Читать книгу The Gargoyle Overhead - Philippa Dowding - Страница 11

Ambergine:

Among Angels

The little gargoyle was perched up high, looking over the dark water…

The moon was setting and reflected off the surface of the lake in shiny splashes. She could see waves and boats at anchor in the harbour nearby. Her search in the backyards, churches and parks near the giant hot dog eater had failed. She’d spent the last few days sleeping hidden in the wings of an angel over a great arched gate. Many busy roads met at the angel’s feet far below. She’d overheard someone call this place “The Prince’s Gates”. It opened onto a wide open space with a long building and horses inside.

Below her, the city streets were still—it was five a.m., after all. There was no one around except an old beggar with a baggy brown jacket and a white straw hat, a pair of thick glasses on the ground beside him, sleeping under a tree. Even a big city is still sometimes. She knew that soon the great red locomotion machines would start rolling by her, then she would have to hide for the day once again.

“Perhaps tonight…” she whispered as she dozed against the great angel. “If you grant me one wish, sweet angel, please let me find him tonight…”

With that simple prayer, Ambergine fell fast asleep.