Читать книгу The Gargoyle at the Gates - Philippa Dowding - Страница 14

The Giant at the Gates

Christopher gulped, then reached down and picked up the ball.

Something wanted to play. He tossed the ball up and down in his hand, unsure what to do. Just then, his mother opened the back door and called him.

“Christopher! Can you please take Marbles for a walk before dinner?” Marbles burst out the back door and ran to Christopher, wagging his tail and dragging his leash behind him.

“Sure, Mom,” Christopher called back.

He pocketed the orange ball then picked up his dog’s leash and started the long struggle down the driveway. He really didn’t want to get dragged around by Marbles. Tonight, right now, he wanted to be brave. He wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in that park.

“Come on boy, we’re going this way,” Christopher grunted as he used all his strength to drag Marbles toward the park gates. The neighbourhood was quiet. There were no cars driving by, no streetcars, and very few people were out on the streets. The old man with the thick glasses, hat, and the brown coat wasn’t sitting on the bench down the sidewalk. Christopher attached Marbles’ leash to the gates and drew up all his courage. He was going back in.

“I have to find out what’s going on in there, Marbles. Just stay here, bark if anyone comes.” Marbles whined and licked his lips, quivering on the sidewalk. Christopher contorted himself once again and just barely managed to squeeze through the bars.

He stepped into the park and looked around. Again, it was very silent, more silent than it should have been. Except for the bubbling of the seahorse fountain, it was like he was in the middle of the countryside. There was the little apple tree, almost bare of leaves, but still bearing delicious-looking fruit. Two benches surrounded the tree. The bushes around the outside of the park were still.

Christopher took a deep breath. He was determined to be courageous. “Hello?” he whispered, but it came out as a croak. So he tried again, a little louder this time. “Hello!” he squeaked, but at least audibly. His heart was hammering in his chest.

The park was still and quiet.

“Uh, thank you for returning my orange ball,” he said, a little braver this time. Suddenly he felt really foolish, like a little kid imagining things, talking to an empty park like a crazy person.

The ball could have bounced off something and rolled back out on its own, couldn’t it?

Then he heard it. The wind rattling the barren dry leaves, or maybe it was something else. A gravelly voice said, “Megathon dret alba.” But Christopher also heard it say, “He left the monster outside.”

Christopher gasped but tried not to scream. He bit his tongue and tried to remember to breathe. He managed to stutter out, “Uhhh, heelllo? I know you’re here. You threw apples at me, but you tried not to hit me. You clapped at my guitar music. You returned my ball.” His teeth were actually chattering together, he was so scared. But he was also determined.

“Morten gella dorth!” came another gravelly voice, but sweeter, which translated into, “You’re frightening him!”

Christopher’s eyes were like giant saucers now. Clearly there were two voices, two somethings, in the bushes.

But what?

He didn’t get to find out what. At that moment Marbles stopped whining. A tall figure was standing at the gates. A really, really tall lady.

She was standing on the sidewalk patting his dog’s head (who, unlike any good watchdog, was sniffing her hand and wagging his tail) and peering into the park.

She called into the park, “Hello? Boy? Are you in there?”

Christopher wasn’t sure whether he should answer her or dive into the bushes and hide.

It wasn’t an easy choice. Christopher really wanted to hide, very badly, but since the bushes had strange voices in them, he decided they might not make such an entirely great hiding spot. He hesitated, but in the end had little choice but to answer the lady.

“Yuh … yes. I’m here. I think you mean me? I think I’m who you mean?” Christopher jibbered. He stepped away from the tree and walked toward the gate. The tall lady smiled nicely at him through the fence and pointed toward a small handle inside the gate.

“Pull that handle there, would you please?”

Christopher hadn’t noticed it, but there was the outline of a small doorway cut into the gate, next to the gatepost. It was kind of a secret, hidden door, which you probably wouldn’t see unless someone pointed it out to you. He pulled on the handle, and the door swung inward with a creak.

