

The roar of agreement almost lifted the roof off the ancient church.

 

Jonathan awoke, struggling through layers of cotton wool that filled his head. His mouth felt like it had squirrels living in it, and the astringent tang of witch hazel stung the inside of his nose. Elgar was sitting on the windowsill and peering through the glass, his breath making little fog patches.

“What time is it?” asked Jonathan.

“Half past nine,”
said Elgar. “You've just missed a big village meeting. I can see everyone rushing home, so I guess Ignatius told them all about what happened yesterday.” The cat jumped down from the sill and came to sit on the bed. “How're you feeling? As my mother would say, you look like you've been in the wars.”

“I feel like I ran into a tree,” said Jonathan. “Which isn't far from the truth.”

“You've got yet more nasty bumps on your head,” said Elgar. He paused a moment. “You're lucky to be alive, you know. Very few people have fought one of the Corvidae and lived.”

Jonathan went quiet. “Is that what those things are called?”

Elgar nodded.

“Do you know something about them?”

“A little bit,” said the cat, but he seemed reluctant to say more. “The one who attacked you is called Rook,” he added.

Jonathan paused. In his head he could still see the thing. “They're the ones who attacked my home—I'm sure of it. I wasn't making it up, you know, head injury or not.”

“I believe you,” said Elgar.

“I thought I was supposed to be safe here,” sighed Jonathan. “I thought nothing evil could get into the village?”

“That's the theory,” said Elgar. “The fact that those demons—”

“Demons?” asked Jonathan.

Elgar sighed. “Yes, they're demons. And really, really unpleasant ones. They're connected with the archdemon Belial. Do you remember Gabriel mentioning him at dinner the other night? He is seriously bad news. That the Corvidae can somehow enter Hobbes End is driving Ignatius and Gabriel nuts. What I can't figure out is why they're risking coming here at all.”

Jonathan was only half listening to his friend; he knew why the Corvidae were in Hobbes End—they were looking for him because he was “far from human.” And that terrified him.

“So how did you fight off Rook?” asked Elgar.

“I'm not sure,” said Jonathan. “I just got really angry and knocked him across the clearing with a single punch.”

Elgar blinked in astonishment. “Wow! Bet that surprised him.”

“I don't think he was expecting it,” said Jonathan. “But when he said that they were after Cay, too, I just wanted to kill him. There was this voice in the back of my head. It was telling me to . . . to tear him apart. And I really, really wanted to, but then there was this purple light and I . . .” Jonathan rubbed his face and sighed heavily. “Cay's all right, isn't she? Ignatius said she was.”

“She'll have a sore throat for a bit,” said Elgar. “But she's a tough little cookie. Annoying as Hell, but tough. I guess she has some werewolf blood in her after all.”

Jonathan gave the cat a weak smile, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Rook had said, and of the purple light that had grown from his shoulders.

“Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?” said Elgar, twitching his whiskers.

Jonathan fell silent again and looked at his lap. Elgar, unusually patient, sat and peered at his friend with curious eyes. Then, “Rook said that I wasn't human,” Jonathan blurted out. “He said that I was the only half-angel, half-demon child in existence and that Belial wants to use me as a weapon. He said that my parents had been lying to me!” Tears ran down his face, as much from confusion as from the thumping in his head caused by his injuries.

“Ah,” said Elgar. “So that's it. I knew there was something going on. My whiskers never fail me. Added to which, you smell funny.”

Jonathan wiped his eyes. “I smell funny?” He couldn't help a small grin.

“Yeah,” said Elgar. “I have a very good nose, and you don't smell like anything I've ever come across. It's not that you whiff like the bottom of a dirty linen basket or anything, just that you smell different.”

“Not human?”

Elgar shook his head. “Definitely not human.”

“Oh,” said Jonathan.

“Is it such a bad thing?” said Elgar. “Where's the fun in being ordinary? Let's face it, who wouldn't want a talking cat for Christmas?” He butted Jonathan in the stomach with his head. “See? Made you smile.”

Jonathan scratched Elgar behind the ears. “What do I do now?”

“Hmm,” said the cat. “I'd go and find Gabriel and ask him to explain what's actually going on. You need to be careful, though—the Corvidae could pop up again at any moment. You'd better ask Grimm to be a bodyguard. Don't go for a walk in the woods, eh?”

 

Cay sat up in bed, a bandage wrapped round her throat. She cradled a large mug of hot chocolate and tried to swallow, even though it really hurt.

“Are you sure you're all right?” her mother signed.

“Yeah,” Cay croaked. “I just want to go and see if Jonathan's okay.”

Her mother nodded, her fingers a blur. “Grimm did say that he was in one piece, just a bit shell-shocked. Now, you aren't going to start blaming yourself for what might have happened to him, are you?”

“No, Mom,” she said. “I'm just worried about him, that's all. And Dad . . . how's his arm?”

Mrs. Forrester gave Cay's leg a squeeze. “That's my girl. I'll go and make you some breakfast. And don't worry about your dad—you know how quick he heals. His arm is almost as good as new already.”

Cay smiled, but once her mother had left the room she climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Staring out into the drizzle, she saw the light from Jonathan's room. “How did you escape from that thing, Johnny?” she wondered aloud. “How did you escape?”