The tall lady undid Marble’s leash and stooped to walk through the door with him. The dog was very happy to be on the same side of the fence as his master and licked Christopher excitedly. The lady handed Christopher the leash. Then she added, “You’d better hold on to him tightly.”

“Thank you,” Christopher said. “Uh, I’ll see you then.”

He was starting to go through the doorway, back out to the street, when he heard the whispery, growly voice again. It sounded very close to him, and Christopher heard it say very clearly, practically in his ear, “Megathon alta!” At the same time he also heard it say, “Get that monster out of here.”

Many things happened next, rather quickly. At the very instant in which the voice spoke, Marbles caught the scent of something. He snapped his head up, sniffed twice, then dove into the bushes, yanking Christopher off his feet. Christopher landed with a thud and dropped the leash. The tall lady rushed to grab the leash, but Marbles was off and running madly through the bushes, barking and chasing something frantically.

For a moment, the bushes were alive with squeals and grunts and shrieks. Christopher and the lady rushed around, trying to grab Marbles, who was just as madly chasing and running away from them. The dog, the boy, the lady, and the somethings in the bushes dashed the circuit of the park twice, before Christopher somehow managed to make a giant leap and land on Marbles’ back. Boy and dog both landed with a grunt on the ground, Christopher on top. He grabbed the leash, panting as he lay on his dog.

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Christopher managed to say.

The tall lady had taken a seat on one of the park benches. She was mopping her brow. “My, your dog is quite … athletic,” she croaked, trying to catch her breath.

Marbles was whining and wriggling and champing his teeth, staring up into the apple tree. There was a rustling above them, but Christopher couldn’t look up into the tree AND keep a tight hold on his dog at the same time. He was barely big enough to weigh Marbles down as it was. If he moved a muscle, then the dog would be off and running again.

“I’m Cassandra Daye, D-A-Y-E, by the way. That’s my store across the street,” the tall lady said, still trying to catch her breath.

“Oh. I see. Candles by Daye, with an ‘e’. I get it.” Christopher was doing his best to be polite, which wasn’t all that easy under the circumstances. “I’m Christopher Canning. I live next door,” he managed to say. He could feel Marbles tensing beneath him, readying himself for a monstrous leap up the trunk of the apple tree.

“Hello, Christopher.” She seemed uneasy, like people do when they’re hiding something.

She kept darting little glances up into the apple tree, then back down at him. She cleared her throat, about to speak, when a gentle, whispery voice said, “Blethem morgount.” Christopher heard it say, “He seems nice.” It came from the top of the apple tree.

Christopher tensed as Marbles went rigid beneath him, ready to spring. “Okay, what was that voice? Who seems nice?” Christopher asked.

“Voice? What voice? Oh, that? Wind in the leaves, don’t you think? Do you like this park? It’s very old … the city is thinking of removing it, building apartments. It’s not much use for most people … the fountain watered horses a long time ago … it’s still quite lovely…”

Christopher knew she was trying to distract him. His mother did that, talked too much about things that weren’t relevant whenever she was nervous or trying to draw his attention elsewhere. It worked when he was little, sometimes.

The deeper, growlier voice said, “Megathon mebahtu.” Christopher heard it say, “The monster smells bad.”

Christopher’s eyes grew wide as he looked up into Cassandra’s face. “Did … did you hear that?” he whispered. “What is it?”

Cassandra Daye bit her lip. “Oh, I really don’t think I should … nothing …”

Christopher couldn’t help it. He lost his patience, and with his last breath, he yelled out, “PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS TALKING TO ME IN THE TREE!”

“Oh well, I’m not sure …”

And that’s when Christopher Canning’s arms gave out, and Marbles-the-monster made a mighty leap into the air, loudly snapping his teeth together …

… just missing a gargoyle as it flew out of the apple tree and lurched off into the night sky.