 

“Do you think Gabriel will mind me going to see him?” Jonathan asked Grimm as he walked to the church with Elgar trotting along beside them.

“I don't think he'll mind at all,” said Grimm. “In fact, I think he'll probably have quite a lot to say.”

Jonathan was about to ask Grimm what he meant by this when Cay came running down the road toward them and gave Jonathan a huge hug that almost knocked him off his feet.

“Hey, nice lump!” she whispered, pointing to the swelling behind his ear.

“Yeah, it's nasty, isn't it?”

“Mine's better, though,” Cay added. She unwound her scarf to reveal a livid bruise circling her neck from ear to ear. Stark against the blue and green discoloration were finger marks.

“Oh, Cay!” Jonathan gasped, horrified at her injuries. “It's all my fault. If they hadn't been after me, you wouldn't have gotten hurt.”

“Don't be daft,” she said croakily. “It's not your fault. Anyway, how did you escape? I had this thing that called herself Raven trying to drown me. The only reason I'm still alive is that I had Dad, Monty, and Stubbs all giving her a good kicking. You didn't have anyone, and it's my fault you got lost. I forgot you didn't know the path to the lake.” Her face was pale and sad.

Jonathan remained silent, staring at his feet.

“How did you get away?” Cay asked again.

Grimm put a huge, reassuring arm round Jonathan's shoulder.

“The thing that attacked me called itself Rook. I knocked him across a clearing and into a tree,” whispered Jonathan.

“But those things are incredibly strong,” said Cay, amazed. “Raven managed to break Dad's arm when he was in his wolf form. And I couldn't budge her fingers from round my throat!”

“Rook said they were after you, too, so I just got really angry and hit him.”

“But that's brilliant!” said Cay. “Perhaps you're a superhero like in the films or something and you just don't know it!” She stopped talking when she saw how distressed Jonathan was. “What's the matter?” she asked him.

“Rook said something to me,” replied Jonathan.

Cay held her breath.

“He said that I wasn't human. That I was half angel, half demon.” He looked pleadingly at Cay. “What am I?” he asked. “
Who
am I?”

“That's what we're here to find out,” said Grimm. “Now, you go and see Gabriel while I wait here and keep watch.”

They made their way toward Gabriel's cottage, but as they passed the church they saw that the door was open. Someone was speaking inside.

“That sounds like Gabriel,” said Cay.

Stepping quietly through the door, the smells of damp stone, furniture polish, and fresh flowers quickly surrounded them. They could see Gabriel sitting in a pew at the front of the church and talking to the stained-glass window above the altar. The window showed an angel dressed in black armor and clutching a long-bladed spear in his right hand. The blade rippled with white flame, and the angel looked off to one side as if searching for an enemy.

Gabriel turned his head to look at Jonathan and Cay as they stood near the door. “Come and sit with me,” he said. “We need to talk.”

They walked along the aisle and sat down next to him as requested. For a moment the old angel didn't say anything; he just kept looking at the window, his face sad.

“It's an image of my brother Michael,” Gabriel said eventually. “He didn't look so fierce in real life. He laughed a lot, and I miss him. I often come and talk to him when I'm troubled.” He sighed, and as he turned to face him Jonathan felt the same sensation of familiarity that he always felt when he was near the angel. Only this time it was much, much stronger.

“Why do I feel like I know you?” asked Jonathan.

Gabriel smiled, then frowned as he saw the damaged watch on Jonathan's wrist.

“I'm sorry I broke the glass,” said Jonathan. “I knocked it against a tree when Rook hit me.”

“It wasn't your fault,” said Gabriel. “Here, give me the watch and I'll fix it for you today. It's the least I can do.”

Jonathan undid the strap and handed the watch over. “Why did you give it to me?” he asked. “Books and cards and sweets I can understand, but this was your watch, and I'm just some kid.”

“You're not just some kid,” said Gabriel, giving Jonathan a sad smile. “You're my grandson.”

“What?”
gasped Cay. She nudged Jonathan excitedly. “See? I said you were a superhero or something.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You're not a superhero, Jonathan; in fact, I'm not sure what you are, exactly. But I do know that you are family, and that you are precious to me beyond measure.”

Jonathan's head swam. Everything he had thought was true was turning out to be a big fat lie.

“Who am I?” he asked. “And what about Mom and Dad . . . ?”

“Right,” said Gabriel. “This is the short version. You'll have to wait until I've got you somewhere safer than here, then you can ask me all the questions you like. Okay?”

Jonathan nodded.

“Your parents
are
your parents, but they are not really called Daniel and Sarah Smith. Your father is my son, Darriel, and your mother is Savantha, a demon. You're a mixture of both, and the only one of your kind. Ever since your birth, Belial's been trying to find you. You hold an astonishing power inside you, Jonathan, and he wants it.”

Jonathan sat with his mouth open. He was having trouble comprehending what Gabriel—his grandfather—was telling him. It was only the feeling of Cay reaching out and squeezing his hand in reassurance that kept him from spinning off into hysteria.

“I thought Dad worked for the government, something secret, and that's why we had to keep moving house and why I couldn't go to school and why . . .” He ran out of things to say. Despite that what Gabriel was telling him was incredible, deep down inside him it made some kind of sense.